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The Happy Hotwives of Hogsmeade	By : Wimp36 Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 44923 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of its characters, premises, or related information from either the books or movies. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Chapter 7 — Ginny and Harry, Part III

As usual now, Harry rose at five, slipping out of bed and creeping down to the guest bathroom. He quickly showered, checking his body for any hair below the eyebrows, though he knew there would be none. He took the special attachment that had been fitted to the shower, rubbed a little gel on its end, and slid it into his anus, filling himself with soapy water.

Stepping out of the shower, he blowdried his hair and arranged it into a cute, shaggy bob. He selected a pair of earrings, each consisting of a gold hoop with a gold tag dangling from it — reading “Sissy” on his left ear and “Slut” on the right — and re-fastened his collar around his neck. He brushed his teeth and then stood in front of the vanity to apply his makeup. Foundation, a bit of rouge, bright red lipstick, a touch of eyeshadow, and a spritz of lily of the valley perfume followed. He finished his enema and then eased a large, pink-gemmed plug into his ass.

Entering one of the guest bedrooms, which, over the last few days he had outfitted at Ginny’s orders into the storeroom for his “wifely attire,” he got dressed. Lacy white knickers, and thigh high, ruffled white stockings came first. Then a black corset and short, ruffled white petticoats. Over this he slipped a pink dress, the skirt of which only came to the middle of his thighs, short enough to show the tops of his stocking and, if he bent over, a flash of his knickers. Last of all came a short, lacy apron, a white lace headband, and bright, patent pink stiletto heels.

It had only been three days since the fateful night when he had formally (so it had seemed) pledged himself to be Ginny’s sissy, but this already felt right somehow — not that he would want anyone but Ginny to know (though he supposed that Gwennogg and Nelly knew a bit at least). Every demand that Ginny had made seemed perfectly reasonable to him. It all suited his nature, and all of it — even cleaning the house is a maid’s outfit each day — turned him on immensely.

All his old clothes were still in a corner of the big closet in the master bedroom, but he’d quickly filled the guest closet with a rapidly growing wardrobe of dresses, skirts, stockings, heels, boots, panties, bodysuits, corsets, feminine blouses, latex and leather, and a number of costumes. There was also, largely courtesy of Ginny, a growing collection of butt plugs, dildos, bondage gear, gags, riding crops, floggers, and other such accessories stashed throughout the house.

The one main hiccup in their new dynamic had come the day after that first night that he’d admitted to being a sissy. Ginny had wanted to put all their financial accounts into her name, and they’d made an afternoon trip to Gringotts, only to discover, to both their horror, that, according to the family trust — enacted in 1320 and reaffirmed in 1886 by his great-grandfather — Ginny was considered “a paramour of lesser breeding or status,” and therefore entitled only to access a comparatively small “Allowance” fund on her own until such time as she “produces a legitimate, male, and magically-endowed heir.” Try as he might, Harry and Griphook were unable to find any way to change the trust, as Harry wasn’t even given full rights as Lord Potter until he had an heir.

Ginny had been furious with the whole situation, and things might have gone badly had Harry not confided to Griphook exactly why they wanted to make the change. The old goblin had sneered for a moment, but, on the whole, had seemed understanding.

“Not many people know this, Mr. Potter, Madam Potter,” he had said, “but goblins are entirely matriarchal. Our males act, as you see, as bankers and advocates, but it is our women who act as smiths and artisans. They are all quite a bit bigger than us males, and we defer to them in all things. The influence of muggle religion has made the wizarding world become profoundly anti-woman in the last few centuries, and we felt it necessary to somewhat mask this reality. Our king — who has dealings with ministry and such — is in truth only the vassal of our queen. So believe me when I saw that I truly empathize with your predicament: to my way of thinking, you are attempting to restore the natural order. If there was anything, at all, that I could do, I would.”

Griphook’s candor had soothed Ginny’s temper somewhat, though, when they got home that evening, she had fucked him hard and long to release her frustration.

Checking his appearance in the mirror once more, we went down to the kitchen. There, he brewed coffee, squeezed oranges, and made toast, eggs, and bacon. Putting all of it, except one cup of the coffee, under a stasis spell, he glanced at the clock, which was just about to strike six. He placed the remaining cup of coffee on a small silver tray, and carried it upstairs.

Easing into the bedroom, he placed the tray quietly on Ginny’s bedside table and knelt next to the bed. At the stroke of six Ginny’s alarm clock buzzed and she stretched, yawning widely, before tapping it off.

“Good morning, Mistress,” said Harry.

Ginny stretched again, and kicked her way free of the sheets and blankets. She swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed. Her red hair was tousled, and her eyes were a bit bleary, but she looked gorgeous.

“Good morning, Harry,” she said, groggily. “Is that coffee? Excellent.”

She took the cup and sipped, sighing.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said. “Why don’t you go start the shower for me and then come back.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Harry. He rose, curtsied, and then went into the master bathroom. He checked that there was a plentiful supply of Ginny’s soaps and shampoos, started the shower, and then laid out her hairbrush and other essentials. He hung a fluffy white towel over the heated towel rail and took a neatly folded blue silk robe with him back into the bedroom, where Ginny was still sipping her coffee.

“Such a good sissy wife,” she said, in amusement. “Come give me a kiss.”

Harry set the robe aside and knelt, letting Ginny lean down to kiss him. She began with a light peck on the lips, but then snaked a hand into his hair and pulled his face in tight, thrusting her tongue into his mouth possessively.

“You look so sexy in your little maid’s dress,” she said, breaking the kiss.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Harry, demurely.

“Show me how thankful you are,” said Ginny, spreading her legs wide.

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you for letting me serve you,” said Harry as he bent to the task, licking and kissing worshipfully at his wife’s pussy. He heard Ginny continue to sip her coffee above him, but he focused all of his attention on giving her pleasure. After several minutes she clamped her legs around his head and set her cup aside. He knew she was close and he redoubled his efforts, focusing intently on her clit.

“That’s it, you little slut,” growled Ginny. “That’s it! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She wrenched his head in even closer and came, her climax shuddering through her whole body. She unwrapped her legs from his face and tugged him upwards by the collar, pulling him into another deep kiss.

“Fuck you’re good at that, Harry,” she said, huskily. Then she licked his cheek, which was streaked with her juices. “And I taste delicious.”

“You do, Mistress,” said Harry. She patted his cheek.

“Such a good boy. Now. Lay out my clothes for the day while I take a shower. Practice clothes and something to wear after.” She strode towards the bathroom.

Harry obeyed at once, quickly tidying the bed — he would wash and change the sheets as soon as Ginny left, but he liked to lay her clothes out on the duvet for her. Knowing that she had a morning practice session, he began by setting out her practice clothes — white padded leggings and quilted top, a black sports bra, and black boxer briefs — before selecting an outfit for her to wear to lunch. Since she had a game the next day, he knew that the team would have something a bit fancier than burgers after practice, so he selected pleated black dress that he knew Ginny liked, along with a pair of sexy black knickers and a lacy bralette, and a pair of low-heeled grey ankle boots that she’d worn with the dress before.

Outfits selected, Harry took Ginny’s empty coffee cup back to the kitchen, ensured that her breakfast was still perfect, and climbed the stairs again, bringing a fresh cup of coffee and the day’s paper, which he set on the vanity in the bathroom. He took the robe that Ginny had opted against into the bathroom and hung it back on its peg. He could see Ginny’s perfect body through the steamed-over glass of the shower cubicle and felt his cock try to get hard in its cage. He shook himself and took the towel off the rack. He placed the towel on the floor and knelt beside it, waiting.

As soon as the water turned off, he stood and held the towel out, so that Ginny could step directly from the shower into its soft warm folds. He helped her dry herself off and then, while she sat over her coffee and the paper, he dried her hair and coiled it into a braid for her.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said finally, setting the paper down. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

“Good. I’ll just get dressed.” She crossed into the bedroom while Harry neatened the bathroom a little. “Ooh,” came her voice. “Nice choice on the dress, Harry.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said, coming out into the bedroom and curtsying again. “I think that it’s very pretty on you.”

“Nice curtsey,” she observed with a smile, pulling her underwear up her long, shapely legs. “New touch?”

Harry blushed.

“It seemed right,” he said, bashfully.

“I like it,” said Ginny. “I think that’ll have to be a permanent addition to our dynamic.”

“Of course, Mistress,” said Harry, curtseying yet again.

“You can pack up my clothes for after practice,” said Ginny. “I’ll go have breakfast.”

Harry neatly folded the dress and the other clothes and placed them in Ginny’s day bag, along with some toiletries. He walked back downstairs, set the bag on the entry table next to Ginny’s practice boots and her broom, and then went to stand in the door to the dining room while Ginny ate her breakfast.

“Do you have any requests for dinner tonight?” He asked when she’d finished. “Or any special tasks I should take care of during the day, Mistress?”

“Neither,” said Ginny, wiping her mouth and getting up from the table. “Maybe something Thai for dinner? I’m feeling a little spicy. We could just go out, though. No need to cook tonight.” She gave Harry a kiss as she said this and reached under his skirt to cup his balls, giving them a playful squeeze. “Early day today, though, so try to have the housework done before I get back?”

“Of course, Mistress,” said Harry, panting a little bit from the first manual stimulation that his balls had received in several days.

When Ginny was gone he hurriedly tidied the dining room, had a quick bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee, did the breakfast dishes and trotted back upstairs. There, he stripped the sheets off the bed and took them and the dirty clothes from the day before to the laundry room. Next, he cleaned the master bathroom and his own bathroom before remaking their bad with freshly ironed linen sheets. He straightened Ginny’s closet, cleaned the strapon that she had used the night before — giving it a bit of a practice suck once it was clean — and set about dusting and vacuuming the house.

At noon, finished with his chores, he changed into a tank top and shorts and exercised for an hour — squats, planks, a few yoga poses, and a quick jog on the treadmill. After that was lunch — green salad with a little smoked salmon and a poached egg — dishes, and a quick shower. Once he was clean, he decided to put on something different for Ginny. He changed into a bright green mesh bodysuit, a metallic green thong, an emerald green mini-skirt, high-heeled black boots, and a cropped black tank top that read “Sissy” in sparkling letters across its front. He tousled his hair a bit to match the new look and applied a fresh coat of makeup, a skill he’d picked up quickly. He also clipped a leather leash to the ring on his collar.

After taking a moment to admire his reflection he headed back to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. When that was done he sat at the kitchen table and glanced up. They had commissioned a miniature version of the Weasley family clock so that they knew where the other was at any given moment. Ginny’s hand was currently on “Socializing,” which meant that she was likely still at lunch with the team or out shopping. He passed the time by reading a cookbook in the hunt for new recipes.

When Ginny’s hand emitted a soft chime a short while later, he want into the entryway and stood there, waiting for her. She appeared with a crack of displaced air a moment later, clutching a large shopping bag.

“Welcome home, Mistress,” said Harry, curtsying as much as a mini-skirt would allow.

“Well, well, what have we here? Give us a twirl!” Said Ginny. She was slurring her words a little, so Harry assumed that the team had gone out for drinks. He complied, giving his hips a bit of twitch that nearly sent him sprawling. “I like it,” said Ginny, giggling, “but you’ll need to work on the twirl. Come here.”

Harry strutted towards her and she pulled him into a kiss, her hands cupping his ass harshly and kneading his cheeks. She broke the kiss and took hold of the leash.

“I told Gwen that we’d join her and Nelly for dinner and drinks at seven, which gives use time to have some fun. Come with me, you little slut!”

Harry trotted after her up the stairs.

“Wait outside the door for a minute,” she ordered, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “This will be perfect.” She held the bag up and then tugged the leash. Harry sank to his knees to wait. After a few moments he heard music start to play and detected the feel of strong magic. When the door opened some minutes later, he let out a small whimper.

Ginny was dressed in a new burgundy-colored latex corset, matching leggings, and black leather combat boots. Her small breasts were left exposed over the top of the corset, but Harry’s eyes were quickly drawn downwards to the large, bright red strapon that was harnessed to her waist. The new dildo was at least an inch larger than the one she’d used on him so far, but slightly narrower.

“Give me your leash, slut,” she said. Harry obeyed, handing the long leather strap to his wife. She tugged, and Harry crawled behind her into the bedroom. A pulsing club beat pounded against his ears and he could see that Ginny had conjured some new furniture, including a tall brass pole. She tossed his leash aside and sprawled on a sofa.

“You’re dressed a little like a stripper,” she said. “Let’s see if you’ve got any moves.”

Harry had only ever seen strippers in movies, so he wasn’t entirely sure of what to do, but his daily yoga sessions had taught him several poses that he thought might be alluring. Blushing furiously, he rose to his feet and attempted to strut towards the pole in time to the music, stumbling just a bit. Ginny was smirking and stroking her artificial cock as he took hold of the pole and swung around it.Taking hold of the pole in both hands, he reached upwards, stretching himself to his full height, and then, hells together, slid downwards, letting his legs bow outwards as he dropped into a crouch.

“You’ve got a great ass, Harry,” said Ginny.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Harry, shaking the body part in question briefly. Holding himself up with his arms, he slid one leg back and then the other, spreading them apart and arching his back.

“Nice,” said Ginny. One hand was now rubbing beneath the strapon while the other continued to stroke the fake cock. “Let’s see what’s under that skirt.”

Harry pulled his legs back together and released the pole. Bending over, he grasped the skirt at the hips and slid it slowly down his legs, wiggling his butt again as he did so. The pose and the motion made his butt plug press against his prostate is a very pleasing way, so he kept shaking his butt in time to the music, and felt himself start to leak a little in his cage. After spinning several more times, he pulled his top off as well, leaving himself clad only in his thong and bodysuit.

“Get over here,” ordered Ginny. “It’s time for a lap dance.”

Harry strutted across the room, swaying his hips as much as he could, turning around when he reached Ginny and feeling her strapon come to rest between his cheeks. Keeping time to the music, he shook his ass up and down. The song ended and a slower one began.

“Turn around and give me a kiss, Harry. Sit on my lap like a good little slut.”

Harry turned around and, following Ginny’s gestured instructions, sat straddling her lap, with the strapon jutting up between them. Even with him sitting on her, she still needed to lower her head to draw him into a kiss. Her finger quickly found and tweaked his nipples and he moaned.

“Stroke my cock, Harry,” she said, and he took hold of the dildo that pressed between them and began to stroke it up and down. Ginny’s kisses grew more urgent and she began to tug more forcefully on his nipples. Harry found his cage becoming tighter and tighter.

“Would you like me to suck your cock, Mistress?” He asked, desperately needing to feel further submission to her.

“Yes, baby,” moaned Ginny. “Get it nice and wet.”

Harry sank to his knees and immediately took the dildo into his mouth. Ginny tangled a hand into his hair and began thrusting her hips, driving the cock into his mouth deeper with each thrust until he was choking and spluttering, with saliva running onto Ginny’s lap and down the front of his chest.

“You’re getting good at that, Harry,” said Ginny.

“Thank you, Mistress,” panted Harry.

“I thought this new dildo was big enough, but I might have to go bigger…can’t make it too easy for you.”

Harry moaned, and Ginny laughed.

“I’m glad you like the idea,” she said. “Now…since I’m nice and wet, and you were pretty good at the lap dance before; how about you give me another, but with my cock up in that cute little arse?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Harry, giving her cock one final kiss before rising up. He turned away and reached back to guide Ginny’s cock into his ass, moaning as its girth spread him wide open. After taking a moment to adjust to the new dildo, he began to rotate his hips while bobbing slowly up and down.

“That’s it, baby,” said Ginny. “Just like that. Merlin, it’s so hot to watch that ass swallow up my cock.”

“Mmm,” moaned Harry, “it feels so good, Mistress!”

Harry continued bouncing as the music sped up, doing his best to match his speed to the tempo of the music. The increased pace caused pressure to build up even further in his cage, and he could feel his balls longing to release. His legs were burning.

“Fuck…” he panted.

“Does my little sissy wife want to cum?” Asked Ginny.

“Yes, Mistress!” Gasped Harry. “Please! Can I cum?”

Ginny stood, pushing Harry down onto the floor without letting her cock leave his ass. He arched his back and she began to piston into him, doubling the tempo of the music. Ecstasy swamped Harry’s mind.

“Please…” he begged, “Please, Mistress! Can I cum?”

“Cum for me,” ordered Ginny, and slammed the dildo to the hilt into Harry’s ass. With a high-pitched groan, Harry unloaded thick spurts of semen onto the carpet and collapsed, Ginny’s cock slipping from his ass with a pop, leaving the hole gaping behind it.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said, gasping for breath.

“You earned it, my little slut. Now clean up your mess and take a shower. We’re meeting Gwen and Nelly in an hour.”

Harry swiveled around and began to lick his cum from the carpet as Ginny made her way to her bathroom to clean up. Once he’d licked as much cum as he could, Harry found his wand and cleaned up the remainder of the mess so he didn’t ruin the carpet, then he collected his clothes and headed for his bathroom, tossing the outfit into the dirty clothes hamper on the way.

Once he was showered he wrapped a robe around himself and headed upstairs to choose an outfit for the evening out. Ginny was already in the walk-in closet, shuffling through clothes.

“What are you doing, Harry?” She asked, as Harry reached for a pair of his dress slacks.

“Getting some clothes, Mistress,” said Harry.

“From this closet?”

“We’re going out,” he stammered, “I just assumed…”

Ginny patted his cheek.

“Oh, no. Gwen and Nellie already know all about it, and we’re going to a place in Soho. Even if anyone figures out that you’re a boy, they’re not going to care. Go put on something sexy…and a bit punky, like before!”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Harry, feeling himself blush deeply.

Half an hour later Harry and Ginny popped into an alley in Soho. Ginny wore a pair of tight green leather trousers, high-heeled boots, and a Weird Sisters T-shirt artfully torn over a bright green tube top. Her hair was pulled into two pigtails and she had applied blood red lipstick. Harry was uncomfortably aware of the key dangling between her breasts and visible through a tear in the T-shirt and of the strapon that she carried in her large leather purse.

He was dressed in a black faux-leather vest over a pink fishnet top, a short black skirt, grey thigh-high cotton socks, and a pair of Doc Martens. Under the skirt he wore a pair a pink silk bikini briefs to hide hide his chastity cage and butt plug. Ginny had helped him with makeup — black lipstick and heavy eyeshadow — and had tousled his hair artfully.

“Let’s go!” Said Ginny, taking his hand. Sensing Harry’s hesitation, she turned to look at him.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she said. “Gwen and Nellie aren’t going to judge, and you look super hot. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Harry gulped and nodded. Ginny gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then tugged him out of the alley.

Soho burst into life around them. Music hit his ears from every direction and his nose filled with the smells of revelry: fried food, roasting meat, beer, smoke (of multiple varieties), perfume, piss, and vomit. Groups of people milled through the streets, making way begrudgingly for cars and vans. Harry had to admit that Ginny was probably right about his attire attracting no special attention. At a casual glance he saw three separate groups of drag queens, a group of young women sporting bulges in the fronts of their party dresses, men in nothing but chaps and jockstraps, and multiple women wearing nothing above the waist but tape over their nipples.

“I think it’s this way,” Ginny shouted into his ear, steering him down the street.

Five minutes of chaos later, and Ginny was starting to get frustrated, clearly unable to locate their destination. She was on the point of dragging Harry down the same block for the fifth time, when a piercing whistle cut through the night followed by a heavily accented Welsh voice calling.

“You two just going to strut around all night, or you going to come hang out with some other sexy bitches?”

Ginny and Harry turned to see Gwen leaning out a nearby unmarked door. The statuesque blonde was dressed in a sleeveless black romper that showed her bulging arms and, courtesy of short bottoms, her well-muscled thighs.

“Hey, Gwen,” said Ginny, bounding over to the other woman and kissing her on the cheek.

“Hey, hot stuff,” she replied and then looked at Harry. “Damn, Ginny…you did your work.”

“She did most of the work herself,” said Ginny, proudly. “Come say hi, Harry!”

“Hi, Gwen,” said Harry. He could feel himself blushing both at the embarrassment of anyone besides Ginny seeing him like this, and from the feelings that the sight of her muscles — and the impressive cleavage on display — awoke in him. His cage tightened uncomfortably as Gwen swooped down to kiss him on each cheek.

“Hi, Harry,” she purred. “You look super hot. Come on in! We’ve got a table and already ordered food. Music’s about to start.”

Gwen lead the pair down a dimly lit hallway and through a door into a large, moodily lit room. Booths lined the walls in a horseshoe shape, and a large bar stood in the middle of the room. A large dance floor separated the bar from a stage where a DJ was in the final stages of preparation. Most of the customers were dressed similarly to Harry and Ginny, in variations on goth and punk themes. The staff, all Thai, were dressed in black halter tops and skirts.

“There’s Nelly,” said Gwen, pointing across the room. Nelly, wearing a tiny pink skirt, black stockings, and a black tube top, waved. There was already a bottle of wine, another of vodka, and four shot glasses on the table.

“This place is super cool,” said Ginny, as she slid into the booth. At her gesture, Harry slid in next to Nelly, who cupped his ass as he sat, while Ginny sat next to Gwen. “How’d you find it?”

“The captain of the Thai men’s quidditch team mentioned it during the last world cup in Bangkok. He was in the captain’s box with me and we got to talking about some things other than quidditch — free booze loosens tongues — and he mentioned that a muggle friend of his ran this club in Soho. He took me and Nelly here when he was in London last year. Really good food, great music, and cute waitresses. Plus,” she winked at Harry, “if you like a little cock under a skirt, this is the right place to be.”

“What?” Asked Ginny, looking around. Nelly laughed.

“Most of the waitresses are ladyboys. They’re a lot of fun.” She winked, and gave Harry’s thigh a stroke.

“Shots!” Said Gwen, pouring vodka into each of the glasses and passing them around. “Cheers!”

They clinked glasses and downed the vodka, following it with two more shots in quick succession, by which time food started arriving. Harry had developed a liking for Thai food over brief time he had spent working in London for the Ministry, and the heaped dishes of noodles, rice, dumplings, spicy salads, and pickles made his mouth water.

For the next hour, he relaxed into what felt like a fairly typical and pleasant evening. The girls chatted about quidditch, with Harry occasionally offering an opinion, while food came and went, and they moved from their first bottles of alcohol into a second round. Ginny cut Harry off after the shots and a single glass of wine, so he sipped a diet tonic water. After a little while, the DJ started their set, and pounding Asian techno filled the space.

“Let’s dance!” Said Ginny, suddenly, slamming back another shot of vodka. “You guys have got to see how well Harry dances, now!” She teetered out onto the dance floor.

Harry blushed, but let himself be lead out onto the dance floor, where he joined the women in gyrating a grinding. After a short time he found that Gwen, who towered over him, had moved behind him and had positioned her thigh between his legs. He moaned as her thigh pressed his plug deeper into him, and he felt his cock try to stiffen in its tiny plastic prison.

“I heard that!” She half-shouted into his ear. “Are you a naughty girl, Harry?”

His only answer was another moan as one of Gwen’s hands cupped his ass. Nelly scooted in front of him, tantalizingly gyrating against his crotch.

“I think Ginny likes the dyke show,” said Nelly. “She seems to having fun.”

Harry glanced to the side and saw Ginny dancing with a tall, dark-skinned man. Ginny winked at Harry before closing her eyes in apparent pleasure and she let the stranger grind against her. The man was taller than Gwen by a head, and was well-muscled. He wore a tight button-down shirt that was open halfway down his thickly-haired chest, showing starkly defined pecs and hinting at a six-pack. His biceps strained against the shirt, which was rolled partway to the elbows. He wore well-tailored black trousers and brightly polished leather shoes.

The man leaned down and whispered something to her, and Ginny laughed, before raising her hand to show him her wedding ring.

“That’s my husband!” She practically shouted, pointing at Harry. The strange man looked up and then laughed.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, then, should it?” He asked loudly, his accent thick with a Caribbean tinge.

“We’ll see where the night goes,” said Ginny, laughing.

Harry blushed, wanting to rush over and tell the man off, but between the size difference, and how happy Ginny looked, he stayed back. Maybe if it looked like the man was trying to take advantage he would intervene.

“Lucky girl,” said Nellie, tilting her head back to talk to Harry.

“If you’re into that kind of thing,” said Gwen, giving Harry’s bum another squeeze.

They continued to dance, the two women teasing Harry mercilessly. They pressed their breasts into him, rubbed against his legs, gyrated against his cage, and ran light fingers over his arms and stomach. Gwen even tweaked his nipples through his shirt.

After a while, the exhausted trio returned to their table, where a fresh bottle of wine was waiting. Nelly poured for all three of them, but Harry hesitated.

“I don’t think that Ginny wanted me to have any more,” he began, but Gwen cut him off.

“Don’t worry about Ginny. Drink.”

Harry took the glass, but looked around for Ginny. She was still glued to the tall man, gyrating sensually to the throbbing music.

“Now that’s a man,” said Nelly, appreciatively. Gwen slapped her wrist. “What? I can appreciate it even if I don’t want any.”

“It is pretty hot, isn’t it, Harry?” Asked Gwen. “How much taller he is? How muscular? I’ve never been one for chest hair in a bloke, but it’s not without its appeal.”

“And he’s packing some serious heat in those trousers,” added Nelly. Harry glanced and could see that she was right. Ginny and the man were headed for their table, and there was indeed a pronounced bulge down his left thigh.

“Thierry,” said Ginny, when she reached the table, “these are my friends Gwen and Nelly, and my husband, Harry.”

“Hi Thierry,” purred Nellie. Gwen raised her glass in a silent toast.

“Hi,” stammered Harry. Marco smirked.

“Fancy a drink, you two?” Asked Gwen, already pouring.

“Sure, ladies. Harry.”

Ginny slid into the booth next to Harry and Thierry scooted in next to her.

As they chatted, Ginny flirted outrageously with Thierry, toying occasionally with the key around her neck. Suddenly Thierry stood up, excusing himself for the men’s room.

“So?” Asked Gwen as soon as he was gone. “You going to fuck him?”

“What?” Gasped Harry.

“Shh, Harry,” said Ginny, squeezing his thigh. She leaned close to whisper to him. “I saw your face while we were dancing. I know that your little clitty was getting all hard in your cage. You want it, and you know it. You want me to find a big thick cock to satisfy my needs, don’t you?”

Harry blushed.

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered. She continued.

“You want to watch me drool all over him? You want to watch him shove his cock down my throat?”

“Yes,” panted Harry. Ginny’s hand moved higher, rubbing his balls through his panties.

“You want to watch Thierry’s big cock stretch out my tight little pussy?”

“Yes,” he moaned.

“You want to lick my pussy while he pumps me full of his cum?”

Harry groaned, nearly cumming from her teasing.

“I thought so,” whispered Ginny, removing her hand. “We’ll get there eventually.” She kissed his cheek. “Baby steps, though. I’m going to go freshen up.”

She stood up from the table and headed towards the loos.

“I think that’s a marvelous idea,” said Gwen. “The night is young. Come on, Harry.”

Gwen and Nelly guided him to the toilets, steering him into the lady’s room, which was empty.

“Ginny?” Called Harry.

“I think she may have had other plans,” said Nelly, tapping white powder onto the sink basin. “Take a piss if you need one, and then have some of this.” She used a razor blade to separate the powder into thin lines. Harry entered the cubicle, hiking up his skirt and lowering his knickers to pee.

Was Ginny fucking Thierry? Surely not. She’d said baby steps. Could they be snogging though?

Finished, he wiped his cage and flushed, before rejoining the others, who were kissing enthusiastically, Nelly perched on another sink with her legs wrapped around Gwen.

“I left you a line, Harry,” she said, as Gwen yanked her tube top down to reveal a pair of gorgeous breasts. Gwen latched onto a nipple and Nelly moaned. Harry looked at the line of powder and gave a mental shrug. He pinched one nostril shut, and, lowering his head to the sink, snorted the powder into his nose. Blood rushed to his head almost immediately and he felt a sense of euphoria blossom in his middle.

Nelly’s moans pulled his attention and he looked back to see that Gwen had found time to don a strapon, and was thrusting into Nelly’s dripping pussy. Suddenly, Gwen lifted Nelly off the sink and held her in place.

“Make yourself useful, Harry,” she said. “Give Nelly’s other hole some love.”

“But, Ginny…”

“We talked, and she’s fine with it. Get licking.”

Harry obeyed, kneeling on the tiles underneath Nelly and burying his face between her plump cheeks to tongue her arse, feeling Gwen’s strapon thrusting through the thin barrier of flesh.

“Good boy, Harry,” said Gwen. “Can you feel my cock?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Imagine that it’s Ginny’s cute little arsehole that you’re licking and Thierry’s nice juicy cock you’re feeling pounding into her cunt. I bet she never moaned like this little minx while you were fucking her,” Nelly’s moans crescendoed as she seemed to near her climax, and Gwen continued. “Bet she’d fucking scream for a nice big cock like this, wouldn’t she? Bet you’d like to hear that, Harry? You want to help your wife get off on a nice big cock?”

Harry moaned into Nelly’s arse as the blonde reached her climax. Gwen shoved her cock into Nelly to the hilt and held her tight for a moment.

“Good girl,” she said, kissing Nelly deeply. “Good boy, Harry,” she added. “Let’s get back to our table: I need another drink!”

Harry joined the pair at the sinks and let them help him retouch his makeup. Just as they were finishing, Ginny entered the toilets. She was flushed and breathing heavily.

“Someone looks like they had fun,” observed Gwen.

“Not too much,” said Ginny, going to a sink to touch up her own appearance. “Just a snog and a bit of a grope. You guys look like you had a good time. How was Harry’s tongue?”

“He’s got potential,” said Nelly.

They left the loos as a group, with Nelly and Gwen calling for shots as they returned to their table. After several rounds of flaming sambucca shots and more vodka between turns on the dance floor, the quartet slumped at their table. Gwen was smoking a cigarette as they all nursed a final cocktail. It was nearly one in the morning, and the music pulsed slowly around them. They were all at a contented level of intoxication, the cocaine and dancing having balanced out the mellowing effects of so much alcohol.

“I still can’t believe that some of these waitresses are ladyboys,” said Ginny suddenly. One of the waitresses, a stunningly beautiful platinum blonde with pouty lips and breasts like large grapefruit, had just sashayed past their table. “I’d kill for her tits.”

“Your tits are perfect,” said Gwen, idly. “If you really wanted a set like that, I can guarantee that those aren’t natural, even if she wasn’t a ladyboy…too perfect, and they don’t move naturally.”

“Okay, fair,” said Ginny. “But what about her,” she pointed. “There’s no way she’s a ladyboy!”

“Oh, she definitely is,” said Nelly.

The girl that Ginny pointed to was about Harry’s height, with jet black hair cascading to her waist and attired in a shiny black tube top, matching micro skirt, and heels with straps that spiraled up her creamy legs. Her body was a subtle hourglass, with small, perky breasts, and a cute, doll-like face. She saw Ginny pointing, and made her way over their table.

“Can I help you ladies?” She asked, her voice lilting and lightly accented. “We’re about to do last orders.”

“We’re topped up, but care to get one for yourself and join us?” Asked Gwen, sliding fifty quid across the table. “We have a bit of a bet on.” The girl giggled, accepting the note.

“Be right back,” she said, skipping to the bar and returning, moments later, with a glass of champagne. She scooted into their booth next to Ginny. “What’s this bet?”

“Ginny here doesn’t think you’re a ladyboy,” said Nelly, refusing to beat around the bush.

“What are the stakes?” She asked sipping her champagne and walking her fingers down Ginny’s arm.

“We didn’t say,” said Nelly, clearly thinking. “Twenty quid?”

Ginny eyed the girl up and down, focusing on the lacy black knickers visible beneath the ludicrously short hem of the girl’s skirt. “You’re on, Nelly.”

The girl leaned in and kissed Ginny’s ear. “Pay your friend her money.”

“No way!” Said Ginny, taking another look at the girl. Harry’s angle was even better, and he detected not even the hint of a bulge. Either she was lying, was even more minusculely endowed than him, or was an expert in hiding her cock.

“Oh yes,” she said, flirtatiously. “Would you like proof?”

“I have a fun idea,” said Gwen, interrupting the growing tension. “Let’s take this party back to my place for the proving portion of the evening.”

“Sounds fun,” said the girl, downing her champagne. “But I might need some stakes of my own.”

“I have an idea for that,” said Nelly, pulling out her cigarettes and offering them around. “Let’s go!”

The four girls and Harry piled into a black cab, Gwen’s offering of another fifty quid on top of the fare compensating the cabbie for the plume of smoke that accompanied them (plus the added bonus of getting to watch five girls making out in his backseat). They drove slowly towards Kensington — the distracted driver only twice nearly hitting a pedestrian, and only missing one turn — where they tumbled out in front of Gwen’s house, part of a three story Georgian row house on a cobbled street.

“Come on in,” she said, ushering everyone through the door. Nelly blew the cabbie a kiss and flashed her tits at him, completing his night. Inside, Gwen popped a bottle of champagne and poured for everyone while Nelly produced a joint and handed it around. Once she’d taken a hit, their new friend, Cherry, returned to their previous conversation.

“Still don’t believe I’m a kathoey?” She asked Ginny.

“I mean…it’s more fun to doubt it, I think. Got us this far. What was your idea, Gwen?”

“Oh, yeah!” Said Gwen, who had been distracted by Nelly nibbling her earlobe. “I think we all agree that Cherry is what she says she is, but I bet that she’s got a bigger cock than Harry.”

Cherry giggled.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Winner gets a blowjob from the loser?” Suggested Gwen.

“Deal!” Said Cherry.

Harry looked at Ginny for permission. He was pretty sure that there was no way Cherry was hiding anything serious under that skirt, and he felt himself trying to grow hard at the thought of those pouty lips on his cock. There was no way he’d last more than a few seconds, but it would be a few seconds of absolute bliss. Ginny winked at him, and fished the key to his cage out of her top.

“Deal,” said Harry. Nelly clapped excitedly.

“Cherry?” Prompted Gwen. Cherry smiled and stood, unzipping the side of her skirt and tossing it aside. Even standing in nothing but her knickers, there was no sign of a cock, and Harry’s mind whirled in anticipation of the blowjob he was clearly about to receive. Cherry winked at him a leaned forward, maintaining eye contact as she slid her knickers down her legs, when she straightened, tossing the knickers to Harry, her cock seemed to unfurl, having been expertly tucked between her lovely thighs. The appendage, newly visible, rose quickly to attention, rapidly eclipsing Harry on his best day, and even surpassing some of Ginny’s dildos.

“Well,” said Ginny, tucking the key to Harry’s chastity back into her top, “looks like we won’t need this.”

Harry gulped. He hadn’t really imagined the possibility of Cherry winning their little contest, but now that reality was quite literally staring him in the face. She took a step forward and bent to kiss him on the lips.

“You’ve never done it with a real cock, have you?” She purred. He shook his head.

“Well then, we’ll just have to take it nice and slow.”
- 6
- 7
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The Happy Hotwives of Hogsmeade