She nearly lost her balance when her hands scudded across a plush carpet, the tassled-ends tickling her hind-legs, she could vaguely hear the hubbub fade around her, but she was loath to trust her altered senses. The carpet led onwards to a plinth, she head-butted her face against the first step, a wave of snickering, greeted her pain. The commands flashed for her to continue forward, forcing her to continue her ungainly progress up a series of steps. She proceeded to service the seated guests, treading an endless loop of a banquet table. From prior experience she recognised many of the Death Eaters that her mouth and pussy serviced, the fat metal hand embedded in her arse reverberated, she could feel the fingers articulate slowly culminating in a slow rumble whenever a Death Eater reached completion in her freshly available holes, alerting her that she would be imminently servicing a different master.