Chapter 3: Precision Pegging Drill
The cooled wax cracked and flaked from Harry’s skin as Ginny traced her finger through it, a mockery of a caress. His whole body was a map of their attention, a landscape of seared nerve endings and trembling muscle.
“Now,” Ginny repeated, her voice low and thick with promise, “let’s see how many times we can make you come before you break.”
Before Harry could form a coherent thought, a sharp crack echoed in the room. Another witch Apparated into their room, her blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, a confident, athletic sway to her hips. Katie Bell smiled, a strap-on already secured around her waist, the dark, veined silicone glistening with a sheen of lubricant. She was quickly followed by the appearance of Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson.
“Right on time,” Hermione said, consulting a small, ornate hourglass she’d produced from her pocket. “Ginny’s just finished her orgasm. We’re instituting a rotation. Two minutes each. I’ll time it.”
“A rotation?” Harry croaked, his voice raw. The concept was so absurd, so brutally clinical, it cut through his haze of pleasure and pain.
“Organization is key to any successful endeavor, Harry,” Hermione stated, not looking at him. She pointed her wand at the hourglass, and the sand within began to flow. “Ginny, you’re up first. You may begin.”
Ginny didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed the harness of her own strap-on, a sleek, black piece, and coated the shaft with a generous amount of oil from a vial on the bedside table. She moved behind him, her hands roughly pulling his hips back, positioning him on his knees, his ass exposed and still tingling from the wax.
“You remember this, don’t you, Harry?” she whispered into his ear before biting the lobe. “You begged for this. Now you’re going to fucking take it.”
She pushed into him without ceremony. The familiar, stretching fullness was there, but amplified by his raw sensitivity. He cried out, a strangled sound, as she began to piston into him, her hips slapping against his flesh. The wooden table creaked under their combined weight.
“Thirty seconds!” Hermione called out.
“Oh, give him a proper show, Ginny!” Luna chirped from his side. She had knelt down and was now curiously, gently tugging on his balls, rolling them between her fingers like precious stones. “His sac is so tight and high. It’s like he’s permanently ready to breed. It’s fascinating.”
Her touch was a bizarre counterpoint to the brutal fucking he was receiving. It was tender and clinical all at once, sending shivers of a completely different kind of awareness through him.
“One minute!” Hermione announced.
Ginny’s thrusts became harder, deeper, grunts tearing from her throat. “That’s it… take it… you love this, you filthy fucking…” Her words dissolved into a gasp as she drove into him one last, punishing time before pulling out with a wet, slick sound.
Harry collapsed forward, his forehead pressed against the cool wood, breathing in ragged, desperate gulps. He was painfully, shamefully hard.
“Time!” Hermione said. “Katie, you’re next.”
Katie stepped forward, her expression a mix of competitiveness and amusement. She applied more lube to her own toy, a thicker, more bulbous shape. “How do you like my ‘Beater’s Bat,’ Potter?” she laughed, aligning herself.
She didn’t wait for an answer. She pushed in, and the stretch was immediately more intense. It was a different kind of fullness, a more demanding pressure. She set a faster, rougher rhythm than Ginny, her athlete’s endurance on full display.
“He’s making such lovely noises,” Luna observed, her tugging on his balls becoming less gentle, a firm, rhythmic pull that coincided with Katie’s thrusts. It created a disorienting, overwhelming cadence of sensation.
“One minute down,” Hermione intoned, her voice devoid of any arousal, a simple scientist recording data.
Harry moaned, the sound forced out of him by a particularly deep thrust. He could feel his orgasm building, a tidal wave of shame and need gathering in his gut.
“Don’t you dare come yet,” Katie grunted, slapping his ass cheek with a sharp crack. “You don’t get to come until we say you do.”
Luna began to sing, a soft, nonsensical tune. “He’s a hero, brave and true, now he’s taking a fake cock right through…” Her fingers worked his scrotum, now firm and insistent, a steady anchor in the storm of his degradation.
“Thirty seconds remaining!”
Katie increased her pace, her breath huffing, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Gonna… fucking… ruin you…” she panted, her movements becoming erratic, driven by her own simulated climax.
With a final, gut-wrenching thrust, she held herself deep, groaning. Then she withdrew, leaving him feeling hollowed out and Used.
Alicia was on him before he could recover, her movements efficient and direct. Her strap-on, a smooth, unyielding ivory, pressed against his stretched entrance and slid in with a single, practiced thrust. It was a different angle, a relentless, steady pounding that made the table legs scrape against the floorboards.
Harry gasped, his knuckles white where he gripped the table’s edge. Each inward drive rubbed directly over that swollen, internal knot of nerves, sending jolts of pure, undiluted pleasure up his spine. "Merlin, fuck..." he slurred, his head swimming, his own cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto the wood below.
"One minute," Hermione's voice cut through, cool and clear as a bell.
Luna, who had been observing with her head tilted, suddenly reached out. She formed a V with her thumb and forefinger and delivered a sharp, precise thump to the base of his scrotum. A bolt of nauseating pain flared, making his whole body jolt and clench around Alicia’s invading length. "Oh, they jump so nicely," Luna murmured, delighted.
"Thirty seconds."
Alicia grunted, her rhythm faltering as she chased her own peak, her hips stuttering against him. The dual assault of the deep, prostate-massaging thrusts and the throbbing ache in his balls was unraveling him. He was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming.
"Time. Angelina."
Alicia pulled out, and Angelina replaced her in a fluid motion. Her toy was the largest yet, a intimidating, ridged monstrosity. She didn't bother with finesse, sheathing it inside him with a brutal, claiming shove that forced a choked scream from Harry’s throat. The ridges dragged against his sensitive inner walls, a rough, overwhelming friction.
"Look at him take it," Ginny commented, her voice husky with arousal as she watched from an armchair.
Luna, meanwhile, produced a pair of thin, supple leather cords from a pocket of her robes. With the concentration of a artist, she began to wrap them around the base of Harry’s scrotum, pulling them tight until his balls were bound together, a taut, vulnerable package. The pressure was immense, a dull, constant throb that amplified every other sensation.
"One minute," Hermione said.
Angelina drove into him, her powerful Quidditch player’s thighs pistoning, each thrust a miniature earthquake. Harry could feel his climax building, an inevitable tsunami held back only by the tight binding and his own fraying will. He was panting, drooling, completely lost to the experience.
"Luna, your turn," Hermione announced.
As Angelina withdrew, Luna stepped up, her own strap-on a curious, spiraled design in pearlescent material. She pushed in, the twisting shape creating an unbelievable, corkscrewing sensation that made Harry see stars. It was relentlessly stimulating his prostate, a constant, swirling pressure that threatened to milk him dry.
Then Luna conjured a small, multi-tailed flogger. She began to swing it, the soft leather tails landing with a series of light, stinging taps across his bound balls. It wasn't brutal, but the cumulative effect on his hyper-sensitized skin was maddening.
"Getting close, isn't he?" Hermione observed, standing and finally approaching. She traced her wand tip along the length of his trembling, spit-slicked cock.
"Please..." Harry begged, unsure what he was even asking for.
Hermione’s lips quirked. "Let's see." A tiny, blue spark leapt from her wand tip and connected with the head of his cock.
A sharp, electric sizzle shot through him, a pain so clean and bright it was almost pleasure. He shouted, his back arching violently. Another spark, this one landing on his leather-bound balls, made them jump and ache exquisitely against their restraints.
Luna giggled, continuing her gentle, rhythmic flogging and the slow, spiraling thrusts of her toy. "The colors he’s seeing now must be wonderful."
Hermione shocked him again, a sustained crackle that made his teeth chatter and his legs shake uncontrollably. The combination was too much. The pressure, the pain, the relentless prostate stimulation—it broke him. A raw, guttural roar was torn from his chest as his body seized, his untouched cock erupting in a series of violent, helpless spurts that splashed against the table leg and the floor beneath him.
His vision whited out. The sensations continued, Luna’s thrusts and flogging, another tiny shock from Hermione’s wand, prolonging the agony and the ecstasy until he was a sobbing, boneless heap against the table.
Through the roaring in his ears, he heard Hermione’s calm voice. "Well, that’s one. Ginny, the queue restarts with you."
Ginny’s smile was a predatory slash of white in the firelight. "My pleasure," she purred, striding back to the table where Harry still trembled, his own spend cooling on his thighs. She didn’t re-lube her strap-on, the black silicone still slick from before. "Let's see how you handle it raw this time, hero."
She entered him in one brutal, unyielding thrust that stole the air from his lungs. The friction was immediate and searing, a rough, possessive claim on his thoroughly used body. His back bowed, a silent scream caught in his throat as she established a punishing rhythm, her hips slamming into his with the force of her Quidditch tackles.
"Look at him," Angelina laughed, leaning against the mantlepiece. "Can't even form words anymore."
"Sixty seconds," Hermione announced, her wand-tip already glowing with a faint, dangerous blue light.
Harry’s world narrowed to the brutal, stretching fullness and the building pressure deep inside him. His cock, already beginning to stir again against his will, twitched. A tiny spark leapt from Hermione’s wand, sizzling against the hypersensitive head. He jerked violently, a pained gasp tearing from him. "Fuck!"
"Language, Potter," Hermione chided mildly, her eyes noting the reaction with academic interest.
Ginny grunted, driving deeper, her fingers digging into his hips. "He loves it. Don't you? You love when she tortures your poor, overworked cock."
Luna, having retrieved her flogger, resumed her gentle, incessant whipping of his bound balls. The soft leather tails created a constant, stinging percussion against the tight, aching skin. "They’re so resilient," she mused, "like little bludgers made of pure nerve endings."
"Thirty seconds."
Another, stronger shock made Harry’s legs buckle. Ginny held him up, her thrusts becoming faster, more erratic as her own simulated climax approached. "Gonna… fill… you… up…" she grunted, her body stiffening against his before she pulled out with a wet, ragged sound.
Katie was next before he could slump, her 'Beater’s Bat' slicked fresh. She pushed in, the familiar, bulbous shape stretching him anew. "Miss me, Potter?" she taunted, setting a hard, athletic pace.
The combined sensation of her deep pounding and Luna’s flogging was a direct, overwhelming assault on his sanity. His breath came in ragged sobs, pre-cum beading anew at his tip. He was close, so dangerously close.
A sustained arc of blue lightning from Hermione’s wand connected with his entire shaft. He screamed, his body seizing, the orgasm violently short-circuited into a wave of agonizing frustration. "No, no, please…"
"Two minutes. Alicia," Hermione said, as if she’d merely adjusted a dial.
Alicia’s efficient, relentless thrusts with the ivory dildo focused directly on his prostate. It was a merciless, targeted drilling that had him mewling, his fists clenching and unclenching against the wood. Luna’s flogger fell in a steady, maddening rhythm.
"He’s crying," Angelina observed, not unkindly. "Proper tears."
"Sixty seconds."
Another shock, smaller this time, a sharp reminder of the rules. Harry flinched, a tear tracing a path through the sweat on his cheek. The humiliation was a live wire, intertwined with the pleasure, each feeding the other.
Angelina’s turn was a lesson in power. The ridged toy dragged against his raw insides, each thrust a rough conquest. She fucked him with a Quidditch star’s competitive intensity, determined to wring every possible reaction from his broken form.
"Look at that, he’s trying to thrust back," Ginny laughed, pointing. "Still trying to be in control, even now."
Hermione’s wand crackled, a warning shot that made him freeze. "Stay still, Harry. You take what you’re given."
Luna’ final two minutes were an exercise in surreal torment. The spiraling, corkscrew motion of her pearlescent toy seemed to seek out every single overstimulated nerve. Combined with the flogger, it pushed him to a precipice of sensation where pleasure and pain were indistinguishable.
"Ginny," Hermione said, her tone shifting from scientist to participant. "He’s ready."
Ginny moved behind him again, her strap-on glistening. "Hermione, no shocks this time. Let him." She pushed in, a deep, claiming stroke that buried the toy to the hilt. "Come for us, Harry. Come from getting fucked in the ass."
It was all the permission his body needed. The weeks of secret fantasy, the shocking reality of the night, the relentless stimulation—it crested and broke. A raw, guttural sound was torn from him, a wordless admission of total surrender.
His cock, utterly untouched, jerked violently, and a second, powerful orgasm ripped through him. It was a dry, internal convulsion, milking nothing but wracking his entire frame with waves of unbearable pleasure-pain. Thick, helpless tears streamed down his face as he shuddered through it, impaled on Ginny’s toy.
The women erupted into laughter. It wasn't cruel, but it was full, rich, and utterly delighted.
"Merlin's beard, he actually did it!" Katie howled, clutching her stomach.
"A true prostate orgasm," Hermione noted, a hint of triumph in her voice. "Fascinating."
Luna stopped flogging and gently cupped his bound balls. "Well done, Harry. That was very synchronized."
Ginny held him up as his muscles gave out, her laughter warm against his back. "And that's just the beginning."