Portrait

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.

Betad by priapus, Mike God of Lore, Marethyu, Beans, Malcolm Tent, Old man of the mountain

A Sorcerer's Ambition

Chapter 25: Portrait 

– Fleur Delacour –

Glaring at Grayson, she felt her fists clench. She had spent almost all her time searching for this English bastard, and he was trying to pretend he hadn't been avoiding her.

"Really, Miss Delacour? Aren't you too busy with your champion duties to bother me? At this rate, Morrigan isn't going to have to try too hard to beat you," Grayson said simply, fueling her already-burning anger. 

"I have spent days looking for you, with that brat of a child misdirecting me at every turn," Fleur growled, raising his eyebrow.

"Brat- Ah, you've met Astoria?" Grayson asked, making her huff. It had taken her a few days to realise that the little idiot was blatantly lying and sending her on wild goose chases. She had hoped that one of the girls would be able to tell her where Grayson was since they lived in Grayson's suite, but Astoria was the only one to give her a straight answer and that answer was nonsense. "I realise you have a very high opinion of yourself, but I truly haven't been avoiding you. I have recently become the heir of both the Black and Raum houses, and with that comes a lot of work. Combined with my return to school and other drama, I'm simply too busy to spend my time skulking about, avoiding you."

She didn't buy it for a moment; there was no way he had just accidentally happened to avoid her no matter where she went. She'd tried to get him after class, but he always seemed to vanish into thin air. She'd lurked outside his suite, only for him to never go in or out.

"What is it going to take? All I want is one painting," Fleur growled, staring at him with a fierce scowl. "You could have painted the damn thing three times in all the time you've spent running away from me."

"Did I not just go into detail about how busy I am and how little time I have to worry about whatever it is you want? I will have more time during the Winter break and may be open to commissions then," Grayson sighed, rolling his eyes. "And do stop screeching in the middle of the hallways; if you're going to rant at me, at least have the common decency to do it in private and not interrupt everyone else's evening."

She couldn't wait until Winter; the deadline for Duchess Henrietta's gala was fast approaching. It was in a matter of days; it was Friday now, and the ball was next Sunday. 

Grayson opened his suite up again, walking inside as she quickly followed behind. She wasn't letting him get away this time; he wasn't going out of her sight until she had gotten him to agree to paint her grandmother. 

She'd stun him and drag his smug ass back to France herself if she had to.

Taking a seat, he looked her over with a disapproving frown as she sat down angrily, glaring at him. 

"You know I can't wait that long, do not play dumb, it doesn't suit you," Fleur spat out. She didn't like him, but she wasn't so blind or prejudiced as not to see how smart he was. He knew the game well enough to know why her Grandmother wanted this fucking portrait; he had an invitation to the same ball. "How fast can you paint?"

"A portrait takes a few hours or so," Grayson admitted, intensifying her glare. All this for a few hours of work. 

"So, what is it going to cost for a few hours of your time? A single night to get this fucking painting done. Are you really saying you can't spare a single night next week? Do you think I'm blind, you've spent most of your time getting laid," Fleur ranted, making him pause before he smirked slightly.

"Spying on my liaisons, Miss Delacour?" Grayson asked, making her scoff.

"You're hardly subtle, the entire school is filled with rumours of your liaisons. That Brown girl can't stop boasting about how good a lover you are, lakeside dates with Greengrass, even this room smells of sex," Fleur spat out, making him nod in agreement. "And you have the sheer gall to claim you're busy?"

"I am busy, admittedly, sometimes I'm busy with other girls, but frankly, it's not any of your concern what, or who, I'm doing," Grayson said bluntly. 

– Grayson Raum-Black –

Watching Fleur seethe, I simply stare at her with a bored expression. Honestly, I think the demonic part of me just takes pleasure in tormenting the prideful woman because realistically, it may have been better not to have spent so long driving her mad.

"Is it sex you want, you horny beast? My Grandmother would pay very well for your time, and we both know that the Delacour family would make a powerful ally, so why are you being so damned stubborn?!" Fleur almost screams, fury and lust in her eyes. I suspect that being sat in the same room where I just fucked Molly is messing with her senses a little. "I haven't forgotten that you tried to tie me down and have your way with me, you lustful bastard."

"I may have tied you up, but you were hardly putting up a fight; in fact, you were practically begging for me to take you," I retort, making her scoff.

"We're all entitled to our delusions," Fleur bites back, making me chuckle. "What will it take just to get you to meet with my grandmother one night next week? You know it benefits you to have your art shown off at Duchess Henrietta's ball, especially when the figure in the portrait is one of the most powerful women in France. You know it benefits your family to forge connections with my family, so why are you being so fucking stubborn?!" 

"Hm, you're not wrong. But to be perfectly honest, I just didn't like your attitude," I admit, watching her eyes widen as a snarl leaves her. "You've been angry at me since the moment you arrived, accusing me of dosing you, insulting my family and generally being a pain, so why would I do anything for you?" 

Fleur doesn't seem to find my argument acceptable, her glare not letting up at my entirely fair and justified reasons. Merlin, I might be more like Damian than I ever wanted to think because this kind of pettiness is just down his alleyway. That thought alone convinces me not to drag this out any longer.

"You did all this out of spite?" Fleur asks, disbelief and anger clear in her tone.

"Spite, and because your reactions were fairly entertaining," I clarify, which doesn't help her anger. 

"I hate you, I truly do," Fleur spits out. "What do you want? What is it going to take to get you to stop being such a child? Who am I kidding? We both know what you want from me, you barbarian. Fine, you want me; you can have me as long as you agree to meet with my grandmother."

She's not wrong; Veela are literally built for sex, and she's certainly the most beautiful girl in the school. That said… she is radiating lust, perhaps literally, as her Veela aura goes a little wild, making me glad that everyone else is out at the moment. Her eyes are glaring, but she's almost panting, and my enhanced senses can pick up just how horny she is.

I've been progressing my own demonic powers, and it clearly has an effect on her beyond just the sexual tension that already existed between us.

"I can have you, can I? You'll do anything I want?" I ask, lips twitching as I watch her eyes dilate. I've been gathering essence in great numbers lately, and a particular power grabbed my attention. Right now, an opportunity to use it has just fallen into my lap.

"That's what I said, is it not?" Fleur spits, fury and lust mingling in her voice. 

– Fleur Delacour –

Utterly naked, she truly tried to hide the way her body was burning with arousal, but her nudity left her drenched thighs and rock-hard nipples on display for Grayson's appreciation, and no matter how indifferent he tried to act, he couldn't hide his lust for her.

And yet, he remained professional as he put paint to canvas, fuelling her indignation at him not demanding her body in all manner of degenerate ways. She should be happy; he'd finally agreed to meet her grandmother (only days before the ball), and all she had to do was model for him.

He'd claimed it was because she was different from his usual models; he didn't outright call her a work of art, but he may as well have, making her smile slightly despite her lust.

"Keep still," Grayson scolded, glancing over to her. His eyes wandered her nude form, taking in every inch as he turned her into a literal work of art; she was no doubt going to be the masterpiece of his collection. He'd claimed that this one was for his private gallery, not that she was ashamed to have done some nude modelling. 

She was beautiful and had no issues with people seeing that, as long as Grayson was as good as people said. His brush moved like lightning, and his deft hands danced across the canvas. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing. 

Seeing the dark hunger in his gaze, every look sent a shudder of pleasure through her. He wanted her. She didn't know why he insisted on playing all these stupid games, but she'd come to a decision. She was going to fuck him, blow his mind, and then leave him.

She didn't even know why she was so interested in this arrogant brute. Sure, he was very attractive, and his power was impressive, but he was beneath her. She'd use him for her pleasure, leave him begging for more and move on so she could focus on this stupid tournament instead of him.

She'd show up the other champions and prove that Veela were superior to humans and that France was superior to the rest of Europe. Her original plan to show that women were superior as well went a little down the drain when every champion was female. Well, she supposed that was proof enough.

Then she'd go home and never think about Grayson Raum again. 

Why was she even annoyed that he wanted to paint her? Of course, an artist would see her as the beauty she was and want to paint her; she should be impressed that he could put his art ahead of his lust. 

"Stop scowling," Grayson sighed, making her roll her eyes. He'd taken her to what was apparently the club room of some club Grayson was founding; she hadn't been listening, to be perfectly honest, still infuriated that he'd decided to take her very blatant offer and turn it into a modelling session.

As the time passed by, she watched as he finally put down his brush with a satisfied smile.

"Are you finally done?" Fleur asked, making him nod easily.

"I am; I don't think it's my best work, but you make a fine subject," Grayson said, making her glare at him. "Plus, I imagine that you share some similarities with your grandmother, so the experience will be helpful."

Her grandmother could pass for her mother, but then her mother could pass for her older sister. Veela aged very well; their beauty didn't fade. Not to mention that they almost all shared the same hair and eye colour, so he had a point.

Walking up to him, she turned to see his 'masterpiece', wanting to see why people made such a big deal of his art. Several insults were primed, and they all died on her tongue as she saw herself.

Despite the nudity, it was far from crude as she examined every inch of the canvas, from the detailed background and erotic sight of herself, staring at them with what she could only describe as prideful disdain.

She reached out to touch it, but Grayson grabbed her hand.

"Do not smudge the painting I just spent three hours on," Grayson sighed, making her flush and glare at him.

"You may be an English barbarian, but I must admit you have some skill in the arts at least," Fleur scoffed, heart pounding as she turned back to the art of herself, enraptured by the sight. 

"I'm glad you approve, given how much you've been begging for my art," Grayson teased, but his words fell on mostly deaf ears. She mentally rearranged her plans, she had to have a portrait of herself. She wanted this one, but Grayson had made her sign a contract over it; she had no claim on the painting as much as she wanted to take it home with her.

But then it was gone, Grayson having placed a sheet over it, much to her annoyance as the spell was broken, and she turned back to him with a fierce glare. 

"You will keep your word," Fleur threatened, making him roll his eyes.

"I always do. I'm free next Tuesday after classes. We can meet up and take a trip over to France to meet with your Grandmother and negotiate a session," Grayson agreed, a feeling of triumph flooding her. Sure, it had taken far too much work and far too long, but she had succeeded. Her grandmother could handle a brat like Grayson, so his agreement was inevitable. 

Still naked, she gave him a look that was a mixture of anger, reluctant respect and arousal. The heat burning up in her hadn't gone away as she had been forced to sit there for hours, and she had an itch she needed scratching.

As he went to speak, no doubt planning to say something stupid, she crashed her mouth against his, making him smirk against her lips as she forced her tongue into her mouth.

She was done playing around with this stupid bastard, clothes flying off as she literally tore his robes away, revealing a handsome, muscular body, his scent driving her wild as she breathed in his musk.

She went to push him back, wanting to be on top, but he proved a little too strong for that as he manhandled her, bending her over the large table set up in the centre of the room, one hand pushing her face into the hardwood.

She spread her legs, literally drenched already as he moved forwards, one hand on his fat cock. She was no blushing virgin, but even she felt a hint of trepidation as she felt it pressing against her needy quim.

He didn't waste time; she might have actually set him on fire if he'd stopped to talk. One thrust and the entire length was sheathed inside her tight cunt, making him grunt in surprise at her heat and tightness. None of the schoolgirls he was fucking could compare to her, and his hands gripped her hips as he started to move.

She felt so full, her thighs banging against the table as he started to truly pound her, understanding that she was not made of glass. Pulling back until only the bulbous tip was inside her, Grayson slammed his hips forward and sheathed the entire length of the massive cock inside her, her body working to milk him for his essence.

"Honestly, if I'd realised what a needy slut you are, I'd have just bent you over when you first showed up," Grayson taunted, making her glare back at him. "It's good to see that Veela live up to their reputation of being cock-hungry."

"Shut up and fuck me, you smug English prick," Fleur spat back. She couldn't exactly deny his words, not with how she'd jumped him or how her body was responding to his thrusts. "You're just entertainment; you're the closest thing to a passable man I've found in this pathetic country. Do your job and fuck me, or I'll go and get someone else to take over."

As she went to insult him, he gripped her hair and yanked it back, his other hand spanking her perfect bubble butt. She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts, a lewd moan leaving her lips and filling the room as he took her.

A normal man would have already blown his load from her sheer tightness, but Grayson was holding on well. It kinda pissed her off, despite the pleasure he was bringing her. He should be honoured that she'd picked him for a fling, awed that he got to touch her body, but instead one of his hands was roughly groping her breast. He was a savage, a brute, treating a work of art such as her like some two-knut whore; despite his posh looks, there was a cruel darkness inside him that she could sense as he abused her body.

Flipping her over, one hand wrapped around her throat as he pumped his hips, his cock hammering into her most sacred place, squeezing tightly as he cut off her oxygen. 

Every time she'd given another man the honour of being with her, she'd been in control, both because she was better than them and because her aura going wild usually turned their mind to putty anyway. Grayson's eyes were completely clear, and he was in control as her legs hooked behind his waist, pulling him in.

She hoped he didn't have any delusions about pulling out because she was adamant that that wasn't happening as she glared up at him. Every thrust made her breasts bounce, his grip around her throat tight enough to affect her breathing but not enough to make her lose consciousness as he defiled her, leaning down to roughly kiss her. She'd have bruises tomorrow, in many places that would be difficult to explain.

She lost track of how long they fucked, but as his thrusts started to become more erratic, she felt a sense of satisfaction at his imminent climax. She'd cum half a dozen times already, and it hurt her pride that he was still holding out, so as he started to pick up pace, she smirked and prepared for him to flood her womb with his seed.

She was going to take a potion, obviously, but she wanted to feel his cum filling her. She squeezed down on him harder, making it a fight to pull back, her legs pulling him right back in.

He let loose with a groan through clenched teeth, unable to resist the call of her body any longer, and she gasped as she felt his hot, sticky seed being unleashed into her more than willing body, not a single drop escaping as she took his entire load within herself.

She came again, gasping at the heat flooding her body. Sex was as much of a need for a mature Veela as eating or breathing, but this time it felt different, it felt right to be full of Grayson's cum.

Her legs tightened around his waist, unwilling to let him pull out and waste even a single drop of the essence that he was filling her with, eyes rolling back as she felt her entire body shudder harder than it ever had before.

Nails clawed at the table, a wail leaving her as she came yet again, her legs giving up and hanging loosely as Grayson pulled back with a satisfied smirk, looking over his handiwork as she panted.

She hated that he looked so unaffected, with some minor sweating and a slightly laboured breath, compared to her heavy panting, her body heaving as she sat up. Her eyes locked onto his shaft, still glistening with her juices and his seed.

Climbing off the table, she didn't give him a chance to speak as she dropped to her knees, unwilling to waste a single drop as she did something she'd never done before. She didn't give head; as far as she was concerned, it was an act of submission. Her lucky lovers got to go down on her, but she didn't return the favour.

Taking the shaft into her mouth, she licked it clean, her tongue circling around it as she made sure to clean up every last drop. The salty taste shouldn't have been pleasant, but she couldn't get enough.

His hand gripped her hair, forcing her head down as he started to thrust again. His cock hadn't softened, and before long, he was practically facefucking her, or maybe she was facefucking herself onto his cock. 

"You look good on your knees; it suits you," Grayson taunted, his grip tightening in her hair. She glared up at him, her hands resting on his thighs as she choked herself on his cock. Part of her was screaming against this, but her sheer lust drowned it out.

She could taste his pre-cum, unsure of how long she'd spent worshipping his cock, but the fact that he was getting ready to let loose again and fill her mouth with his seed made her speed up again. Taking his entire length, she ignored the lack of oxygen and her gag reflex to press her lips against his crotch, leaving light lipstick stains along her path.

Both of his hands gripped her head, making an utter mess of her hair as she glared up at him. She didn't try to pull back or shake him off though, feeling his cock twitch inside her mouth as she prepared for the ambrosia he was about to feed her with.

His climax was explosive, despite coming right after another large load, making her cheeks bulge as she rapidly swallowed, not wanting to spill a single drop. Despite her best efforts, some leaked out of her mouth and trailed down her chin.

Most of his load went straight down her throat, and as he finished and pulled back, she panted. She'd just cum from swallowing his seed, and she stared up at him with a mixture of emotions.

Rising to her feet, she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror that seemed to be the centrepiece of the back wall, staring at herself with disbelief. She looked a complete mess, make-up running down her face, hair ruined, and thick globs of semen dripping out of her gaping pussy. 

She went to speak, but with a grand display of self-control, she stopped herself and gathered her clothes with a superior look.

"You were passable," Fleur lied, pulling her clothes back on as Grayson chuckled.

"You weren't so bad yourself, not quite top three, but you're at least in my top ten," Grayson replied, making her pause as she turned a fierce glare towards him. She didn't retort, giving him one last look as she used her wand to try and fix herself up as much as possible.

Storming out of the room, her mind cleared and raced. Something was wrong with her, and she was sure it had something to do with her Veela nature. She couldn't control herself around him; even now, she felt herself longing to go back and get another taste. Sure that nobody was looking, she slipped a hand into her stained panties and ran her finger along her freshly-fucked cunt, pulling it back and licking the glob of Grayson's cum from her finger with a shudder.

She needed to talk to Grandmother herself. Grandma Auriane was the leader of the largest Veela coven in the world, she'd know what was going on. Her plans to fuck and dump Grayson were thrown to the side because she couldn't imagine her going back to a normal man. Something about Grayson drove her wild, and it was infuriating.

– Grayson Raum –

As Fleur leaves, I smile to myself. This room is warded enough that Nyphadora can't get into it easily. She's still following me around, hiding under her cloak or impersonating different students, but my eyes aren't so easily deceived.

Grabbing the portrait of Fleur, I quickly move it into my lair as I focus and expand it to add a new room. Fleur's portrait has the honour of being the first of my secret gallery, hidden away from the world.

The portrait stares back at me angrily, and I can almost feel her indignation. It doesn't move, but it is more or less alive. My new art lets me capture a lot more when I paint, and Fleur should have read that contract more carefully. She didn't sell a few hours of her time and her image, she signed away a part of her soul, now forever trapped in the portrait.

[Portrait of the Soul]

As a Demon Lord of the Arts, you can capture souls within paintings. This can kill the subject or simply form a bond between the subject and your painting. Once a bond is formed, you can affect the subject in a great many ways by changing the painting. 

This was expensive, but Fleur has just lost in every way that matters. If I painted Fleur burning to death, she would burn. If I change her looks in the painting, her body will change to match, and that's the smallest of the changes I could make to her.

More importantly, I've just gained my first true soul. I have plenty of people serving me, but this is the first time I've claimed someone's very soul; even if Fleur dies, she'll just find herself trapped in the painting. With some more upgrades, I could even enter the painting myself and interact with her.

Fleur is just the first; in time, I can build a true gallery of my servants. As long as the paintings aren't destroyed, their souls are mine. I plan to paint all my family, because this is effectively a form of immortality for mortals.

I can't do it for myself, but should the worst happen, then I'll have them safely stored away in my paintings, ready for resurrection. All I'd really need is to get someone else to agree to sell their body, and I'd be able to put any deceased followers into their body. 

Then, I just repaint the portrait to look like their original body and voila, it's like they never died. In my vision of the future, Heaven killed my mother and stole her soul to prevent resurrection, but they can't take a soul that I've already stolen. I'll need to massively increase the security of my lair before I am willing to risk having their souls stored within it, but I have some ideas for that. 

My growing collection of slaves and servants is helping me gain Essence at an increasing rate; the snowball is rolling faster and faster, and all I need to do is keep increasing my power base until I can roll over anything.

I've also come to a decision. I don't want Voldemort returning from the dead, which means our false professor needs to go. I have enough issues without dealing with a resurrected Dark Lord, even if that mostly falls under Rose's problem, from what I can tell.

I need to know what Barty knows so I can interrupt this resurrection and perhaps take the Dark Lord's soul for myself. It has to be worth a lot, but I should also be careful. Voldemort was so feared for a reason. I didn't come so far just to ruin things by underestimating him.

Framing the portrait of Fleur and hanging it up on the wall, I smile to myself as I consider my future subjects. I've gotten a lot of influence in Eastern Europe through my enslavement of Karkaroff and, through him, Durmstrang's elites, but France does love art.

Duchess Henrietta was impressed by my art, so if I make the painting I do for the Delacour matriarch a true masterpiece, Anna Henrietta will want her own. From there, how fast a country could fall.

Fleur doesn't realise it, but she's the first part of the defeat and enslavement of her entire country. The Veela Coven, the French nobles, Beauxbatons, they'll all make fine additions to my collection.

Then, I just need to deal with one issue: Dumbledore is dangerous; I need him gone. Perhaps I can leverage Barty Crouch to harm Dumbledore's standing and get him dismissed, but his fame and power are a powerful shield. I will need to deal with him politically because, despite his age, I have no doubt he is still a deadly combatant.

I need more allies in Britain before I can try and take down Dumbledore. Willing allies, unaware slaves, blackmailed pawns, I need them all to speed up my plans. Once Dumbledore is gone, I can start the corruption of Hogwarts to its fullest.

When Heaven comes for me, they'll find me more than prepared for them. Assuming I don't take the war to them first, I dislike being on the defensive.

Pulling out my brush, tipped with demonic mana, I look at Fleur's portrait with a smile as I start to paint. Maybe it's time for Pansy to have another modelling session? And Lavender would be thrilled to model for her beloved boyfriend. 

I intend to have a lot of models in the coming weeks.

— Bonus Scene — Molly Weasley

Honestly, what had Ginny gotten them into? 

Back home for her weekend off, she sighed to herself. An entire week where Ginny would be entirely at Gray's mercy, and she knew firsthand how little mercy he had. Ginny would leave this week a far more experienced girl, perhaps still a virgin but it was inevitable that Ginny would be used in a great many ways. That wasn't even mentioning the inevitability of having to have a threesome with her own daughter.

She was going to head back to Hogwarts despite having the weekend off, she needed to get the lead against Ginny. 

Why were her children so troublesome? Bill and Charlie were rebels, running away from home to search deadly tombs or play with dragons; Percy took politics far too seriously (she was sure he was secretly a Slytherin with how ambitious he was); the twins… Well, they were the twins. They'd been getting themselves into trouble since they were tykes, now they'd gotten the entire family into this mess. Ron was an underachiever, and now Ginny just casually sold herself into sexual slavery for a full week. When Ron and his poor grades were the least troublesome of her kids, something had gone very wrong.

She had to win this ridiculous competition because if not, then Ginny would take her place as Gray's sex toy. Yes, Ginny very clearly had a crush on Grayson, and she didn't blame her daughter for falling for such a bad boy (especially one that had helped her, given what she'd heard about Gray giving Ginny his Firebolt), but there was a difference between a crush and a lifetime of sexual slavery.

Ginny was rushing into something she had no experience with, like a true headstrong Gryffindor, not thinking about the very long-term consequences, and it was her duty to stop her daughter from potentially ruining her own life. A stray thought told her that being Gray's mistress wouldn't be bad at all for Ginny, but she shook her head. It was true, but if Ginny 'won', she'd be a slave in all but name.

Molly was… comfortable in her position despite everything. Yes, it was shameful to be at Gray's beck and call, to have him own her body, but it was the best for her family, and it wasn't like it was unpleasant. Gray was not a harsh master; he was patient and responsible; sure, he was very horny, but everyone had their issues.

Besides…

Grayson was a magnificent lover, something she'd been increasingly unable to deny. She had orgasmed more times in the past week than she had in years. Being younger and better endowed than Arthur, Gray had mastered the art of forcing her to climax. No matter how she tried to hold out, it was never long before she was crying out his name, shameful thoughts filling her head as a boy Ron's age gave her pleasure she'd never experienced before. Her nipples hardened at his mere presence, her womanhood dampening at the sound of his voice. Gray knew it as well; she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her.

She didn't necessarily love her new position, but she couldn't deny she'd come to enjoy their taboo liaisons. She even dreamt of him, her days and nights filled with degeneracy that would have scandalised her a month ago. She was content here, but Ginny was a free spirit; she'd chafe under Gray's stern hand. It would only be a matter of time before Ginny did something silly and got their family in trouble.

So, how was she supposed to ensure that she beat the 'younger model' as Ginny put it? Ginny was very competitive, and Molly feared what her silly daughter would do to earn Gray's affection and approval. Every time Ginny escalated, Molly would have to do the same to ensure Gray kept her and sent Ginny away.

Gray had already enjoyed her body countless times; just sleeping with him wasn't going to guarantee her victory. She needed to work out how to beat Ginny; this wasn't something she could leave up to chance. 

Ideas crossed her mind, but each of them had consequences. When he'd first taken her, he said he liked the idea of solidifying his victory over the twins by having their mother under him, so the idea of making the pair watch the consequences of their actions had crossed her mind.

It would change things; they wouldn't be able to see her the same after seeing Gray use her like a cheap harlot, and word would spread through her family, but was it better than Ginny taking her place? Almost certainly.

She'd have Arthur watch Gray use her like a two-knut whore, all while she begged for more and told Gray how much better he was in bed if it meant stopping Ginny from getting herself trapped serving Gray for the rest of her life. 

She still had her wedding dress; it might need some modification, but she could do that with a little magic; she could re-enact her wedding night with Gray instead, a further betrayal of her marriage than she was already doing.

One extreme idea made her pause. She could have him remove her contraceptive and give him the one thing she'd managed to prevent. It was a final, desperate act, but she could let him breed her. She wouldn't even consider it unless it seemed she was going to lose. Merlin, she hoped Ginny didn't push things that far.

Of course, another way was to prove her superiority over Ginny. Gray would want them both at the same time, and she just had to show her daughter up. Maybe she'd even discipline Ginny for Gray's enjoyment, as degenerate as it would be.

Frowning, she continued to work out how far she had to go to guarantee her 'victory'. What a joke; the only person winning her was Grayson himself. No matter what happened, Gray won while she and Ginny fought for the honour of serving him. Her prize would be years of taking Gray's cock instead of Ginny.

What a mess the twins had placed her in, where had she gone wrong with them?