Penthuisiast
patreon
SD: CH110 - Charade Part 2
🕑 Added 2024-04-30 17:09:40 +0000 UTCAnastasia never put much stock in the entire myth of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Then, Harry Potter entered her life like a maelstrom less than a week ago, and upturned everything. What began as a way to save her husband’s interests and play a part in his plan to saddle the Boy-Who-Lived with their eldest Daphne in a ploy to rob him off the legendary Potter fortune, quickly turned into Anastasia herself lying on the bed, screaming her lungs out while Harry fucking Potter shoved his mighty cock into her pussy, reshaping it and giving her pleasure the likes of which she hadn’t imagined was possible. The Selwyn daughter who had contented to becoming Broderick’s supportive wife, always working from the shadows and letting her husband bask in the glory, had transformed into a cruel, selfish, vindictive bitch that bedded a young man her daughter’s age for carnal pleasure of the sort she had never been introduced to before.
And if that wasn’t all, Harry Potter, keeping true to the myth, had performed a miracle on par with surviving the killing curse and offing the Dark Lord You-Know-Who as a baby.
He had transformed her husband Broderick Greengrass into a cuckold.
Listening to him agree was one thing. Seeing him willingly take part in the ridiculous drama like a fop, while Potter fucked her like a whore was another. But seeing Broderick truly believe that it was all an overly melodramatic sexual fantasy, when both she and Harry Potter were insulting and debasing him and his sexual limitations was nothing short of hilarious.
And the best part? Broderick had easily agreed upon for a second round, and a third, and even when Anastasia had continued getting fucked like a Knockturn Alley whore for the rest of the night while her husband slept. Anastasia had feared him waking up and coming to his senses, and exploding upon her, so she had added three drops of calming draught in his morning tea, just to be safe.
Imagine her surprise when he had instead been worried about her. And to top it all, he had actually agreed for a second time with Harry, a playacting session as he called it, and this time, it wouldn’t be inside the safety and privacy of Greengrass manor, but in the tent in the Quidditch World Cup. All it would take would be one incident, one little failing of the enchantments holding the tent together, and she would become the hottest tabloid material for weeks. Just the idea of the sheer disaster that would follow should have made her back out and obliviate herself for good.
Instead she just felt pleasure.
After the way her life had been one giant gilded cage, she had gotten a taste of this cruel wildness. And cruel or not, sadistic or not, the fact that she was quite literally, cheating and fooling her husband and turning her into a cuckold while she enjoyed mind-bending sex with a wizard of her daughter’s age had unleashed a beast within her. One that would not return to its shadowed cave now that it had seen the light.
It wanted more.
And Harry would provide her. Even if it meant degrading her husband even further.
“Don’t pretend for your reputation. No one else is here. I know it, and you definitely know it. Your cunt’s dripping, isn’t it?”
Anastasia didn’t answer. She knew her husband was watching everything from a corner in the adjoining room of the tent, seeing her being taken and abused by Harry Potter by the aptly positioned mirror.
Potter laughed at her silence. “It doesn’t matter, Anastasia. Your husband’s a pussy, no wonder he felt so comfortable leaving a hot beauty like you all alone for me to feast. He knows perfectly well that his tool cannot give you the pleasure you seek.”
“You’re wrong,” Anastasia countered with a fake stammer, the smile on her face and eyes screaming the opposite.
“Am I now?” He asked. “Allow me to correct your ignorance.”
He put his hands on her left shoulder. His grip was strong. She met his gaze.
He smiled.
“Dress break.”
Every single shred of clothing on her exploded. Her blouse, her bra, her robes, her panties — not a single thing remained. Before Anastasia could even react, his hands groped her boobs, squeezing them violently and pulling on her nipples, twisting them with all the roughness of a savage.
Anastasia moaned.
His rough treatment was consuming her mind. He brought his hands back up to her shoulder and pushed her down to her knees roughly. He didn’t even ask her to do anything. Even though she was not sure of what she was doing, and gave in to her instincts. She grabbed his veiny cock, touching it, feeling the huge balls that hung below, and desire bubbled within her. She opened her mouth, and took him in, feeling her cheeks stretching. It tasted so good, and she felt utterly right being like this, on her knees, serving him. Oh, how she wanted to be able to do this all the time, without having to run this charade with her husband. But on the other hand, fooling Broderick was half the fun itself, so she couldn’t really bring herself to complain.
Anastasia started to bob her head, trying to take more of him. She had handled it before, and even though she had taken him in her mouth before, somehow it felt different. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had some latent metamorphmagery talent, and was instinctively using it to buff himself up. She had heard of witches and wizards that manifested a magical trait partially. Perhaps this one was geared exclusively towards sexual prowess, which would also explain the impossibly large volumes of cum that rod of his kept chugging out every time it fucked her, or any woman into a mewling mess. Yes, the constant exertion of raw magical power into self-transfiguration would drain most wizards dry, but someone like Potter would barely notice the difference.
Unlike most people, she had a perfectly good idea of just how much power that lithe form was hiding.
Anastasia dismissed the thoughts for later. For now, she had to fit him in her mouth, but his length still seemed impossible. He was brushing up against her throat, and she still had so much more to go. His hand clamped down on her head, and pulled it towards him, forcing more of himself against her throat. It resisted. He started to buck his hips. Each thrust was more vigorous than the last. The tip entered her throat, stretching it roughly. He was enjoying it though. The new sensation sent him into a frenzy. Each brutal thrust forced more of his cock down into her throat. She was gagging loudly. Her eyes watered and tears dripped out, but Harry Potter kept up his ferocious pace. He was breathing loudly now and grunting, enjoying the feeling of her mouth around him.
Anastasia was enjoying it too. It had felt good to please him and to serve him, but to be used felt better. Physically it hurt, but being treated this way turned her on. She was wet, really wet, and could feel herself drip. She was his toy and it felt right. She started swirling her tongue as he hammered himself down her tiny throat. She reached down, and started to masturbate. It was clumsy, but her fingers felt so good. She had over half his cock in her mouth now and he kept hammering away, driving more of his stake in. It was getting hard to breathe. His hips were swinging forcefully. Only a few inches remained to go. Anastasia tried to stretch her mouth and throat, desperate to take all of him. Her pussy was burning, fingers frantically rubbing her clit. His hands clamped hard on the back of her neck, making her almost suffocate. Didn't matter. Needed more of him. He pushed her down. Darkness was creeping into the corner of her vision. The last of his cock rammed into her mouth. His swollen balls slapped against her chin. A wave of pleasure exploded from her cunt. Her hand was soaked, her body quivered, the orgasm coursing through her.
"Cumming from sucking a dick, you really are a slut.”
"Yes, sir. Your slut." She replied, but his plunging spike muffled her words. She was struggling to get air in-between thrusts, but even when he pulled out there was still at least an inch in her throat. She was dizzy. He was driving harder. Sweat was dripping off of him onto her face. His balls thumped on her chin. Suddenly he thrust all the way in, and she gagged and tried to pull back. His hands clamped down, holding her in place. Anastasia felt his cock thicken, ripping her throat. He let out a grunt and came. His cum was thick and brackish, but she loved it. It seemed to pour out of him, dumping down her throat. She was trying to swallow it all, knowing he would like that, but there was too much. It filled her mouth. He pulled out as she gulped desperately. He was somehow still cumming. A thick wad fell on her forehead. Another one covered her cheek, and one shot into her eye. Each glob was the size of another man’s entire orgasm. He was jerking his cock roughly. A copious jet shot into her hair. She opened her mouth for him. He angled his cock down, and shot out again. She swallowed and he shot another against her lips. He slowed his masturbating and dumped two final loads on her chest and sat down.
Without thinking she started collecting the cum with her fingers and licking it off. Her stomach was already turning from his massive load, but Anastasia couldn't help herself. She needed more of him.
"Clean me off, whore." His order snapped her back to reality.
"Yes, master," Anastasia crawled over to him on her hands and knees. Gently taking him in her hands, she started to lightly lick around. He tasted so good. His musk was driving her crazy. His cock was clean, but she kept swirling her tongue. His flesh was still soft, but it was rapidly hardening.
He pushed her roughly onto her back. He kneeled over her and went in for a kiss. His lips were electric. His light stubble scratched her cheek. Anastasia reached down and wrapped a hand around his cock, noting that despite their prior sessions, she was unable to hold half of it.
Metamorphmagery no doubt. The realization both excited and terrified her. She had heard of the infamous Nymphadora Tonks, a rookie Auror and yet one of the best stealth and recon experts out there. And Potter too was manifesting a similar talent, only geared in specific directions, but just if not more dangerous than the former. Nymphadora Tonks could shapeshift into nearly anything, making her almost impossible to identify, a walking breathing security risk. Harry Potter on the other hand, could just shapeshift his organ and bend the minds of any woman that was unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, to fall on his path. No matter what enchantment or vow, this wife-tamer would definitely spill every goddamn secret out of a woman’s mouth if it meant more of this cock.
She herself was proof of that.
For a moment she imagined herself at his side, with an army of witches, all of them naked and starving for sex, genuflecting before him. They sat in rows, resting on their knees, with each of them coming up and plunging their mouths against his dick, and taking oaths to serve him until their last breaths. And Harry Potter, seated on a massive throne, would rule over them all, and over the entire Wizarding Britain, a powerful and insidious Dark Lord the likes of which the country had never seen.
Her thoughts were broken as Harry roughly bit her bottom lip. Her cunt gushed and she moaned, loving his abuse. Precum was leaking from him. It coated her hand, leaking between her fingers. If he hadn't still been hard, she would have sworn he came. She met his eyes.
“I… I am not protected,” she shrieked, mock-scared. “Please do not seed me.”
Harry laughed, and reared his hand back and slapped her. Anastasia whimpered, shocked from the pain. He had put no effort behind it, but it still was a powerful blow. She moaned, inflamed by his abuse. Why, oh why, did she want this? Why was this so goddamn addicting?
One thing she knew, that if Harry Potter did end up getting married to Daphne, she’d make certain that she’d not stop getting her dose of his cum. At least on a weekly basis.
“No need for protection,” he smirked, mocking her arousal. He pushed forward, aligning his cockhead with her slit. He reared his hip back and slammed forward. His first thrust smashed six inches into her. His width alone caused her to scream, stretching her to her widest. He continued to brutally jackhammer into her, forcing more of his spear into her. Anastasia’s eyes were bulging out of her head, tears welling from her eyes at the way he was splitting her. If she hadn't been so well lubricated he would have ripped her vagina in two.
“Please!” She moaned. “Slow! A! Ugh!”
Harry only leaned back so he was sitting on his feet as he knelt. Anastasia’s breast bounced up and down with the force of his thrusts. He turned his abuse to them, squeezing, twisting, slapping and pulling. The pain was subsiding slowly. Each thrust brought more pleasure. She screamed as he pulled at her nipples, feeling something deep within her, a mounting pleasure unlike anything she had experienced before. She raised her legs, tightening against his entry. The pain increased, and he grunted, but he was definitely pleased.
Then it happened.
She saw Broderick. He was standing at the doorway, staring. His mouth hung open. Anastasia could tell he wanted to do something, but he was frozen. The wife in her wanted to stop, to end these nasty games and reveal the truth, seek his forgiveness and walk away from this twisted madness. But she couldn't. She couldn't tear herself away from this cock. Pleasing Harry mattered more than her husband. The wife of Broderick Greengrass had died, leaving more room for the whore.
Harry also noticed and he laughed.
"What the fuck!" Broderick angrily demanded. "Anastasia, what the hell is going on?"
The look of alarm and guilt on her face nearly vanished. That her husband had not come in to put an end to this fuckery, but was instead playing his part like a fool made her pussy tighten. She had all but expected him to yell at her, or perhaps shove his wand at them and curse them, perhaps bind her while blasting Potter away. Not that it would help, for Potter was far more agile and strong than her husband. She was sure that if push came to shove, Harry Potter could force her husband to stay down and accept his position as a cuckold if it came to that.
He was weak like that.
Weak? When had she started thinking of Broderick in such derogatory terms?
She looked at him with a mix of surprise, and mock-guilt.
"Ohhh, honey, I'm sorry!" Anastasia said as she held her legs out for Potter to keep pumping into her. "I was just so horny. I really didn't think you'd mind. After all, you just left him alone with your sexy wife, and clearly expected this to happen. I would have told you about it later, you know, to make you hot. Besides, you aren't supposed to be home anyway."
It took everything to not fall laughing at that ridiculous attempt to excuse her actions.
Harry didn’t care. He just kept pumping in and out of her.
"Come on, honey, don't be mad," Anastasia implored. "It's just a little sex. And you’re still the love of my life.”
As she spoke those words, Harry cupped and kneaded one of her flawless tits, and she let out a moan. Seeing him still not intervening, she slid one hand down to Harry's swollen nutsack and caressed his huge balls while gently lapping at his cock.
For a good five minutes, her husband stood at the entry to their bedroom, transfixed, watching his petite, sexy wife skillfully take Harry Potter’s cock, only to be pulled up, and have her lick all over his cock and balls, making them wet and shiny with her warm spit. She never really stopped looking Broderick in the face, and the sight of her clear gray eyes flashing in obvious pleasure made his cock inside his pants ache, if the tent was any clue.
Broderick Greengrass had been turned into a cuckold and he was loving it.
“I —” Broderick began, when a loud knock on the door of the tent surprised them.
“Who’s it?” He asked loudly.
“It’s me.”
Anastasia froze. Even from inside the tent, she could recognize Lucius Malfoy’s cold, silky, spidery voice anywhere. The man reminded her of an immoral killer, a high-functioning psychopath that could kill a dozen people with his own hands, and then be annoyed because one of the bodies left some dirt on his high-quality robes.
Broderick’s eyes widened to form saucers, and he quickly snapped into focus, and cast a wide-area imperturbation charm around them. “Potter, leave right now. Anastasia, go change. I — I’ll go welcome him in.”
“I’m not your dog, Broderick, to blindly obey orders,” snapped Harry Potter. “I’m not going to just fuck your wife and play your stupid games when you feel like, and then run away and hide like a little bitch just because dear Lucius decided to pay a visit. You started this, so you own it.”
Broderick looked like he had been slapped. His face twisted into an angry crimson. “Now look here —”
“I’m Harry Potter of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter,” Harry snapped. “I refuse to run and hide just because you are uncomfortable owning your kinks in front of your death-eater business partner. I’m going to fuck your wife right here in this room.”
As if to reinforce his statement, he slammed his thick cock deep into Anastasia yet again, making her moan.
“If you’re that afraid of Lucius seeing us like this, then send him away, or come up with an excuse, if you lack the courage to own it.”
Broderick looked like he wanted to quarrel, but time was of the essence. Instead, he looked at Anastasia with a pleading expression. “Ana, make him understand! Lucius —”
Whatever little respect Anastasia had for her husband flickered away right that instant.
This… this was the man she had been happy to defer to all her life? This was the man that had used her talents in potions and herbology to create a flourishing business for himself, while keeping her in the shadows? He didn’t even have the guts to send Harry Potter — the man who was fucking his wife in front of him — away. Instead, he was begging her — his wife — to do something.
“No,” she said, a cold sneer forming on her face. “I refuse to insult House Potter like this, Broderick.”
Broderick looked like he wanted to yell at someone. Probably both of them. Which was good, thought Anastasia. At least it would show that he had some masculinity left in him. Really, just seeing his wife talk back to him, refuse to let another man keeping fucking her despite her husband saying otherwise….
“Look, I just can’t let Lucius see the two of you like this, alright?” exclaimed her husband.
Anastasia gave up right that moment. Really, her husband was too much of a pussy. It was a wonder she had never seen this side of him before. Maybe he had simply basked in and reflected Lucius’s dominance upon her, and she had bought it hook, line and sinker. But now, with another alpha male in the equation, his submissive side was open for all to see.
“I’m horny, and stinking of Harry’s cum,” said Anastasia without the slightest care in the world. She didn’t bother with the charade anymore. “And I was just about to cum again. I refuse to give all that up because Lucius decided to show up.”
“But —”
Broderick’s face was now just a shade away from purple. Maybe if she pushed him a little more…
“Look, Broderick,” said Harry. “I’m really sorry things turned out like this. But if you force her like this, deny her the pleasure she is so close to getting, what’s the message you’re sending your wife? That her pleasure, her happiness is second in priority over attending to your friend’s whims?”
Broderick opened his mouth, possibly to affirm Harry’s statement, but then he thought otherwise and closed his mouth.
Harry Potter gave a most devilish smile. “When we came to an agreement, it was to reinforce your relationship and your marriage, Broderick. To test the strength of your love in the furnace of these… fantasies, and help the two of you come out stronger as a result of it. And now you would throw all of this away just for a casual meet with your friend?”
“But— but I have never refused Lucius,” Broderick exclaimed. “He’ll — what if he thinks I’m up to something?”
Well, Anastasia thought. He wouldn’t be wrong. She pushed herself up, and began rubbing her face and her breasts against Harry’s cock and balls. He absently pushed her down and thrust his cock inside her again.
She moaned.
“Hmmm,” said Harry, pretending to think hard. “How about this? I happen to have an invisibility cloak. Perhaps we can arrive at a middle-ground where both of you can be satisfied?”
“H— How?”
“Simple,” said Harry, smirking. He quickly summoned a chair, and sat upon it, uncaring of his nakedness. “I happen to have an invisibility cloak, and will cast freshening charms all over us and the room. Anastasia here can sit on my cock, and keep getting her pleasure, while being hidden from view, while you and Lucius have your meeting.”
To Anastasia’s everlasting disappointment, her husband actually gave that point a genuine moment of consideration.
“Could you also silence yourself?”
“I could,” said Harry Potter, his eyes glinting malevolently. “But I’d rather not. If you’re putting your wife’s desires over your friendship with Lucius, the least she can do is stay silent while getting fucked. If she really values you, she should be able to hold back from making noise.”
Anastasia almost orgasmed from the sheer idea he was proposing. Just hearing him speak those words made her juices gush in excitement.
“But —”
“I accept,” said Anastasia, before her husband could devolve things any further. She gave him a most considerate smile. “It’s the least I could do for you, husband.”
Broderick looked at her, then at Harry, and then back at her. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I suppose I’ve got to trust you.”
“You can,” Anastasia promised.
She would be sitting there, naked on Harry’s cock, covered by his invisibility cloak while he sat on a chair. She would get fucked by him like that, while her husband was talking to Lucius Malfoy in the same room.
And her husband had just agreed to it.
Just what was it that Harry Potter did to Broderick? Nothing, not even the Imperius had anything on this.
She didn’t know. But one thing was certain, before the end of all this, she would definitely find out.
