The whispers started the moment I, a slender new transfer with soft features and a penchant for silk robes, was sorted into Slytherin. Draco Malfoy’s icy gaze tracked me like a predator.

He cornered me in a deserted dungeon alcove after Potions. “Think you belong here, pretty thing?” he sneered, his hand sliding to my ass, gripping the plush curve through my trousers. I gasped, feeling my cock stir helplessly. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

That night, he summoned me to a hidden room. The air was thick with the scent of firewhisky and male sweat. Draco stood, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, their eyes hungry.

“On your knees,” Draco commanded. I obeyed, my hands trembling as I fumbled with his fly. I freed his thick, uncut prick, already leaking pre-cum. I took the salty head into my mouth, tasting his musk. He fisted my hair, fucking my face deep, making me gag. “Suck it good, you slut.”

While I serviced Draco, Crabbe yanked down my trousers and smalls, exposing my smooth, hairless ass. His thick fingers, slick with spit, circled my tight hole. “Fuck, he’s virgin-tight,” Crabbe grunted, pushing one digit in. I moaned around Draco’s shaft, the burning stretch a delicious pain.

“Enough,” Draco growled, pulling his wet cock from my lips. He spun me around, bending me over a velvet chaise. “Hold him.”