Penthuisiast
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CH100 - Delicious
🕑 Added 2023-12-21 15:13:46 +0000 UTCA bleary eye regarded me. “What time is it?”
I shifted closer to Anastasia. A thin sheet separated our naked bodies; she’s obviously a cover hog. I squeezed her lovely right tit, prompting a soft moan from the woman I was spooning, and she shifted her delectable arse against my groin, and my John Thomas went hard almost instantly.
With a smirk, I dragged my arm down her naked flesh, reaching between her legs. Playing with the engorged bud at the top of her pussy, I said, “About… two in the afternoon. Just in time for lunch. You need to put some food in there, if you want to continue any further.”
Anastasia jerked awake with a sudden abruptness, and her second eye opened and a flood of memories, hopefully pleasant, returned to her. “T— two? Merlin! I’m already late! I should’ve sent those papers a long time ago. Shit! My husband — ”
I stroked a few loose curls off her face.
“Is still sitting in the Auror office,” I told her, smiling in the dim light. “I don’t know about you, but this feels better than signing some documents. Don’t you agree?”
She practically hissed back at me. “Yes! But that’s not the point! This was wrong, and no one can find out about this! And I — I need to get those papers to him quickly.”
Okay, maybe I was wrong. Anastasia was way too uptight to just fold. I had happened to catch her in a moment of weakness, a moment when she was truly angry with Broderick, and unsure about how to deal with the situation, and took advantage of her demure self. But she wanted to, no, she craved what she had just experienced, and there was no way that she’d fall back to being Broderick’s loyal housewife ever again. In the grand scheme of things, it just made the current scenario just that much more enjoyable. I had seduced many women — young and adult alike over the course of the summer, but this was the first time I was dealing with someone that truly wanted to be with her husband, whatever silly reasons that might be for. Even Emmeline took less time to be convinced otherwise, though the effects of Lecherous Shrine and Hestia’s Imperius curse might have something to do with that. Narcissa had no lost love for Lucius, and wanted him dead, and Amelia was… Amelia.
But that was fine. In fact, a challenge like this was far more welcome. It’d help me experiment with the more subtle effects of my Incubus powers.
I shifted slightly and started nuzzling her neck. There was a sweet spot right there. Ah, there it was. Anastasia moaned in delight, and I whispered into her ear. “Hardly something to worry about. Tell him that I went away to consult my attorneys first.”
She arched an eyebrow in mock consternation, an expression that didn’t really work given how she had to purse her lips instantly after.
“You — do you even have attorneys?”
I gave her a winning smile. I did, in fact, have attorneys. Narcissa recommended a certain Pius Thicknesse, one of the ‘sharks’ out there that was devious as fuck, and more importantly, always at ends with Merula Snyde, the Malfoy in-house counsel. Something to do with Lucius fucking with his clientele a year ago, and later Cornelius Fudge sidelined him from becoming the Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation. Lucius wanted a certain Alistair Jugson on that chair, but then Amelia Bones received a wad of documents against him, and Jugson had to be scrapped off as well, which was when Bartemious Crouch Sr. had to take the role up.
Pius had been working at his private law firm ever since. Industrious, charming, well-known in most corporate circles, but from an otherwise common family, with enough pure blood within him to go back three generations. Basically, the kind of person that could sit with every side of the political spectrum and not be instantly looked down upon.
“What… what does this make us, Potter?”
“Harry,” I corrected her. “We’ve had at least an hour of rough sex. You get to call me Harry.”
Anastasia chuckled lightly at that and pushed herself further into my body, her pussy lips rubbing against my hard cock. “You really are evil, Harry Potter. I was a married woman, and now, I’m lying with you, with your cum running down my pussy.”
“And your arse,” I corrected her again. Unlike Emmeline, Anastasia had no claims about letting me claim that bit. Also, unlike Emmeline, Broderick wasn’t as boring and unimaginative as Gideon, though it had less to do with sexual exploration and more to do with his aggression.
“Do not tax your brain that much, darling,” I purred. “I’m going to sign those papers, and your husband will return home. And then, we will have sex behind his back. You’ll see for yourself how oblivious he can be.”
“But —”
“That is what I want. You wanted me to fuck you, and now I want to fuck you. With your husband present. Behind his back. Under his nose. It’s what he deserves for putting you through this, does he not?”
“You… you are a monster, Harry Potter.”
“And you’re a potioneer. Nobody’s perfect.”
She frowned. “You didn’t tell me, Pot — Harry. What does this make us?”
“You mean you’re not expecting us to be a couple?”
“N— no, not at all,” she stammered. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or relieved with my reply. Probably a bit of both.
“I like you, Anastasia. You’re talented, driven and can soar to heights if you just decide to not let your husband clip your wings. But if you don’t, then I suppose this will just… be a private thing between us? How did you put it? Two people who are attracted to each other?”
She let out a small snort. “Understatement of the century, Harry. You want me to deny Broderick the chance to have my flesh. And now you want to fuck me with him present.”
“It’s called cucking, darling.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. “Merlin, I’m a mess.”
“Merlin has nothing to do with your mess. You accepted the deal. The choices are on you, my dear.”
She sighed. “I know. This — this was the best sex I ever had, Harry. And I… I can’t go back to living without it.”
“The sex?”
She smiled. “That… and more. Like you put it, not let my wings be clipped, and soar. I wanted to rise above what Master Belby did. But Father was insistent that I marry Broderick and be a pretty little housewife and birth his sprogs. At least Broderick allowed me to exercise my brains in his business.”
“Even though he takes all the credit?”
She frowned. “He is partly to blame for that. I mean, if I acted out, Father would be displeased. Broderick’s way was a good compromise. I don’t think I’d have survived playing housewife all day. At least these gardens and greenhouses keep me busy. Though…” she entwined her fingers with mine. “I am hoping things will change a bit soon.”
“They will,” I promised.
World Anchor – Anastasia Greengrass has gone up by 12%
Gained Affinities from World Anchor — Anastasia Greengrass
Phytomancy +11%
Alchemy +3%
I mentally scowled. 12%. That raised the total to 49%. Damn it. Just one shy of hitting a perk. No matter. Still smiling, I activated one of the two perks I had gotten from Emmeline. Yes, my dear Obliviator was just that special. The one that I activated right then was called the Eye of the Incubus. Yes, I know. The irony doesn't escape me either. And neither did its effects.
ANASTASIA GREENGRASS
Interest Level: 81/100
Difficulty Level: 2/5
SEXUAL PREFERENCES: S/M (Choking, Spanking, Degrading, Exhibitionism, Humiliation)
TRAIT: Has a tendency to get attracted to strong males; gets turned on when dominated.
Remember how the Screen kept mentioning how I was a lucky sonofabitch to be able to see the magical stats while others pawed in the darkness? Yeah, this took it a step ahead. Using the Eye of the Incubus perk, I could now know exactly what would turn the woman in front of me — and I say that in general, into a quivering, moaning mess with my cum splattered all over her body and leaking out of her pussy.
Really, I know I said how Devil’s Charm was my favourite perk, but methinks I might just have a new favourite now.
Grinning, I pulled away from her pussy, sliding my fingers across her warm, smooth flesh until I was all over her arse cheeks. She had yet to ask me to stop, and with the way she was breathing fast, she was anticipating what was about to happen more than I was. Another moan escaped out of her mouth, as I inserted a thumb into her arse. She shivered in pleasure, as I dug deeper, only with two fingers this time. Pulling out, I pushed my middle and index fingers deep into her arse, scraping the cum that I had deposited in there barely an hour ago. Pulling my cum-stained fingers out, I pushed them to inches close to her face.
“Open your mouth.”
“But that’s —”
I didn’t let her finish, and shoved my fingers into her unsuspecting mouth. She hesitated for a moment, before actively beginning to suck on my fingers.
Smirking, I said. “You wanted to know what this makes us, right?”
Her eyes tracked mine.
“You’re married and have a husband, so making you my wife or mistress is beyond question. So I was thinking of making you one of my lovers, Anastasia. Just like Hestia is. But I decided otherwise. You, Anastasia, will be my sex-slave. My toy.”
She shivered.
Interest Level: 84/100
Difficulty Level: 1/5
She gurgled, and I pulled my fingers out.
“...Sex-toy?” She breathed. “But I — I thought —”
“Thought what? That's because I’ll marry your eldest, I’ll give you respect as my mother-in-law?” I laughed. “No Anastasia. You will stay as my sex toy. You’ll be the mother that screams as I spear her on the same dick covered with her daughter’s juices. I will fuck your daughter until she screams herself to oblivion, and make you suck and clean it off. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
World Anchor – Anastasia Greengrass has gone up by 4%
Gained Affinities from World Anchor — Anastasia Greengrass
Alchemy +1%
You’ve gained a Perk!
See? That’s what I was talking about.
....
....
....
Hunger was such a silly concept.
You felt it, you ate, it went away. Then it returned again, and you ate, and then it went away. And once you die, oh well, no more hunger. A flaw in the otherwise perfect body that witches and wizards deserved. They ate, they acted, they grew old and then they died. Hunger was nothing but a fuel requirement for their ephemeral bodies while they lived and drew breath.
But for an empath like Daphne, things were a little different.
There were those that described Empaths as people capable of dipping into other’s emotions and somehow, feeling the same within their body. Medically speaking, empaths could recreate hormonal secretions that created similar reactions and feelings as the subject the empath was… for lack of a better word, empathising with.
Daphne called these people fools.
Being an Empath was like being a foodie. You didn’t just go eat because you craved sustenance, you ate because you wanted to experience the feeling of imbibing the food itself — its taste, its texture, its seasoning, the way different spices blended together to create different tastes. It was the way the food melted in your mouth, the way the different smells melded together to create that perfect aroma that flared against your nostrils. To be a foodie was to not just eat, but to be a connoisseur of the art of tasting new things. To seek the experience of how even slight alterations could mean a large chasm between a prized chef’s personal dish versus a roadside meal.
Only with Empaths, it was all about emotions. Not happiness or sadness, for those were bland. Same for generic feelings like love, or jealousy or betrayal. Just like food, you needed the proper spices, the proper seasoning, the proper conflict of varying feelings that created a mind-melting sensation. Like the feelings arising out of her mother when her father beat her. Anastasia was a strong-headed woman, but every single time Broderick was angry at Daphne, Anastasia took it on her. He bet her, and she screamed in pain.
Daphne hated him.
She hated her father for doing that to her mother.
She hated that her mother took that physical abuse to protect her.
But most of all, she hated herself, because that feeling of agony that her mother exuded— that mix of pain and pleasure, that conflict between her daughter, herself and her husband, all of that merged with strokes of that whip on her raw skin… it was exquisite. And Daphne loved it.
She couldn’t get enough of it.
It was delicious.
The only thing close enough was that one time when her father had nearly lost an arm in a fight with one of his ‘clients’. The arm had been healed eventually, but feeling his agony was absolutely enthralling.
But emotions of such outstanding quality were rare, and Daphne could live through that. Their rarity also meant that she had less to be disgusted with herself.
But then came Harry Potter, and Daphne knew she was dead wrong.
That potent feeling of lust exuding out of him, complimented by similar emotions arising out of the ladies standing around him — that brunette halfblood secretary, Aunty Emmy, and even Daphne’s own mum… triggering an intense desire to feel his coarse, Quidditch-playing hands on their bodies, tear their robes off without hesitation, and let him have them right there. To feel his flesh against them, let him take his fill, and leave his mark ripped into their bodies, minds and souls so that forever after they would come to him willingly, eagerly, yearning to be taken again and again and again….
It was so… stirring. And delicious. It made her dizzy and she desired to feast on it more and more. Daphne didn’t know how it was possible to have such intense emotion pour out of him so casually, but she knew one thing.
She wanted this.
She wanted all of this.
Harry Potter was up for a very significant complication in his life. He —
A knock on the door brought her musings short.
“... come in.”
An aroma of suspicion seeped into her room, slightly blended with a healthy dose of fear, a tinge of uncertainty and… was that regret?
Aunty Emmy walked into the room.
“Good morning, Aunty,” chirped Daphne, a beaming plastic smile etched upon her face. Smiling was great, it annoyed others, doubly when they were unsure of you. Or maybe she just had an annoying smile.
Emmeline Vance stepped into the room. She hadn’t taken a bath this morning. The cleansing charm was many things, but a substitute for a real bath it was not. Aunt Emmy smelled of sex and suspicion and a fragile ego.
This would be interesting.
“...Daphne,” said Emmeline slowly, closing the door behind her. Daphne keenly watched her wand hand shake. Jumpy. Was she expecting a wand fight? Did the Head Obliviator fear facing a little schoolgirl? Ah, and there it was regret. She was here to do something to do she wouldn’t otherwise. The taste of salt and lime hung like a stench around her.
“Yes?”
“Daphne, I wanted to know….” Emmeline paused, unsure how to proceed. More suspicion, her inner guilt seasoned with cold rationality. Daphne loved it when people did horrible things to each other by justifying it in their minds. Such a curious little thing self-justification was.
“Yes?” she repeated.
“Where were you last night?”
Bluntness. There was a time and place for that, but right now, it was just a lack of mental restraint. Emmeline’s heart and mind were in turmoil.
“In my room. Where else?”
“You were in your room after dinner? And nowhere else?”
First rule of interrogation. Always deny. Half the time they’d let you go simply because they couldn’t bring in the evidence. Seeing someone pretend to be in a position of power without having a lick of evidence against you was always a treat.
“I might have walked out into the halls,” she said indifferently. “I always do. Why do you ask?”
“Did you enter Harry Potter’s room last night?”
Daphne blinked. “Potter? Why would I? Aren’t the guest rooms warded for privacy.”
Except for anyone carrying the Greengrass bloodline. Broderick Greengrass was a two-faced bastard and a paranoid bugger. Giving another the safety of privacy within his own home wasn’t something he’d allow.
Hesitation this time. Aunt Emmeline couldn’t continue her accusation without actually admitting what she did, could she? Or, Daphne supposed, she could, assuming she actually held some evidence.
Other than that empty glass of cum. It was absolutely foolish of her, but Daphne just couldn’t help herself. Seeing that potent glass of cum sitting there, its sticky, dizzy, intoxicating aroma flaring against her nose buds, the unbridled power of lust arising from that fresh hot cum….
How could she not drink it?
“H… Harry Potter found a hair in his room,” said Emmeline slowly. “It was yours, Daphne.”
It was painful, not to smile.
“And?”
“And…. Were you in Potter’s room last night?”
“No,” said Daphne. Hair or not, there was no way to prove things. “Honestly, why is Potter obsessing over a bit of hair? I live here, after all. Was he up to something last night inside his room?”
The way her aunt clenched her teeth was absolutely beautiful to watch. “No. I mean, not to my knowledge.”
Daphne shrugged, and got out of her bed. She was wrong. Aunt Emmy would do nothing. Not if she wasn’t sure of things. It wasn’t her way.
“You know your father intends to tie you to Potter.”
Daphne stopped short. Compared to most people she knew, Aunt Emmy was perhaps the most rational, the most sane.
And she was frolicking with Harry Potter in his bed, gorging on his cock, letting him fuck her in her face, in her pussy, and even her arse. Not that Daphne minded. Especially with the conflicting emotions emanating out of her. Self-doubt marring her voice, her ego in direct contention with her desire to get fucked all the way until she couldn’t even remain awake. Stillborn flames of conflict sputtered from her body language, and her emotions rang high.
She licked her lips at the memory.
“Daphne?”
“Mmmmm…?”
“I said your father —”
“I know what you said,” she assured her flippantly. “Father is always wanting to set me up with one of his contacts.”
Pedophilic bastards, the lot were. She’d know. She had freaked out every single one of them.
The things a girl needed to do for amusement.
“Maybe he should’ve gotten Astoria if he wants to woo the Gryffindor Golden Boy,” she said, flipping her hair to one side, as she began tying it together into a ponytail. “Potter looks yummy now. Maybe she’ll choose him over Malfoy.”
Draco had once called her a stone-cold bitch that could freeze ice in her snatch. All because she had commented how he tasted of inferiority. And then pitched a tantrum to his father to get him betrothed to Astoria the very next day.
Some people.
She met her aunt’s eyes. “When is Uncle Gideon returning?”
Sixth-level Occlumens or not, that made the woman flinch. Really, the books paid way too much emphasis on the powers of Occlumency and Legilimency, and their abilities to seek out knowledge from unsuspecting minds.
Fools. If they only knew what one could do with just emotion.
“As soon as your father returns, I imagine.”
From DMLE custody, the woman left unsaid. Daphne had peeked on her mother when she was on the Floo this morning, talking to their goblin manager at Gringotts. Something about an agreement. Mother had even worn a revealing robe of white, with swathes cut out of it, highlighting her best parts. Daphne had almost followed her under her invisibility cloak, just to see what she was up to, but after last night’s adventure, she was feeling both a bit full, and shiftless.
“Father is stuck, isn’t he?”
The woman didn’t answer.
“And Uncle Gideon is stuck with him too, I imagine. No offence, but your husband doesn’t seem like the type to follow anyone into anything until there is profit involved.”
That cracked a small smile on the woman’s face.
“Yes,” she grinned softly. “That sums up about right.”
Daphne grinned. Shark-like. “That is why he’s brought you into this matter. Both of them want to exploit Potter. That’s what he’s here for, isn’t he? He’s there to serve as their fodder.”
“Gideon does not share his business dealings with me. What he and Potter end up doing is not my concern.”
An image of Emmeline Vance on the bed, her buttocks raised, with Potter’s thick cock drilling into her as he told her the number of ways he’d fuck with her husband came to mind.
“Yes,” said Daphne. “Clearly.”
She wondered if Aunty would attempt to Legilimize her. Getting into an Empath’s mind was a tricky and dangerous thing, even for an Obliviator. Thoughts you could deal with, but emotions?
That was a tough call. Daphne knew that from experience.
“What if Potter agrees to the proposal?”
It took Daphne every bit of her being to not give a reaction. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if the boy living under the same roof as her was even Harry Potter to begin with. It wasn’t because he had gotten a growth spurt that would make a dirigible plum tree jealous, making him look closer to twenty than sixteen. He looked strong, powerful, muscular, charismatic even, and then there was but the most striking thing was his power.
Or rather, the absence of it.
Daphne sensed something at play. She knew that elder wizards could manipulate their magic to keep it almost invisible, toning it down to their own attunement to Reality, but a skill of that level was reserved for people like Albus Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. Not some average, about-to-be fourth-year.
It was some Potter heirloom for all she knew. The real question was, why would Potter, whom she knew was above-average in power at best, need to use such a heirloom in the first place?
She still remembered seeing those tendrils of tantalising crimson, drifting lazily off his body, quickly joined by another, and then another. Like shadows, it was ghosting through the air, rippling and swaying in a protective shield around him, while also extending outward, like a venomous tentacula nearing its prey.
She knew what it was. An emotion. Feeling.
And yet, she couldn’t understand it.
Which made absolutely no sense. Emotions were her forte. Her toys. Her food.
She could understand facing something difficult, but something she couldn’t even understand? That was different.
And alluring.
She had bluntly asked him if he really was Harry Potter, and she could swear seeing a spark of amusement in his eyes. She knew there were no male veela, and it was very different from that of a love potion. Whatever it was, it was born from the boy, and triggered reactions from those around him.How? She didn’t know, but she’d be damned if she didn’t find out.
And the taste…. His lust tasted of well-cooked chilli.
Just… delicious.
She licked her lips again.
“Auntie, I have a question.”
She looked at Emmeline Vance. “What was Potter like?”
Emmeline froze for a moment. “He’s a student in your year, unless I’m wrong. Shouldn’t you have a better idea of what he’s like?”
Daphne looked at her with a mix of condescension and disappointment. Such a simple question, and her aunt had still failed her.
“Yeah,” she said, looking away. “If it really comes to that, I’ll marry Potter. It’s what Father has groomed me for all this time.”
And she wasn’t even lying. After getting a taste of Potter’s lust, both empathically and literally, feeling that thick, potent cum swirl within her mouth and slowly seep down into her stomach, Daphne wanted more. She wanted it all.
Potter was up for a serious complication in his life. She hoped he was ready for it.
Comments
Robert
I really hope he doesn’t play dumb in school. He doesn’t need to show anywhere close to his full power to be head and shoulders above the rest. I don’t think this version of Harry is going to sink into the background, it’s impossible for him to do so, if his plans are coming to fruition he’ll be betrothed to Susan and Daphne potentially and Heir Potter-Black. He can’t afford to show weakness or he’ll be shark bait and lose respect of people he needs. The old Harry hated attention, this one has been making big moves, even some from the shadows, but I think he’s rather too arrogant to remotely play dumb
KristofferXxXxX
Oh my dear Daphne, Harry is far more powerful than you realize. Just because he shows average to below score and skills doesn't mean that he is an average wizard. I would bet he keeps doing so because it would mean his enemies would keep underestimating him, something he WANTS them to do. That and he doesn't want the attention because he absolutely hates attention.
jp9901
This is what I love about Daphne. She is a calculating, coolheaded threat! Whether you are her ally or her enemy, you have to give her respect
