As a blindfolded Gwenog Jones tests her restraints nervously, she can’t help but wonder just how she let herself get into this position in the first place. The matured, retired Professional Quidditch Player was not used to this sort of treatment. No, she was far more used to being the one in control. For much of her life, she’d been in control. To suddenly be at the mercy of another was… jarring to say the least.
 
Unfortunately for her, she’d been thoroughly bamboozled. That was the only way Gwenog could really reconcile this with what her expectations going in had been. The dark-skinned Welsh witch had fully expected to win, and now… now she was stuck here, naked and bound to a cold metal table in the Locker Room of Lord Potter’s private pitch.
 
When the offer had initially come in, she hadn’t been sure what to think of it. Honestly, it sounded too good to be true. The bet had come from the Weasley Housewives, a group of true beauties, many of whom played Quidditch even before they married into the red-haired family of Quidditch Players. But the thing is, most of them weren’t professionals. Only Ginny Weasley could really claim to have made a name for herself in the Quidditch World after Hogwarts.
 
The rest were amateurs at best or should have been. Gwenog had truly believed she was getting the better end of the deal. Having played with the Holyhead Harpies for decades, the dark-skinned Pro had only recently retired from her position as Captain of the Team. She was currently in a transitionary phase as a result, kept on as the Holyhead Harpies’ Manager, until she could take up the real position she’d been aiming for starting next year, as Manager of the Welsh National Quidditch Team.
 
It was unilaterally a step up for her. She was far from out of her prime, but Gwenog had never been anything BUT incredibly aggressive and ambitious in chasing after power and influence. Playing Quidditch was as much a rush as ever but holding the reins and having true control was even better. Especially after decades of treating the Harpies as her own personal fiefdom and harem. All those tight, gorgeous young witches that Gwenog had personally molded and shaped into what they were today…
 
Maybe the majority of the Weasley Housewives weren’t quite so young or nubile, but they were still fairly gorgeous and altogether a treat to gaze upon. Gwenog’s eyes had clearly gotten too big for her stomach, at least in hindsight. But how could she have possibly seen this coming? As both Manager of the Harpies as well as the Mistress to many of the current line-up in the bedroom, it had been her decision to accept Ginny Potter-Weasley’s silly bet.
 
Sure, they’d all had to play a no-clothes match on Lord Harry Potter’s private Quidditch Pitch for an audience of just one, Lord Harry Potter himself. But that was fine. As far as Gwenog was concerned, if the perverted Wizard Lord wanted to get a look at all of their sexy, naked bodies while they trounced his equally naked wife and in-laws, then so be it.
 
It spoke to a certain perversion in the Man-Who-Won that Gwenog never would have expected of course, and she’d been fully intending to send along an anonymous tip off to whoever it might concern that the Head Auror of the British Ministry of Magic was engaging in such debauched things, but then she’d seen THE Rita Skeeter sat beside Harry in the stands, equally naked, and the Holyhead Harpies Manager had begun to understand that perhaps tipping anyone off might not be the best idea.
 
She didn’t THINK that Rita Skeeter’s presence and nudity was the deciding factor in how well her and her team had played, but it might have played a part. Just as Gwenog’s rust from being Manager instead of Captain these past few months might have played a part. As well, the fact that none of them were used to being naked might also have played a part in the Professional Welsh Quidditch Team’s entirely sub-optimal performance.
 
But ultimately, Gwenog knew the truth. Deep down inside, she knew why they’d lost. The Weasley Housewives, as the opposing team had named themselves, had just been better. Shockingly, against all odds, they’d played like fucking Tasmanian devils, acting as whirlwinds on the battlefield that was Potter’s Private Quidditch Pitch.
 
The way they’d played, it was like they had everything to win and nothing to lose. It was like they wanted it more than Gwenog and her team. Which… couldn’t possibly be true, of course. There wasn’t much that Gwenog wanted more than control. And her team… she’d trained them personally! The thought that a little thing like having to play naked would throw them off their game so much that they’d fail her now… it was unconscionable!
 
This should have been an easy victory. This should have been a wonderful chance to have an orgy in which Gwenog Jones was completely in control, and perhaps turn a few of the Weasley Housewives into more members of her little Quidditch Harem. After all, now that she was evolving from a Captain to a Manager, she no longer had to keep her fiefdom to just the Holyhead Harpies, right? She could expand!
 
Except that wasn’t how it had turned out at all, was it? Instead, Gwenog and her team had been thoroughly trounced. Her attempt at expanding her fiefdom and harem to include the Weasley Housewives had been smacked down hard and now she was at THEIR mercy. It wasn’t even Ginny who had led the team into battle, but Angelina Johnson-Weasley instead.
 
Indeed, as Gwenog lays there on the cold metal table in the locker room, feeling thoroughly tricked and defeated, it’s Angelina’s voice that reaches her ears as warm tongues lick teasingly all over her body.
 
“What’s the matter, Jones? Cat got your tongue?”
 
Flushing indignantly, the older dark-skinned witch scowls as she stares up unseeingly, blinded by her blindfold.
 
“Do your worst, Johnson. Don’t think that just because you and your sister wives got lucky this time, that that means you’re better than us.”
 
Scoffing, Angelina brings a palm down on one of Gwenog’s tits, making her clench her teeth and seize up under the surprise blow. Unable to see it coming, she struggles to regulate her response to it. She refuses to let Angelina see her yelp or squeal in pain.
 
“But that’s exactly what it means. We beat you ladies fair and square. We ARE better than you, at least for today. And now it’s time to exercise our rights as victors to do whatever the fuck we want to your bodies.”
 
Gwenog shivers but nevertheless continues to try and put on a brave face.
 
“D-Do your worst. You have us for the day, but if you think you’ll break me or my team, you’ve got another thing c-coming to you…”
 
And she believes that too, at least for herself. Admittedly, Gwenog can already think of a few weak links on the Harpies who might just give in. Some of them are those she’s been in the process of breaking down into her playthings but hasn’t completely solidified their loyalty to her quite yet. Those, she’s done all the work on, but not actually gotten to reap the rewards from yet.
 
And then there are the Harpies who are naturally submissive little sluts who she never really had to break in in the first place. As much training as she’s given them, Gwenog can think of a couple who will happily submit to any bitch with some confidence and ego and call them Mistress.
 
But Gwenog herself won’t break. Especially not to a bitch like Angelina Johnson. The girl could have gone Pro after Hogwarts, she had the skill. Instead, she’d gone to work in a fucking prank shop of all things with her husband, letting her skills and talent go to waste. She’d squandered her opportunity for fame and fortune and Gwenog would always look down on her for that. It was, quite frankly, a joke.
 
Abruptly, Gwenog’s jaw is held firmly in one of Angelina’s hands, and she feels fingers press against her pursed lips.
 
“Open.”
 
Forced to obey by the terms of their agreement and bet, Gwenog does so, wishing that she wasn’t blindfolded so she could glare up at Angelina in anger. As it is, all she can do is stare upwards unseeingly as Angelina forces her fingers into Gwenog’s open mouth, playing with the bound Welsh witch’s maw and forcing Gwenog to effectively tongue her fingers in an obvious display of humiliating and degrading submission.
 
“Good girl.”
 
Gwenog flushes once more, especially getting talked down to like that by a woman her junior. They were both women grown to be fair, and both still in the prime of their lives thanks to magical genetics. But Gwenog still had quite a few years on Johnson, d-damn it, and she would not be jerked around by the younger witch like… like some toy!
 
However, when she goes to say as much, opening her mouth to speak the moment that Angelina removes her fingers, she never gets anything out. Instead, she’s cut off by the other witch suddenly covering her mouth with her own and engaging her in an intense lip lock that sees Gwenog’s eyes widening beneath her blindfold in sheer disbelief. Because… Angelina Johnson is a GOOD kisser.
 
Certainly, she’s far better at kissing then Gwenog is expecting. To be fair though, it’s not like the Welsh witch has kissed anyone who would dare to fight back in decades. Every kiss she’s been engaged in for quite some time now has been initiated by her, and completely dominated by her as well.
 
Unbeknownst to the Holyhead Harpies Manager, this has left her rather weak to this line of attack, allowing Angelina to hold her head steady and make a mockery of her confidence and ego, the Weasley Housewife’s tongue working double time to drive Gwenog absolutely wild as they swap spit for what feels like an eternity but in actuality is only a couple minutes at best.
 
Still, that couple minutes is enough to fill Gwenog Jones with a rather intense sensation of NEED. Her pussy is dripping by the time she’s done, pooling down below against her already shivering butt cheeks. And to her utmost shame, she actually whines when Angelina breaks away, her head lifting up a half inch to try and follow her, even as her bound, spread-eagle state leaves her unable to truly do so.
 
Of course, the giggles she hears from around her remind Gwenog that they aren’t exactly alone. She’d already known that from the tongues questing all over her dark-skinned, incredibly toned figure, but it hadn’t really registered until now and Gwenog finds herself blushing and wondering just who else Angelina has brought in for this little show.
 
By the terms of their game, the losing team would submit to the winning team. Specifically, each losing team member would submit to their corresponding player. So as both Team Captain and Team Manager of the Holyhead Harpies, Gwenog was expected to submit to Angelina Johnson, who was definitely Team Captain, but who she also had assumed was Team Manager.
 
The others, her Chasers, Beaters, Keeper, and Seeker, were all in turn expected to submit to the whims of their counterparts in the Weasley Housewives. But if that was the case, where were all of these tongues coming from? Who exactly was giggling at her humiliation and disgrace? And more than that, where the FUCK did that hot, meaty rod that had just slapped down harshly against her clit come from?!
 
Unbeknownst to Gwenog, she was actually mistaken about one thing. Angelina Johnson wasn’t the Team Captain and Team Manager like her counterpart. She was just Team Captain. The Team Manager of the Weasley Housewives was the only person it could be… Harry James Potter.
 
“J-Johnson! What’s the meaning of this?!”
 
As Gwenog sputters, the distinctly hot phallic-shaped t-thing slides up and down her slit, running along her mound and all the way to her damn belly button with its length! In response, the dark-skinned physically fit witch trembles, her abs quivering and shaking as the first cock she’s felt in a long, long time makes its presence known all across her helpless lower half.
 
“Hm? The meaning? I thought you knew the terms you signed up for, Jones. A no-clothes match, to be played in front of Lord Potter on his Private Pitch. Winner takes all. Losers submit to their respective positions on the two teams.”
 
Gwenog slowly nods, before it dawns on her that this massive cock, this epitome of a male specimen, can only belong to one man. Flushing with indignation and embarrassment, Gwenog strains against her bonds to no avail.
 
“T-This was NOT the arrangement, Lord Potter. I gave my consent for you to WATCH, not for you to participate!”
 
Of course, Gwenog’s words might have more weight or bite to them if her body wasn’t currently betraying her so. Indeed, even as the Holyhead Harpies Manager is berating Harry and Angelina for their treachery, she’s also bucking her hips up almost violently against the cock hot-dogging her slit, rubbing her juices along his length and maybe making an attempt at dislodging him… or maybe making an attempt at getting him inside of her.
 
Either way, Harry just chuckles and shakes his head.
 
“Ah, you seem to be misinformed about something, Ms. Jones. Namely, you believe Angelina to be the Manager as well as the Captain, don’t you? That is… incorrect. I am the Manager of the aptly named ‘Weasley Housewives’.”
 
With that bombshell dropped, the fight goes out of Gwenog, her eyes widening beneath the blindfold as she realizes just how thoroughly she’s been bamboozled. Indeed, she’s been completely tricked and trapped into an arrangement she definitely wants no part of… no matter how good his hot rod of man meat feels against her abs. No matter how much her body might want it! She doesn’t want this! She doesn’t!
 
-x-X-x-
 
Harry just grins down at the gorgeous, chiseled body of the Holyhead Harpies leader. Gwenog Jones has been on his radar for quite some time now, especially given the stories Ginny used to tell him about her back in the day. Indeed, it had seemed to Harry like he might actually have a peer in Gwenog. She was apparently quite the domineering woman, both on the Pitch and off of it. Treating the Holyhead Harpies like her own personal harem, she’d spent decades now turning young Quidditch Players into her private sex toys.
 
It was a credit to her skills as both a player and a Captain that the corruption inherent in the Holyhead Harpies hadn’t led to them falling too far down the leaderboards. Indeed, under Gwenog’s tenure, the Professional Quidditch Team had won its fair share of games and even gone all the way more than once. They had a record to be proud of, there was no doubt about that. They certainly weren’t the Chudley Cannons or anything like that.
 
And yet, now that he had the woman in front of him… she was just like the rest. Harry could tell, as much as she didn’t want to believe it, that Gwenog was enjoying what was being done to her so far. With Angelina assisting him and all of his bitches who weren’t on the actual Quidditch Team using their tongues to prepare Gwenog’s body, it was obvious that she was primed and ready to go.
 
Of course, she was still bucking her hips violently, making it rather hard for him to penetrate her. Whether she was hoping to get him inside of her or hoping to keep him out… it mattered little in the end. Seeing how her counterpart was making things difficult, Angelina reaches over with a vindictive smirk etched across her face and takes a firm hold of Gwenog’s clit, grabbing it and yanking it in a harsh pinch.
 
Gwenog shrieks and squirts involuntarily from the sudden sensation, her continuing inability to see what was about to happen leaving her uniquely vulnerable to everything they were doing to her. Still smirking, Angelina uses her dexterous and limber body as it’s meant to be used and whips her legs up and over, getting onto the table and trapping Gwenog’s head in a vice lock between her own dark-skinned, sweaty thighs as she faces Harry and gives him a wicked grin.
 
“Lick, bitch.”
 
After a moment, Angelina begins to moan softly, signaling that Gwenog has indeed began to eat out her rival’s pussy like she’s supposed to. Meanwhile, still holding Gwenog’s clit in one hand, Angelina leans forward and reaches out with the other, using her fingers to invitingly spread the loser player’s pussy wide, revealing the dark-skinned Welsh witch’s wet pink center to her Lord and Master, Harry James Potter.
 
“Go on then, Master. Give it to her. Make her SCREAM on your cock. Teach her what it means to truly submit to a greater power~”
 
With such an invitation, how can Harry do anything but take Angelina up on her offer? With Gwenog’s hips no longer bucking all over the place but instead quivering with fear and anticipation, Harry lines up… and thrusts in, groaning at the exceptionally tight feel of a Professional Player’s puffy pussy slowly but surely spreading around his massive bitch breaker of a cock.
 
Angelina’s eyes light up as Gwenog’s muffled screams slowly make their way out from under the other dark-skinned woman’s crotch. Harry can only chuckle as one of his most loyal fuck toys begins to ride her rival for all she’s worth. Bouncing up and down on Gwenog’s face, riding her like there’s no tomorrow, Angelina moans and reaches up with one hand to play with one of her own dark, sweaty tits.
 
The other hand remains where it is, her fingers pinching at Gwenog’s clit and her palm resting upon the Welsh witch’s pussy mound. As such, Angelina gets to feel the bulge as the once tight pussy of her Quidditch Rival stretches and falters in its losing battle against the phallic invader forcing its way into her. The noticeable bump as Harry pushes deeper and deeper into Gwenog brings a pure smile of delight to Angelina’s face and she giggles like a schoolgirl.
 
“That’s it, Master. Give it to her. Fuck yes, f-fuck she loves it. Oooh, she really, really loves it~”
 
Personally, Harry isn’t so sure about that. Oh, he’s sure that Gwenog will come to love it… but right now, with the way she’s still tensing up and straining against her bindings, it’s obvious that the blindfolded Professional is still fighting, still struggling against her own innate desires. She needs this, but she doesn’t want it, she refuses to acknowledge how much she’s enjoying herself. Still, at this point Harry is an expert at breaking in hardy witches like Gwenog Jones.
 
Grabbing her harshly by her dark-skinned, thicc and toned thighs, Harry digs his fingers into her compact flesh and begins to really fuck her, pounding away at Gwenog’s cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Her pussy puts up a valiant fight to be sure, and from the way she’s flexing, Harry can even imagine she’s doing it consciously at first. Her control over her own body is that great, that she’s able to manually tighten up her own pussy muscles.
 
Unfortunately for Gwenog, rather than forcing him out, rather than pushing his rampaging member from her poor puffy pussy lips, she’s only making it feel better. In the end, she, like every witch before her, is ill-equipped to handle Harry’s titanic bitch breaker of a cock. Indeed, the more he fucks her, the less resistance her pussy can muster, until the once-tight cunt is instead stretching further and further, and his cock is going deeper and deeper inside of her.
 
She tries though, by Merlin she tries. It’s just that nothing she can do is good enough, and it’s not long before her intensifying muffled screams vibrate up into Angelina’s pussy and make the other dark-skinned witch cream herself all over Gwenog’s trapped and helpless face.
 
“Yesssss…”

Angelina’s verbal expression of pure joy causes Harry to look up at her, and he blinks when he sees an utterly euphoric face that he actually recognizes. Not from their own time together however, no, those faces are far more fucked silly and submissive. Right now though, Angelina is making a face that he last saw on her back during their Hogwarts Days, a face that she’d make pretty much every time they won a game for Gryffindor while she was still at the school.
 
Raising an eyebrow, Harry reaches out and tweaks one of his gorgeous dark-skinned slut witch’s rock hard nipples, causing her to squeak and refocus her attention onto her wizard master.
 
“That face… something you want to tell me, pet?”
 
Flushing in both embarrassment and memory, Angelina offers a sheepish smile and a nod.
 
“A-Ah, of course Master… Katie, Alicia and I would usually have threesomes in the Girls’ Locker Room after every win. Sorry we didn’t think to invite you back then~”
 
Imagining it, Harry chuckles for a moment, looking off in the distance as he contemplates what that must have been like and fantasizes about what he would have done if he’d received such an invite. Unfortunately, he was such a wimp back in his school years that he might not have said yes.
 
Oh sure, he had courage where it counted, but he was so emotionally stunted that he really didn’t know what to do with girls, let alone what to say when they expressed interest in him. As evidenced by his utterly horrid early dating life. Shit, first a terrible showing with the Patil Twins at the Yule Ball, then a blubbering Cho Chang, and then marrying Ginny Weasley of all things…
 
Harry had made a lot of mistakes as a child and younger man, but even the mistakes had ultimately made him into the man he was today, and truth be told the wizard didn’t think he’d change any of it for the world, not even if he was given the opportunity to do so. Rather, he was happy with what he had… even as he constantly reached out for more like the lustful glutton he’d become.
 
Of course, as Harry’s thoughts go off on a tangent while he continues to fuck Gwenog senseless, it turns out that Angelina wasn’t done talking yet. A light kiss upon his pistoning shaft draws his attention back to the beautiful Gryffindor witch and she bats her eyelashes up at him once she has his attention. While he was spacing out and fantasizing about what could have been, Angelina had leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Gwenog’s lower back and pressing her cheek into Gwenog’s pussy mound so she could feel his cock bulging out of her flesh against her.
 
Now that she has his attention again however, Angelina grins wickedly.
 
“I remember more than once sneaking your Firebolt out of your locker, in fact. I fucked myself and the other girls with it after every victory. We pretended it was you, begged you to fuck us as we fucked ourselves with your broom. I always hoped that you might smell out juices still caked on the end of your broom handle and answer the siren’s call we were putting out, but alas… it never happened.”
 
Is she telling the truth? Is she lying? Harry can’t help but fuck Gwenog harder regardless of what the answer is. The tale, whether it’s a fib or actually what happened, is more than arousing enough to make him pound into Gwenog’s previously tight pussy with all his might, drawing more muffled shrieks and squeals from the gorgeous Welsh Quidditch Player, while Angelina continues to bounce her hips and ass and cunt up and down on Gwenog’s face.
 
“I touched myself day in and day out to thoughts of you, Master. Even back then, I wanted you to take control. Even when I was Captain, I hoped you would push me down and have your way with me~”
 
Wiggling her hips back and forth, Angelina’s eyes twinkle with delight as she watches Harry fuck her rival faster and harder by the second, his expression growing more lustful and aroused the more the story progresses. At this point, he’s half-convinced she HAS to be bullshitting him… but in the end, does it matter? It doesn’t make it any less hot.
 
“And now here we are, all these years later, sharing this presumptuous, arrogant little bitch between us. Mm, Master… dreams really do come true~”
 
And then, to put a cap on her incredibly engaging story, Angelina leans forward and BITES Gwenog’s clit, which is quite engorged by this point. The resultant scream from the Welsh witch into her own pussy causes Angelina to tense up, her back arching as she lets out a wanton moan and cums a second time as well. Orgasming all over Gwenog’s face right as the other woman’s pussy tightens and squirts all over Harry’s cock, stomach, and Angelina’s face.
 
It’s one big cacophony of pleasure and orgasmic release and all in all, it’s far too much for Harry to handle. He might have been able to hold it back, but he was already overstimulated from Angelina’s hot little story and so he unloads deep into Gwenog’s womb, causing both women to squeal as they both feel his white hot spunk filling the Holyhead Harpies Manager to the absolute brim. Gwenog feels it directly on account of it being her body, but Angelina can feel it too with her cheek still pressed against her rival’s pussy mound, and her lips part as she breathes in shallowly, eyes fluttering in excitement.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Yanking his cock out of Gwenog with a pop, Harry isn’t surprised when Angelina is quick to clean the stained rod with her mouth. Leaning forward, she eagerly sucks him in past her full, pouty lips, looking up into his eyes with nothing but love, adoration, and submission as she does so. Meanwhile, she’s also still grinding her pussy down into the face of the catatonic woman beneath her as Gwenog just lays there, no longer straining against her bindings or doing much of anything really.
 
Indeed, the woman who had apparently been treating the Holyhead Harpies as her own personal fiefdom and harem for decades now has been completely broken in, or so it would seem. At least for the moment, she can’t seem to muster up the strength to do much of anything, can’t even be bothered to eat out her victorious rival if Angelina’s mumbled grumbling is any indication.
 
Sucking and slurping his cock clean of Gwenog’s juices while empathically bouncing her hips up and down on the catatonic witch’s face, it’s obvious from the disappointment in Angelina’s eyes that Gwenog has stopped performing for the moment. But that’s alright, because it’s time for Angelina’s reward anyways.
 
Slipping his cock free of her pillowy lips with a pop, Harry gives the dark-skinned witch a wink as he slowly begins to make his way around the table, a hand trailing along Angelina’s sweaty, glistening flesh as he goes.
 
“You did good today, pet. You did very good. Which means its time for your reward. After all, I did say I would give you quite the prize for winning the match, didn’t I?”
 
“Oooh, yes Master~ Give it to me… give me whatever you have for me, and I’ll take it like the good little bitch I am!”
 
It’s fun, seeing how far Angelina has fallen. Truly, she’s come a long way from the loyal-to-her-husband witch that Harry had first broken in in their joke shop all those years ago. She’s all his and they both know it, which means he can do whatever he wants to her, and she’ll love every last second of it.
 
For her ‘reward’, Harry moves into position behind her and spreads her tight cheeks apart. Even now, Angelina’s thicc thighs are locking Gwenog’s head in place as Harry begins to tease at Angelina’s pink, puckered asshole with his thumb. Lifting her further up onto the table, he forces her into a deep squat over the unconscious woman’s face.
 
By this point, the blindfold that Gwenog was wearing at the start of this has fallen off, revealing that she’s completely insensate, her eyes rolled up in her head, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, and her face one of relaxed unconsciousness.
 
That doesn’t last long however, and just as Harry is popping into Angelina’s dark, tight ass, Gwenog’s eyes flutter as she begins regaining consciousness. Her first sight is thus Harry’s massive member, pushing into Angelina’s asshole as the other witch’s puffy pussy lips continue to drip down onto Gwenog’s messy face, and Harry’s massive balls start to clap against said slit in tandem with his thrusts.
 
Driving up into the deliriously aroused woman for a few moments, Harry shakes his head after a beat, deciding that Angelina’s ass is a little too dry still.
 
“Not quite ready… no, we need a bit more saliva.”
 
“Master?”
 
“Don’t worry, pet… I’ve got a warm, waiting mouth right here, don’t I?”
 
“Oooh, yes Master!”
 
In her beleaguered state, it’s obvious Gwenog doesn’t fully process his and Angelina’s exchange before it’s too late. Mouth wide open because the dark-skinned Welsh Quidditch Player was panting for breath after her own powerful plowing, she doesn’t stand a chance when Harry pulls out of Angelina’s ass and proceeds to SLAM his cock down Gwenog’s gaping gullet, thrusting forward and choking her on his dick.
 
“GAAAAAGGGGKHKH!!!”
 
Almost immediately afterwards, he pulls out and thrusts into Angelina’s ass again… but only once before swapping over to Gwenog’s throat once more. Still bound spread eagle to the cold metal table, there’s nothing the Holyhead Harpies Manager can do but take it as Harry plunders both Angelina’s ass and Gwenog’s throat in equal measure, using Gwenog’s mouth like a pussy to provide enough lubrication to fuck Angelina’s mercifully clean back door harder and faster as they go.
 
“Hulghk!... Hulghk!... Hulghk!...”
 
In and out, in and out, from one hole to the other as both dark-skinned women get to enjoy Harry’s massive bitch breaker of a cock. Of course, a well-trained slutty little bitch like Angelina Johnson-Weasley already loves every last second of it, her eyes rolling around in her head and her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she squats over Gwenog’s face, her hands clutching at her rival’s abs for support.

Gwenog though… Gwenog has to learn to love it. And learn she does, as she slowly comes to appreciate the taste of the wizard’s overwhelming rod. Of course, it’s helped when eventually Angelina leans forward and begins stuffing her digits into Gwenog’s creampied, completely exposed and vulnerable pussy. Indeed, all Angelina wants is some of Harry’s delicious cum as an extra treat while she’s fucked hard in the ass, but for Gwenog, the feel of her rival’s scooping fingers in her freshly fucked, overly sensitive pussy… it’s enough to drive her insane.
 
All in all, all she can do is get face fucked in between Harry plowing Angelina’s ass, all matter of fluids from his cock and the other woman’s pussy covering Gwenog’s face as she lays there beneath them both, utterly defeated and completely at their mercy.
 
Finally, though, Harry reaches his limits and has to decide where to cum. Of course, ultimately that’s no decision at all, right? After all, Angelina is the one who won, who beat Gwenog and her team on Harry’s behalf. As such, it only makes sense that she would get Harry’s load. And so, the powerful wizard lord slams home into Angelina’s ass one more time and fills her bowels with his seed, much to her vocal enjoyment as she orgasms a third time all over Gwenog’s face, squirting her pussy juices across the broken woman’s features without reservation as Gwenog just takes it.
 
In fact, the defeated Holyhead Harpies Manager is expecting to get covered in Harry’s spunk as well the moment that he pulls out of Angelina’s ass. However, this doesn’t happen. Instead, the moment he pulls free of Angelina’s back door, she instinctively squeezes her asshole tightly shut, anting to save Harry’s load for later.
 
Harry doesn’t even notice at first… until Gwenog lets out what has to be an entirely involuntary disappointed whine. Blinking down at the Welsh witch in confusion, Harry glances up and understands what Gwenog is complaining about a moment later. Letting out a laugh, Harry shakes his head and grins wickedly.
 
“Now, now, Angelina… that just won’t do. You know better, sweetheart. And I think Gwenog, for all her lack of cooperation, deserves a consolation prize too. Even if she is a complete and utter loser…”
 
“B-But Maste-eep!”
 
Reaching forward, Harry grabs hold of Angelina rather roughly, yanking her back into his arms a bit while making sure her holes remain positioned right over Gwenog’s face. Reaching around, he uses one hand to play with a breast, toying with Angelina’s nipple. The other goes to her slit, rubbing at it harshly for a second before he focuses his efforts on her clit.
 
While the dark-skinned witch would never consciously resist or refuse her Master anything, given how broken in she is by this point, there’s no denying that she does hesitate to give in for a second. Harry helps her out with that though by pinching her clit and yanking on it harshly… which is MORE than enough to destroy Angelina’s concentration and ruin her instinctive attempt to hog his cum with her anal muscles.
 
Indeed, as she cums for the fourth time upon Gwenog’s face, her sphincter loosens up in the process and the load of white, hot jizz that she’d tried to save and hoard for herself comes spilling out right alongside her pussy juices from her gushing wet cunt. All of it cascades down onto Gwenog’s face and into her open mouth, the Holyhead Harpies Manager firmly giving in as she tries to catch as much as she can of their bodily fluids, swallowing it all.
 
She sputters and nearly drowns under Angelina’s squirting holes, but nevertheless manages to persevere, swallowing every last drop until there’s nothing left for her to drink down, until it’s either all in her gullet and on the way to her stomach, or has cascaded off of the table entirely and made quite the mess on the floor.
 
Releasing Angelina with a gentle push forward, Harry sends the witch careening a bit as she slumps face down on top of Gwenog, her head between her rival’s legs in the same way Gwenog’s head is between her legs as well.
 
As both exhausted Team Captains lay on top of each other, the door to the locker room opens as if on cue. In truth, it’s just really, really good timing and Harry grins wickedly as the other members of the Weasley Housewives Team each saunter into the room. They’re not alone though, Every single one of them, even his dear treacherous wife Ginny Weasley, is leading their respective counterpart by a leash as each of the Holyhead Harpy players in question crawl on all fours alongside their victorious opponents.
 
Ginny might be the lowest of the low among Harry’s bitches, but for today and today alone she’s not quite at the bottom of the pecking order. Indeed, instead she’s actually getting a little taste of what it means to be in Harry’s good graces. Her efforts to trick Gwenog into this whole ordeal in the first place had not only paid off, but they’d also paid dividends, and Harry wasn’t going to just ignore that.
 
As the Holyhead Harpies crawl into the locker room on all fours, some of them keep their heads down… but most can’t help but glance up, taking in their surroundings. Harry can’t help but smile a truly wicked smile when their eyes widen at the sight of their Team Leader and Mistress, Gwenog Jones, in the state she’s currently in.
 
Inevitably, shortly after they lay eyes on their conquered Manager, they all end up zeroing in on him and his cock, their eyes growing even WIDER at the realization that Harry is more a part of this then just as the audience to their game, and that more than that, he has the biggest, fattest cock any of them has ever seen.
 
With his seed still oozing out of a catatonic Gwenog’s pussy, it’s obvious what they’ve been doing… and yet he’s still hard and Harry can see fear, trepidation, and longing in the eyes of the Harpy players as they all realize what’s coming. Of course, it’s not like his other witches have been idle, all this time.
 
Indeed, as they’re brought into the locker room, the players of the Weasley Housewives force each of their counterparts to sit on the locker benches surrounding the cold metal table where Gwenog and Angelina are laid out on. Showing off an amazing display of flexibility, every single collared Harpy is forced to grab their ankles and lift their legs high into the air, spreading them wide and splaying their bodies so that Harry can see their abused holes.
 
Harry’s team takes up position behind each of the respective losers and fingers them as they stare at Harry invitingly. Every single one of them wants him to go to them first and fuck them and their counterpart next. Each is hopeful that they can be the one to entice Harry in a room full of enticing women.
 
Meanwhile, the Holyhead Harpies all have aroused looks on their face. Even the most fearful among them can’t help but give him bedroom eyes, clearly wanting him to fuck them even if they don’t think they do. Grinning wickedly, Harry takes in the entire room, gazing upon all of the naked, physically fit bodies of both Quidditch Teams. In the end, he can’t help but want to be fair. Rather than just choosing, why not make it interesting?
 
“The first girl to make your counterpart squirt will be next.”
 
His words drop like a veritable bombshell in the locker room, silence reigning for a second as they all digest what he just said. The Holyhead Harpies go wide eyed as they realize what’s about to happen, but it’s not like any of them can or want to stop it. Meanwhile, Harry’s girls all jolt forward almost at the exact same time, their hands moving over the bodies of the losers as they all begin to work towards the same goal… winning the prize.
 
Needless to say, the shrieks of pleasure that fill the locker room almost certainly penetrate to the outside as his girls get to work.

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