Cambrian’s Emporium of Everything (Multiple Settings)

How To Train Your Veela Pt. 1-5 (Harry Potter)

Commission (Parts 1-5)(Parts 5-10 will be posted in 4 hours, so if you're reading this later, just click next for the rest of the story)

Themes: Corruption, Master/Slave, Mind Break

Summary: In which Barty Crouch Jr. captures Fleur Delacour and endeavors to make her his property.

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Part 1:

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In the aftermath of Harry Potter’s escape from the Little Hangleton Graveyard, Lord Voldemort dismisses all of his Death Eaters save for one. Barty Crouch Jr. kneels before his Lord, head bowed in subservient submission as he awaits punishment for his failure. It only made sense that the Dark Lord would blame him for Potter’s escape. After all, Barty already blamed himself.
 
“Arise.”
 
Expecting a Cruciatus Curse and getting ‘Arise’ instead throws Barty for a loop for a moment, but in the end the Death Eater quickly recovers and rises to his feet, blinking owlishly.
 
“… My Lord?”
 
“You, out of all of my Death Eaters, have proven to be the only one I can rely upon. Your zeal in service to your Lord is commendable… and I would see you rewarded, Bartemius Crouch.”
 
A shudder runs down Barty’s spine. Rewarded? Not punished. He can’t help but be shocked by the Dark Lord’s decision. That said, it takes no more than a moment for him to adjust his thinking, always ready to change his perspective on nothing more than the whims of his Lord. If Lord Voldemort felt that Barty deserved to be rewarded rather than punished, who was Barty to say otherwise? Then again…
 
“There is nothing one such as I needs other than the opportunity to continue to serve you faithfully, my Lord. Seeing you return to your true power, seeing all of the others forced to bow before you when they abandoned you all these years… that alone is reward enough for me, Dark Lord.”
 
There’s a brief moment of silence… and then Voldemort’s wand taps the bottom of Barty’s chin, forcing his head up so that the Dark Lord can look him in the eyes. Immediately, the Death Eater knows that his Lord is reading his mind. Lord Voldemort is a skilled Legimens after all, and the only requirement for the mind reading spell if you are proficient at it is eye contact.
 
Barty does not try to shy away from his Lord’s gaze. He has nothing to hide from Lord Voldemort. Indeed, every single word that had passed through his lips was the absolute truth. Though, the longer the Dark Lord goes rummaging through his mind, the more… he uncovers.
 
“Ah, here we are.”
 
His face is aflame as Lord Voldemort pulls up a singularly beautiful creature’s features in Barty’s mind’s eye. The French Champion of the Triwizard Tournament that he just got done ‘advising’ on as part of his guise as Mad-Eye Moody this past school year. Her name is Fleur Delacour, and she is the epitome of beauty. Gorgeous blonde hair, a pretty face that could sink a thousand ships… and a bombshell of a body that puts said face to shame.
 
She is beauty incarnate and all year long, Barty found himself lusting after the young witch. But then to be fair, it’s not entirely his fault. She’s not just a witch after all, but part Veela as well. Those temptresses are known for beguiling men, and while Barty wasn’t so weak as to be wholly taken with her and pulled from his true task, he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about her. Fantasies that his Lord was now seeing run through his mind.
 
Blanching, Barty immediately apologizes for his failure.
 
“I-I swear my Lord, I would never put my desires before your own. I-!”
 
“Quiet.”
 
Voldemort’s tone brooks no argument, and so Barty falls quiet. Finally, the Dark Lord breaks eye contact, ending the mind reading. Barty, grateful for the opportunity, immediately turns his gaze back towards the ground.
 
“You wish to possess this Fleur Delacour. To own her. To make her your slave and force her to fall in love with you. You wish to turn her into a creature as devoted to you as you are to me… don’t you?”
 
There’s no denying it. The comparison is not quite apt, seeing as Barty and his Lord do not have the same sexual relationship that he so desperately desires with Ms. Delacour. However, they do have the sort of servile, devoted relationship between them that Barty desires from Fleur. To have her submit to him and obey him would be… well, as mentioned, there’s simply no denying it.
 
“Yes milord…”
 
“A worthy goal for a servant as loyal as you, my dear Bartemius.”
 
Despite having every intention of keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground for the rest of this conversation, his Lord’s words prompt Barty’s head to come up, his gaze snapping to the Dark Lord as his jaw drops open in shock. Chuckling darkly, Voldemort reaches out and in a swirling void of black magic… suddenly has a large tome held clutched in one hand.
 
“In fact, I have just the tool to give you exactly what you desire.”
 
He holds out the tome and Barty takes it almost reverently, shuddering breathlessly as he looks over the book’s cover. It certainly looks dangerous… like the sort of thing you wouldn’t even find allowed in Hogwarts’ Restricted Section.
 
“This text is one of a kind… perhaps the last in existence. After all, the Veela share a predisposition with fire… and had every reason to want to burn every single copy of this tome that they could get their hands on. Within those pages, you shall find information on the forceful enslavement of your prey. For that book was made solely to help turn willful, disobedient Veela into willing, loyal slaves.”
 
Another shuddering gasp leaves Barty’s lips. His Lord is much too kind. This is… too much. Much too much. And yet, he doesn’t say so. To let those words pass out of his mouth would be to contradict his Lord. And he would never do that. Of course, Lord Voldemort isn’t quite done yet.
 
“You have my permission and my blessing to hunt down this Fleur Delacour and capture her. Take all the time you need to learn what this tome has to offer and subjugate the girl to your Will. For your loyal service and unquestionable devotion, this is your reward.”
 
Barty trembles with barely contained ecstasy. A wide smile spreads across his faces, something that anyone sane would call most decidedly unstable if they were there to see it.
 
“Thank you, my Lord! I promise, I will not let this take me away from continuing my service to you! I will only study this tome in the free moments that I have between making sure that the world knows you are back and not going anywhere ever again!”
 
Lord Voldemort nods, and then flicks out his fingers.
 
“Dismissed.”
 
With tome clutched to his chest and visions of a certain gorgeous French Champion chained to his bed, Barty Crouch Jr. scurries away. He has… so much studying to do.
 
-x-X-x-
 
It’s almost a year before his opportunity finally presents itself. Sure, Barty could have hunted down his quarry before then… but in truth, he’d wanted to study the tome his Lord gave him from front to back first. More than that, he wanted to make absolutely sure that his preparations were entirely complete.
 
Funnily enough though, when the opportunity DOES finally arrive, Barty isn’t even looking for it. No, he’s on business for his Lord… specifically, he’s alongside a number of other Death Eaters, having been skulking through the Department of Mysteries, there to retrieve both Harry Potter and the Prophecy that their Lord desired.
 
Of course, things hadn’t gone entirely to plan. A result of that idiot Lucius Malfoy being in charge of the operation, Barty couldn’t help but feel. Then again, he isn’t sure whether he would have advocated for the other option… Bellatrix Lestrange was a true believer just like him, but she and the other Death Eaters who had been freed from Azkaban by the Dark Lord were… less than entirely coherent after their long imprisonment.
 
Barty himself did not remember his time in Azkaban very well. He had only been stuck in there a year before his mother and father had conspired to ‘save’ him. But while his father had then kept him under the Imperius for many, many years after that, hiding him beneath an Invisibility Cloak so that no one would ever know Crouch Senior’s shame, it was still better than Azkaban would have been. Bellatrix and her fellows had come out as little more than wild animals. Useful to their Lord, no doubt… but limited in their capacity for reasoning, planning, and basic things like tactics or strategy.
 
In the end, between Bellatrix and Lucius, Barty would have reluctantly agreed that Lucius was the better team leader before all of this. But now? He couldn’t say for certain. Not only had they been stymied by a group of school children led by that accursed Harry Potter, not only had the Prophecy been broken due to the fighting that had ensued… but they’d been held off long enough for the Order of the Phoenix to arrive and start doing combat with them in the bowels of the Ministry.
 
“Stupefy!”
 
“Protego! Avada Kedavra!”
 
Shielding against the stunning charm and shooting a Killing Curse that easily dispatches his current opponent, Barty just sneers, not even bothering to watch as the dead Order Wizard falls to the floor, nothing but a corpse. Instead, he looks around, frowning at the sight he sees. So far the Death Eaters are winning, but it’s not as much of a sure thing as he would have liked. If Dumbledore were to show up, they would be doomed. That he wasn’t here already was strange to say the least.
 
Just as that thought is running through Barty’s head, however, he sees her. Fighting alongside the Order of the Phoenix, showing up in the last place he would have expected her, Barty lays eyes on his prey. Almost a year apart has been good to Fleur Delacour. She’s filled out even more in all the right ways, her beauty only growing with another year of age. The gorgeous French Witch and Part Veela looks absolutely stupendous as she spins this way and that, dodging or deflecting enemy spells while throwing out her own with almost contemptuous flicks of her wand.
 
In that moment, with all the preparations he’s made and his Lord’s blessing echoing in his ears, Barty finds himself grinning and striding forward. The both of them have another opponent to deal with before he reaches her, but then just like that he’s in front of her, facing off with his prey. Fleur Delacour stiffens at the sight of him, but her eyes do not widen in recognition. She does not know who he is… but then to be fair, he’s wearing the silver mask that all of the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters wear at the moment.
 
Even if she could see his face, Barty knows she wouldn’t recognize him. After all, she’d never gotten the chance to know him for who he really was, seeing as he’d been hiding under Mad-Eye’s ugly mug all year long during his time at Hogwarts. In the end, the gorgeous veela has no idea what danger she’s in… she thinks he’s only looking to kill her. She doesn’t know that there are fates worse than death waiting for her.
 
Even still, her jaw clenches and she whips out her wand, shooting first without even a word. Barty blocks with a shield charm, smiling at her as he too switches to wordless casting. Silent casting is much more taxing and not nearly as easy to do, but he likes it… he likes that she’s making this difficult.
 
As their duel progresses, the fighting between her Order and his allies continuing all around them, Barty quickly realizes… for as skilled as she is at her age, and for as much effort as he’s had to put in since breaking free of his father’s Imperius to regain his own talent with spellcasting… the gulf between them is just too much. She’s not good enough to beat him here. She’s not good enough to stop him from taking her.
 
Recognizing that, Barty finds his mind drifting a little bit, his attention splitting between the fight he’s having with his gorgeous prey and the preparations he’s made to turn her into his slave. The potions that he’s brewed over the last year that will slowly alter her mind, and the hideout he’s warded up and down to ensure that she will neither escape nor be rescued by her allies.
 
Once he has her, there will be nothing she can do… so he might as well get on with it already. Focusing the entirety of his attention back on the fight, Barty gets serious… and is treated to the most adorable look of shock on Fleur Delacour’s face as his sudden increase in speed and power takes her completely off guard. He overwhelms her magical defenses in mere seconds, dodging her latest spell rather than wasting time blocking it.
 
That look of adorable surprise remains etched on her features as his sudden silently cast Stupefy hits her right in the stomach, sending her off into La La Land. However, before she can hit the floor, he’s already reached her and grabbed her, making sure she doesn’t hurt her pretty little head by smacking it on the stone of the Ministry.
 
However, there’s only one small problem now… the Ministry’s Anti-Apparation Wards make it impossible for him to leave with her easily. Instead, he’ll have to take her and make his way towards one of the Ministry’s Floos if he wants to-
 
Just as Barty is considering his best escape route, the Dark Lord finally arrives. Voldemort’s arrival is intense, seeing the complete destruction of the Anti-Apparation Wards as Lord Voldemort just slams right through them, tearing them to shreds and appearing in the midst of all the fighting. There are cries of jubilation on the part of the Death Eaters, and cries of shock and fear on the part of the Order of the Phoenix.
 
In that moment, as Voldemort sweeps his gaze around while already casting deathly curses and terrible hexes from the end of his wand, he makes eye contact with Barty through his mask. Seeing the Death Eater holding his prize in his arms, the corner of the Dark Lord’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly, no doubt remembering their conversation from all of those months ago.
 
With the barest tilt of his head, Lord Voldemort gives Barty permission to leave… and with the Anti-Apparation Wards down, that’s precisely what the Death Eater does, apparating out with Fleur in his arms, the unconscious veela unable to stop him from absconding with her to his hideout.
 
Immediately upon arrival in said hideout, Barty reaches out and taps his wand against a hidden activation plate. The wards he’s spent months setting up flare to life, locking them down entirely. No one in and no one out.
 
From there, he lifts Fleur’s unconscious form in his arms and carries her almost like a bride into ‘their’ bedroom. Feeling undeniably gleeful and downright ecstatic that this is now happening, Barty nevertheless controls himself, even as he lays Fleur down on the bed.
 
His captive does not stir, the stupefy keeping her down and out for the time being. She won’t wake for more than an hour unless he casts the countercharm to wake her up. But before that can happen… he has things to do.
 
First things first, Barty disarms Fleur, putting her wand elsewhere for safekeeping where the blonde veela isn’t going to find it any time soon. Then… then he begins the process of stripping her down. This part, he takes his time with. No reason to be rough or rude about it. While there’s something to be said about bodice ripping and the squeals and shrieks some women might make while such a thing is happening… it’s not really applicable to Barty’s situation.
 
After all, Fleur is unconscious, so there’s no squealing or shrieking to be had. More than that though, he’s waited this long for this to finally happen. He can afford to take his time and savor every last inch of her beautiful, creamy skin as he unveils it while pulling her robes and then her other clothing off of her. Stripping her down, it’s like having a life-sized doll. She’s warm and still breathing of course, but otherwise completely unresponsive thanks to the Stupefy Spell.
 
Chuckling to himself, Barty can’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss and lick at her delectable body as he reveals more and more of it. Her neck, her chest, her everything… it’s all his now. From her beautiful buxom bosom to her trim and taut abdomen, to her thicc thighs and gorgeous mound. Her cunt gets a long, languid lick in particular… but the lack of reaction ultimately sees Barty pulling back.
 
As fun as it is to toy with her like this, it’ll be even more fun toying with her in a conscious state. But before he can wake her up, he needs to prepare her properly for the training that is to come.
 
Moving off of the bed and over to a nearby cabinet, Barty taps his wand on the enchanted lock, opening it up and pulling out the necessary potions. Moving back to Fleur and the bed, he leans over her and lifts her head up, carefully feeding the potions to the unconscious girl one after the other. A bit of magic ensures that she’s continuously swallowing so she doesn’t sputter and choke as he forces her to drink down his preparations.
 
“Ahh, this is only Stage One, my dear. With these little… aids to help us, your mind will be a jumbled mess and your veela aura will be impossible to control once you awaken. Yesss, you’ll be quite ready to give in to your darkest desires… and with only me to help you satisfy them. It’s going to be good… so very, very good.”
 
Fleur can’t hear him of course, but he nevertheless enjoys cooing at her as he runs his hand through her blonde locks. Once the potions are all emptied, Barty pulls away again, rising from the bed and vanishing his own clothes. He’s got no patience for stripping HIMSELF down in the slow, languid way he’d done with Fleur. After all, he already knows what he’s going to see there.
 
Luckily, his Lord had given him the tome, and luckily the tome had had all sorts of helpful hints, because the last year of preparations hadn’t just gone towards preparing for Fleur… but also preparing himself to be a Veela Master. The tome was very clear about this part. For one to be a Veela Master, one needed to be of a certain constitution, and a certain body. It was a lot like being a Beast Master in a way. If you wanted to control, you had to have the right attributes, not just the right mentality.
 
A veela, no matter what potions you gave her or how you fucked with her mind using the techniques found in the tome, would never truly fall for a scrawny weakling with no strength and no power to them. And after his imprisonment at his father’s hands for so damn long, Barty had fit the description of scrawny, malnourished, and ultimately weak to a Tee.
 
That was the real reason he hadn’t hunted Fleur before now. He had feared he wouldn’t be as prepared as he wanted to be. His body wasn’t going to be up to snuff when it came to properly wowing her.
 
But those days of insecurity and worry were behind him. Barty had been on quite the potion regimen himself over the last several months, and as he stands there naked, looking down at Fleur on his bed, he glances over to the floor-length mirror set to one side. What he sees is a man who’s very nearly unrecognizable. Beneath his robes, Barty now has a chiseled physique… and a much larger cock than he did before. He has turned himself into a true man’s man, having developed muscles he’d never had before with the use of potions and a training regimen that would fit more in the muggle world than the wizarding one.
 
The tome had been very clear that this was what he needed to do, however. And so he did… and now he stood, ready to begin the taming of his veela slave. Ready to start the process of turning Fleur Delacour into his woman and nothing else.
 
All that was left… was to wake her up.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Coming back to consciousness is like clawing her way up through a cloud of marshmallow. As Fleur Delacour blearily wakes up, her mind remains in a foggy state that persists well passed what she normally experiences each morning. The bed beneath her feels unreasonably soft and good against her bared skin, and she has no desire to truly get up and start her day.
 
But… wait. What was she doing before she went to bed? No, rather… did she ever go to bed? A whimper leaves the French witch’s throat as her foggy brain slowly pieces her last memories together. She hadn’t been at home, going to bed after a long day. No, rather, she’d been called up alongside the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. There had been a battle at the Department of Mysteries and she’d been fighting Death Eaters.
 
She’d fought one Death Eater in particular, a masked man who she realized only too late had been toying with her. She’d thought she was sparring with him quite well, that she could eventually overcome him… but in the end, it had been all too clear that he wasn’t giving her his full attention at first. As soon as he did give her his full attention, he’d defeated her quite abruptly, hadn’t he?
 
But then, how did that result in her being here, laying in this bed naked and writhing as she feels… much too good about this whole situation. Her allure is blasting out in all directions too, completely out of control. For one such as Fleur, this is a huge embarrassment. Due to her nature as only a part veela, control over her veela allure has always been easier than it would be for a normal veela, though she still had to learn to control it when she first developed the ability.

That said, right now nothing she does lets her control her allure. Ultimately, it’s going completely wild… and as it reaches out in all directions, filling the entire room with her presence, Fleur belatedly realizes that it’s wrapping around someone… around a man. Blinking, she fixes her bleary gaze on a shape moving at the end of the bed. As her eyesight finally focuses on something, she finds herself staring at a surprisingly handsome figure… one that it takes her a second to recognize.
 
Fleur was technically aware of who Bartemius Crouch Jr. was. She knew, intellectually, that he had been pretending to be Mister Alastor Moody for the entirety of her time at Hogwarts as a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament. Afterwards, she’d caught sight of his picture in one of the issues of the Daily Prophet, seeing as he was still at large. It was one of the only things the Ministry of Magic was willing to acknowledge… that Barty Crouch Jr. was on the loose, even if they didn’t think Voldemort was actually back.
 
Regardless, that’s where she finally recognizes him from now. Except the image in the Daily Prophet really doesn’t do him justice. He was small and scrawny and over a decade younger in that image. Now? Now he’s tall and chiseled and… and hung like a fucking horse, Fleur realizes with a gasp. Her eyes, once they fix upon his naked, throbbing erection, cannot move away. Why is that? Why can’t she stop staring at his dick?
 
She’s not an idiot. She recognizes now what must have happened. Either the Death Eater who defeated her was the man in front of her, or they’d passed her off to him. Either way, she was now naked on a bed in front of him, completely at his mercy and with an allure that was entirely out of her control. He smiles at her, his eyes glittering with avarice. His arousal is evident, and probably in no small part the fault of said lack of control.
 
Climbing onto the bed as she wiggles but can’t muster the strength or even the will to move away from him, he lays down next to her and casually palms one of her tits. The beautiful blonde mewls as he fondles her body, groping and squeezing her chest with that hand while his cock rests upon one of her hips. At the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting across her too-sensitive ear. Why was she so sensitive? Why did it feel like her body was on fire?!
 
“I’ve been waiting for this for so long, pet. I’ve been lusting after you ever since I first laid eyes on you back at Hogwarts. Well, eye. I was forced to wear that disgusting Mad-Eye’s skin for the first year of our… mm, acquaintance. But now I’m in my own skin. Do you like what you see? I caught you staring.”
 
Fleur whimpers, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she tries to shake her head, but Barty just chuckles at that.
 
“It’s alright. You don’t have to lie. I know you’re fighting yourself right now, love. But don’t fret. Now that it’s just the two of us, I’m going to take my time and show you just how much I love you. How much I want you. How much I desire you as mine.”
 
His fingers dance down from her breast, leaving a hardened nipple in his wake as he moves them across her flexing, shuddering, quivering body. Finally, he lands between her legs and Fleur shuts her eyes tight as he feels just how wet she already is. D-Damn it all… she knows he’s a very, very bad man. And yet, for some reason she can’t control herself. His words are having quite an effect on her, to say nothing of his body. The way he’s touching her is driving her insane, but also his mere presence is making her lust after his dick.
 
… Was she in heat? It shouldn’t have been possible. Veela Heat was something normally reserved for full veela alone. Part Veela such as herself weren’t supposed to be capable of experiencing something like this. And yet here she was, being touched so liberally by a criminal… a monster, no less. And worst of all, she was LIKING it.
 
“I’m going to enjoy devouring you, sweetling. Just lay back… and enjoy.”
 
Much to her surprise, Barty means what he says quite literally. Suddenly, he’s descending between her legs, shocking Fleur to her core. Someone like him? She would have expected him to demand she suck him off before taking her on all fours and fucking her roughly from behind. And worst of all, in her current state she’s sure she would have loved it as much as she hated it.
 
Instead, the well-hung man doesn’t demand anything from her… except to stay still as he takes her thighs in his hands and leans his mouth down to her pussy.
 
“A-Ah!”
 
A cry expels itself from Fleur’s widened, pillowy lips the moment that his tongue hits her cunt. As he starts licking her out, she squeaks and whimpers, mewling and groaning from the sensations. If she were in her right mind, she might have been able to resist his attentions. But her brain is still so very foggy, and her eyes are threatening to roll back in her head as an unwanted orgasm closes in on her.
 
She fights it, of course. She doesn’t give in that easily. Even though it feels impossible, even though it feels inevitable… Fleur struggles to hold herself back, to avoid cumming and showing her captor just how good his tongue feels. Unfortunately, while she’s able to keep her climax at bay… it’s not nearly so easy for her to avoid all of the little noises and movements she’s making as he toys with her.
 
There’s no doubt that Barty is enjoying the mewls he’s extracting from her mouth, and the way her hips sometimes involuntarily hump up into his tongue, aching for more of his touch and more of his licking. Her cries grow more and more desperate and anguished, even as she fights for as long as she possibly can.
 
Barty doesn’t give up though. In fact, he knows full well that they’re in a battle for Fleur’s soul at the moment. Unbeknownst to Fleur, everything is proceeding exactly as planned. This was how Stage One was supposed to go. With the tome, Barty knew full well that veela were inherently sexual creatures that would submit to a man who overwhelmed them with pleasure.
 
So that’s exactly what he was doing. The potions were doing their job, and now he was doing his. And with both tag-teaming Fleur, she could only really last about five minutes before she tipped over the edge and filled Barty’s mouth with her sweet, sweet nectar.
 
Of course, if you’d told her that, Fleur might have shattered right then and there under the knowledge. As it is, the part veela is convinced that she must have lasted at least an hour before she came from his tongue. An hour in which he must have used some magic to keep going and not run out of stamina or… or something. Indeed, it had felt like an eternity to Fleur, but ultimately… he’d made her cum.
 
As she lays there panting, eyes staring up at the ceiling unseeingly, Barty pulls back from her muff for a moment, chuckling throatily and licking his lips.
 
“Mmm… you taste absolutely lovely, my dear. As lovely as expected~”
 
Fleur doesn’t respond, but then she doesn’t have to. When Barty dives back into her cunt and goes right back to eating out her pussy, her subsequent cries and loud wanton moans are answer enough to her current state of mind.
 
He spends the next few hours pleasuring Fleur, the poor girl absolutely helpless before him. With a body made to sin for, and potions circulating through her system that don’t allow her to do anything but feel every last ounce of the bliss that Barty is forcing on her, Fleur loses all track of time and all semblance of sanity. Once that first orgasm hits, she’s even less equipped to hold back the second. And after the second, the third arrives even quicker.
 
After a while, it’s orgasm after orgasm for Fleur. Until at long last, it’s evening and Barty pulls back with a mouth coated in the evidence of her failure, covered in her juices and the proof that he had broken her down and made her cum for him again and again and again.

Fleur, a sweaty and sated mess, can only mewl as her eyes drift shut. Even as she passes out, her allure continues to be out of control, continuing to wrap around Barty and no doubt drive the man mad with lust. It’s possible, Fleur realizes as she’s passing out, that this impromptu heat is the only reason she’s still alive. It’s possible that however this happened, she’s somehow managed to ensnare Barty Crouch Jr. and kept him from killing her. But then, it’s also possible he’ll keep her forever and she’s never getting out of here…
 
All of these thoughts run through Fleur’s head as she finally drops into true, non-magical slumber. Barty smiles down at her for a moment, enjoying the sight of his pet in such a… used state. Hell, he hasn’t even actually used her yet, only bringing her pleasure. And yet, she’s so filthy. He absolutely loves it, how messy he’s made her with just one long, extended session. It’s only the first of several after all.
 
With Fleur once more unconscious, Barty moves back to the potions cabinet and pulls out the next set. This was only the beginning after all. And Bartemius Crouch Junior was just getting started.

-x-X-x-

Part 2:

-x-X-x-

“Ohhh Merlin…”
 
She doesn’t know how long it’s been. As the thready moan leaves her pouty, glistening lips, Fleur reflects that being captive here isn’t exactly conducive to keeping track of time. It feels like it’s been days, certainly. She’s slept multiple times after all. But the hours have blended and blurred together in a way that she can’t even begin to quantify.
 
In the back of her head, a small voice whispers that it’s not even been days… it’s been weeks. But Fleur refuses to listen to that voice. Just as she tries to refuse to listen to the other voice, the one that’s getting progressively louder and telling her to just give in. She can’t give in. She can’t surrender to this man. She won’t let him make her into his woman without a… without a fight…
 
Of course, having such thoughts is all well and good, but right now Fleur isn’t exactly in a position to stop him. She’s currently leaning back against Barty Crouch Jr.’s chest, in his lap on ‘their’ bed as he pleasures her some more. Every day it’s been more of the same. He either delves down between her thighs and drives her insane with his tongue… or he holds her like she’s his lover and fingers her to so many orgasms that she can’t keep her head on straight.
 
Gurgling, Fleur shudders as she tilts said head back, trying to look the Death Eater in the eyes. She’s not sure why she does it. To try and remind herself of how evil and insane he is? Or maybe to appeal to his nonexistent humanity, to his completely absent mercy.
 
“P-Please… please stop this…”
 
Barty just chuckles in response. The mad man makes no move to follow her request. His fingers stay buried in her cunt, bringing her so much ecstasy that Fleur is struggling to even breathe. Meanwhile, his other hand fondles her tits. To Fleur’s abject dismay, her heat hasn’t ended, even after all this time in his ‘care’. Her allure is still going wild and out of her control, wrapping around him as he works her over.
 
“Why would I stop? You clearly want me, sweetheart. I’m not going to give up what we can have together.”
 
His honeyed words lull Fleur into a false sense of security, until his thumb brushes over her clit again and she cries out, her hips bucking their way through yet another orgasm at his hand. Meanwhile, he rolls one of her nipples between the fingers of his other hand, teasing and toying with her even as her body is left unbelievably sensitive from the pleasurable torture he’s visiting upon it.
 
There was no reason her heat should have lasted this long… except for one thought that kept niggling at the back of Fleur’s mind. She’d never been ‘in heat’ before. She wasn’t a full Veela after all. So no one had ever told her anything about them, save for that they were awful and best ‘ended’ as fast as possible. That single tidbit of information was all Fleur had to go off of… but what if? What if it meant that she HAD to have sex before the heat would end? What if by not actually fucking her all this time, Barty was prolonging her heat to the point that it was steadily driving her mad?
 
Fleur mewls pathetically and even though she’s been working as hard as humanly possible not to do it all this time… her hips shimmy unconsciously. She wiggles back and forth, only freezing up at the end as she’s forced to acknowledge the elephant in the room at long last. She IS seated in her captor’s lap after all. And for all that he hasn’t fucked her, he’s been just as naked as her all this time. As such, it should be no surprise that Barty Crouch Jr.’s rock hard cock is currently nestled in between her ass cheeks.
 
Still, she’d been trying desperately to ignore it. To pretend like it wasn’t there. To act as though it was… it wasn’t just waiting for her to give in. Even as she freezes up again, trembling in fear and arousal alike, Barty chuckles into her ear, continuing his molestation of her unabated.
 
“Feel that darling? I know you do. Mm, you’re so gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to just give in. I can’t wait for you to… submit.”
 
She can’t do that. She cannot give in. No matter how much she finds herself marveling at how large her captor’s cock is, no matter how many wet dreams she’s had of him fucking her. Fantasies about how great it would feel to have such a huge fucking dick buried in her hungering, sopping wet cunt fill Fleur’s mind at the worst times, but so far she’s managed to fight them off.
 
If he’d already fucked her, she’s not sure what state she would be in. She’d either have gotten it out of her system… or be completely his woman by now, addicted to his cock. Until she’s had him inside of her, she doesn’t need to find out which it is. She’s terrified of it being the latter, rather than the former. The Death Eater… she hates him. She hates him with all her heart. But she hates herself for how much she loves his touch and tongue even more.
 
Completely drenched in sweat, core soaked from the attention he’s forcing upon her, Fleur whimpers and shakes her head. She opens her mouth to once again beg him to stop, having long since let go of the pride that wouldn’t allow her to plead with her captor for mercy. However, the words catch in her throat this time, and she never quite manages to get them out.
 
Instead, Fleur’s eyes flutter as she feels the orgasm crest over from the feel of his fingers, this time a combination of events truly driving her wild with ecstasy. He pinches a nipple, flicks her clit… and CURLS his digits inside of her clenching cunny, all at the same time in the exact right way. It proves to be Fleur’s undoing, at least in that moment, because rather than begging him to stop… her true unfiltered thoughts leave her open mouth instead.
 
“Soooo goooood~”
 
As she moans out how great he feels, she immediately hates herself for it. She even freezes up again, eyes snapping wide open. But before she can truly fall into self-loathing, things escalate once more. Suddenly, her captor has moved his hand from her chest to her face and before Fleur can try and yank herself away from him, he’s turned her head and planted his lips on her lips.
 
Fleur’s eyes widen as her captor dares to kiss her for the first time. Barty Crouch Jr. is a mad man, a murderer, and a Death Eater. There’s nothing redeemable about him in any way. So then… why is she not pulling free? Why is she kissing him back?
 
Despite everything she despises about Barty and her situation, a low moan ends up coming from Fleur’s mouth, swallowed in turn by Barty’s as she finds herself giving in ever so slightly and kissing her captor in return. A shudder goes through the part veela’s gorgeous, naked, sweat-covered and glistening body as she luxuriates in how good his kiss feels. She feels… amazing.
 
They makeout for what feels like an eternity, Fleur’s eyes fluttering and her face heating up as though she’s some fresh maiden and this is her first ever kiss. She loses herself in the moment, forgetting everything about her circumstances. As far as she was concerned, it might as well be her first kiss. For the briefest of moments, she even fantasizes that it is, that she’s kissing a boy she fancies in a hallway back at Beauxbatons. That she’s in control and there’s no way he’ll say ‘no’ to her, given her allure.
 
And then she’s brought crashing back down to earth, because it’s Barty who ends the kiss, thoroughly ruining any ability for Fleur to pretend she has control here. His hand on her chin holds her back as they separate for air, and while she gasps and pants, sucking in just as much fresh oxygen as he does… she can’t help but try and follow him at first subconsciously when he initially tries to pull back.
 
A strand of saliva even connects their lips as she comes back to herself, showing just how deep their kiss got. It takes her a second to remember where she is and who she’s with. Her first instinct is to shriek, to kick and punch, to try and fight her way free of his grasp. Sure, there’s nowhere for her to go… but it would feel good to fight back, just once.
 
Except… just like every other time in the past few weeks that such a thought entered Fleur’s head, it exits without being fully realized. The young woman can’t explain why that is. She can’t describe what she’s feeling, even if she were told to. She wants to hurt Barty. She wants to fight back. But her body won’t answer her whenever she gives it the command to start hitting, to start kicking, to start yelling and howling and scratching.
 
Instead, she just feels like she’s made of stone. Like her arms and legs and the rest of her won’t answer her call. She can’t even bite at his lip to try and draw blood. Any thought of violence against her captor just… fizzles out like it was never there, leaving her helpless and in a state of hopeless, constant arousal as she mewls for more despite wanting nothing less and feeling a deep, expansive self-loathing over how she’s acting.
 
And yet, regardless of that self-loathing, Fleur finds herself getting swept up as he looks into her eyes and then chuckles in amusement.
 
“So beautiful. So gorgeous. And all mine.”
 
No. She’s not his. She’s not! And yet… she doesn’t get a chance to say it before he sweeps her up in another kiss. And for all that she tells herself to pull back and tell him that she’s not his, she doesn’t do that either. She lets him kiss her. She lets him fondle and molest her. His hand on her chin leaves but she doesn’t turn her head away, even as he sticks his tongue down her throat. His fingers toy with her pussy and clit and also her breasts once more… and she just tries her best to endure it as she’s been doing so far.
 
Every part of her is on fire though. Every bit of her body feels like it’s ablaze. None more so than her core, so very sensitive from all of his actions so far. It’s like an inferno down there. She’s not sure how he avoids being burnt up. But he does it, and as he continues to assault her body with pleasure, Fleur can only whimper… and kiss him back, as horrified by her own actions as some part of her is.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“Dinner time.”
 
Her captor’s sudden declaration comes what must be several hours later. Fleur was at the end of her rope by that point, but then he probably knew that. After all, he’d been bringing her to the end of her rope every single day for quite some time now. Mewling pathetically, the part veela can’t even muster the strength to do more than dangle limply from Barty’s grasp as he lifts her up off of the bed and carries her over to the dining table.
 
She expects him to put her down in one of the chairs, and to feed her by hand as he’s been doing for quite some time now. She hates it when he does that more than most of the things he does to her, truth be told. Not only is there no real pleasure in it, but she doesn’t feel sexy or lusted after… she feels infantized, as though she can’t feed herself.
 
The worst part is, she actually CAN’T feed herself in this state. He never lets her eat when she has any sort of strength in her, nor during the rare times that she feels well-rested. No, he only feeds her after he’s spent a lengthy period of time leaving her entirely exhausted and completely feeble in both body and mind. Whimpering at the thought of having to go through that again, Fleur shakes her head back and forth tiredly… but to her surprise, that’s NOT what happens this time.
 
Rather than sit her down in one of the chairs, Barty lays her across the table instead. Fleur blinks at this, only to squeak when her captor taps his wand upon her wrists and ankles.
 
“Incarcerous.”
 
In an instant, she’s bound to the legs of the table by the magically conjured rope, her four limbs all stretched outward. Fleur blinks blearily, not remembering the dining table being this large. But then, it’s clearly been expanded when she wasn’t looking. More than that though, she doesn’t know why he’s doing this. She was already helpless and exhausted. What’s the point of binding her in place so she can barely move?
 
“Perfect.”
 
Fleur slowly lifts her head… only for her eyes to widen in shock when she sees him conjuring food all around her… and then lifting it onto her as well. Only then does she realize what he’s planning on doing. He’s going to eat and drink off of her naked, sweaty, filthy body. He’s going to use her as a plate and utensil alike.
 
Fleur sputters and blushes, wiggling to the best of her very limited ability as Barty just grins at her wickedly. He smears a sort of jam across her tits first, and then leans forward and begins to lick them off.
 
“Thank you, my dear. It seems we’re out of plates and cutlery… so we’re just going to have to make do.”
 
She knows it’s a lie of course. It’s the most blatant and bald-faced lie that he’s told her yet in fact. But she can’t call him on it. She’s too busy moaning up a storm as his tongue swirls around one enlarged, engorged nipple and then the other. As he’s busy making sure he gets up every last bit of jam, she’s busy shuddering in pleasure as her overly sensitive body is so effectively toyed with.
 
Next, he goes so far as to stick part of a turkey leg up her snatch. It’s not blistering hot, thank Merlin, but it’s still hot enough that Fleur yelps at the sensation. It feels strange, having such a thing inside of her even if only for a short time. Pulling it back out, he hums and takes a nice big bite, grinning wickedly at her as he savors the taste of her juices coating the outside of the turkey.
 
… He truly is mad, Fleur realizes. Absolutely insane in fact. He’s a mad man who has her completely at his mercy, her body not just worn down and weary from the day’s activities, but quite literally bound and trussed up. For a moment, Fleur fears that she herself might be the main course… a man as crazy as Barty Crouch Jr. might be capable of anything. What if he was planning on killing her, butchering her, and eating her whole? It was something that some particularly evil wizards had done with her kind back in the day. A truly horrifying act that was only whispered about in the annals of their histories.
 
But no… no that didn’t make any sense. That was a ghastly thought, but it had no real teeth to it. The Death Eater standing above her now had made his intentions clear. He didn’t want to cannibalize her, he wanted to own her. His madness was undeniable and inescapable, but it was at least of a flavor that Fleur thought she understood. He spoke a good game and talked a lot about how much he loved her and wanted her to love him in turn.
 
But it wasn’t a relationship of romance and equality that Barty wanted. He wanted to enslave her. He wanted her to be not just his woman, but his property.
 
Having eaten half of the turkey leg, Barty moves over to Fleur’s head and offers it to her as well. She doesn’t want it of course; she can see it still glistening with her own fluids… but she needs to keep her strength up. If she doesn’t eat when he lets her, then when is she ever going to eat? In the end, she lifts her head up and bites from the turkey leg, tearing a strip of flesh off of it and chewing slowly.
 
She wishes she could bite him the same way, rip and tear until he was dead and she was free. But… no. She can’t. She just… can’t.
 
He continues to alternate between feeding her and eating off of her body. And not just jam and turkey leg either, but all sorts of foods. Some almost make sense, being easy to slather onto her quivering flesh. Other items… not so much. More than once, he has to deal with things rolling along her shuddering abs, and each and every time Fleur assumes that he’s going to get frustrated or angry.
 
But that’s just not Barty’s brand of insanity, or at least it’s not how the mad man acts with her. If he did, she might have had an easier time of it. Just once, she wished he would yell at her, scream and shout in her face. She wanted him to really go off on her, complete with spittle and saliva as his eyes bugged out and he snarled at her like the crazy person she knew he was.
 
… Because if he did, it would be easier not to fall in love with him, Fleur finds herself helplessly and hopelessly thinking. N-Not that she is! She won’t! But… there’s something shockingly endearing about the child-like glee that Barty has as he eats off of her body, even with the issues that sometimes crop up. Rather than get upset when her trembling, quivering, and quaking causes some of his more delicate arrangements to come tumbling down, he just laughs instead.
 
Indeed, rather than growling angrily at her at any point, he just snickers and continues on like there’s no tomorrow. He even spends some time down at her cunt, sliding his tongue up into her and pulling back any remnants of turkey grease and fat he might have left within her, along with her gushing juices.
 
It was… all too much. Too pleasurable by far in fact. And worst of all, he eventually brings out the drink. For this meal, Barty has a nice great bottle of wine. He starts by taking a swig and then offering her some, and Fleur, against her better judgment, doesn’t reject it.
 
Then… then he moves between her legs and reaches up, placing the neck of the bottle at the top of her cleavage. As he pours, Fleur gasps. The wine flows down the length of her body, through the valley of her breasts and across the ‘field’ of her abdomen. Some of it ends up rushing off of the sides of her shaking torso, but plenty travels all the way down her body.
 
At first, the wine is drawn to her belly button, flowing into it and filling it up. But once it’s filled up and overflowing, it has to go somewhere… and that somewhere is down. Over her pussy mound, right into Barty’s waiting mouth, the wine flows. He pours what must be the rest of the entire wine bottle out onto her body, and while some of it collects elsewhere, the vast majority runs right into his drinking mouth.
 
All the while, he’s staring at her from down betwixt her thighs, his tongue sliding in and out of his cunt as he multitasks quite masterfully. Drinking her juices greedily right along with the wine, he chuckles as she moans and cums for him, orgasming explosively in spite of her reluctance to do so.
 
Slurring a little bit, both lust-drunk and actually drunk off of the wine he made her drink earlier, Fleur once again speaks without thinking.
 
“How… how are you making me feel shooo good? It’sh… it’sh t-too much…”
 
Barty just chuckles, leaving her mortified as she realizes she said that out loud. Then, he leaves her cunt and moves his tongue along every inch of her body. Stickier than ever before with the amount of wine clinging to her flesh, Fleur’s figure undulates and writhes upon the dining table as Barty gets into every nook and cranny. Searching out every crevice and valley, he licks up every last drop of wine off of her body, and then keeps going from there.
 
As his licking up of wine turns into just general licking and biting along her body, Fleur can’t do anything more than squeal and shake, wondering more and more when he was going to graduate from playing with her to fucking her. N-Not that she wanted him to fuck her or a-anything like that! But it was just… it had been so long. He was taking his sweet time, wasn’t he? Why? Why not just… use her already? He wanted to own her… well, she was thoroughly owned, wasn’t she? She couldn’t escape him. So what was he waiting for?!
 
-x-X-x-
 
By the time Barty finally releases his captive prey from her magical bondage, Fleur Delacour is completely out of it. He knew she would be, of course. Not just because he’s been toying with her all day long after weeks of torturous pleasure, but also because the potions he’s been feeding her have continued to disorient her in the best way possible.
 
And the best thing is, she still hasn’t realized that there’s an outside element at play driving her absolutely insane with arousal and a need for him. Grinning wickedly, Barty lets his eyes roam up and down her insensate body for a long moment. She’s truly orgasmed out of her mind by this point and despite being freed, she just lays there, letting him admire her flushed figure to his heart’s content.
 
That said… he can’t help but be drawn to her vacant expression more than her perky breasts or her puffy pussy lips. The way her eyes are completely and utterly empty of any sort of sense leaves Barty not just rock hard… but certain that now is the time to finally initiate stage two of his plan, as outlined by the tome the Dark Lord had given her.
 
Circling around the dining table, Barty shrinks the magically enlarged table back down to a more realistic size. This in turn causes Fleur’s head to dangle off of one end, a groan leaving her lips as she finds herself upside down but still makes no move to get up or try and escape her new predicament. Smirking, Barty takes his massive, throbbing cock and places it against her lips, resting the crown upon her upper lip, just above her nostrils as he hums.
 
The last few weeks haven’t been easy, it should be said. He’s wanted to just say to hell with it and fuck her silly more times than he can count. Taking Fleur Delacour and making her his bitch would probably have been simple enough if he didn’t care what he had to do to her to get there. He could have ruined her, destroyed her… and made her completely helpless in some truly horrific ways if he was willing to go that far.
 
But that was just it. Barty didn’t just want a collection of holes; he wanted Fleur as she was. He wanted a pet and a lifelong companion. He didn’t just want her body, he wanted to own her mind, heart, and soul as well. If he’d just wanted her body, he would have removed her limbs and been done with it. There’s no way the part veela could have escaped him then.
 
That would have been a horrendous waste however, and Barty… Barty had another way. A better way to make her his, completely and utterly.
 
As soon as his cockhead touches her lips, Fleur’s nostrils flare and she breathes his scent in deeply, a throaty muffled moan leaving her mouth. Without any coercion on his part, Fleur begins mindlessly kissing and licking his cock. Deep in a lust-drunk state, the part veela acts like a hopeless slutty little cum dump, her head dangling off of the side of the table as she slurps away at his precum from her upside down position.
 
“What do you feel, darling? What do you sense?”
 
Letting out a gurgling moan, Fleur answers him in between her licking and lapping at his cock.
 
“I can… I can f-feel it. How, mm, backed up you are.”
 
He knows her allure is wrapped tightly around him, even now. That, combined with the single-minded focus on his dick, is enough to give her certain… advantages. Grinning, Barty slides his cock forward, the tip trailing off of her lips and across her chin. He moves up and his balls end up resting on her face, letting her nuzzle into them and moan even more wantonly, the horny little bitch that she is.
 
“Your seeeed… so strong and v-virile… oooh, I want it… please… please give it to me.”
 
Smiling widely and wickedly now, not that Fleur can see it, Barty moves his cock back down again and is immensely gratified when the gorgeous part veela finally takes him into her mouth properly. Without any prompting on his end, at least verbally, she starts slowly sucking on his cock. Just a few inches of course, but even that much is wonderful… especially given what it really means for the situation.
 
Barty revels in the attention, even as he grins gleefully. The tome had prepared him for this moment. And Fleur had no clue that she was walking right into a massive trap. Moaning up a storm, the slutty blonde continues to nurse at his cock, sucking it loudly and lewdly and slurping away like there’s no tomorrow.
 
The Dark Lord’s book was quite clear on this part. You started by breaking the veela in. Check. You made sure they were well fed on the proper potion regimen. Check. You made sure YOU kept up the rituals needed to enhance your manhood, even if you weren’t yet fucking the veela. Check.
 
And then, when all was said and done, so long as he’d properly broken in his pet ahead of time… then the drinking of his seed would bring their burgeoning relationship to an entirely new level. There was a shit-ton of minutiae surrounding it all of course. A bunch of incredibly dry text as well. But the gist of it was at least fairly understandable.
 
By making Fleur’s allure run amok all these weeks while keeping close to her so she could get used to both his presence AND his enhanced cock and balls, he had slowly but surely adjusted the part veela to a whole new ‘normal’. Once she started drinking his seed, that normal would shift once again, and if he’d done everything right… she would gradually become addicted to the magic in his cum. She would be unable to live without it, and eventually would want nothing more than to drink it down as often as she possibly could.
 
That was what Barty was working towards here. Of course, Fleur didn’t know any of that. She didn’t know what was truly going through his sick and twisted mind. All she knew… was that she HAD to keep sucking his cock. She wanted to keep sucking his cock. More than that, she wanted more of his cock in her mouth than she could possibly handle.
 
“Gluuuughk!”
 
Her first attempt at deep throating her captor’s huge fucking schlong scares her off initially, however. Fleur reels back as she chokes and gags, sputtering in response. Her nose wrinkles, and she becomes a little gun-shy from then on, not wanting to experience that again. But Barty… Barty wants to experience it. He wants her to go all the way. Most importantly of all, he doesn’t want her to spill a single damn drop.
 
“You can do it, beloved. You just have to believe in yourself. Only take as much as you can. Try to relax your throat. Swallow continuously so you don’t choke.”
 
Barty’s tone is gentle and coaxing… and in the face of his calming words and soft encouragement, Fleur finds her second wind. Lost in a haze of lust, completely forgetting where she is and who she’s with right now, she scrunches her face up in concentration, focusing on the task at hand. With her head still upside down, she takes Barty back into her mouth and throat again, forcing herself to follow his instructions.
 
She chokes a little bit here and there, gagging on his shockingly massive and truly impressive length. But she doesn’t let that stop her. Completely beside herself with lust and a determination that fills every fiber of her being, Fleur gurgles as she takes Barty all the way to the base, sucking his entire cock. Swallowing continuously, just as he advised her, really does work too, and for a little while Fleur just breathes in air tainted by the overwhelming and heady stench of his ball sack right in front of her nose, all while deep throating his whole fucking length.
 
Finally, Barty groans. Having leaned over her to play with her tits, using them as anchors and groping them as the fun bags they are, he straightens up and looks down at Fleur with an amused, affectionate smile.
 
“I’m getting close now darling. Get ready to swallow it all~”
 
He doesn’t even have to tell her that. Fleur wants it. She wants his seed. She can’t explain why, she can’t explain how she knows… but she knows. She knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his cum is going to be the best tasting thing she’s ever had in her entire life. She knows it down to the depths of her very soul.
 
As such, when Barty finally does begin to cum, Fleur Delacour drinks it down greedily. She climaxes as well just from the magic imbued into his semen, her eyes rolling back in her head as she gurgles noisily from just how powerful and strong his jizz is. She drinks and drinks, swallowing every last drop that she possibly can. And when Barty pulls back a few inches, giving her more room to guzzle it all down, she tastes it properly upon her tongue… and knows it to be just as good as she believed it would be.
 
Before she even knows it though… it’s over. Barty fully pulls back and leaves Fleur with a mouthful of the last of his load as a parting gift. Swishing it around a few times, Fleur wants nothing more than to luxuriate in that taste forever… but she wants even more to fill her belly with it as well, like she already has. And so reluctantly, she swallows the last of his load before immediately letting out a wanton moan.
 
“Mmm… tastes soooo good. Mooooore~”
 
Of course, her blunt and honest reaction is immediately overshadowed a moment later as Barty chuckles and the sound of his laughter at her expense finally pulls Fleur out of the stupor she’d been in. Her eyes blink and she comes back to herself only to realize everything that’s just happened. She’s mortified, horrified, and disgusted with herself… but ultimately, she’s terrified above all else.
 
Terrified… because she can’t deny how great it feels, having Barty Crouch Jr.’s immensely magical and incredibly powerful cum, sloshing around in her belly.

-x-X-x-

Part 3:

-x-X-x-

Fleur wakes up slowly, feeling the same as she has for the last few weeks now. Disoriented for one… but also impossibly sated from the events of the previous evening. Her captor’s oh-so-tender care had left her in a strange juxtaposition of anxious and content. She knew she should hate it; she knew she should be trying to escape… but freedom seemed oh so distant, and her kidnapper’s touch felt better and better by the day.
 
… However, as she squirms in bed, moving this way and that, the telltale feel of Barty Crouch Jr.’s hands on her body never comes. This is the first time this has ever happened. For the past few weeks now, he’s ALWAYS been awake before her, and the moment she’s conscious, he’s been all over her. Shamefully, Fleur’s first thought is to worriedly wonder if he might be getting bored of her already. Only on her second thought does she realize waking up before him is an opportunity to escape or… or to kill him.
 
Before she can really even try to wrap her head around THAT, Fleur forces herself to turn over, checking the side of the bed that Barty normally sleeps on. To her abject shock… he’s not there. And that’s not the most surprising bit either. Instead of her captor being there, waiting for her to wake up… there’s a note on the pillow. Along with something Fleur had honestly never thought she would see again. Her wand.
 
It’s probably quite the telltale sign of just how far the beautiful blonde witch has already fallen that she snatches up the note first rather than the casting implement that could have meant her immediate freedom. Instead of going for her wand, she finds herself immediately reaching for Barty’s words, even if they’re in the written form.
 
Opening the note, she finds a quickly penned missive from her captor. Apparently, Barty had been called away by Voldemort, reminding Fleur that the man she was reluctantly falling for was a Death Eater who answered to a Dark Master. The note also explains why her wand is there. Namely, he wanted her to be able to practice with it and shake off any rust… because when he got back, he was going to give her the option of dueling for her freedom.
 
Fleur’s eyes bug out at this proposition. She feels elation at the idea of being able to escape, of getting to see the sun again, of getting to see her friends and family again. However, a heartbeat later she feels a strange sinking sensation in her gut at the unwelcome prospect of leaving behind all of the fantastic pleasure she’s been subjected to.
 
Having sat up to read the note, Fleur finds herself glancing away from the parchment for a moment and looking into the mirror that Barty has set up facing their bed. Staring at herself, Fleur barely recognizes the woman she sees looking back at her, even as her reflection in the mirror brings forth a memory of something that had happened just a few days ago.
 
Barty had been eating her out again. Specifically, he’d laid down and plopped her down on his face, letting her ride him as his tongue drove deeper and deeper into her slit. At times, Fleur was forced to wonder if he was some sort of parselmouth… but no, he was just that good with his tongue, and her poor pussy couldn’t get enough of it. Fleur herself couldn’t get enough of it.
 
Her body had been sweaty and writhing, undulating and gyrating as she wiggled her hips back and forth while riding his mouth. And she’d been unable to help but admire herself and how sexy she looked in the mirror. More than that… she’d found herself admiring his throbbing erection, stood up right in front of her.
 
She hadn’t given him a blowjob since that first time. He hadn’t tried to force another one onto her, and Fleur had controlled herself, holding herself back from demanding one. Until then, that is. In that moment… Fleur could feel herself salivating at the taste. She found herself remembering just how deliciously potent her veela senses had told her it was.
 
As Barty’s tongue had driven her to another orgasm, making Fleur cry out in ecstasy and shudder her way through climax upon his cock… she’d at long last given in. He hadn’t asked for it. He hadn’t told her to do it. He’d merely… set things up for her. And Fleur… Fleur fell for the trap, hook, line, and sinker. Leaning forward, she’d started slowly servicing his cock right there in front of the mirror.
 
She’d turned the pussy eating session into a proper sixty-nine, moaning as she’d gone to town on him. Once her lips and tongue first touched his member, it was like she couldn’t stop herself anymore. She’d gorged herself upon his dick, lifting her hips up to fully lower her upper half down across the length of his body. In response, Barty had not been quiet. After all, it was a victory for him, that she’d given in like that. Of course he was going to bask in it.
 
“That’s it, pet. You’re hungry, aren’t you? You want more of your Master’s seed. Go on. If you want it, you have to work for it~”
 
He wasn’t even being subtle anymore about what he intended for her. And yet, at that moment, Fleur hadn’t been able to bring herself to care. It was like once she had his cock in her mouth, nothing else mattered. At long last, she was getting exactly what she needed… and yes, she would work for it, if it got her more of his deliciously potent and powerful cum in her hungry belly.
 
The funny thing was, it wasn’t like he was starving her or anything like that. They ate several delicious meals a day together. In fact, there wasn’t a single way in which Barty Crouch Jr. had been cruel to her since taking her captive… save for the whole ‘taking her captive’ bit. Keeping her prisoner like this WAS cruel… if one ignored the pleasures he’d visited upon her. Which Fleur had been struggling to ignore more and more as the days had gone on and turned into weeks and things had grown more and more… passionate between them.
 
Indeed, as she’d sucked on his cock, Barty had gone the extra mile yet again, finding a fresh new way to escalate things and one-up her without forcing himself on her or hurting her in any way. Namely, as she’d been bobbing up and down on his throbbing member, seeking out the pleasure of drinking his potent seed, he’d gone ahead and lifted his tongue from her sopping wet cunt… to her puckered little asshole.
 
Fleur remembered being completely caught off guard by that. The pleasure had sent a jolt of electricity through her spine, even as she’d let out a muffled squeal upon his cock. But Barty hadn’t stopped and in no time at all, Fleur hadn’t wanted him to. It was a new sensation to be sure, but not a bad one… not by a long shot. Rather, she’d found herself growing more and more enthusiastic for his cock, starting to go to town on it like nobody’s business.
 
Slurping away at his dick as he’d gently, sensually tongued out her ass… Fleur had driven them both to a simultaneous climax. It said nothing good about the state of her mind that they were becoming so in tune with her. It said nothing good about the state of anything that he could make her cum from a tongue in her ass and his cock in her horrifically eager throat.
 
Still, she’d drank down every last drop of his seed, unable to wrap her head around just how GOOD it tasted. And while she’d almost immediately regretted the way she’d lost control, she hadn’t regretted it enough to stop herself from licking up the remaining cum from all over his cock afterwards, moaning gutturally in abject failure and shame but also pleasure throughout the aftermath.
 
Snapping back to the present, Fleur shivers as she stares at herself in the mirror and realizes she’s discarded the note and begun openly touching herself to the memory. One hand is on a tit and the other is on her cunt as she freezes up, gazing at her visage in horror. She really was becoming his woman, wasn’t she? No, more than that… she was becoming his property. That was what Barty wanted from her. He wanted a pet, a toy… a slave.
 
He wasn’t even being all that subtle about it anymore, calling her his pet. Calling himself her Master. And yet, where was the pushback? When was the last time Fleur told him no? When was the last time she told him he was evil, a monster, and demanded he let her go?
 
A shiver of fear runs down her spine as she realizes she can’t remember. Which meant it had to have been weeks ago at the very least. Her lower lip trembles… and she tears her hands away from her body, reaching for her wand and snatching it up instead.
 
The embers of anger burn in her belly, growing more and more powerful by the moment as she climbs off of her bed. She’s still completely naked, and there’s not a stitch of clothing to be seen in the entire abode. For a moment, she considers using magic to conjure herself some clothing… before ultimately deciding against it.
 
She tells herself that it’s because she knows Barty won’t allow it to stand. That he’ll dispel any conjured garments she decides to wear, to force her to fight in the buff… so she might as well practice nude anyways, right? That’s what she tells herself anyways…
 
Even as Fleur marches out of the bedroom, finding determination and resolve once more to gain her freedom before she falls further into debauchery… a trail of clear but glistening pussy juices travels down one of her legs, showcasing just how aroused she still is.
 
-x-X-x-
 
He’s not foolish about it. Giving Fleur back her wand was always a calculated risk, but it was one Barty knew that he had to take if he wanted to advance things to the next level with his lovely veela pet. The tome had been quite clear on the subject in fact.
 
Letting her be slightly weaned off of the potions, giving her the opportunity to feel like she could take him down… and then making sure that she ultimately failed to do so anyways, would only serve him in the end, as it effectively reinforced the fact that she could not win and that her place was at his feet.
 
All the same, he wasn’t going to risk her actually escaping. Before he’d left, he’d applied some very Dark Magic to the wards of Fleur’s prison, making sure that even with her wand, she wouldn’t be able to escape. He’d also set things up so that there was no way she would be able to ambush him. Only then had he left that note and her wand for her to find as he’d gone off to do the Dark Lord’s bidding.
 
Along with the self-replenishing kitchen and what not, Barty hadn’t been all that worried about leaving Fleur to her own devices for a full week as he served his Lord faithfully. Sure, part of him was anxious about letting her spend so long without the potions or his touch… but the tome had said that it would be fine, and since he was relying so much on the Dark Lord’s gift to make this happen in the first place, Barty saw no reason to stop doing so now.
 
Returning to the safehouse, to the prison that Barty has painstakingly crafted for his half-tamed veela pet, Barty isn’t all that surprised to find her waiting for him near the front door, wand in hand and looking ready to pounce. She looks almost feral as she is now, naked and fixated on the door. A week away from him has clearly done her in, driving her mad with both lust and anger alike. Yes… she was primed for their duel.
 
Smirking, Barty stands out in the courtyard outside of the abode and finally drops the ward on the door. As it swings open, Fleur just stares at it blankly for a moment… before racing out. She freezes in place at the sight of him, her grip on her wand growing so tight that her knuckles turn white as she grits her teeth in rage.
 
Of course, she’s also caught off guard by the sun shining overhead. It’s the first time since he took her for himself that Fleur has been outside. For a moment, she’s blinded by the source of natural light, both shying away from it and trying to stare up at it, caught in a state of wonder. Barty has to clear his throat pointedly to get her back on track, but once he does, her gaze finally snaps back to him.
 
Immediately, she goes on the attack, her wand flicking up and firing off a dangerous looking spell made of sickly yellow that pulses and throbs as it flies across the intervening space between them. Barty steps to the side, letting it splash against the rocks harmlessly as he does so… or rather, not so harmlessly he notes. The stone where the yellow spell hits immediately begins bubbling profusely, showing off just how dangerous the magic would be if it had actually made contact with him.
 
Barty is amused more than upset, however. Fleur maybe didn’t realize it, but she was telegraphing her every move for him. Even as she tries to strike him down, it’s so blatantly obvious what she’s about to do that none of her magic comes anywhere close to harming him. He blocks what he wants to block, deflects what he wants to deflect, and dodges what can’t be blocked or deflected.
 
To her credit, the veela witch has a considerable arsenal at her disposal. Her variety is more than he remembered her showing off in the battle where he’d captured her as well. But then to be fair, that made sense. In the middle of a pitched battle between two opposing magical forces like that, you didn’t necessarily want to pull out anything esoteric or eldritch.
 
If you used anything too unknown or powerful, you risked harming your own side as much as you did the other side. Not to mention the Dark Lord’s enemies were all on the side of the ‘Light’ which meant they had to be seen doing ‘good’ and trying to ‘spare’ their enemies. They couldn’t throw around powerful magic, because most powerful magic was also considered Dark and very lethal.
 
In the end, only wizards of say, Dumbledore’s caliber, could turn the non-Dark disciplines towards powerful purposes. Your average witch or wizard just wasn’t powerful enough to do much with your standard charm or transfiguration spell, not in the middle of a pitched combat.
 
But now, with it just being him and Fleur, she was really letting loose… and it turned out that Fleur Delacour was a little naughty, because some of the spells she was tossing his way were indeed considered ‘dark’ by the British Ministry of Magic. Of course, seeing as Fleur wasn’t even a British Citizen, it was entirely possible her magic wasn’t illegal over in France. On the other hand, Barty suspected it was more just a case of favoritism. The Delacour Family was an Ancient Magical House over in France, and they likely got exemptions… or merely taught their children whatever they wanted to under the table.
 
Either way, Fleur is really giving it her all, and some of her magic truly impresses him. Even more impressive is watching her fight completely naked. It doesn’t detract from the duel one bit in fact, she’s clearly spent the last week training in the nude as well, because she has no issue fighting like this. Meanwhile, Barty finds himself admiring her beautiful body and the way her curves flex and shift in all the right ways.
 
She’s truly gorgeous and seeing her fight while in the buff… is absolutely wonderful.
 
However, at a certain point it’s time to move on. After trading spells back and forth for a little while and striking Fleur in all the right places with a handful of stinging hexes to showcase his superiority as a duelist over her… Barty finally stops toying with the panting, out-of-breath young woman. He stops playing games and finally goes on the offensive.
 
The wide-eyed look on Fleur’s face as she realizes quite quickly how much he was holding back is a sight to behold. As is the way her tongue unconsciously darts out of her lips, even as he’s suddenly moving forward and breaking through her defenses like they’re nothing but cheap muggle cardboard.
 
He can see it in her eyes… can practically hear it in her thoughts. How strong he is. How virile he is. Her thoughts betray her, as does her body. Her nipples are rock hard and so is her clit, and her pussy, despite remaining untouched for a whole week, is sopping wet.
 
Finally, Barty ends the duel with a Confundus Charm, not wanting to go as far as stunning her… not when there was still his reward for winning to be had. Fleur goes through a whole body shudder as the effect of his magic washes over her. Confundus is not a spell that can’t be fought off, to be fair. But you need to want to fight it. And you need to be strong enough to fight it as well.

You’d think that with a whole-ass week to herself, to stew in her hatred and anger of him, and to be weaned unknowingly off of the potions… well, you’d think that Fleur Delacour would have the strength to fight off one measly Confundus Charm, right? It’s a sign of just how far along she is and just how far Barty has brought their relationship that she simply can’t.
 
The beautiful French witch’s eyes go crossed and she sways on her feet in front of him, her wand arm immediately drooping as Barty strides forward with a smirk. For a moment, her glazed over eyes focus on his face… and rather than an expression of confused frustration or anger when she recognizes him, she instead breaks into a bright, broad smile… her true feelings for him expressing themselves in this state of spacing out.
 
Barty smiles right back at her and plucks her wand from limp fingers before it can fall entirely from her grasp and clatter to the ground. Chuckling, he shakes his head at her in amusement.
 
“Tut-tut, pet. Look at how futile it is to resist me. In the end, you’ll always be right back where you started… at my feet, conquered once more.”
 
Fleur mewls pathetically, wiggling in place and showing off her nude form to him on instinct. Barty admires just how good she looks in this helpless, disoriented state for a moment… and then nods to himself.
 
“It’s time for me to enjoy the spoils of war… don’t you agree, pet?”

With that, he reaches down… and hoists Fleur up into a fireman’s carry, causing her to squeal and gasp and giggle, completely punch-drunk. Snorting as he adjusts her, Barty gives her jiggling ass a good hard slap before taking her back inside of her prison, nonchalantly reactivating the wards as he does so. For a moment, Fleur Delacour had every chance to escape this fate. But in the end… she’d failed. Completely and utterly.
 
-x-X-x-
 
He drags her into the shower and turns it on and the instant the hot water begins beating down on them both, the effects of the Confundus Charm break and Fleur comes back to her senses. And yet… and yet, she doesn’t act like it. For a brief moment, she’d felt… good. It had been so nice being confounded like that. To just have Barty decide everything. To just… oh Merlin, she was really falling hard, wasn’t she?
 
As the hot water from the shower pounds across their flesh, washing away any sweat or grime from their fast-paced duel, Fleur’s eyes flutter and breathy little moans leave her lips. Barty’s hands are all over her, and so is his mouth and tongue. Holding her from behind, he molests her to his heart’s content, fondling her breasts and her pussy alike as her rock hard nipples and her protruding clit both stand at attention.
 
She’d lost. She’d lost so completely and utterly that Fleur wasn’t sure if she was ever going to recover from it. He had defeated her. No tricks, no subterfuge, no nothing. He’d beaten her fair and square. And now, as her conqueror, he was taking what was rightfully his.
 
Fleur had been told all the stories, and she’d read even more on her own. Tales of the veela of ancient past. How they had fought against their oppressors. How they had once been enslaved by wizards of olden times, but how they’d eventually managed to break free of that slavery. The first Veela Covens were made to protect them from predatory wizards.
 
The Wizarding World would have you believe that it was the Veela who were the predators. That they had long used their magical allure to control wizards and witches and get whatever they wanted. But that was so far from the truth it wasn’t even funny. The truth was… Veela had a long history of being oppressed, enslaved, and abused.
 
Fleur had read those stories and always resonated more with the Veela who escaped captivity. Who fought off their masters and freed themselves. She had been proud to come from a long line of Veela who could trace their ancestry back to those original freedom fighters. She had never, for even a moment, thought that slavery was a natural state of being for Veela. That to be conquered was righteous, and to be owned was good and correct.
 
… Until now. The Confundus Charm might be gone, but Fleur still felt so very disoriented from their fight. There had been moments early on when she was SURE that she had Barty on the ropes. But no. She was wrong. In hindsight, she now understood that he’d had her right where he wanted her from start to finish.
 
She finds herself marveling at how strong her conqueror is, that word continually coming up in her mind… even as Barty spins her around and gives her a long, tongue-filled kiss on the lips. Fleur’s legs almost collapse out from under her as he sticks his tongue down the back of her throat, dominating her mouth the entire time they’re making out.
 
Moaning into his lips, Fleur’s eyes flutter and she quivers in abject delight, even though she knows deep down that she should be angry. Until finally… he pushes her down to her knees. Their mouths come apart and his hands on her shoulders become somewhat forceful as he makes it clear what he wants from her.
 
And Fleur… Fleur gives it to him. The moment she’s down on her knees, she instinctively starts licking and lapping at his cock in a truly subservient manner. Her legs are spread apart and her hands are planted palm down on the floor in the middle of the shower, even as she gurgles and moans along his shaft.
 
“Oooh fuck… that’s it, sweetheart. That’s my good little veela pet.”
 
Fleur tries to glare up at him… but the effect is ruined by the fact that she’s sucking his cock quite willingly as she does so. His hands are on her head but he’s not forcing her to do anything. No, instead he’s just caressing her wet blonde locks and cooing at her about how this was only the beginning.
 
“From now on, every time I come home having delivered victory to the Dark Lord, I’m going to have you do this for me. From now on, you’ll meet me with a blowjob, in celebration of your Master.”
 
Fleur gurgles angrily… or at least tries to. She KNOWS she should hate that idea with every fiber of her being… and yet his words are making her suck his cock even harder, all while hot water continues to cascade down their bodies. And she can’t help but picture it. How hot it would be to… to ‘service’ him like this every time he came back.
 
Even if he let her duel him for her freedom each and every time he left and then came home, Fleur knew deep down inside that she would have no real chance. He would beat her each and every time, making quick work of her just like he had today. And then she’d wind up here, on her knees… blowing him like the submissive little veela slut that she truly is.
 
At the same time, she can’t help feeling sexy. After all, such a strong warrior sees her value. She’d never really understood how wizards managed to enslave veela in the first place… until now. Being owned by a man like Barty Crouch Jr. might not be so bad… but no. No, what was she thinking? She couldn’t… but then, what other choice did she have?
 
Escape was out of the question. As wonderful as seeing the sky again for the first time in weeks had been, Fleur now understood that it had, all of it… been merely a showing of her conqueror’s true power. Barty Crouch Jr. had dominated her from start to finish, just as he’d been doing since the start of her captivity. But then, was it really even captivity? Was he her captor… or was he merely the victor, time and time again, in an ongoing struggle between them?
 
A veela’s body was not supposed to belong to the first man to defeat them in a duel. That wasn’t how it worked, not by a long shot. And yet… Barty hadn’t just defeated her in one duel. He’d continually conquered her, time and time again. He’d overwhelmed her senses, he’d turned her own body against her, and he’d ultimately made her his bitch in a multitude of ways… save for the final way.
 
He had yet to fuck her… but what did that really matter? If he offered right now to finally fuck her cunt, Fleur isn’t sure that she would be able to say no. She’s not sure she could reject such an offer, not when her pussy is continually clenching, wanting nothing more than to have his meaty member inside of it. Even a week away from him… and Fleur hadn’t been able to break free of the spell he’d put on her. Not a magical spell… but a metaphysical one. A mental one. She wanted him. She hated to admit it, but she wanted her conqueror to take his spoils. No matter what that entailed.
 
Drowning in her own desires, Fleur unconsciously gives Barty the best blowjob of his life as she fantasizes about what will come next. His loud groan and the feel of his fingers flexing in her hair are the only warning Fleur gets, but it’s all she needs. As he erupts in her mouth, the beautiful French witch doesn’t hesitate.
 
No, she takes it like a champ, sucking down his load and drinking every last drop to show him how much of a ‘good girl’ she can be. Only once she’s guzzled it all down does he pull out of her mouth and stand over her, staring down at her as she stares up at him in turn. Despite hating her captivity… Fleur looks up at the man who took her and her heart thumps hard in her chest.
 
He’s not her captor. Nor her jailer. No, it’s her own inadequacy that holds her captive. It’s her own weakness that jails her. Barty Crouch Jr. had given her every opportunity to earn her freedom and Fleur had FAILED to seize upon it. She had failed to escape his clutches. And maybe, a small voice whispers in the back of her mind… maybe that was because deep down inside, she didn’t want to escape.
 
Barty wasn’t her warden. But he WAS her conqueror. And as his conquest, Fleur is starting to see how nice ‘giving in’ will really be. She thinks back to all those stories of veela throwing off their chains and escaping their oppressors… and she finds herself resonating more with the downtrodden slaves that her ancestors start those stories as, rather than the strong, independent freedom fighters they end them as.
 
A shiver runs down Fleur’s spine and she finds herself panting. Her lips open and words are on the tip of her tongue… words that she knows she can’t take back. However, before they can leave her mouth, before she can beg him to fuck her, to break her, to make her his bitch… Barty speaks up, overriding her. He probably didn’t know she was about to speak, to be fair.
 
“Wash me.”
 
His crisp order is like a shower of ice down her back, despite them both still being under the very real shower of hot water beating down on them both. Fleur’s teeth click shut and she blushes profusely, even as she rises to her feet and obeys, beginning to lather his chiseled physique up.
 
That had been a close one. She’d almost said words that she wouldn’t have been able to take back. But no… no, she had to keep some small measure of her dignity. She couldn’t simply break like that.
 
At the same time, Fleur knew that she had to do something to satiate the hungering monster lurking inside of her. The voice that had grown louder and louder, demanding that she give in to her conqueror, that she act the proper role as his conquest. She has to do something… and so she does. As she soaps up Barty’s chest, Fleur Delacour… leans forward and mashes her lips against his, standing on her tiptoes in order to reach his mouth.
 
Barty’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment, and then he’s pulling her in nice and tight, holding her to him as he lets out a rumbling growl from deep within his chest that has Fleur quivering in delight. It is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most intense, pleasurable kiss of either of their lives. And as Fleur indulges that voice in the back of her head, quieting it down for the moment at least… the monster grows a little larger, bit by bit.

-x-X-x-

Part 4:

-x-X-x-

As Fleur Delacour wakes up once more, she knows she has a big, big problem. She’s once more pressed up against the man who’s taken her in every way but the one that she truly, desperately desires. Barty Crouch Jr. might have taken her from the battlefield where he defeated her, but it’s harder and harder to view herself as his captive, as an unwilling prisoner.
 
Rather… he didn’t just capture her. He defeated her in a duel first. And he’s defeated her in every duel they’ve had since as well. He’s conquered her in every sense of the word save for the one, final way… even after all this time together, he still hasn’t fucked her. Fleur should be happy about that, she supposes. But it’s a testament to how much her mental state has frayed and unraveled that she finds herself disappointed more than anything.
 
In fact… the part veela had just got done having THE most salacious dream. In it, she was riding Barty’s huge, fat cock. Completely unleashing her inhibitions, allowing herself to truly belong to her conqueror at long last, she’d had the greatest sex of her life… in the dream.
 
Now, in the waking world, Fleur finds herself burning up. She’s on fire, filled with nothing but desire for the man who’s currently spooning her, even though there should be nothing but content. And yet, her core is in flames and her entire body is pulsing with need.
 
Before she knows what she’s doing, Fleur turns over in Barty’s arms. The man doesn’t stir. Where once he had been very careful to always wake up before her, to always be conscious before she was and to always maintain a certain air of superiority and confidence that she couldn’t overcome… nowadays, he doesn’t even bother.

Rather, the air of superiority is present twenty-four-seven even when he’s unconscious. Fleur knows, as she looks at his sleeping face, that he doesn’t fear her. And he’s right not to. She can’t bring herself to attack him. Not now. Not after everything. She can’t even bring herself to try and escape, maybe by stealing his wand and using it to bring down the wards holding her in this place.
 
No… instead, Fleur’s eyes descend down the length of his body once she’s properly facing him, looking between the two of them where his morning wood, which was originally pressed against her ass, now presses against her stomach. As she hungrily stares at his throbbing erection, she can’t help but think back to the numerous blowjobs she’s given him by this point.
 
She wishes she could say he had to force himself on her, but even when he did take control of the oral experience, Fleur was fully on board. She loved having him in her mouth, much to her own chagrin. She loved being a tool for his pleasure. She was his conquest after all, it was only right that he be able to take whatever he wanted from her. And of course, it helped how copious and delicious his seed was. A day didn’t go by at this point where she didn’t have him in her mouth and a load of his cum in her belly by the afternoon.
 
And yet… and yet, she hadn’t satisfied him in the final way yet. He still had yet to claim her cunt, to truly make her his woman in earnest. Fleur didn’t know why, to be honest. Her conqueror had never been shy about what he was after. He had made it clear from the very beginning that he wanted her by his side for the rest of their lives and he’d never wavered from that desire.
 
… So then why would he not fuck her? Fleur truly didn’t understand. It simply didn’t make sense. Her pussy ACHED for his cock. For him to pound her into the ground, or plow her against a wall, or rail her on this very bed. Every time he gave her a chance for her freedom, she lost a little bit quicker. And Fleur knew why. She knew it wasn’t because he was getting better… he was always the too-skilled wizard that she couldn’t hope to defeat.
 
Hell, it wasn’t even because she was getting worse either. In fact, Fleur was getting better at dueling naked. It was beginning to feel more and more natural to wear absolutely nothing after all this time divested of her clothing. Whether Barty was around or not, being in the nude was her constant, forever-state of being. She’d gotten used to it and that had ultimately transferred over to her dueling skills as well.
 
No, the reason she lost their ‘duels’ faster and faster these days… was because she wanted to. Because she wanted to get on with it already. She had no hope of winning anyways, so why not get to the good stuff faster, right? Except, as much as Fleur enjoyed the way he would dominate her mouth after dominating her in a magical duel, he never went that final step. And she… she was at the end of her rope.
 
Slowly pushing Barty onto his back, Fleur stares for a second to see if he’ll awake. But he doesn’t. He shifts a bit, getting comfortable again, before falling still once more. Her breath hitches as her eyes slide up and down his naked form. He is… the most handsome and powerful wizard she has ever had the fortune of laying her eyes upon. She can’t get enough of him.
 
Nor can she take it anymore. She HAS to have him, even if he won’t have her. And besides… isn’t this for the best? Isn’t this actually the best way to go about it?
 
If she fucks Barty while he’s sleeping, he’ll never know she gave in!
 
Before the part veela can even begin to second guess that insane justification for her actions, she’s already sliding slowly down his body and into place. Straddling him, she hesitates every few seconds to check and make sure he’s not waking up. She can’t go through with this if he’s conscious. But… no, he remains fast asleep. He feels safe here, with her. Because she’s helpless before him and cannot dream of hurting her conqueror. The wild, independent, strong veela that she always aspired to be before finding herself in this place… is no more. She’s tamed now, though Fleur cannot admit it to herself, let alone out loud.
 
But she CAN admit, at least to herself, that she NEEDS this. And so, with Barty still asleep, Fleur takes his morning wood in both hands and lifts herself up above it before beginning to impale herself on his cock. He’s… so huge. Obviously, Fleur already knew that. She’d learned first hand how big his dick was when it was stretching out her lips and throat time and time again. But that was different. That was that and this was this.
 
As she sinks down his length, having to pause and gasp and cover her mouth to hide her wanton moans, Fleur shudders in abject bliss. It’s everything she’d ever hoped for.
 
“S-So big… so l-large… a-ah… so… nnngh, f-filling…”
 
Her eyes flutter, threatening to roll back as her pussy continues to swallow up his length. Meanwhile, if her body was on fire before… it’s full-blown combusting now. Every inch of her is sparking and every bit of her is alive with this energy that Fleur can’t explain, that she can’t even begin to understand herself. The amount of pleasure that she’s gaining from finally being filled with her conqueror’s cock is… so far out of this world and beyond even her wildest expectations and deepest, darkest dreams.
 
Once she fully imbeds herself on him, once her cervix starts to kiss his cockhead and begin sucking on his dick tip, Fleur throws her head back and moans in ecstasy, unable to help herself. Her inner walls slowly ripple and massage his cock in turn, clenching and flexing and rhythmically groping up and down his length.
 
Fleur herself does not ride him. She doesn’t dare. If this is how much pleasure she got merely from the descent, she fears that bouncing up and down on his dick will TRULY break her. She can’t allow herself to cum, that’s what Fleur decides. Even as she slowly starts grinding on him, gyrating her hips back and forth and panting noisily, Fleur tells herself not to orgasm. If she orgasms while impaled on Barty Crouch Jr.’s dick… then she knows she’s truly lost.
 
Of course, that’s a small voice in the back of her mind telling her that. The rest of Fleur finds herself lost in how wonderful this feels. Her body has craved its conqueror for months now. She’s wanted him inside of her like this for… a shamefully long time. And now, finally… well, her expectations really have been blown out of the water by just how good he really feels.
 
As her eyes drift shut and Fleur finds herself focusing entirely on the sensations of being one with her conqueror at long last… her allure is out of control. But then to be fair, it’s been out of control for the entire length of her captivity. It’s been out of control for so long that even when Barty stopped the potion regimen, Fleur hadn’t realized she COULD rein it back in.
 
She’s become used to it being like this, but in this moment, with her finally joined at the crotch with her future master… Fleur’s allure goes absolutely haywire. And while she’s preoccupied with the sensations she’s getting to experience at the moment… it wakes Barty up.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Barty slowly awakens from his slumber to the most amazing view and the most amazing sensation down below. Fleur Delacour has impaled herself upon his cock and is slowly grinding away as her pillowy lips part in a soft moan, her eyes drifted shut from the pleasure. Her nubile, supple flesh undulates back and forth as she gyrates around on his member, her nipples rock hard and her beautiful breasts jiggling ever so slightly from her slow movements.
 
He finally has her right where he’s needed her. It’s been almost three months now. Three months since he captured her, since he took her prisoner. Three months of constant teasing where he focused on her pleasure with only a handful of blowjobs here and there. Though, of course, at a certain point the blowjobs ALWAYS became a source of Fleur’s pleasure.
 
While the entire experience was amazing to say the least… it was also endlessly frustrating. He was teasing himself with the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, not allowing himself to have her. If anyone ever had cause to doubt Barty Crouch Jr.’s self-control, he need only point at Fleur Delacour and his ownership of her as proof that he could do anything if he put his mind to it.
 
He hadn’t fucked her in all this time… because he needed HER to decide to fuck HIM. As amazing as all those blowjobs were, as amazing as it was to pleasure her and watch her resistance and hatred slowly crumble in the face of a new found appreciation for him and his touch… THIS was what Barty had really wanted. And at long last, it was here. Which meant it was time to capitalize.
 
Without warning, Barty’s hands snap up and grab hold of Fleur’s hips, snapping her out of her pleasure-filled haze and stupor. Her eyes open once more and grow wide in horror as she stares down at him, finally realizing he’s awake. Grinning up at her, holding her by her hips, Barty chuckles darkly.
 
“Look at you, pet. Look how fucking sexy you are. Oh… this makes me so happy. You’ve finally given in.”
 
Her eyes widen even further at that, and she quickly shakes her head.
 
“N-No… I… I h-haven’t, I just-!”
 
But Barty isn’t about to let her deny it. Even if they both know it’s all lies, he doesn’t want to hear anything from her mouth but those pretty melodic moans of hers. So… he thrusts up from below. It’s a relatively slow, languid hump of his hips to be fair. But it’s enough to jostle Fleur, who hasn’t moved an inch vertically since her cervix kissed his cockhead. He sees the way it affects her and chuckles again, even as he holds her by her hips and begins to slowly fuck her from below.
 
“Don’t lie to me, pet. Tell the truth.”
 
“P-Please… I c-can’t… s-stop… s-slow down!”
 
He’s already going as slow as humanly possible, honestly. But he doesn’t think Fleur realizes that. The effect his barest movement is having on her is pronounced, her insides reluctantly clenching around his dick, her head rolling about as she moans in confusion and reluctant pleasure. Growling at her, Barty gets a bit more… domineering.
 
“I’m not going to do that. Not if you can’t be honest with me.”
 
A shudder runs through Fleur’s body, causing her beautiful breasts to bounce wonderfully for a moment. Finally… she looks at him. Half-broken, she confesses the truth to him, though whether she just can’t hold it back anymore or whether she’s hoping for some form of mercy, he cannot say.
 
“Please… I did… I did want this. Oh Merlin, I wanted t-this. Your cock… your big f-fat cock is finally inside of me…”
 
Barty’s own eyes drift shut for a moment and he inhales, basking in her words as well as the smell of her arousal and the feel of her allure, buffeting him from all sides. While Fleur is beginning him to slow down, her allure is demanding that he speed up. That he take her harder and faster, that he give her everything Fleur TRULY wants, even if she won’t admit it out loud.
 
He ignores them both, of course. This is his show. He won’t let anyone tell him what to do here, especially not now when he’s finally getting so close to having everything he’s ever wanted. Eyes sliding over Fleur’s glistening body, the poor, stressed-out dear already sweating up a storm when they haven’t even REALLY started fucking yet, Barty smiles.
 
“Is it just my cock, pet? Is that all I’m good for, hm?”
 
Fleur shifts at that, biting her lower lip as she looks at him with big, vulnerable eyes. It’s clear she doesn’t want to say it… this is one confession she’s truly afraid to make. But Barty isn’t letting up. He’s still fucking her nice and slow from below, but even that much is clearly too much for her. She’s trying desperately to hold something back… an orgasm, perhaps?
 
Finally, she shakes her head and admits the truth in a quiet, defeated tone.
 
“N-No… it’s y-you. It’s… all of you. My conqueror…”
 
Barty lets out a breathy sigh at that. To hear such words from Fleur’s mouth while she’s riding his cock? Only one thing can make this better. He wants to hear her. He wants to make her cry out as she cums upon his member.
 
With that in mind… he tightens his grip on Fleur’s hips, the only warning that the part veela gets before he begins to thrust up into her from below all the faster. It’s still nothing compared to his fastest speed… but for a woman like Fleur Delacour who has been aching for this for months now, it’s too much. Her eyes snap wide again, and a moaning squeal of defeat and ecstasy leaves her imminently kissable lips as her body shakes, jolts, and spasms upon his cock.
 
Her pussy walls clench down HARD and she cums explosively for him, her juices flowing down his length, squirting out from around the base of his dick and landing all over his thighs and the bedding below. Fleur, for her part, looks like she’s had a moment of divine intervention. Tears streak down her face, her eyes half-rolled up in her head as she moans out in a worshipful tone through sobs of joy.
 
“S-So good… it’s so… so good…”
 
Her body continues to shake and spasm through the nirvana he’s just made her experience for several long moments more. Barty watches every last moment of it, laying back and enjoying her complete and utter submission. She might be on top, but HE is in control here and they both know that to be true. Her body, a sinful thing made for sex, is his and his alone. Reaching up, he casually cups and caresses one of her breasts as Fleur rides out the ensuing orgasm. And in response… Fleur leans into his touch, moaning as he rolls the pebble that is her rock-hard nipple between his fingers.
 
Finally, she starts to come down, recovering slowly. He sees the exact moment she realizes how badly she’s failed to maintain any semblance of separation between the two of them. The absolute defeat in her eyes as she gazes at him in fear and anticipation brings a wide and wicked smile to his face.
 
“Don’t fret, pet… we aren’t done yet. I’m not done yet. After all… you might have cum, but I have not.”
 
Fleur jolts at that, scared… but also excited at the prospect. Barty just chortles, bringing his hands back to her hips… and beginning to lift.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“Ooooh f-fuck… please… a-ah, m-mercy. I… I shouldn’t… nnngh, oh Merlin~”
 
Barty Crouch Jr. is loving life, even as he moves Fleur into a reverse cowgirl position, pulling her off of his cock and forcing her to turn around. However, he does NOT force her back onto his dick. No, that’s all her. As she descends his length once more, swallowing his throbbing, massive erection with her slippery wet quim, Barty admires the way her back ripples and her ass sways enticingly before ultimately squishing against his crotch.
 
Nor does he have to do any of the work this time either. Fleur, the moment that her cervix kisses his dick tip once more, begins to bounce up and down on his dick. She still begs for mercy though, seemingly not understanding that she’s the one moving her hips this time. She’s the one who’s starting to ride him faster and faster.
 
Barty watches, eyes heavily lidded, as she moans wantonly, chasing a goal he’s not sure she fully understands. She wants him to cum for her. But has she properly accepted what that will mean? If he cums for her, he’ll be cumming INSIDE of her. He’ll be filling her womb with his seed. That goes beyond making her his woman. That advances into the territory of making Fleur a MOTHER.
 
And yet, she seems to be too far gone to even consider that sort of thing right now. Instead, she’s too busy enjoying herself. In fact, now that she’s bouncing upon his cock… it doesn’t take long for her to reach her second orgasm. Throwing her head back, the beautiful blonde squeals as she climaxes all over his dick. Barty grunts, having to catch himself with a surreptitious bit of magic at the same time.
 
… If not for that minor spell, he definitely would have cum there. And while that wouldn’t have ruined everything, it would have been something of a setback. He needed Fleur to be at the heights of ecstasy while he refrained from cumming. If he came inside of her too early, then today would be ruined and he would have to try again another day.
 
Fortunately, Barty can cheat with magic. Because he doesn’t need to. Fleur Delacour is sin incarnate. She is beauty made manifest. Barty is confident there is no other woman in the world as gorgeous as her. Not her mother, not her sister, not even her full veela cousins over in Europe. No… Fleur Delacour is the most beautiful woman in the world. This Barty believes with all his heart.
 
And she’s all his too. Or at least… she will be very, very soon.
 
Of course, unaware of the machinations running through her conqueror’s head, Fleur can only think about one thing as she comes down from her second orgasm… Barty still hasn’t cum yet. As she rides him reverse cowgirl, slapping her ass down on his crotch and swallowing his length with her flexing cunt again and again, a low whine emits from Fleur’s throat.
 
Looking back over her shoulder at her conqueror, she gives him a pleading look… which causes Barty to chuckle and shrug his shoulders as he casually gropes her ass.
 
“I don’t know what to tell you, pet. I’m as surprised as you are that you haven’t managed to make me cum yet. And here I thought veela were known for gobbling men up and spitting them back out. Well, your cunt has done the gobbling… but you seem to be struggling with the execution.”
 
Fleur’s eyes widen at his casual dismissal of her abilities. The insult, to imply that she’s lacking. Fleur can’t believe it… but at the same time, the proof is right in front of her isn’t it? The proof is inside of her. His fat, throbbing cock remains enveloped in her cunt. Her folds and her inner walls caress and grope and flex around it. And yet, despite cumming twice, Fleur hasn’t even managed to make him cum ONCE.
 
With a rather wanton moan and a heartfelt groan, the part veela starts to use every trick in the book to pleasure Barty. Unbeknownst to him, a lot of them even come from the literal books she’d read once upon a time. Of the things wizards would make their veela slaves do. In the book, they were coached as terrible acts of humiliating cruelty. But now? Now Fleur relies on them to try and pull out all the stops in order to make Barty cum for her.
 
She might have even succeeded, given enough time… if Barty wasn’t focused on something else. With Fleur bouncing up and down on his cock, massaging his balls, and all around doing her level best to bring him to climax, Barty summons a paper from a hidden compartment across the room. Drawn onto the piece of parchment in advance is a beautiful runic tattoo, one that glows with malevolent purple magic.
 
As Fleur’s back flexes and her booty shakes, bouncing and jiggling atop him, Barty smiles… and waits. He waits for his moment, the exact moment where Fleur descends down his cock for the last time. Just as he’s about to cum, just as his load is starting its journey from his churning balls up the length of his shaft… Barty lashes out.
 
He slaps the piece of parchment onto Fleur’s lower back and whispers the imprinting spell to transfer the glowing runic tattoo onto her flesh right at the exact moment that he begins to cum inside of her womb at long last.
 
Fleur freezes in place, both hearing him and feeling he’s done something, while also experiencing the pleasure of his seed shooting into her womb, the first man to ever cum inside of her.
 
Terror rushes through the part veela as she realizes she has no idea what she did… only that it was very bad for the small part of her that still wanted to escape this situation, to escape her conqueror. Somehow… somehow she knows that her last opportunity to do so has at long last been taken from her.
 
Fleur can’t help but climax as the magic binds them together while he cums. She can’t help but watch via the mirror as magic roils around her, pouring out of her. It takes her a second to realize it… but it’s her allure. Her magical veela allure has been made manifest. It’s visible now for the first time in Fleur’s entire life.
 
It also flows from all around her straight to Barty’s cock. Almost like he’s locking both her allure and her magic to him. As though he’s intertwining them together, making them one. Fleur shudders, imagining a world where her allure will no longer affect anyone but her conqueror. A world where even as it affects him, all it really does is prompt him to fuck her harder, to dominate her more thoroughly.
 
A world… where she is Barty Crouch Jr’s slave and pet and nothing more.
 
Fleur’s eyes roll back in her head as Barty’s cum continues to fill her womb. Her cervix drinks from his cock hungrily, and she can’t help it. She can’t fight it, not anymore. Even that small voice in the back of her head is silenced by this moment. She’s overwhelmed by lust and love. By adoration and devotion. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, and as she sits there upon his cock with a purely stupid and fucked silly expression on her face, Barty just chuckles softly to himself.
 
One hand holds her by her hip so that Fleur doesn’t fall forward or back as she spasms, impaled on his member. The other, Barty has lazily tracing the tattoo on the small of his veela slave’s back. The tramp stamp he’d gotten from the tome would help influence Fleur through all of the final steps of the way.
 
Barty wasn’t an idiot. He knew Fleur thought it was over. That she was already done, that she was his property now. But the truth was… there were still steps to be completed. This path they were talking together, or rather… this path that HE was walking while Fleur crawled along submissively at his feet… it wasn’t over. Not yet.
 
The tattoo would go a long way to finishing things, and having filled Fleur with his cum, Barty certainly felt accomplished. However, while he DID want to make Fleur a mother… breeding his pet veela bitch was honestly only part of his overall goals.
 
He would have her willingly give her very soul up to him before the end of this. He would have her sign away not just her heart, not just her mind… but the essence of her magical being. There were degrees of veela subjugation, as the tome that the Dark Lord gave Barty laid out. You could own a veela in a multitude of ways, but most allowed for them to eventually break free if they were stubborn enough, or if they had outside help.
 
All of these… inferior methods of subjugation were methods that the Veela Covens themselves were familiar with. After all, their ancestors had broken free of those methods long, long ago, and written them down in books to be passed from generation to generation, so that they could never be used again.
 
There was only one method that the first free Veela had never known about. Only one method that the Veela of today STILL didn’t know about, even with all of their knowledge. And that… that was soul subjugation. Soul Binding.
 
Really, it was quite simple. Every other method was inferior solely because they were escapable. But Soul Binding was not. It was quite inescapable, which was why no free Veela had ever heard of it. Because the Veela who had been subjugated and enslaved down to their very souls had NEVER escaped. They had never freed themselves from bondage, simply because they did not WANT to. They had willingly served their Masters until death, even raising daughters to take their place.
 
As far as Barty and his Lord could tell, these Soul Binders no longer existed. They had died out and taken their soul bound veela pets with them in the process. And so the Veela Covens had never found out about the most dangerous method of subjugation and enslavement. But the Dark Lord was wise. He was all-knowing. All-powerful. He had located a tome from those original Soul Binders for Barty and handed it over as a reward.
 
And Barty… Barty had learned from it. He had learned ancient techniques that no veela who had lived for the past thousand years had ever heard of before. And now… now he was going to use them on Fleur Delacour to truly make her his property. His slave. His bonded mate.
 
By the time he was done, she would give in to him willingly too. Or as willingly as months of coercion, both magical and physical, could result in. Barty knew full well that he’d eroded her sanity along with her resistance. That he’d morphed and sculpted her into the moaning, mewling mess of a beauty she was today.
 
And soon… soon he would own not just her body, but her entire soul.

-x-X-x-

Part 5:

Just when everything had been going so well, harsh reality found itself knocking on his door. As he apparates back to the small, homely prison where he’s been keeping Fleur Delacour all this time, Barty Crouch Jr. is already cringing at what he might find. One might think that he would still be quite confident, seeing as the last time they’d been together they’d actually gone all the way… but there was just one problem with that.
 
Their first time together had been a month ago. And Barty hadn’t been able to check up on Fleur a single time since.
 
It was just the way things went sometimes. He’d already had all the time in the world to rage in anger at the injustice of it all. But… there was no helping it. He’d been called away on a mission mere hours after their first time together, while Fleur had still been sleeping off the initial binding and the incredible plowing he’d given her.
 
Although disappointed, no part of Barty had considered for even a second disobeying the call. This was his Lord they were talking about after all. If the Dark Lord had a mission for him, then Barty would see it done, no matter what. And this had been a very important mission indeed. Regardless, he also shouldn’t have been gone for very long anyways. Just a few days, maybe a week at most and that would have been the perfect amount of time for Fleur to stew before he returned to continue her training.
 
Alas… things had not gone according to plan. Unfortunately, the mission had turned back and while he HAD still managed to capture the Wand Maker Ollivander for his Master, Barty had been severely injured when his wand had exploded in his hand while he’d been dueling with the piss poor excuse for Aurors that the Ministry were fielding these days.
 
It was a testament to how incompetent the enemy was that those very same Aurors hadn’t been able to capitalize on his injury, an injury that none of them had even dealt him either. Indeed, they couldn’t stop him from taking Ollivander, nor could they capture him and imprison him once more.
 
… Unfortunately, it still took him a month to recuperate. A month in which he hadn’t been able to check on Fleur even once. The tome had been very clear about this. Absence was better than presenting weakness when it came to taming a veela. No matter how long you were gone, it was better to make them long for you and think of you, rather than see you hurt or injured and know that you were nothing more than a mortal man after all.
 
Still… as Barty apparates in, an Invisibility Spell up just in case, he finds himself staring at an incredibly beautiful… and slightly terrifying sight. Fleur’s pale, gorgeous body is currently out in the courtyard of the prison he’d made for her, and her movements are on a whole new level as she practices her spellcasting. Her repertoire is improving he can see, and he can also see that she’s been very motivated to practice while he was gone. His absence had not made the heart grow fonder… but rather, encouraged a rebellious streak in the witch right when he was supposed to be finally assuring her of her place at his feet… by his side.
 
This was decidedly a setback in his taming of the gorgeous veela, especially since he can see her tramp stamp, while still present, is no longer glowing with his magic.
 
Still, not all of it is bad. While it HAD taken a month for him to fully recover and make sure he wouldn’t show even the slightest weakness to his beloved veela pet, Barty had used that recuperation time to full effect. Indeed, the very subject of his mission, the Wand Maker Ollivander, had provided him with something rather priceless for his troubles.
 
With that all in mind, Barty drops the Disillusionment Charm he’s currently under and clears his throat.
 
“Fleur!”
 
Her response is lightning quick and clearly pre-planned, and Barty marvels at how fast she’s gotten as he just barely manages to shield the cutting curse that she sends his way. And yet… he does shield it… a wicked grin spreads across his face, as the gorgeous, vengeful veela turns to face him with her perky tits and glistening muff on display, but a stormy and angry scowl marrying her beautiful face.
 
This… this was going to be fun.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Fleur Delacour had not had the best month. She makes sure that her damnable captor gets a small taste of that as she duels him with more gusto, more strength, and more speed than he’s ever seen before now. Barty is forced to dart to the side under the sheer onslaught of spells she throws at him, something that makes Fleur’s heart soar, even as she keeps up the silent casting without taking a single moment’s pause.
 
A month ago, she’d made the worst mistake of her life. SHE had initiated sex with this bastard of a man. SHE had given into his charms and worked her way right into his hands and right on top of his dick. She’d fucked herself on his cock and let him fuck her in turn, and then he’d done something to her… something heinous that Fleur was sure she would not be happy to learn the full effects of any time soon.
 
But worst of all? All of that had happened… and then the fucking bastard had disappeared for an ENTIRE MONTH.
 
She’d woken up the morning after their first time together to see a note and her wand on the pillow beside her. The note had told her that he’d be back as soon as possible so he could continue ‘building their relationship’. In that moment, Fleur had looked at herself in the mirror, unable to help admiring her post-coitus glow and the thick creampie oozing slowly out of her slit.
 
In that moment, Fleur had been unable to help herself. She’d collected his seed on her fingers and licked it clean, moaning at the taste of not just their combined juices… but also his magic, swirling around inside of her. She understood vaguely that he’d done something to her. That he’d injected his magic into her. But she hadn’t been able to fight the need to devour the contents of her own creampied hole.
 
Honestly, she’d been delirious for days after that. But then, one day she’d woken up and realized he’d been gone for almost an entire week. And she’d felt disgusted in herself. It was the clearest thought her foggy, lustful brain had had in a long time. Fleur had latched onto it, deciding then and there that she would train herself up to beat him.
 
Of course, even back then, there’d been a voice in the back of her mind telling her she couldn’t win. That it was hopeless. That she was only practicing because she wanted to impress him a bit more before he beat her and fucked her silly again.
 
However, then even more days had gone by. Almost a week had BECOME a week. And then a week and a half. And then two weeks.
 
At the two week mark since her captor’s departure, the door to the small cottage had opened, allowing her out into the courtyard. For a brief moment, Fleur had wondered if Barty was actually dead. A spike of pain and sorrow had rushed through her at the thought. But… no, she didn’t think that was the case. Exploring the outside of her prison had revealed that she wasn’t free… she just had a bigger cage than she thought. There were still boundary wards keeping her from leaving the courtyard, but she could at least get some sun each day now.
 
But she was still trapped. Which meant Barty was likely still alive, or else his wards would have started to fail. These weren’t the kind of permanent wards that would last centuries after their original creator passed on. No, they were a more temporary option, and directly tied to their creator’s magic at that. It meant Fleur could not even hope to break them down and escape… not so long as Barty still lived.
 
The realization that he HAD to be alive had prompted a feeling of relief inside of the captive veela which had in turn made Fleur even more disgusted with herself than before. And as two weeks turned to three, and then three weeks turned into a full fledged month away, Fleur’s mind had grown less and less foggy. She’d felt more and more like her old self.
 
Gone were the days where she’d give into temptation to masturbate herself to sleep with Barty’s name on her lips, crying it out plaintively in the hopes he would hear her call and attend to her needs by slaking his lusts on her body. Even the parts of her that ached for him ultimately turned against him in his continued absence.
 
For the first time in forever, Fleur felt unified in her fury. On the one hand, half of her was angry at the situation in general, at being this bastard’s captive, at being unjustly imprisoned and sexually tortured for months on end until finally she’d broken and fucked him herself. On the other hand, the other half of her is angry that she would finally give herself to her conqueror… only for him to leave her alone for an entire month. Had she not proven her loyalty? Had she not made it clear she wanted to be his?
 
Together, both parts of her channel that fury into action as Fleur keeps Barty on the backfoot, casting spell after spell at him to force the Death Eater to dance to HER tune at once. She feels confident that this is the time when she’ll defeat Barty Crouch Jr. and finally earn her freedom at long last. Especially when one of her cutting curses actually manages to slice through part of his robes, sending the piece of garment fluttering to the ground.
 
There’s a pause at that, both of them staring at the fragment of cloth as a swell of pride wells up in Fleur’s chest. She thrusts out her bust, smirking evilly as Barty slowly looks back at her. Only… only to feel a smidgen of uncertainty at that look in his eyes.
 
Her victory, it turns out, is quite short-lived as Barty suddenly answers her smirk with a smirk of his own and finally pulls out his wand. Except… no, it’s not his wand. It’s a wand that she’s never seen him use before.
 
Fleur rallies a moment too late, realizing that she never should have stopped casting spells in the first place, but before she can return to barraging Barty and forcing him on the defensive, he snaps out the new wand in her direction… and casts a purple fireball at her that completely stops her in her tracks.
 
The new wand was one thing. The spell he just cast however… should have been impossible for him to cast. In her sudden stupor, she just lets the purple fireball hit her. Not that Fleur has anything to worry about. Violet flames are a uniquely veela charm… something that no normal wizard or witch should have ever been able to cast.
 
Because of this, the purple fireball, though it washes over her in an instant, does not incinerate her. It doesn’t even burn her, not really. And yet… and yet she feels herself about fit to burst from the lust that starts to build at seeing him once again do the impossible. He should not have been able to cast veela magic. He shouldn’t be capable of that.
 
The half of Fleur that wants to earn her freedom insists upon continuing the fight, veela magic or no veela magic. But the half of Fleur that has been waiting with bated breath for Barty to return spins on a dime now that her conqueror has once again proved himself worthy of having her. In an instant, it’s like the two parts of herself are fighting over the wheel, each of them once again at direct odds as they both try to steer the ship that is Fleur Delacour.
 
In the end, the two are locked in mortal combat… leaving Fleur herself to just stand there and sway back and forth as Barty’s eyes light up with elation at seeing her just take the magic, at seeing her honest reaction to him casting such a spell. As she wars with herself and finds that she’s locked in a stalemate, her conqueror casually walks up to her and plucks her wand out of her fingers, sending it away somewhere else that she cannot get to it.
 
In that moment, Fleur knows she’s lost. Again. The part of her that is fighting so very hard to get home immediately loses ground to the part of her that is hopelessly and helplessly infatuated with her conqueror. As Barty Crouch Jr. grabs her and hoists her up into a bridal-style carry, Fleur’s arms wrap around his neck and it takes every fiber of her being not to lean in and kiss him to welcome him ‘home’ as he takes her back inside and locks the door behind them once more.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Fleur shudders with anticipation and trepidation both as she’s carried back into their bedroom and tossed down onto the silken sheets. They were self-cleaning, so the remnants of her many, MANY lonely nights moaning his name aren’t there, thankfully. And yet, she can’t help but moan some more as Barty casually uses his new wand to vanish his clothes, the giant cock that had so invaded her thoughts and every waking moment suddenly in front of her again.
 
“N-No… I don’t… I don’t want it. Don’t you d-dare. I don’t want you inside me of ever again, you bastard!”
 
Ah, it would seem the part of her that’s still trying to resist has gained control of her ability to speak for a moment. Fleur blushes as Barty just laughs at her, climbing onto the bed and between her legs. Despite her verbal protests, her legs are splayed wide for him… all but inviting him to take her. She’s not even trying to fight back, not physically anyways.
 
Chuckling, Barty strokes his cock with one hand while reaching out and slowly massaging her slit with the other. She was already dripping, but under his touch she’s rapidly gushing once more, and her hips are bucking up into his palm, seeking succor and relief.
 
“I know I was gone for a while, pet… and I know that you might think that means I forgot about you. That I abandoned you. Far from it… you’re all that I really thought about, every moment of every day that we were apart.”
 
Fleur’s heart pounds in her chest at that declaration. She whimpers as his thumb finds her clit and goes to town on it.
 
“That’s why I know you’re liable to say some things you don’t really mean right now. So I’m not going to listen to the lies coming from your upper lips. Instead, I’ll listen to the truth coming from down here, from your lower lips.”
 
Fleur’s eyes widen at that, and she whimpers some more, shaking her head back and forth.
 
“N-No… no, no, no. Y-You didn’t… you didn’t take me before. You made me d-do it. Make me do it again. Don’t…”
 
But despite her hysterical, rather nonsensical begging, Barty places his cock at her entrance and slowly but surely inserts himself back inside of her. Fleur gasps, her puffy lips parting in response… both above AND below. As he’s stretching her out in an incredibly satisfying, horrendously arousing way downstairs, Fleur finds herself choking on her own spit, shuddering beneath him as he begins to slowly fuck her missionary style.
 
Face to face, Barty gives her an almost kind smile as he makes sure that she feels every last inch of him inside of her. Fleur quivers in response, shuddering in delight. She loves it. She hates how much she loves it.
 
“Please… stop…”
 
But as before, her vocal objections fall on deaf ears. All Barty is ‘listening to’ at the moment is her lower lips, which clench and squeeze around his cock, squelching as he pulls out of them and then thrusts in time and time again. Her cunt tries to hold him inside of it, tries to keep him impaled in her despite Fleur’s weak verbal rejection, but Barty just fucks her. He fucks her and all Fleur can do is take it.
 
“Fuck, pet… you’re as amazing today as you were a month ago. Heh, your lower lips certainly seem to have missed me, haven’t they? Mm, don’t worry… I’m back now.”
 
She can’t help but be swept up in all of it. His passion is as powerful and palpable as it was when they were together before. The part of her that had feared he was abandoning her is exultant now, and easily bullying the part of her that wanted freedom back into its place. Namely, a small little cage in a dark corner at the recesses of her mind.
 
A shudder goes through Fleur as her defiance, her resistance, her rebellious attitude… all of it is washed away much too easily. It had taken her WEEKS to crawl out of the pit that Barty had buried her in, and yet it was taking him mere minutes to undo all of that hard work. Really… what was the point of fighting it, if she was just going to end up on her back again, legs spread for the man who had managed to conqueror her again and again and again?
 
Fleur cums at that thought. She cums HARD. And Barty… Barty keeps on fucking her, ponding into her nice and fast.
 
Her pathetic mewling quickly turns into much more pleasurable groans and moans as Fleur’s eyes roll around in her head, her lips puckering up into a small o that Barty leans forward and captures in a kiss. Their tongues swap spit for longer than Fleur can say, and his cock thrusts in and out of her slowly but surely, deep powerful movements that drive Fleur absolutely wild.
 
Finally, he pulls back from the kiss and gives her a smile.
 
“I’m going to cum now, pet. Take it all. Take my seed.”
 
Some small part of Fleur recognizes that this would be a bad thing. Not just because of the chance of him impregnating her, but also because of how she felt after the last time he came inside of her. Of how his creampies were clearly some sort of introduction vector for his magic to… to do things to her.
 
Unfortunately, in the end all that small part of Fleur can muster is a single, pitiful shake of her head and a quiet, soft…
 
“Noooo…”
 
He just smiles at her, brushing a hand down her face, caressing her cheek before moving onto her breast which he gropes and squeezes.
 
“Oh pet… even now, your mouth lies when your cunt tells the truth. You’re clenching down so much harder for me in anticipation of this creampie. You know what you want, deep down inside.”
 
Of course, unbeknownst to Fleur, Barty is well aware that Fleur’s womb and ovaries are a source of her veela magic. By cumming inside of her with his seed, not only will he recharge her tramp stamp, but he’ll also intermingle their magic more and more, bringing her closer and closer to being ready for the final soul binding, to finally belonging to him.
 
Fleur doesn’t know this… but she can still tell that letting him have his way would be bad. She had to stop him, even though she knew it would be the best thing she ever felt if she let him cum inside of her again.
 
“Don’t worry… I’ll make it all better.”
 
Fleur whimpers, shaking her head back and forth… but her body won’t answer her commands. Or at least, it won’t answer the commands of the part of her that’s trying and failing to fight back. In the end, Barty doesn’t pull out. Instead, he moves his hands to her hips, to under her ass cheeks, and gropes them hard as he lifts her lower half into the air and begins hammering into her with all his might.
 
This is the first time he’s truly been rough with her… and yet, it feels amazing. She can’t help but cum like crazy as he does it, her eyes widening before rolling back in her head, her tongue sticking straight out of her mouth. Even… even…
 
“BARTY! OH MERLIN, BARTY!”
 
His name on her lips as her back arches. As he hilts himself inside of her and finally cums. Fleur bucks and shakes as she breaks for him, her eyes staying rolled back in her head and the young veela fully whiting out in that moment.
 
As Barty watches this rapturous moment, he smiles softly, able to feel her tramp stamp begin pulsing with power again. He’s right back where he belongs… cumming inside of his gorgeous French Veela Pet.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Smirking to himself, Barty walks with a pep in his step and a hum to his voice as he carries Fleur from the bed over to an ornate armchair next to an unused fireplace. Her arms and legs are wrapped around him quite securely, while her cunt remains stuffed with his dick, impaled upon his member.
 
As they reach the fireplace, Barty pulls Fleur off of his dick, much to the veela’s amusing moans of discontentment and writhing wriggling. He chuckles at her neediness as he sets her down on the bearskin rug in front of the armchair. Then, he goes ahead and gets the fireplace lit up, making sure it’s nice and blazing with heat.
 
Of course, there’s not an ounce of floo powder in sight, nor is the fireplace connected to the Floo Network in any way. That would sort of defeat the purpose of this being his pet’s prison, if it had such a serious security flaw.
 
Once the fire is blazing away, Barty reaches down and picks a needy Fleur up again, turning her around and sitting down in the armchair while SHE… sits down upon his cock. Her legs splayed over each of his legs, she sinks down onto his throbbing member with her back to his chest. One arm wrapped around her to secure her and the other on her hip, Barty starts a slow but strong cadence of thrusting up inside of her, his lips on her neck, her ear, her cheek… all over her.
 
Fleur moans heartily, unable to help but feeling like she’s been conquered all over again. Just when she thought she might have dragged herself out, Barty has thoroughly pulled her back in. There’s no escaping him, and she’s starting to wonder if it truly is hopeless… and if it might just be better to fully give in.
 
As these thoughts flit through the overly sexed veela’s mind, her head lulling back onto Barty’s shoulder and her beautiful body bouncing and jiggling in all the right places as he fucks her, her conqueror nips at her earlobe before whispering to her.
 
“Mm, I’ve got a surprise for you, pet. I’m having an entire wardrobe delivered for you to model for me. Have you missed wearing clothes at all?”
 
Fleur shudders at that, her mind having to think about the question for a moment. On the one hand… yes, she’d missed clothes. On the other hand, they would just get in the way of her conqueror slaking his lusts upon her body. And she didn’t think that clothing would give her any more of a chance of beating Barty in a duel for her freedom either. If there was even going to BE another duel for her freedom.
 
She’d had her best shot at beating him today, and she’d still lost. And in such a humiliating manner too, shocked into a stupor by his use of veela magic.
 
“Heh, of course, it’s not quite clothing, I suppose. Rather, your new wardrobe will be lingerie and bikinis only. The sort of garments that really suit a beautiful bitch like you. That won’t hide that fantastic body of yours.”
 
Oh. Of course. Fleur feels like a fool for imagining anything else for even a moment. Embarrassment and arousal flit through her mind along with mental images of what sort of lingerie and bikinis he could have picked out for her. She shudders atop him, his cock still throbbing inside of her as he thrusts up from below again and again and again.
 
“The Dark Lord was quite pleased with my latest mission, you know. I’ve been given a special dispensation by him… meaning that for the next several weeks, you’ll have me all to yourself.”
 
Fleur quivers on top of his cock at that, and Barty grins at knowing that she’s happy to hear it, but afraid to voice as much. Chuckling darkly, he continues to fuck her on his cock, moving his hand from her hip up to her chest and the arm he has across her waist down to her cunt. His fingers work at her clit even as his hand gropes at one of her quaking, shaking tits. Bouncing up and down with the rest of her as he fucks her from below, Fleur’s breasts are ripe for playing with, so of course he does.
 
For a time, that’s all he does, letting the musical, melodic moans and cries coming from her lips guide him as he fucks her silly. But eventually, he can’t help letting her know the rest.
 
“Do you want to know WHY the Dark Lord was so happy with me, pet? Do you want to know why I’m being given all this time with you?”
 
Fleur mewls, but eventually manages to nod, her curiosity overtaking her. Smirking evilly, Barty whispers it right into her ear.
 
“I captured the Wand Maker Ollivander. He’s ours now. He’s been sworn to half a dozen magical oaths to the Dark Lord himself, and from now on his services will be ours and ours alone.”
 
Atop his cock, Fleur freezes in place. Barty just nods, knowing exactly what’s going through her mind.
 
“That’s right pet. The war isn’t going well for your side. It hasn’t been for quite some time now. We’re winning, inch by inch. There’s no escaping it. The Dark Lord is ascendant. Luckily for you, he’s decided to take me with him all the way to the top. And I… I will take you with me in turn. Because you’re mine. Because you belong to me.”
 
She squirms, trying not to moan too loudly, trying not to cry out in ecstasy. She fails of course, with his hands working away at her clit and breasts, his cock pounding up into her cunt. She tries to fight the pleasure, but she can’t help but cum for him, even at hearing that all of her worthless friends will soon be dead… or enslaved like her.
 
Smirking still, Barty pulls his fingers away from her clit and picks up his new wand, holding it out in front of her to make sure Fleur can see it.
 
“Have you noticed yet?”
 
For a moment, Fleur just moans. Then, slowly but surely, her glazed eyes focus on the wand in front of her. She whimpers in confusion.
 
“Your… your new wand?”
 
Chuckling, Barty shakes his head.
 
“Not just any new wand, my dear. A freshly crafted wand from Ollivander himself. Did you not wonder where it came from, or how I got it? Or perhaps… why I even needed a new wand in the first place?”
 
Fleur’s eyes are more focused now on his wand. Perhaps because she can sense precisely what he’s getting at. She can tell that something about the wand is calling to her. Perhaps because Like calls to Like, hmm?
 
“My old wand stopped working for me, you see. Quite suddenly too. Fortunately, it wasn’t a situation I couldn’t handle. Still, with my old wand no longer working, I went to Ollivander after the Dark Lord was through with him. The Wand Maker told me what had happened… he told me that my old wand’s core was no longer bonded to me. He asked me if anything had changed in my life recently. Anything… significant.”
 
Barty doesn’t tell Fleur about his wand outright fucking exploding on him. He’s not going to let her know he was injured at all. Projection of Strength even in the absence of true strength was CRITICAL to taming your veela, the tome had said so. Her soul would harden against his magic if she thought for even one moment that he was weak in any way.
 
So he’d… changed the details a little bit. But the parts with Ollivander were true. As was the next bit.
 
“Once I explained that I’d started up a very loving relationship with a veela in the past few months and we’d only recently gone all the way, our new resident Wand Maker had the perfect solution. He made me a new wand… using YOUR hair as the core.”
 
Fleur’s eyes widen at that declaration, and she looks at his new wand in a fresh light. Then, the full ramifications of what he’s saying hits her a moment later and she cums HARD, realizing that the source of the veela magic he’s wielding is… because of her.
 
Barty just smirks as he puts away his wand and grabs hold of Fleur by her hair. She tries to say something, but honestly he doesn’t care what she might have to say at this point. Pulling her into a tongue-filled, incredibly raunchy makeout session, he groans into her mouth as Fleur moans into his, resulting in them cumming in unison just a few minutes later.
 
As they continue to kiss, Barty stays hard inside of Fleur’s twice-creampied pussy… and after a few moments, begins fucking her anew from below, not stopping for even a second.
 
While Barty luxuriates in knowing that he’s not only repaired the damage caused by his absence but is back on track for truly taming his veela pet, Fleur is left terrified but also aroused as a surely that she’ll never escape him now slowly settles over her.

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