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SD:CH104 - Cucking Her Husband Part 3
🕑 Added 2024-02-22 07:37:20 +0000 UTCOne would think that after suffering through the hassle that Auror Robards forced upon Broderick Greengrass for an entire night, and successfully swindling Harry Potter into his subpar deal, the least Broderick would enjoy would at least include a night of uninterrupted sleep.
Unfortunately, his sleep was anything but uninterrupted.
There had been no collection of a dream before he began hearing the sounds. It had felt like a mere moment of darkness and exhaustion before the dazed husband was slowly being awoken by the louder and louder sounds, disrupting his peaceful rest. It was a much louder, much more uncontrolled moan that finally sparked consciousness into him. His world was blurred as he woke from his sleep, and a tempus charm indicated that he had actually been asleep for a good few hours by that point, though this was quickly a mere distraction by the more obvious change to the room. His own bed was undisturbed, and he knew from the way he was asleep that his wife was not sleeping beside him, not to mention the blankets were unused and properly folded aside.
But as he lay alone, the reason for his wife’s absence stared at him in the face. For someone who was rather cranky after being woken up abruptly, it was surprising how little complaint he had for the reason behind it this time around, and if anything, he was almost appreciative. Broderick didn’t bother getting up fully, but instead watched from his vantage point across the room, at his wife who now had her legs straddled around Harry Potter as she rode his cock, the loud and shrewd moans escaping her lips almost uncaring as to whether she woke him up or not. Broderick laid mesmerised, watching and hearing his wife of eighteen years get fucked for the third time that night by Harry Potter.
Whether it had been planned between Anastasia and Harry Potter was unknown to him, but after what seemed like a good half hour of strong fucking, showcasing every single way Potter could fuck the ever-loving delights of his faithful wife, they had made their way back to the bed, showcasing a rather erotic ending to the night. Potter had stood up at the foot of the bed, while Anastasia had kneeled in front of him, now staring at her husband as she took his cock in her mouth for the second time that night.
Broderick barely had time to spur her on before he watched and listened to the cruel words his wife used as she mocked and devalued his masculinity, while exciting him at the same time as she sucked Harry Potter to the point of an orgasm, making Broderick watch as she let Potter’s cum ooze down her lips, before sweeping her tongue around to get every single bit. She then swallowed it all but not before giving Broderick a beaming, cum-coated smile.
He had watched her take Harry Potter’s cum shots to her face, seen him squirt all over her breasts and hair, thick globs of potent seed dripping all over his wife’s naked and arousing form, before she had licked his cock clean but not before rubbing his cock over the splattered cum as if it were a paintbrush and her body, canvas. A short laugh and an aroused smile was all that was exchanged before they had finally called it a night. Harry Potter had offered to walk away to his guest room, but Anastasia had insisted that he stay the night over. The next thing he knew, someone must have transfigured something into a bed. Between the erotic experiences, the pleasure, and the firewhiskey, Broderick had called it a night, and chose to go sleep in the conjured bed. He might have enjoyed the thrill, but sleeping in the same bed where his wife had been fucked stupid by another man was beneath him.
That brought him to the present. He didn’t know exactly how their third fuck came to be about. He would never understand how and why his loving and faithful wife was so tempted by Potter’s cock that she found herself drawn to being fucked by it again barely within three hours. He had thought she was making good use of his permission, trying to excite them in new and uncharted ways. For someone that wanted to make him watch as she fucked another man in the shower, the idea of fucking another man while her husband slept was definitely within the list of potential fantasies his wife could fancy.
Yes, that must be it, Broderick decided. Though, she could do by being a little more considerate and use a silencing charm, but he supposed the idea of having her husband wake up to the noises of her illicit fucking probably stemmed from her fantasies. He pondered over the thought, though much like before, the immense exhaustion of the night and the day before took over and sleep overwhelmed him.
When he woke up the next morning, it was already ten in the morning. He looked at the other bed, almost expecting his wife to engage in promiscuous activities with their guest Harry Potter. Instead, the door opened and she stepped through, wearing a beautiful rich creamy sundress that strongly reminded him of her bustier and panties from the previous night. With a flick of her wand, she levitated a tray with a cup of cocoa and landed it softly on the table.
“Good morning, honey,” said Anastasia brightly. “Slept well?”
Broderick wanted to comment how it was ironic that she was asking the question when she was responsible for breaking it abruptly in the middle of the night, but instead, his attention went to the other thing in the room, or rather, the absence of it.
“Potter?”
“Gone,” said Anastasia, her eyes taking up an almost dazed expression for a fleeting moment. “Something about having an early start to the day. He said he had a few people to meet, a few errands to run before getting to the Quidditch World Cup. In fact… I was thinking we should go there too. Bulgaria is facing Ireland in the finals the day after tomorrow, right?”
Broderick took in everything along with a sip of his coffee. “...Yes.”
“Well,” said Anastasia brightly. “Why don’t we attend the finals too? Daphne would love it, I think. And you know how crazy Astoria is about the sport.”
The mention of his youngest brought a smile to the father’s lips. “That she does.”
His gaze then shifted to his wife and flashes of the previous night swam before his eyes. “Anastasia… are you… feeling better?”
She blinked. “Yes. Why?”
“I mean… after last night,” he said with some hesitation. Part of him was unhappy to have let things devolve that far between his wife and Potter, and another part was infuriated that he had actually enjoyed watching his wife fuck a boy of Daphne’s age like that. And then there was a part of him that was annoyed at his wife for enjoying it too much.
But all three parts were silenced by a fourth part that convinced him that it was all a fantasy that he had chosen to agree and enjoy, while also making the gullible Harry Potter happy and firmly under his thumb.
“Oh,” said Anastasia, the smile fading from her face only to be replaced by concern. “Honey, whatever happened last night, whatever I said…”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Broderick said suddenly. Looking at the surprise flitting across her features made him laugh. “It was entertaining actually, watching you act like he was truly giving you pleasure like that. You made the boy really happy, darling, but we both know that he is just a kid.”
“...Yes,” laughed Anastasia. “That is true. Just a boy.”
Had he been less disoriented, he’d have noticed the glint in her eyes as she said that.
“But…” she continued. “ He does offer a whole new vista of entertainment. Don’t you think? I mean, how many people out there can claim that they made Harry Potter into their boy toy?”
“Boy toy…”
“Why yes,” continued his wife. “He is clearly zealous for the pleasures of the adult flesh, and since he’s a kid, nobody is indulging him. He even lets that halfblood secretary walk all over him.”
Broderick scowled. “That wench should know her place.”
“But that’s good news for us, darling,” said Anastasia. “If we keep him engaged with us, he will be firmly on our side. Already he helped you out with the Phyllida issue, and Robards cannot harass you any longer. Can you imagine how much we can profit from that silly boy if we keep this thing going?”
“This… thing… you can’t mean —”
“Why fuck him, of course,” said Anastasia as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You and I can get to play out our fantasies, and let him indulge in a bit of adult flesh. Everyone goes home happy. Who knows, maybe if things work out, we can even have Daphne marry him and then he will be our toy, not that he already isn’t.”
“But Anastasia, that’s risky —”
“Not any more risky than handing him Phyllida for a year,” she snapped, before her expression shifted back to bliss. “Think, my dear husband. You can even loan out my services as a herbologist and potioneer for his company. Can you imagine? Us controlling Greengrass Exports and Sleekeazy, and Harry Potter stays as our little puppet. It’s a win in every way.”
“But…” Broderick frowned. Something about the entire thing felt off. He briefly remembered Anastasia loudly claiming how she would let Potter fuck her again and again. Was that just some playacting to keep the fantasy ongoing, or was there any kernel of truth in those words?
“You… you are serious about this… letting Harry Potter fuck you again.”
“Oh please, darling,” said Anastasia with a cold sneer. “He’s just a boy. Everything I said last night was part of the fantasy. But you, dear, you are the real deal.” She gave him a seductive smile, whispering after she leaned in and kissed her husband against his lips. “We really… really need to do that again.”
“We… err, we can plan something later,” he smiled slowly, wondering why she appeared that eager. Surely it was not just for fulfilling the fantasy? Or was she simply that excited at having Potter under her control? Perhaps this was just her Selwyn side? That lot were known to be control freaks after all.
“Well, Potter did that for you,” said Anastasia brightly, handing him over a piece of parchment. “Now, I’ve to leave to tend the plants, and I’ve instructed the elves to prepare your breakfast.” She kissed him fully in the lips and turned around and left.
Broderick watched her go. The moment she sprinted out of the room, his body sagged from the exhaustion of the previous day and night, though his mind could do nothing but race from thought to thought of what had happened. Had he truly enjoyed seeing his wife with another man? For Anastasia it might have been a mere fantasy, but Broderick knew that seeing her get fucked raw by another man had made him cum thrice within an hour. That just didn’t ever happen, not even when he fucked those werewolf prostitutes in Knockturn Alley. He sat absorbed in memory for a good few minutes before his gaze fell at the note in his hands. Curious, he unfolded the note, which read —
See you at the Quidditch World Cup. Bring your wife and watch us.
....
....
....
Hestia Jones had come a long way from that first meeting with Harry Potter outside Diagon Alley when she had first met him driving by with his limo. From that point on, the Boy-Who-Lived had been a mystery twisted into a conundrum wrapped in an enigma. His casual knowledge of Wizarding Britain, his obvious maturity beyond his years, and finally, his ability to exercise magic that left her wondering how in hell could a third-year passout manage all that — every single thing had only attracted her towards him. His revealing his status as Lord Conditional of House Black, his pegging her as an informant for the Order, and everything that followed from then on — it had been one shocking revelation after another. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Hestia had been drawn to him in ways she couldn’t explain, whether it be emotionally, physically or otherwise. And she had ended up becoming his Lilim — his anchor in this world, and one of the three people that knew that he was actually a time-traveller that had returned to the past to save the world.
After all that she had seen and experienced first-hand, she really shouldn’t have been surprised by things any longer. And yet, after hearing what had just transpired, only one thought lingered in her head.
Harry Potter is terrifying.
“You made Broderick… Broderick Greengrass let you fuck his wife?”
“Willingly.”
“Excuse me?”
“Willingly,” said Harry Potter, smirking as they stood on the terrace of his lavish apartment building. “I made him willingly let me fuck his wife. Not once, not twice, several times.”
“And that note you had me give Anastasia….”
“It was for Broderick actually,” said Harry, leaning against the railing. “An invitation to the Quidditch World Cup. Guy enjoyed seeing his wife get fucked a bit too much. So I asked him to bring his wife along. I didn’t say it out loud, so I’ll let him fill the rest with his imagination.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe,” he tilted his head sideward, “perhaps I’m reading too much into this, and maybe he’ll likely explode in anger, but even then, he won’t show it. He wants me under his thumb way too much to react to such tiny, inconsequential things.”
“And if you are right?”
Harry gave her a devious smirk. “Then Broderick Greengrass would have accepted his fate to be a cuckold, and I will be fucking his wife many, many times in the future, and he will become my toy.”
“I thought he was your toy already. With Phyllida under your control…”
His fingers danced along the railing. “That was that. This is this. I’d rather not mix business with pleasure.”
“Harry,” drawled Hestia. “You’re an Incubus Lord. Pleasure is your business.”
Said Incubus Lord snorted at that.
“...Harry?”
Her lover looked at her with a curious expression. “Yes?”
“I’ve been patient so far, but even I have my limits.”
“What do you mean?” He looked at her, eyes narrowed, studying her. “You know what we wanted from the Greengrasses, and now we have it. Emmeline was a surprising addition, but not an unwelcome one. I’d have expected you to be happy and upbeat that things are going in a positive direction.”
“Maybe I am new to all of this, or to fighting wars in general, but I can’t help but notice you have been keeping things way too close to your chest. From the start of our relationship, you claimed that you’d claim the Black Lordship and take care of the Malfoy problem by the end of the summer. Well, the summer holidays are ending next week. And I don’t know what kind of fuckery you are having with Narcissa Malfoy or this… twisted dominance thing you have been playing with Amelia fucking Bones and her fucking niece. And now Emmeline and Anastasia Greengrass? Don’t you think you are… I don’t know, trying to play too much too soon?”
“You think I will fuck things up.”
It wasn’t a statement, but a question.
“I think that you are getting ahead of yourself, yes. Hermione might not know it, but don’t think that I’ve missed out on how weak you appear whenever you return from Grimmauld Place. And those wound scars. They vanish quickly, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think whatever you are doing is safe, Harry. And then there is this Incubus thing and the necromancy from the Scar….”
Harry touched her cheek with one hand, and Hestia stopped her tirade, and instead melted against his touch. Ever since she had become his Lilim, she had… for lack of a better word, begun to feel him in ways she couldn’t even enunciate. It wasn’t like she had grown unnaturally sensitive or anything, but it felt like every place he touched felt like an erogenous spot. It had taken a while for her to realise that it wasn’t his touches that were bringing out this reaction, but rather, that it was HIM that was doing the touching. Hestia had already admitted that she loved him, and she would never have become a Lilim without being completely devoted to him. It was almost like she was so totally consumed with the emotion, that just the act of being with him regardless of whatever he did was enough to apparently satisfy her.
And with that, came a feeling of territoriality. And a desire to protect her Incubus Lord from possible threats. Threats that he was ignoring, content in his own arrogance and belief in his own invincibility.
“What do you want?” He asked her, meeting her eyes. Hestia momentarily remembered that Legilimency was still not one of his skills, but with Emmeline beginning her instruction shortly, that would no longer be the case.
“I just want you to be safe,” she said, revelling in his touch. With everything that’s happening, and with that dream you had about the Dark Lord, I’d have thought that you’d be more tense about anything. Instead, you’re playing silly mind games with Greengrass.”
“You think I’ve lost sight of my goal?”
“NO!” She said aloud. “I know that if there is one thing you’ll never lose sight of, it’s our goal. But I just cannot understand why you’re needlessly bringing all these elements to the World Cup, knowing that there will be danger there. I… you are keeping secrets, Harry. I thought we agreed to not have secrets any more.”
“Everyone has secrets, Hestia. Even you,” he shook his head, rejecting her claim. For the briefest of moments, Hestia wondered if he would just forcibly drop the topic. Why couldn’t he see that she was his partner? His confidant and ally? That keeping her in the dark would only make bad things happen, not to mention the bad taste it would leave in her mouth if he willingly chose to do so.
“This… this doesn’t really involve the others, and yes, I am playing things a little close to the chest. The Quidditch world cup was sort of a big event back in my time, and I want to play it to my advantage.”
“How?” she challenged. “You don’t even know if things will be the same.”
“Some of them well,” he retorted. “Whatever can happen at the World Cup, I am reasonably prepared for it. Amelia has already altered the Auror and Hit-wizard security arrangement after my last conversation with her.”
Originally, the arrangement had been made to serve the whims of the Minister of Magic, who had allocated most of the Senior Aurors to guard the top box filled with VVIPS and dignitaries, while the rest of them would stay with the Quidditch players in the barracks. Normal Aurors would deal with crowd-control in the lower levels and patrol the Arena, while the cadets would be staying outside the stadium and looking for anything remotely alarming.
Something about making the dignitaries feel safe.
It took one conversation with Harry Potter to convince Amelia Bones to upset the entire arrangement. Harry probably didn’t know about the listening charm she had placed on the Floo to eavesdrop into his conversations. Say what you will, but she refused to believe that Amelia Bones, the freaking Iron Lady, was content to stay as a tool in Harry’s pocket — her sexual deviances be damned.
Now, the cadets would be the one in the top-box. The official note was that because the dignitaries came with their own security, having cadets capable of superficial help was enough. Normal aurors would be patrolling the grounds, while senior aurors were placed in charge of crowd-control, and patrolling the entire Arena, within easy reach to those groups should the situation need it.
It was why Tonks now had the option of sitting and enjoying the match with her.
“What aren’t you telling me, Harry? What are you cooking?”
Harry Potter smiled dryly. “We have two slots in the Top-box, don’t we?”
She nodded. He had asked her to get her four seats, which made no sense since he would be going with the Weasleys.
“I will be taking Penelope and Hermione with me and joining the Weasleys. Both will join you at the Top-Box. I will… Well, let's just say it will be a long night for me and leave it at that. If the Death Eaters attack, then I need you to take Penelope and Hermione and leave right away.”
“And leave you behind? Harry —”
“Yes,” he said, and Hestia flinched at the steel in his voice. “You will leave me behind. That is an order, Hestia. You will follow it, unequivocally. The moment you see something fishy, you summon Dobby and all three of you will get back here. Safe.”
“But Harry, if there is danger then —”
“There will be danger, yes,” he said. “And its name is Harry Potter. And unless you can…”
He paused suddenly, giving her an intense look. His expression told her that whatever he was up to involved a questionable third party. One that was neither ally, enemy or particularly trustworthy. And yet, an event that he thought necessary to take part in the first place. Or rather, something that he had little power to change.
All of that pointed to one single entity.
“You and Narcissa Malfoy are planning something, aren’t you?” She accused, before it hit her. “Wait, are you seriously telling me that you’re—”
“You want to be included in my plans, right?” asked Harry out of nowhere. She nodded dumbly. “Then fine. Remember what I told you about Crouch’s son who was posing as Alastor Moody back in my fourth year?”
Her eyes widened —
“I’m not sure why, but Crouch Sr thought it was a brilliant idea to take his son — his Death-Eater, Azkaban-escaped, Imperiused son with him to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It makes absolutely no sense, but I have stopped trying to apply logic and common sense to the Wizarding world. I’m not sure if things will happen that way again, but if it does, I want to do something about it.”
“And does that ‘something’ have anything to do with why our seats are exactly behind Crouch Sr’s?”
He laughed. “Yes. And I can’t believe I didn’t consider this before, but you’re right, Hestia. I don’t have to do this alone. In fact, you'll probably do it better than me.”
He held out his wand, and unplugged the wand hilt and handed it to her. Hestia instantly recognized it as the same hilt he had purchased from Borgin and Burkes — the one enchanted to mask a wand’s magic from Ministry sensors.
“The last time, Barty Crouch Sr brought his son with him under an invisibility cloak. Junior was constantly fighting to break free of his father’s Imperius back then, but I imagine he had a lot of time to work against it. But say… if a newer and stronger Imperius hits him, one that is conducive to his own thoughts…. Things might just be different.”
She narrowed her eyes. He couldn’t possibly be intending to say that —
“Hestia,” said Harry Potter. “I want you to imperius Barty Crouch Jr and make him do just one single deed.” His face darkened and for a second, she thought she saw something demonic glinted beneath the abyssal depths of his eyes. “Murder Lucius Malfoy.”
Comments
Hadrian v.E.
While humiliating Broderick by opening cucking him is fun at all, as Hestia counsels, don't play too much. Harry should just cripple him and his butt buddy Gideon mentally and have them as vegetables. I hope you skip right to the QWC arc or at least limit his interactions with the Weasleys as much as possible—all of them, save perhaps Ginny, are annoying. And the QWC is high time for Daphne to properly interact with him and for Fleur to make her debut as well!
doryn
This cucking thing was way too long. Can we move on?
Alatoic
Wonder how many things will stay the same and how many will change, cant wait to read it and we are more and more close to the school year.
Critical_Hit
Amazing to be back to Plot. Hope we have Harrys View again soon. I need to see the New Stats :D
