Vera lounged on a sofa at the edge of the grand hall. Her fiery red evening gown clung to her body, perfectly outlining her voluptuous, mature curves. The high slit revealed a long, firm leg, its skin gleaming enticingly under the crystal chandeliers.
Her posture was casual, almost careless. One leg was bent, the toe of her shoe lightly tapping the floor, while the other stretched out lazily. Her toes, painted a bright, vivid red, wiggled absently as if keeping time to the soothing song drifting from a nearby veiled statue.
Beside her, Narcissa looked far more constrained.
She sat on the very edge of the sofa, hands clasped anxiously in her lap, head slightly bowed. Her pale blue eyes held a clear畏惧 (fear/apprehension) as she stole cautious glances at her sister.
Draco had scurried off to find his classmates, leaving the two sisters enveloped in this quiet pocket of the bustling hall.
"Seems we're early!" Vera stretched languidly. The snowy expanse of her chest rose and fell with the movement, her deep cleavage teasingly visible.
She didn't look at Narcissa. Instead, she leaned slightly toward her, and her outstretched leg casually brushed against Narcissa's smooth thigh.
Narcissa stiffened violently. The fear of her sister, rooted deep since childhood, spread like a vine choking her heart. She instinctively wanted to move away but was trapped by the sofa's armrest.
"You've made a 'new friend' recently?" Vera's voice held a lazy curiosity. Her fingertips played lightly with the hem of Narcissa's silk dress on her inner thigh. The soft fabric rubbed against Narcissa's sensitive skin, sending a jolt of heart-pounding numbness through her.
A faint blush colored Narcissa's cheeks. She opened her mouth to deny it but didn't know where to start. "W-what new friend?" she stammered, her eyes darting away, afraid to meet Vera's sharp gaze.
Seeing this, Vera's lips curled into a playful smirk.
She withdrew her hand but leaned her entire body closer. The red dress seemed like a burning flame, wrapping around Narcissa instantly. Vera's hip pressed right against Narcissa's knee and upper thigh. Through the thin fabric, Narcissa could feel the warmth and softness of Vera's body.
"Don't play dumb, dear Cissy." Vera's soft fingers gently lifted Narcissa's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. Those sharp eyes burned like two deep flames straight into Narcissa's soul.
"I'm talking about that... hmm..." Vera dragged out the sound. Her other hand crept out stealthily. Her palm was warm and soft, carrying a moistness unique to a mature woman.
Without warning, her hand slipped under the hem of Narcissa's dress, climbing up until her fingertips touched the smooth, elastic curve of Narcissa's buttocks, wrapped tightly in her fitted skirt.
"...that 'Little Rosier' from the Rosier family."
Vera's fingertips kneaded the flesh of Narcissa's buttock gently and slowly, the action full of teasing and suggestion. She savored the firm, springy softness in her palm and the instinctive stiffness and trembling of Narcissa's body.
"Tell me, sister!" Vera leaned closer, her hot breath spraying against Narcissa's ear, her voice low and seductive. "How far have you gone... with that little thing?"
Her fingertips, carrying an indescribable magic, moved from Narcissa's buttocks, slowly, inch by inch, exploring toward the private depths beneath the skirt...
Just as Vera's moist fingertips were about to touch Narcissa's most sensitive spot, a cool, commanding voice cut through the ambiguous atmosphere like a cold wind from the corner of the hall.
"So here you are. I've been looking everywhere."
Narcissa's body jerked violently. She used every ounce of her strength to suppress a scream. The relief of being saved cleared her mind instantly, and she quickly squeezed Vera's invasive hand away from her intimate area.
Vera froze. The playful fire in her eyes was instantly replaced by a cold glint of displeasure. Reluctantly, she withdrew the hand that had nearly breached Narcissa's defenses, but her face immediately smoothed into a flawless smile.
It was Cassiopeia.
She stood tall, her posture perfect, every movement precise and composed, as if she weren't walking through a noisy banquet hall. A polite smile graced her face, but her deep eyes swept over Narcissa's flushed cheeks and Vera's hastily withdrawn hand with meaningful intent.
Beside her, clinging tightly, was her daughter, Isabella.
Isabella wore an exquisite gown adorned with silver stars, showing an uncommon grace for her age. Her long golden hair, similar to her mother's, was braided intricately and draped over her shoulder. Her face lacked the usual innocence of a young girl, replaced by a strictly tutored aristocratic elegance.
"Cassiopeia, perfect timing!" Vera spoke first, her voice warm and enthusiastic, as if nothing had just happened. "My dear sister was just telling me about that boy who's been quite famous lately, Jerry Rosier."
Hearing this, Cassiopeia glanced at Narcissa's rigid back, a flicker of amusement deep in her eyes.
Vera chuckled low, her voice still husky with lingering desire. Her eyes, heavy with eyeshadow, looked Isabella up and down before settling back on Cassiopeia's face—a mask of elegance and coldness—as if trying to pierce through that thick aristocratic shell. "So? Those old fossils in the Avery family haven't tormented you enough? They let you out to see these fresh toys?"
Cassiopeia nodded slightly, her movement elegant and restrained, pushing people away with invisible walls. She sat on the empty side of Narcissa, the fabric of her dress tightening around her thighs to reveal enchanting folds.
"The Avery family is always thorough with etiquette," Cassiopeia replied indifferently, then turned her gaze to Narcissa's still-flushed face.
Narcissa looked down and sipped the remaining wine in her glass. Her throat bobbed with a wet sound, as if trying to wash away the restlessness deep in her body.
Just as the undercurrents swirled between the three women, several young wizards in sharp suits approached with wine glasses, feigning casualness. Their target was clear—the porcelain-doll-like Isabella.
"Good evening, Lady Avery, Ladies Black."
A boy with curly dark brown hair and freckles spoke first. It was the eldest son of the Parkinson family, Pansy's brother. He tried to look mature, but his reddening ears betrayed his youth.
He bowed to Cassiopeia and Vera, then looked burning at Isabella. "Beautiful Miss Isabella, may I have the honor of the first dance?"
Behind him, boys from the Nott and Crabbe families watched expectantly, their eyes full of direct admiration.
The banquet hall's dome sprinkled soft starlight, and fairies played miniature harps. Though the heavyweights hadn't arrived, the romance was already blooming. After all, the underlying purpose of this banquet was to facilitate these young courtships. Why else would busy wizards rush back from the front lines for a Thanksgiving dinner?
However, Isabella didn't even lift an eyelid.
She swept a cold glance over the boys, looking at them like boring decorations. She didn't even bother to speak, turning her head away indifferently as if they didn't exist.
That innate, bone-deep arrogance left the proud Pure-blood boys blushing and pale, standing awkwardly, unable to stay or leave.
Parkinson's face fell. He stepped forward to say something but was pulled back by a friend. They exchanged helpless looks and retreated resentfully.
Isabella ignored the small commotion. Her eyes scanned the hall like radar, not searching, but hunting. Her gaze passed over chatting officials and posing socialites.
Finally, it locked onto an inconspicuous corner at the other end of the hall.
There, a thin boy was speaking in low tones with a tall woman. The boy looked delicate, especially standing next to the full-figured woman who was a head taller. But somehow, he radiated an aura of control completely at odds with his age and size.
Isabella's eyes lit up instantly.
She retracted her gaze and leaned into her mother's ear, whispering something rapidly.
Cassiopeia listened, and a crack appeared in her mask of eternal elegance. She looked at her daughter, then followed her gaze to the delicate boy. After a few seconds, she nodded, her voice steady. "Go. Young people should have their own circles."
Isabella received permission, and for the first time, a look of near-joy appeared on her face. She lifted her skirt, gave a flawless curtsy to Vera and Narcissa, and walked toward that corner like a proud cygnet, without hesitation.
Vera watched it all from the corner of her eye. She saw Isabella rudely reject the Pure-blood heirs and run toward the thin boy like she'd found treasure.
When Isabella merged into the crowd, Vera leaned closer to Cassiopeia, her warm breast almost pressing against her arm.
"What?" Vera smirked, nudging Cassiopeia's waist with her elbow, her voice dripping with teasing. "Already picked a son-in-law for your Isabella? I must say, Cassiopeia, your eye is sharp. Ignoring all those proper Pure-blood heirs for that... hmm, 'little thing'. But..."
Vera licked her bright red lips with a small, erotic wet sound. She leaned into Cassiopeia's ear, whispering like she was sharing a dirty secret. "...That little thing might look small, but he's huge where it counts. Forget Isabella; even you or I might not be able to walk after a night with him."
Cassiopeia didn't even twitch an eyebrow at Vera's crude remark, as if hearing meaningless wind. Her elegant expression remained unchanged, though a trace of disdain for such low tastes flashed in her deep eyes.
Too lazy to engage with Vera, she elegantly raised her goblet. The dark red liquid swayed under the lights like liquid ruby.
Clink.
Her glass touched Narcissa's rim lightly. Cassiopeia didn't look at her friend; her gaze pierced the crowd, landing precisely on figures in the center of the dance floor. Her voice was cool as ice, pitched low for only the three of them.
"Ignore that cat in heat, Cissy. Business first. Look over there... that batch of vintage wine in the old cellar has been turning sour lately, always trying to get some air."
Her chin lifted imperceptibly toward an old wizard in emerald velvet robes—Augustus Blackwood.
Narcissa, still feeling the aftershocks of Vera's teasing, forced herself to follow Cassiopeia's gaze. She drank some wine, using the cold alcohol to suppress her body's heat. She understood the code: "Vintage wine" meant old-guard Pure-blood families like Blackwood; "turning sour" meant their recent actions were becoming uncontrolled, threatening their plans.
"Is the cork not tight enough?" Narcissa whispered back, slipping into the coded language.
"We need a new cork!" Cassiopeia's tone was flat, discussing life and death like the weather. "Or perhaps let it sleep in the cellar forever." Her decisiveness was biting.
Her gaze shifted to a goblin at the bar, calculating wealth with his eyes. "And that goblin's claws are gripping too tight. The sound of gold is becoming dull."
Translation: Grimm, the Gringotts goblin, was tightening cash flow, affecting Pure-blood businesses. They needed him to loosen up and grant loans.
Finally, her eyes landed on Phineas Valentine, surrounded by witches. A cold sneer touched her lips. "As for that noisy purple parrot... his song is getting ugly. I want him to sing something we like, or... just pull out his tongue."
Just as Narcissa pondered the massive interests involved, Vera scoffed impatiently. She reached out with red-nailed fingers and pinched Narcissa's thigh through the silk dress, ambiguously.
"The Big Boss is here!"
Before Vera finished her teasing sentence, the heavy oak doors of the banquet hall, carved with complex runes, slid open silently.
The music and chatter were choked off by an invisible hand. Silence fell. All eyes were drawn to the entrance.
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge appeared first. He wore his signature lime-green bowler hat, but his usual pompous air was gone. He leaned forward slightly, wearing a fawning, humble smile, acting like a diligent butler guiding someone walking beside—or even slightly ahead of—him.
It wasn't the stern Amelia Bones, as everyone expected. It was... a girl.
A girl who looked barely older than Isabella.
She wore a simple gown woven of moonlight silk. It had no extra adornments but flowed like liquid light as she moved. Her hair, a near-transparent platinum blonde, hung to her waist, highlighting her small, exquisite face. Her skin was white as fine porcelain, flawless.
But when people met her violet eyes, the impression of "youth" collapsed instantly.
Those were ancient eyes, calm as a deep well, holding an indifference and weariness that belonged to centuries of weathering, not a teenage girl.
Her steps were small but incredibly steady. Every step carried unquestionable authority, as if the floor solidified for her.
The high-ranking Ministry officials trailing Fudge, including the usually haughty Department Heads, lowered their heads respectfully, staying at least two steps behind her.
When her calm gaze swept the room, even the loudly opinionated Augustus Blackwood subconsciously checked his arrogance and bowed slightly.
The hall parted for her. Everyone held their breath.
She was Aurora Sterling, the current President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA)—a witch who had lived for centuries but maintained the appearance of a young girl through powerful ancient magic.
The mask of elegance on Cassiopeia's face finally cracked. Her back straightened silently, her fingers gripping her wine glass tighter.
The teasing vanished from Vera's face, replaced by the intense excitement of a hunter spotting top-tier prey. She licked her red lips aggressively and nudged the stunned Narcissa.
"Now it gets interesting!"
Jerry's gaze swept over these colorful characters before refocusing on Evelyn Grey in front of him.
"What do you want from me, Ms. Grey?" Jerry chuckled softly, his voice clear in her ears.
Evelyn straightened her back. The journalistic sharpness returned to her eyes, which were watery with shock and desire. She licked her dry lips with a wet sound, preparing for a tough negotiation.
"Name your price," she said, voice low and decisive.
Jerry laughed. Instead of answering, he slowly raised his right hand, displaying the family ring on his index finger. The massive sapphire refracted deep, oceanic light under the chandeliers.
"This is a ring!" Jerry's tone was bland, like introducing a trinket. "Market value: 3,700 Galleons. Enchanted with the highest-level Shield Charm, a portable emergency Portkey, and a small Undetectable Extension Charm for... inconvenient items."
He stroked the gem elegantly. "My robes are lined with dragon hide by top tailors—warm in winter, cool in summer, resistant to most low-to-mid-level curses. Oh, and the dagger in my boot is poisoned with Basilisk venom..."
With every item listed, Evelyn's face darkened.
Finally, Jerry withdrew his hand, looking at the tall woman with pure, unadulterated mockery in his deep eyes. "Do you think I lack money, Madam?"
Evelyn's breath hitched. She spun around, grabbed a full glass of red wine from a table, and downed a large gulp. But she didn't let him leave; she blocked his path even tighter with her body.
"Everything is negotiable!" Her voice was husky from alcohol, her eyes burning bright. "What do you want? Just say it!"
"That's better." Jerry smiled with satisfaction.
His hand went back into his robe pocket. When it emerged, an object lay quietly in his palm.
It was a oddly shaped plug made of polished black crystal. The tail was round and smooth, tapering to a thin waist, then expanding into a bulbous head. The shape screamed sexual suggestion. At the base, a small, perfectly cut green gem glittered demonically in the light.
Evelyn's pupils contracted to pinpoints. She stared at the object, her face draining of blood before flushing with a sickly red. Her long legs, clad in nude stockings, clamped together instinctively.
Jerry twirled the butt plug in his fingers, enjoying the mix of shame, anger, and disbelief on her face.
"I made a bet with Rita!" Jerry's voice was light and cruel, a scalpel cutting through her disguise. "I bet that I could make the noble, cold Ms. Grey voluntarily..." He emphasized the word. "...wear this little thing until the banquet ends."
Jerry's gaze slid down to her tight buttocks hidden under her robes, imagining the green gem twinkling behind her.
"If you agree!" He looked up, meeting her furious eyes, and stated his price. "I will let you take the clearest photo you want from the Recording Stone."
The flush on Evelyn's cheeks deepened, like too much rouge on a white canvas. She breathed rapidly, chest heaving. The fire in her eyes shifted from pure humiliation to a complex light of calculation and resolve.
Suppressing her agitation, she asked hoarsely, "Do you know that woman?"
Jerry knew who she meant. The "girl" who had just changed the air pressure of the room—Aurora Sterling. A living legend whose magical power rivaled Dumbledore's and whose style was even more domineering.
"I don't know her," Jerry admitted frankly, spinning the black crystal plug like a deadly chess piece. "But I've heard many legends. It's said... that Excellency died by her wand."
A cold, bizarre smile suddenly bloomed on Evelyn's lips.
Just when Jerry thought she would bargain or explode, she did something unexpected.
She reached out without hesitation and took the warm, obscene plug from Jerry's palm. Her cold fingertips brushed his warm skin, causing a slight tingle.
Then, right in front of him, Evelyn brought the black head of the plug to her bright red lips. Her tongue darted out, licking the smooth crystal surface in circles, like savoring a precious lollipop.
Slurp... lick...
The wet sounds were clear between them. Evelyn's action was full of blasphemous temptation; the tool of humiliation became a sexual plaything in her mouth. Her eyes were half-closed, watching Jerry through wet lashes.
"I want the photo," she mumbled, her tongue still working the object. "But besides that, if you do me a favor, you will gain my friendship. The friendship of a Chief Reporter."
She pulled the plug from her mouth. A glistening thread of saliva connected her lip to the black crystal, shining lewdly in the light.
"Aurora Sterling hasn't set foot in Europe for many years. If you can find out her true purpose here and tell me..." Evelyn's eyes became sharp as knives. "...then our transaction will be complete."
The moment she finished, a faint electronic synthesized voice echoed in Jerry's mind.
[Ding!]
[Sudden Quest Triggered: The Reporter's Ambition]
[Objective: Uncover the true purpose of MACUSA President Aurora Sterling's visit to Europe and trade the intelligence to Evelyn Grey.]
[Reward: Rosier Family Prestige +150, Friendship of Evelyn Grey (Special Relationship), Magical Item 'Ink of Honesty' (1 bottle).]
[Failure Penalty: Evelyn Grey becomes your mortal enemy. She will use all media resources to launch a devastating public opinion attack on the newly exonerated Rosier family, clearing your prestige and branding you with new infamy.]
Jerry looked at the publicly cold and arrogant Chief Reporter. Her face maintained its dignified outline, but the saliva at the corner of her mouth shone glaringly under the lights.
"Do you have that much confidence in me?"
Jerry tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the black crystal plug still glistening with her saliva. "She is the President of MACUSA, a big shot even Fudge has to treat with caution. Why do you think an eleven-year-old boy can pry secrets out of her?"
Evelyn didn't answer immediately. The smile on her lips deepened—a look of someone who had seen through ambition and desire.
Instead of speaking, she demonstrated her reasoning with action.
She placed one hand on the edge of the giant candy sculpture beside them. Its colorful shadow perfectly obscured everything below their waists. From a distance, they looked like two people discussing political secrets. But from Jerry's angle, he saw Evelyn slowly hiking up the hem of her thick, solemn grey robes.
As the grey fabric rose inch by inch, Jerry's pupils contracted.
No wonder there had been that flash of skin earlier when she moved too much; this woman, outwardly so saintly, wasn't wearing trousers.
On her long, slender legs, incredibly tight flesh-colored stockings stretched from her ankles all the way up to her thighs, the fine fibers hugging her full flesh.
Directly above the stockings was a pair of pink lace panties. The exquisite edge dug deeply into the soft flesh of her hips.
What surprised Jerry even more was that the crotch of the pink fabric was completely soaked. A large, dark wet stain clung tightly to her crotch, outlining the texture of her slit clearly.
It was the arousal fluid she had involuntarily secreted while watching the Recording Stone, immersing herself in Selina's extreme humiliation and stimulation.
Right in front of Jerry, Evelyn pressed the plug—still warm from her mouth—against the edge of the pink fabric.
Her finger hooked deftly, peeling the soaked lace aside to reveal the muddy, slightly opening slit.
"Mmm..."
A muffled moan escaped Evelyn's nose.
She slowly pressed the thick black crystal head into the hot, wet narrow passage, bit by bit.
Sticky fluid squeezed out around the edges of the crystal. Accompanied by squelch, squelch sounds, more than half of the round plug was swallowed.
Evelyn's waist swayed back and forth unconsciously, feeling the friction of the hard object against her inner walls. Her pale skin now glowed with an enticing pink.
When the entire plug was swallowed by the tight suction, leaving only the green gem at the base exposed, Evelyn suddenly clenched hard. Then, with a pop, she pulled the crystal, covered in glistening threads, out.
Panting heavily, she held it to Jerry's lips.
"A little... deposit for you." Evelyn lowered her voice, ambitious light flickering in her eyes as she signaled Jerry to stick out his tongue.
Feeling the approaching wet, cold breath, Jerry opened his mouth without hesitation. His tongue curled around the slime, tasting the salty, musky sweetness, swallowing Evelyn's body fluid.
Evelyn was extremely satisfied with the visual and physiological impact she had caused.
She then slowly turned around, presenting her perfectly curved buttocks to Jerry. Although the robe blocked Jerry's view, his keen hearing clearly caught the subsequent movements.
Gulp...
That was the sound of a tight hole being forced open, accompanied by a very subtle but very real tearing sensation of tissue.
Squelch... slide...
This time the sound was duller, revealing a dry and elastic resistance.
Evelyn's buttock muscles contracted violently, relaxed, then contracted again, accompanied by the suppressed, low water sounds in her throat.
That was the sound of the plug breaching the sphincter and sinking deep into the rectum.
When the dull sound of flesh penetration completely subsided, Evelyn's body froze for a moment.
Immediately after, a subtle but uncontrollable spasm exploded from deep within her lower abdomen, instantly spreading to her limbs.
Evelyn's back arched imperceptibly, her legs pressed tighter together, and her high heels almost dug into the soft carpet.
Her body, hidden under the robe, trembled uncontrollably. A tiny whimper, stifled between pain and ecstasy, escaped from her throat.
Evelyn orgasmed.
In this public corner of the banquet hall, with people coming and going, this proud female reporter reached her peak just because of the intrusion of a cold foreign object.
However, Evelyn's face remained that of a dignified and slightly innocent ice queen. She even squeezed out a hint of a blush from "embarrassment" at the corners of her eyes, looking pitiable.
But only Evelyn knew that a stream of hot liquid was gushing uncontrollably from her ravaged opening, winding down the slippery stockings on her inner thighs.
The lewd fluid gathered at her slender ankles and finally dripped, drop by drop, from the edge of her high heels into the thick carpet, making no sound.
Evelyn took a step forward, her soft waist pressing directly against Jerry's chest.
This action allowed her to almost completely envelop the eleven-year-old boy in her shadow.
A faint, musky scent—a mixture of expensive perfume, red wine, and female body fluids—domineeringly drilled into Jerry's nose.
Evelyn lowered her head slightly, looking down at Jerry with eyes watery from orgasm. Her voice was husky and sweet, yet carried a cold threat:
"If you can't do it, believe me, you definitely don't want to offend a... Chief Reporter with independent publishing rights!"
Facing Evelyn's threat hidden in sweetness, Jerry smiled.
"I hate being threatened!"
Jerry's hand, carrying the warmth unique to a boy but with disproportionate stability and decisiveness, reached straight into the wide hem of Evelyn's grey robe.
Those proud, long legs wrapped in flesh-colored stockings felt like the finest silk under Jerry's palm.
His hand slid all the way up the smooth, tight curve of her calf, stroking slowly along the seemingly endless, voluptuous inner thigh, and finally stopped at the forbidden ground already completely soaked in body fluids.
Just as Evelyn trembled slightly, thinking he was going to caress her further, Jerry's fingers snapped lightly in the shadow of the robe.
Snap.
A barely audible crisp sound.
The next second, a subtle yet incredibly clear strange sensation exploded from the deepest, tightest, most secret point of Evelyn's body.
The plug Evelyn had forced into herself seemed to come alive. The surface of the cold crystal released waves of numbing tremors. Not intense, but with a tricky frequency, precisely stimulating the fragile intestinal walls that had never been treated like this.
The perfect mask of arrogance and dignity collapsed instantly.
"Uh... ah..."
Evelyn's pupils dilated suddenly. All the calculation and shrewdness in her eyes were instantly replaced by a pure, physiological, unconcealed astonishment and pleasure.
Evelyn's mouth opened uncontrollably. The threatening words she intended to say turned into a string of broken, tuneless moans.
Her proud expression management failed completely. Her mouth twitched uncontrollably, and a thread of crystal saliva slid down the corner of her absent-minded mouth, drawing a shameful silver line on her chin.
Jerry admired this masterpiece with interest.
His other hand slowly rubbed the pink lace panties that were completely soaked and clinging tightly.
Under his fingertips was the roughness of the fabric soaked in liquid, and the scalding heat from the flesh due to overstimulation.
Jerry could clearly feel that with every press of his finger, more liquid overflowed from the overwhelmed flower opening, making squelch, squelch subtle water sounds.
Jerry tilted his head, looking at Evelyn's face, which was completely occupied by desire and had no trace of coldness left. His finger hooked the edge of the lace.
Then, Jerry pulled down.
Rip!
A crisp sound of fabric being violently torn rang out. The already thin lace, under the burden of excessive liquid and sudden brute force, snapped.
In Jerry's hand, there was a wet piece of pink rag emitting a strong, musky sweet scent.
Jerry held this trophy up to his nose, unashamedly taking a deep breath of the smell mixed with woman's body fragrance and musk. Then, as if collecting a treasure, he slowly stuffed it into his pocket.
After doing all this, Jerry looked up at the woman whose legs were trembling uncontrollably and who was having difficulty standing, and revealed an innocent yet vicious smile:
"This is the deposit."
Back to Rita.
Rita Skeeter hid behind the stone pillar, holding the Recording Stone in her hand, which was flashing with flowing light.
Her face wore an uncontrollably ecstatic grin, so exaggerated it looked like it might split her face.
Clearly, Rita had captured not only Evelyn's completely broken composure but also every minute detail of Jerry handing the plug to Evelyn's lips, her licking it, and even the moment of insertion where she lost control from pleasure.
Smack!
Rita was so excited she forgot herself.
She wrapped her arm around Jerry's neck and planted a wet, sweet kiss on his cheek without hesitation.
Rita's body pressed tight against Jerry, her full breasts crushing him, making it hard to breathe.
"Thank you, my little demon."
Rita's voice was hoarse and hyper, filled with indescribable satisfaction. "It's simply... perfect!"
Jerry was squeezed by her soft, full breasts, almost able to feel the powerful beating of her heart beneath the flesh.
"Where do you plan to publish it?"
Jerry asked, his voice steady without a ripple, as if the vicious prank just now had nothing to do with him.
Hearing this question, Rita's hyper expression froze for a moment, then she burst into a sharp, short laugh, trembling so much her chest heaved.
"Publish?"
Rita acted as if she had heard a huge joke. She tapped Jerry's nose with a finger painted with bright red nail polish, then leaned into his ear, her hot breath tickling him. "My little demon, I haven't gone crazy to that extent."
Rita let go of Jerry, picked up the Recording Stone, and rubbed its smooth surface with her thumb like caressing a lover.
"Releasing it to the public would be letting her off too easy, and it's too classless."
A shrewd light flashed in Rita's eyes—the look of a hunter calculating how to maximize the use of prey. "This thing isn't for a one-time newspaper headline. It is... a chain."
She licked her bright lips, her smile full of malicious pleasure. "Next time that hypocritical bitch tries to snatch an exclusive from me, I'll 'accidentally' let her see a small part of this footage. Guess whether she'll choose to obediently hand over the headline to me, or let the entire wizarding world 'admire' her losing control from an orgasm?"
Jerry withdrew his gaze and spoke flatly, "Where is my reward?"
The excitement on Rita's face from her successful scheme froze for a second.
She looked left and right, lowered her voice, carrying a hint of disbelief and a provocative excitement: "Here?"
"Where else?"
Jerry countered, his face still wearing that smile inconsistent with his age.
Rita suddenly let out a low laugh suppressed in her throat, her chest heaving up and down.
She leaned into Jerry's ear, hot breath mixed with strong perfume tickling him.
"Alright, my little demon."
With that, Rita slid aside like an elegant snake.
She lifted her skirt and slowly squatted her voluptuous body behind the massive carved marble pillar, big enough to hide two people.
This action made Rita completely disappear from the sight of everyone in the banquet hall.
Rita's hands eagerly undid Jerry's trousers.
When the thick, vein-covered meat root, completely disproportionate to a boy's size, popped out, even the experienced Rita held her breath.
Rita swallowed subconsciously, a trace of surprise in her eyes, but mostly a fanaticism about to conquer a giant object.
Rita didn't use her mouth immediately. Instead, she extended her slender fingers with nail polish and carefully held the thing.
Her palm seemed a bit small for this meat pillar, barely able to wrap around it.
Rita looked up at Jerry's calm face, the corner of her mouth curling into a provocative arc.
Then, Rita lowered her head, her bright red lips approaching.
A warm, wet touch came. Rita's tongue tip, like a flexible little snake, circled meticulously around the swollen head's edge. Fine saliva soon covered the entire front end, glistening in the dim light.
Slurp... slurp...
Rita opened her mouth, trying hard to take the huge head in.
Her cheeks sunken deeply from the effort and stretching, but she didn't retreat at all. Instead, she sucked and swallowed even harder.
The melodious music of the banquet hall became the background noise for her actions.
Her head bobbed rhythmically up and down, her golden curls flicking with the movement.
Soon, Rita's carefully applied lipstick began to come off, leaving circle after circle of bright red marks on Jerry's purple meat root, like some barbaric and intimate branding.
While struggling to swallow, Rita reached out one hand to support herself against the pillar, while the other tightly gripped the base of Jerry's meat root, jerking it up and down in coordination with her mouth.
Rita's skillful yet wild technique sent a rush of hot pleasure straight to Jerry's lower abdomen.
Her mouth was warm and wet. Every swallow felt like she wanted to suck him in, skin and bones.
Her flexible tongue swirled around Jerry's sensitive coronal ridge, stirring up a fire of desire in him.
"Gulp... mmm... hah... ah..."
Rita, her mouth stuffed full, could only make these indistinct, sticky moans. Her golden curls danced wildly with her vigorous bobbing, and the red lip prints on Jerry's meat root piled up thicker.
Jerry narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling Rita's crazy service, but Evelyn's humiliated and broken expression still floated clearly in his mind.
He looked down at Rita's distended cheeks, his voice husky from stimulation:
"Do you know Aurora's purpose for being here?"
Rita's violent swallowing movement paused suddenly. She subconsciously wanted to answer. The moment her lips opened slightly, more saliva overflowed from her full mouth, sliding down Jerry's meat root with a squelch.
She shook her head with difficulty, gurgling in her throat, unable to utter clear syllables.
Then, she spat the spear out a little forcefully, squeezing a few watery words through her teeth:
"Gulp... don't... know..."
Clearly, even the well-informed Rita had failed to obtain any intelligence in advance about this Queen of the American wizarding world.
Jerry could feel Rita's displeasure at this ignorance and a hint of frustration.
In response, Rita's tongue licked heavily and vengefully on Jerry's meat root, then she used her free hand to flick Jerry's fragile balls hard, carrying a warning and urging meaning.
"Hurry... up!"
"I still have an interview to catch!"
Her voice was wet, carrying an unquestionable command.
Jerry's calm eyes instantly became dangerous.
He grabbed Rita's golden head, his five fingers almost sinking deep into her fluffy hair, as if holding some toy he could manipulate at will.
"Hah... mmm..."
Rita was forced to open her mouth wide, a painful low moan coming from her throat.
But Jerry showed no mercy. His waist thrust forward violently, instantly squeezing past the base of Rita's tongue and rudely pushing open her throat.
"Mmh... ah... gulp..."
Sticky panting and horrifying squeezing sounds rang out in the cramped space.
The tip of the huge meat root seemed to carry the force of a thousand pounds, breaking through the last barrier of the throat in one go, crashing straight into the depths of her esophagus.
Rita's body went rigid instantly, as if electrocuted.
Rita's face turned liver-colored from extreme stimulation and difficulty breathing. The veins on her neck bulged, her eyes rolled back like a dying fish, and her body spasmed and struggled under the squeeze of his long meat root.
Rita clutched Jerry's thighs tightly, her ten fingernails almost digging into his flesh. The heels of her high heels began to tap incessantly on the marble floor due to violent trembling, making tap, tap sounds, which were quickly drowned out by the banquet music.
However, Jerry seemed to think this was far from enough.
Jerry looked at Rita's face twisted by lack of oxygen and overstimulation. There was no pity in his eyes; instead, a more vicious interest flashed.
The hand grabbing the back of her head tightened, fingers locking her skull like iron clamps. Then, with irresistible force, he pressed her head down violently.
Squelch!
The thick meat root tightly wrapped by the throat was forcibly dragged down by this force, making a sticky and loud pulling sound.
As the tip of the spear left the throat, a liquid mixture of saliva and tears gushed from the corners of Rita's stretched, bloodless lips, splashing her gorgeous dress and Jerry's trouser legs.
Rita finally got a moment to breathe.
She gasped instinctively, her lungs burning, her throat filled with the rusty taste of blood.
Her body coughed violently from the strong physiological reaction, collapsing between Jerry's legs like a fish thrown ashore.
"Kid... you... are going to kill me..."
But this moment of liberation was brief as an illusion.
Before she could take a second breath, Jerry's hand pressing her head exerted force again.
He pressed his knee against her shoulder, fixing her completely in front of him. Then he straightened his waist and aimed the vein-popping giant, still covered in messy fluids, at her still-open mouth.
This time, there was no probing, no buffer.
"Urgh!"
Rita only had time to let out a desperate wail before Jerry's meat root, with a crushing brute force, penetrated her mouth again—deeper this time—crashing open the overwhelmed throat and going all the way in.
Gurgle~
The massive head, covered in slime, opened a path in Rita's esophagus in a rude, nearly tearing manner.
Rita's neck was pushed back by this irresistible force. On her fair, slender neck, a terrifying protrusion could be clearly seen—the shape of Jerry's spear.
The protrusion even squirmed slightly under her skin with Jerry's every breath and muscle pulse.
"Guk... glug... glug..."
Intermittent gurgling sounds, like drowning, came from Rita's throat.
Rita's mouth was stretched to the limit, the corners almost tearing. Massive amounts of saliva, unable to be swallowed, overflowed from her lips like a bursting dam, flowing down her chin and neck to her full chest, spreading a dark, ambiguous stain on her expensive gown.
Rita's body stopped struggling, for all her strength had been drained in the alternation of suffocation and orgasm, leaving only the most primal twitches.
Suddenly!
A crisp, rhythmic sound pierced through the noise of the banquet hall and reached their ears.
Click, click, click...
It was the sound of high heels tapping on the marble floor.
The sound was unhurried but purposeful, approaching step by step from the nearby corridor toward the marble pillar where they were hiding.
Rita, immersed on the edge of suffocation and pleasure, stiffened violently.
Her mind was dragged out of the fog of desire. Her rolled-back eyes were instantly filled with immense panic.
"Mmh... wooo..."
Rita whimpered, trying desperately to break free, the sound full of urgency and pleading.
She flailed, trying to push Jerry away, but was held immobile by his hand on her head.
Jerry's movements also stopped.
He could feel Rita's violent heartbeat and the intensified contraction from her throat due to fear.
Jerry obviously heard the approaching footsteps too.
"It's... coming... shoot fast..."
Rita urged indistinctly. Ignoring her nearly torn throat, she began to suck and swallow the giant still stuck in her throat with a near-crazy frequency. Her cheeks sucked in deeply from the excessive effort, looking wretched and lewd.
She just wanted this damn little demon to finish quickly, before they were discovered.
But the footsteps seemed faster than she expected.
Jerry's waist no longer thrust violently; he was clearly a bit tired too, but the giant remained hard as iron.
With a low roar from Jerry, the massive head pressed hard against the depths of Rita's throat again.
The eye opened wide, and streams of thick, scalding fluid, like a floodgate opening, sprayed out instantly, rushing down the esophagus straight into Rita's stomach.
Rita's body arched back under the scalding impact, her throat making gulp, gulp swallowing sounds.
However, the volume was simply too massive; Rita couldn't swallow it all in time.
Soon, some of the fluid that couldn't be swallowed flowed back from the esophagus into the mouth, filling Rita's entire mouth to the brim.
Streams of turbid white liquid overflowed from the corners of Rita's mouth, drawing sticky threads between her lips and Jerry's meat root.
"Woo... don't... urgh... pfft!"
Rita tried to beg, but the liquid poured uncontrollably into her nasal cavity.
She choked violently and coughed, white body fluid spraying out of her nostrils. The scene was lewd to the extreme.
"Damn it..."
Rita shrank back desperately. The meat root that had tortured her for so long finally pulled out of her ravaged throat with a loud pop.
A strand of thick, cloudy white liquid stretched into a long thread between her and Jerry's meat root, finally breaking and dripping onto her expensive gown.
But it was all too late.
The owner of the crisp high heel sounds, Evelyn Grey, was now standing right by the marble pillar.
Her face showed no trace of the previous loss of composure or emptiness. Instead, it wore a sickly, excited flush.
A magical camera had appeared in her hand at some point, and she was snapping photos of this vivid scene incessantly.
Click, click...
Flashbulbs lit up continuously in the dark corner, clearly recording Rita's tear-stained, wretched face and Jerry's huge meat root, which wasn't fully soft yet and was dripping white liquid from the tip.
Evelyn's tongue tip continuously licked the corners of her mouth painted with bright lipstick, as if tasting some delicious meal.
Her playful gaze quickly swept over Jerry's face.
Finally, it fixed on the tip of the giant object still dripping turbid fluid.
Then, as if controlled by some invisible force, the Chief Reporter of Witch Weekly, inexplicably, bent her proud waist.
Evelyn leaned in front of Jerry, ignoring the violently coughing Rita beside her. She opened her lips painted with bright red lipstick, like a thirsty traveler finding an oasis, and aimed at the tip still dripping white liquid.
Then, Evelyn closed her eyes and sucked hard, as if drinking milk tea through a straw.
Slurp... tsk... gulp...
Sticky saliva mixed with the fluids Rita had just left churned in the small oral cavity, making loud squelch, squelch sounds. The friction of lip flesh against the wet, slippery ridges sounded like bare feet stepping in mud, echoing endlessly in the shadow behind the stone pillar!