Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3544205.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Voldemort, Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Amortentia, Voldemort_is_a_dirty_bastard, Sex_Toys, magical_subjugation,
      Harry_is_screwed, so_is_the_Light, Goodlooking_Voldemort, Bondage, Anal
      Sex, Anal_Fingering, Blow_Jobs, Sounding, Orgasm_Delay, Rape, Sexual
      Coercion, Mental_Coercion, Voldemort_is_a_Dark_Lord_for_a_reason, he_has
      no_morals, enslavement
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-14 Completed: 2015-04-05 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 10694
****** Artificial Affection ******
by SalaciousMind
Summary
     Voldemort can learn from his mistakes and incidentally ensures Love
     will end the war. Just... not the way Dumbledore had expected. Harry,
     naturally, doesn't get any choice.
Notes
     Got an idea stuck in my head, had to get it out. So here it is. Not
     sure whether I'll continue this AU, so for now it's marked as
     finished. I'm leaving myself some wriggle-room here.
     Hope you'll enjoy this depraved fic of mine.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Night shone through the grand window, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on
similarly colored skin. It reflected off the mirror in which an aristocratic
man was inspecting his body as if he’d never truly seen it before. In a way
that was exactly the case.
Lord Voldemort looked at his reflection, taking in the thick coils of deep red
runes that decorated his new form like a serpent’s embrace. He wasn’t sure why
he’d never thought of this before, but having several convenient arrays ready
for use at any time would sure prove profitable somewhere in the future. With
these in place he wouldn't need to rely on his wand as heavily as he had until
now. The runes enabled him to cast most common and dark spells without a wand
and without the decrease in strength wandless magic was prone to suffer from.
The runes however, were not the only reason he was paying so much attention to
his appearance.
Voldemort knew he would never look normal, but at least he didn’t stand out
like a sore thumb anymore. He was still unhealthy pale and his eyes still red,
but now he had a nose, and normal lips, and hair as thick and dark as he
remembered it from his time at Hogwarts. His skin actually looked quite
pleasant if you disregarded the color, and he’d lost the emaciated look.
It had taken a lot of effort to regain an acceptable resemblance to his teenage
self, but he believed it to be a good investment. People would be looking for a
man resembling a snake, not someone who could pass for a handsome vampire. It
made his movements less traceable.
To be honest it had pained him a bit to part from his previous look, as it had
been a testament to his dedication to his goals. But being reborn meant erasing
old features, and Lord Voldemort had never shied away from change, especially
if it was for the better.
It wasn't as if his appearance was the only thing he planned to change.
It was foolish really. Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can
live while the other survives.Yes, but what if one wasn’t surviving?He had
researched young Harry quite thoroughly and thus knew that ‘surviving’ was
actually an apt description. Both at home and at Hogwarts, always in danger,
always struggling either against a present threat or the memories of a past
one. And as Voldemort had proven himself, ‘to die’ did not necessarily meant
staying dead.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.
Which never said anything about a permanent vanquishing. As far as he was
concerned, that part had been proven that disastrous Halloween. And never was
it mentioned that power would be used again.
As luck would have it, Voldemort knew a way to ensure it never wouldbe.
A small vial stood on the bedside table, glowing eerily in the darkness. Pink
normally wouldn’t look this foreboding, but knowing what it was meant to do,
looking foreboding was perfectly appropriate. It was a delightful way for Lord
Voldemort to neutralize his enemy.
~X~
Harry twiddled his quill, listlessly staring at the homework before him.
Cedric was dead.
Harry had seen him die.
Who could care about homework?
Heaving a sigh he let his head thunk upon his desk. Harry knew he had to finish
it sooner or later, but he just couldn't muster the energy.
Might have something to do with the sleepless nights. Nightmares weren't what
you'd call restful.
He glanced at his calendar. 30th of July.
He looked at his clock. It read 11:52 pm. Eight minutes left till midnight.
Harry didn't feel any enthusiasm for the proximity of his birthday. For a
moment the considered just going to sleep. He knew the owls would wait for a
convenient moment to deliver the mail; that is, assuming his friends had had
the decency to sent something more than apologetic letters for his birthday.
… No, better not. Harry really didn't want to risk his uncle going on a rampage
should the neighbors happen to notice the birds in the morning. Best just to
let them in now.
Yawning, Harry rose from his desk and opened the window, the only thing not
rickety in the entire room, with the exception of the door. It opened with only
a tiny squeak, not nearly enough to wake the Dursleys.
Another look at the clock. Almost time. Harry prepared a few dishes of water
and dug up the owl treats.
In the distance the church bells rang twelve. Harry turned just in time to
watch several owls land on his bed, each carrying a package.
Despite everything, Harry smiled a little, especially when he spotted Hedwig
with several packages. He gently stroked her snowy head. “Welcome back, girl,”
Harry murmured.
And then he frowned, an icy feeling rising in his gut.
There was one owl too many.
Harry narrowed his eyes. He believed he recognized every owl in front of him.
One was Errol, an other was Pigwidgeon, and he was pretty sure he recognized
the majestic eagle owl as one of the public owls from Hogwarts.
The only one he didn't recognize was a nondescript barn owl with a letter and a
medium-sized package tied to its legs.
Harry frowned. Who could have sent it?
Just to be on the safe side he put on his dragon-hide gloves before reaching
for the letter. Harry had learned his lesson from Hermione's hate-mail after
Skeeter's horrid article.
He paused, for a moment considering simply sending the owl straight to
Dumbledore. But no, he didn't want to look like a paranoid idiot if it turned
out to be from someone he should have remembered.
He perked up. Hey, maybe it was from Lupin. Lupin had been a friend of his
father after all, so maybe his year he'd sent something! Fifteen might be an
important magical number in the Wizarding World, so... maybe?
… Yeah, no. Who was he kidding? He laughed derisively at himself. He had to be
really desperate to think a man he'd only known as a professor would send
something.
Hope springs eternal.
Scowling, Harry shoved his disappointed feelings aside and leaned out of the
window, arms outstretched as he opened the letter in case it spilled something
hazardous.
It opened like any other letter.
Shaking his head at his own paranoia Harry relaxed, yelping as he almost let go
of the piece of parchment.
Slowly he unfolded the letter, eyes skimming over the words. The last traces of
tension left him. Harry almost laughed at himself, but refrained for the sake
of not waking his family. So much hassle when it was just Hermione being too
practical for her own good!
Smiling, he took off his gloves and started to read.
Dear Harry,
First of all: Happy Birthday! I hope the owl arrived on time. As I'm going to
stay somewhere else for most of the summer and couldn't  be sure I would be
able to mail you, so I decided to send your present beforehand. The man at the
Post Office in Diagon Alley assured  me delayed mail was no problem, but I
couldn't help but be concerned.
Please let me know if it worked? By now you should have figured out whether or
not we can send owls to each other....
Hermione
PS. There's a stasis charm on the box that will break once it is no longer
replenished. It only lasts a few hours, so take care to eat  the most
perishable snack soon. I hope you like it!
Curious, Harry opened the box. On top of several packs of sugar-free snacks sat
a white box with 'me first!' written on top.
Harry raised the lid and blinked in surprise. It contained a small cake with
lots of whipped cream and strawberries. Happy birthday, Harry! was scrawled
over the top with chocolate. He ran a finger through the cream and stuck it in
his mouth. It tasted perfect, at if it had just been made. Far better than the
stuff the Dursleys deigned to allow him.
Idly Harry wondered how the pastry was still in one piece after the flight.
Definitely some sort of spell. He made a mental note to ask. Thatshould be a
question she could safely answer over the mail.
Carefully placing the box on his desk he relieved the other owls from their
loads. For a moment Harry reached for the next letter, but then he decided
against it. He was a bit hungry and the cream had been very good. He knew
pastries like those, having watched the Dursleys consume them by the dozen.
Cream always tended to sag after a while, so they were best eaten as soon as
possible.
The other presents could wait.
~X~
Harry didn't know what hit him. One moment he was simply enjoying his birthday
cake, the next he couldn't tell up from down from the sudden maelstrom of
emotions crashing through him. Most prominent was a yearning, no, a burning
desire for someone he couldn't quite remember.
He shivered, running a hand over his face. What was happening? He wanted- He
wanted... Gods, he didn't know, but he was almost desperate for it.
A whisper of wind made him turn around. Another owl had arrived, this one small
and almost midnight black. Harry blinked, absentmindedly thinking the miniature
bird would be almost impossible to see at night. Would probably look like one
of those tiny bats from the neighborhood that Aunt Petunia sometimes complained
about...
Gracefully it landed on his desk and held out its leg.
For some reason Harry's hands shook as he untied the dark envelope it carried.
There was just something about it that niggled in the back of his head...
Dear Mr. Potter,it read.
Recently it has come to my attention that you are someone I would dearly get to
know better. You are a fascinating young man that  does not deserve the way
life has treated you and I wish I could offer you more than mere sympathetic
words.
Unfortunately I cannot approach you myself, so though I know it is very abrupt,
I would like to invite you to visit me at your convenience.  All you have to do
is put on the ring (see envelope), step outside any wards that might hamper a
portkey, and say 'I now depart'.  The portkey will bring you straight to my
home.
I pray to see you soon.
Your sincerely,
V.
The niggling feeling was gone, washed away in a rush of joy. He didn't know
how, but he knew this V. was the one he was yearning for. He wanted to meet
him, to see him, to have a face to go with the mysterious initial. For a
second, just one second, he froze, wondering where the hell the feeling came
from, and why on earth he even considered going. He should contact Dumbledore-
Harry shook his head, doubts abruptly vanishing as if they'd never existed in
the first place. Instead, he only felt elation and hope, and a startling
intense fervor he couldn't explain even if his life depended on it. What on
earth was he thinking? Here was a perfect chance to escape the Dursleys, to
finally have someone who cared.
Eagerly he turned the envelope upside down, grinning when a silver ring landed
in his hand. It was a simple, unadorned band of polished metal. Nothing
special.
It made Harry happier than anything else ever had.
Putting it on he admired it for a short moment before racing to his trunk,
throwing it open without a care about noise. The Dursleys snored too loudly
anyway.
Cloak, cloak, where was his invisibility cloak? Harry haphazardly threw
everything out of his trunk, franticly searching for the telltale gleam of
silvery fabric.
There!
Triumphantly he pulled the cloak out of the mess, barely stopping to throw it
on before rushing out of the door. Halfway down the stairs the paused and bit
his lip.
Hastily he rushed back to his room, smiling at a perplexed looking Hedwig.
“Sorry girl, but I can't take you with me. Go to Hermione, she'll take care of
you until I get back, okay?” Harry told her, gently petting the soft feathers
on her head.
For a long moment she stared at him. He smiled back. She gave a soft hoot that
sounded oddly concerned.
“Don't worry, Hedwig, I'll be fine. I'm just going to visit someone,” he
soothed.
Finally she gave him a reluctant nod. Harry smiled brightly at her. “Thank you
Hedwig. I'll see you soon.”
Then he turned, rushing down the stairs. With a grin he aimed his wand at the
cupboard. Even now Uncle Vernon insisted on having his broom under lock and
key. Harry almost laughed. Didn't his Uncle realize how little locks meant in
the face of magic?
The idea he might get in trouble for underage magic never occurred to him. He
just needed to meet V. as soon as possible.
Mere seconds later he was outside, cloak wrapped tightly around him. Wouldn't
do for the neighbors to see him. Even in the backyard there was a chance they
would if they looked out of their window.
Just to be safe, Harry quickly mounted his broom. He saw an owl soar past and
grinned wider than ever.
Then he kicked off, wind rushing past him with dazzling speed. Somewhere down
below he heard a man shout.
Hehe... Oops? Sounds like I was seen after all.
~X~
A few minutes and many, many miles later Harry landed with a thud on a grassy
lawn, head still spinning from the portkey. Luckily his broom hadn't broken
from the fall. He shook his head, trying to get the world to stand still. Maybe
he should have considered the possible consequences of activating a portkey in
mid-air before he did it.
When his vision had settled, Harry got up took an eager look around. He had
arrived in front of a beautiful old mansion, the kind you expected to belong to
an ancient noble family, or in a movie with some of those gentleman special
agents who always got the hot girls. V. had to be very rich, to call such a
magnificent building his home.
Oddly bereft of any form of hesitance, Harry dusted himself off and ran to the
door, or rather, double doors, entirely forgetting about the broom and cloak
left behind in the grass. It was not as if he was planning to use them anyway.
The door were at the top of a short but broad staircase and turned out to be
impressively large and decorative, made from thick, dark wood and elegantly
wrought iron, with grand leadlight windows made from frosted, colored glass in
the top halves of the doors. For a moment Harry paused, before shrugging off
the intimidating air of the building and knocking.
He barely had time to get nervous before one of the doors opened and an
agitated-looking house elf beckoned him inside. Harry followed the small
creature eagerly, gasping at the magnificent decor of V.'s home. V. was clearly
very well off.
When, after several minutes of being guided through lavish halls, he and the
elf finally arrived at their destination. In that time Harry's nerves had had
more than enough time to develop, and nothing Harry tried stopped the shaking
of his hands.
He swallowed harshly as the elf opened big drawing room doors, the creature
bowing deeply before ushering him inside. In vain Harry tried to calm his
racing heart, that for some reason had jumped into his throat and seemed
perfectly content to stay there, making it impossible for Harry to thank the
elf.
Wiping his clammy hands on his pants, he stepped inside. The doors closed
silently behind him.
~X~
Dumbledore sat with his head in his hands, despair like a leaden ball in his
stomach. It hadn't been too difficult to pierce the sequence of events together
that had led to Harry's disappearance, and never had their mistakes been more
glaringly obvious.
They should have protected Harry's friends better. Somewhere between the start
of the holidays and Miss Granger's arrival at Grimmauld Place someone had cast
the Imperius Curse over her, forcing her to prepare a birthday gift and an
accompanying letter – both which had been found in Harry's room, carrying
traces of rare, subtle compulsion charms – and afterwards erased the entire
event from her memory.
They should have placed more protective wards around the Dursleys' home,
ensuring that no dangerous magical objects or substances could be smuggled in
with the post. Then no one would have been able to sent Harry a portkey, or a
cake laced with a will-influencing potion. Severus had examined it and
concluded there were similarities between the unknown potion and Amortentia; a
revelation that had filled everyone with horror and dread.
They should have kept a closer watch on Harry, maybe even let him know he was
being tailed so they could have been in the room with him. Maybe then they
could have stopped the boy, kept him from falling for Voldemort's trap; and
Dumbledore had no doubt it was Voldemort's, no one else would have adequate
motives to forge such an ingenious, daring plan to lure Harry away.
They should have taken Harry's broom. Because they hadn't done that Harry had
been able to get past the wards before his watcher – a role Mundungus had
fulfilled that night – had been able to stop him.
They should have, they should have, they should have. Too many mistakes had
been made. Too many regrets and things they should have done.
They hadn't, and now Harry was paying the price.
From his perch Fawkes cried his grief to the skies. Even the magnificent bird
couldn't retrieve the Boy-Who-Lived from wherever Voldemort had hidden him. The
Dark Lord had found a way to ward out phoenixes.
Lamenting his faults, a miserably despondent Dumbledore wondered whether they'd
ever see the boy again.
~X~
Harry gasped when he finally laid eyes on his host. Pale, near white skin, like
cream or fine porcelain. Dark hair falling in waves, framing an unbelievably
handsome, aristocratic face. Eyes red as rubies, sending a shiver of unease
down Harry's spine before they met his green ones and Harry forgot everything
as he drowned in a sea of rich, blazing carmine.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
And then V. spoke. It was like music, only better. Soothing, and pleasant, and
lighting a blaze of heat in Harry's stomach that made him shiver.
“Hello Harry.”
Harry couldn't answer, only stare as V. rose from his seat and smiled at him,
coming to a stop right before him and reaching out with elegant hands to cradle
his face. Absently, Harry realized he was probably blushing like mad, his body
suddenly feeling fever warm. Electrifying heat radiated from where V.'s hands
rested upon his face, crimson eyes studying him closely in a way that made
Harry's insides squirm.
“H-hello,” Harry managed to croak past the lump in his throat. He fidgeted,
wanting to reach out and touch V.'s face in return, but not sure how such an
action would be received.
Then V. took his hand, pulling him towards the couch. Dazed, Harry let V.
manhandle him in a seated position, eyes flying wide open when V. sat down next
to him and pulled him close against his side, one hand resting inappropriately
low on Harry's hip. The other hand turned Harry's face towards him, bringing
him close enough for V. to rest his lips against Harry's ear.
“Do you know who I am, Harry?”
Harry shivered at the sensation of V.'s warm breath against his ear, the sultry
tone sinking straight into his blood, making it rush southwards much to Harry's
embarrassment.
“N-no...?”
Harry could feel V.'s smirk, and squeaked when something hot and wet traced the
outer shell of his ear, followed by teeth nipping softly at his earlobe. He
squirmed as V.'s hand slipped even lower, just beneath the waistband of his
pants and uncomfortably close to the hard proof of the effect the man had on
him.
“I am Lord Voldemort.”
Distantly, Harry was aware that the revelation should upset him. Even more
distantly Harry was aware that it was really, really wrong that it didn't,
especially because it meant that it was the murderer of his parents who was
molesting him. For a moment fear and bewilderment fought to reach the forefront
of his mind, but the sensation of lips sliding over his cheek distracted him
and blew the interfering emotions away in a blaze of heat and guilty arousal.
“What, no reaction?” Voldemort murmured against Harry's skin, sounding
inordinately pleased. “Don't you care, little Boy-Who-Lived? I've killed people
precious to you and tortured you. Will you just let me do as I please?”
Harry shuddered in his grasp, breath hitching when Voldemort buried one hand in
his hair and pulled his head back to expose his throat, the other hand sliding
fully into his pants, gently touching the base of his sex before sliding to he
back and lightly resting against his entrance. Harry moaned.
“Answer me, Harry,” Voldemort whispered in his ear.
“N-no.”
“No? You don't care?”
Harry whined, softly keening as Voldemort's finger pressed harder against his
entrance and silken lips brushed against his, a slick tongue darting out to
taste him.
“No,” the teen whispered.
Voldemort laughed, before brutally claiming Harry's mouth, sliding his too long
tongue deep in into the teen's eager cavern, roughly plundering the sweet
recesses. “Then submit and spread your legs, little pet.”
Harry trembled in his grasp, welcoming Voldemort's corrupting touch. He never
noticed the glint of victory in the Dark Lord's red gaze.
He didnotice when Voldemort forced him on his knees before him, placing Harry
between his long legs and opening his pants to free his erect manhood. Harry's
eyes widened in trepidation, but nonetheless allowed the Dark Lord to grab him
by his hair and rub the leaking head of his hardness against his lips. Harry
gasped, accidentally breathing in the musky scent, causing more heat to pool in
his stomach.
Voldemort smirked and dragged Harry towards him, sliding his heated flesh into
the teen's mouth.
“Suck,” he ordered.
Harry shivered, eyes glazed and lips trembling around the Dark Lord's manhood.
Hesitantly, he obeyed, sucking and licking, shyly accepting the violation of
his mouth for reasons he couldn't comprehend. Voldemort groaned, thrusting in
and out, relishing in Harry's submissive obedience.
“Aren't you a good little pet,” he crooned, forcing Harry to take him deeper.
“Already sucking my cock so eagerly, just begging to be abused.”
Harry moaned, knowing something was wrong with those words, but not in the
slightest bit able to care. He looked up at cruel red eyes, mindlessly obeying
Voldemort's directions, only weakly fighting his hold when the man pushed a bit
too deep and threatened to make him choke.
Smirking, Voldemort plucked Harry's glasses off his nose, rendering the boy in
his grasp half blind, only capable of discerning hazy shapes, forcing him to
concentrate fully on the turgid flesh filling his mouth and the taste of his
nemesis on his tongue. Involuntarily, Harry groaned, tongue and jaw starting to
ache from the effort of bringing Voldemort to completion.
The Dark Lord let his head fall back, obviously affected by the sensation of
Harry voicing his pleasure. Soon he commanded Harry to increase his efforts and
Harry obeyed, arousal and embarrassment turning the teen's cheeks crimson from
the lewd sounds he produced.
“Such a good pet,” Voldemort purred, before thrusting deep into Harry's mouth,
almost making him gag. “Make sure to swallow everything.”
Harry did gag at the sudden explosion of viscous liquid in his mouth, a shudder
running down his spine when he realized what he tasted was the Dark Lord's
seed. Obeying Voldemort's command he swallowed thickly, trying to catch every
drop. He didn't really succeed, instead making quite a mess of himself as the
liquid splashed against his lips and face as he pulled back for air, dribbling
down his chin and over his throat.
He shivered, panting from the exertion while Voldemort held his hair in a tight
grasp.
“Clean yourself.”
Blinking, Harry tried to push past the haze in his head and think of a way to
do so, absently licking his lips. Deciding on the easiest solution, he started
wiping Voldemort's seed off his face, licking his hands clean to enjoy more of
the slippery liquid. He barely noticed Voldemort's self-satisfied stare, only
registering that the man was looking at him once he was done.
Harry blinked, unable to truly make out Voldemort's expression, but eagerly
awaiting his next orders, squirming from his own unfulfilled desire.
“Come,” Voldemort commanded, rising from his seat after having brought his
clothes back in order, and sweeping out of the room.
Harry followed on wobbly legs.
~X~
Voldemort was very pleased with himself, smiling as he heard the Boy-Who-
Lived's unsteady gait behind him. Entering the bedroom he had the elves prepare
in advance, he turned and waited for the boy to catch up.
Soon enough Harry did, stumbling into the room with wide eyes and arousal
coloring his face. Voldemort was highly satisfied with the results of his
potion.
“Do you want to please me, Harry?” he asked, just to be cruel. At the boy's
almost frantic nod Voldemort smirked. “Then undress yourself and get on the
bed.”
Harry blushed and his hands trembled from anxiety as he obeyed. Voldemort
decided he liked the way the boy timidly lowered his gaze as he stripped
himself.
The young wizard shivered at the loss of warmth when he let his clothes slide
to the ground, timorously reveling in the feeling of those red eyes resting
their heavy gaze upon him. He climbed on the bed, clearly noticing that the
blankets were folded at the foot, leaving a lot of space for whatever
activities the other wished to indulge in. The Dark Lord smirked at the
resulting shiver.
Voldemort eyed the teen appreciatively, licking his lips at the sight of all
that young flesh awaiting his touch. He glided over, his robes whispering
around his bare feet. Gently he grabbed the boy’s chin, a soft caress all that
was needed for Harry to give him unobstructed access to his body. He turned the
face in his grasp from side to side, feigning thoughtfulness as his other hand
trailed over a creamy inner thigh.
“Beautiful…” He whispered. “Although...-“ A wave with his hand and a thick
black collar flew from one of the drawers. It was decorated with a silver ring
that immediately brought a leash to mind, a visible proof of ownership. Harry
smiled when Voldemort placed it around his throat, uncaring that the ends that
fused upon meeting each other, making it impossible for him to take it off.
“There.” Voldemort smiled as he sat down and pulled the teen on his lap,
running long fingers over smooth skin. Harry shivered when pale hands squeezed
the globes of his ass and his archenemy stroked the sensitive ring of his
entrance. A wandless spell elicited a gasp as slickness invaded his passage and
Voldemort pushed one long digit deep inside. The boy whimpered in his grasp,
squirming as the first finger was soon joined by two others, stretching and
searching and heightening his arousal.
“Voldemort,-“ he moaned. The fingers within him stilled as Voldemort other hand
grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head back, exposing his throat.
“You will address me as Master, Harry. Am I clear?” Voldemort said calmly,
letting an icy hint of threat leak into his voice.
“Y-yes, Master,” Harry gasped, blushing deep red from arousal and embarrassment
in equal measures. Almost involuntarily, the teen rocked forward a little in an
attempt to get some friction against his erect manhood. “Master, please…”
Voldemort eyed him thoughtfully, before removing his fingers from the boy’s
insides, inwardly pleased at the whimper of protest.
With a few flicks of the Dark Lord's hand Harry was on his knees on the bed,
wrists covered by soft, unyielding leather chained to the ceiling. The thin
chain forced the teen to hang on his wrists as the chain was too short to
actually sit. Another flick summoned several items, including two phallus-
shaped objects.
One was a gag that rested almost uncomfortably close to the back of Harry’s
throat, threatening to make him choke when Voldemort put it in place. A spark
of wandless magic secured the gag behind the boy's head.
The other item was significantly longer, with ridges and bumps that made Harry
feel every inch as his Master stretched him fare more than he was prepared for,
pushing it deep into his clenching passage. Voldemort’s eyes devoured the
sight, lust flickering in the red orbs as the boy visibly struggled to accept
the toy inside. It wasn't as big as a real cock, but for the inexperienced boy
it was almost more than he could bear to take.
Tilting his head, Voldemort slowly pulled the toy out, watching Harry sag as
the pressure within receded, before cruelly slamming the toy phallus back in,
incidentally hitting Harry's prostrate head on, drawing a truly delightful
shriek out of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry panted harshly around the gag, eyes wide and so dark with nervous
anticipation it was almost fear. Voldemort lightly ran a finger over the boy's
stretched lips, enjoying the way Harry squirmed and shifted, trying to get more
of his touch while attempting to move the slightly too big toy from where it
was pressing hard against his prostrate, sending wave upon wave of molten heat
through the boy's body.
The Dark Lord relished in watching Harry shiver as he picked up the next item,
a thin, flexible rod a little shorter than a hand, topped on one end with a
round knob. Slowly Voldemort reached for Harry's erect flesh, grasping it
gently yet firmly, making Harry let out a muffled moan. With sadistic delight
the Dark Lord pressed the tip of the rod into Harry's slit, feeding the rod to
the swollen organ and slowly filling the boy's shaft, using copious amounts of
magic to ease the intrusion and keep it from harming the boy. Harry screamed
and writhed, not able to stand the feeling of having such a sensitive organ
invaded so intimately, sobbing at the pleasure the agonizingly slow increase of
pressure inside his urethra wrought on him.
Finally the toy was in place, the knob pressed all the way against Harry's
sensitive head. Harry was keening and whimpering around the gag, hanging limply
from the ceiling, shaking from head to toe.
Voldemort smirked at the sight. He wasn't done yet.
Next was a black leather harness that fit snugly around Harry's form, broad
bands looping across his tights and waist, running up over his chest to link to
a pair of braces around his arms. Two bands crisscrossed over the boy's chest,
straight over his nipples. Another band ran between the boy's legs, spreading
his ass-cheeks a little and making it impossible for the plug filling his ass
to slip out. A bead the size of a small walnut pressed against his perineum and
snug pouches trapped both balls and cock in an intimate embrace of leather,
pressing the rod just a bit deeper in Harry's already overly sensitive manhood.
Every bit of leather was on the inside studded with beads that massaged every
erogenous zone on the boy's body, just hard enough to make Harry squirm to
escape the resulting sensations.
The Dark Lord took a step back to admire his handiwork. “There, pet, all set
for the night.”
Voldemort smirked at the wide green eyes that suddenly looked so startled. A
whispered activatecaused the beads to start stimulating the boy's skin by
massaging it to the point of blazing hypersensitivity, and the plug to vibrate
and move back and forth inside the boy, creating a delicious stream of muffled
screams and shrieks, making the sobbing boy mindlessly trash against his bonds
in an attempt to escape the onslaught.
Almost as an afterthought Voldemort waved his hand, denying his new pet any
chance at respite. Harry would not orgasm nor tire, only suffer hour upon hour
until the pleasure itself became a form of torture, forever hovering on the
edge of unbearable until the Dark Lord saw fit to release him. In the morning
he wouldn't need magic to get Harry to agree to anything he wanted.
Voldemort turned and left Harry to the sexual torture.
~X~
Harry couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't see, drowning as he was in an
ocean of crushing, ever encompassing pleasure.
The toys. Oh god, the toys.
Gag in his mouth, making his jaw ache and breath short and letting saliva leak
past his lips and drip down his chin because it was just that bit too big.
Spots danced before his eyes, the air he sucked in through his nose never
seeming quite enough, the gag somehow an almost comforting weight on his
tongue.
Beads pressing against all sensitive spots – like fingers, oh Merlin, like
countless fingers pressing and pushing and rubbing and they just didn't stop –
against his sides, on the inside of his thighs, over his nipples – and Harry
had never believed those parts of him could feel both sore and ablaze, with
electric sparks dancing across like lightning – and worst of all, between his
legs. One pressing against an insane spot between his ass and balls that sent a
wave of scalding pleasure crashing through him with every vibration, and
countless smaller ones against his balls and cock, sending buzzing ripples down
the rod that stuffed his manhood past what Harry had ever believed possible,
driving him into a mindless frenzy.
The fake cock still stretched his insides, not letting up for even a moment,
moving back and forth across that maddening spot inside and buzzing, and would
have made him feel as if he was intensively massaged from the inside out if it
hadn't also turned his bones into liquid lust.
And he still hadn't come.
By now Harry was just one big nerve, twitching and exposed and tingling in pure
rapture, so far over the edge of desperation he couldn't even remember his own
name.
Sense of self gone, consumed by the fires inside.
Harry would promise anything, do anything, to get release, even if it was his
worst enemy offering it.
~X~
Voldemort regarded the scene before him, taking one long moment to etch it into
his memory.
Harry, suspended and dripping sweat, limp in his bonds except for the shudders
that wracked his slim frame, green eyes glazed and unseeing, and cock jutting
out straight and begging; exactly the way Voldemort had intended when he left
the boy the previous evening.
The Dark Lord couldn't suppress a shiver of anticipation, feeling himself
harden in response.
Delicious.
Slowly he touched the boy's quivering stomach, delight lightening up his red
eyes as Harry tried to jerk away with a whimpering moan.
Oh yes, the boy was ready.
Quickly the Dark Lord checked for traces of magic on the teen. The altered
Amortentia had ceased working, its effects no longer necessary due to the
almost incoherent state Harry was in, the only active piece of magic on the boy
the toys and the endurance spells.
He would wait with removing those a little longer.
Within moments he had disconnected the cuffs on the boy's wrist from the chain,
catching Harry with a levitation charm before he could topple.
Harry let out a low, drawn-out whine at the sudden change of position,
squirming and twisting as Voldemort floated the boy through the halls to the
room he had prepared.
Entering through the big double doors Voldemort placed his nemesis on a bed
covered with white sheets and painstakingly drawn runic patterns. It was
surrounded by a huge ritual circle, all ready and practically humming with the
magic the Dark Lord would soon invoke.
With a flick of his wand another length of chain attached to the cuffs on
Harry's wrists, locking them above the boy's head once more. This time Harry
was on his back on the bed, legs stretched out before him and spread wantonly,
writhing and moaning because Voldemort hadn't let the toys relent for even a
second. The Dark Lord needed the Boy-Who-Lived as incoherent as possible
without having to resort to magic that might interfere with the ritual, which
included all magic except the most basic ones. Useless spells that would do
nothing to make Harry succumb to his will.
“Soon, pet, soon,” he murmured, playing with the ring on Harry's collar.
Voldemort then petrified the boy. He couldn't allow his soon-to-be pet to move
around while he made the last preparations.
With a vicious smile the Dark Lord placed the tip of his wand against the top
of Harry's sternum, right in the middle of the manubrium, and cast a strong
numbing spell on the area to ensure Harry wouldn't snap out of his daze. Slowly
Voldemort burned the rune Tiwaz in the boy's skin, focusing his mind on the
aspects of the rune he wanted to exploit so his intent would embed them deeply
in the boy's mind.
Self-sacrifice.
Loyalty.
Faith.
A bit of his blood to coat the seared lines with his magical signature, binding
the rune to him and him alone. Voldemort had worked hard to capture his prey
and he refused to share his prize.
He leaned back to study his handiwork. And smiled. Perfect.
Without further fanfare he ended all spells on Harry, vanishing the strap
between the boy's legs in one fluid move. Quickly he slipped a cock-ring over
the boy's weeping manhood, aided by the slick pre-cum leaking liberally past
the rod still lodged inside, and took care to check that the ring fitted snugly
around the base of the swollen organ so the boy wouldn't come prematurely.
Voldemort flicked the knob of the rod, enjoying Harry's weak, muffled scream.
Spotting a spark of coherence in the boy's unfocused eyes the Dark Lord removed
the gag, smirking when Harry's pleading noises suddenly became that much
louder.
Harry swallowed hard, gaze fixated on the man he couldn't possibly see clearly
without his glasses. Voldemort made a mental note to get the boy's eyes fixed
later. Those vivid green eyes were far more beautiful without them. The boy's
voice was hoarse and raw when he finally managed to speak. “Ma... ster... M-
Master....”
“Hello, my pet,” Voldemort greeted pleasantly, somewhat curious to see how
lucid Harry really was.
“P-please... please,Master... I-I can't....” The words trailed off in a sob.
The Dark Lord smirked. Lucid enough to speak, but not enough to wonder who he
was pleading to. Absolutely perfect.
“Easy, pet, just a little longer,” he promised soothingly, grasping the knob of
the rod. When he started to pull a hoarse scream was his reward. Voldemort
slowed down to make the boy's torment last a little longer. The creeping
extraction of the rod reduced the Boy-Who-Lived to a weeping, babbling mess, an
endless string of pleas and cries falling from his trembling lips.
Seeing his nemesis reduced to this state was a huge turn-on for the Dark Lord,
making his manhood stand proudly beneath his robes, eager to claim the boy
completely.
Finally, the rod slipped free, immediately followed by a thick, steady dribble
of pre-cum. Voldemort carelessly threw the tool into a corner.
With a final flourish he vanished his clothes. Placing his wand on a table just
outside the rune circle Voldemort took one moment to drink in the sight of the
Boy-Who-Lived in such a wanton, debauched state, crying and begging to be
fucked by the murderer of his parents. It was better than anything else
Voldemort could have done to the teen.
Sliding between the boy's trembling legs, Voldemort ran appreciative hands over
Harry's sweat-slick skin, enjoying how the boy trembled under his fingers.
Grabbing the boy beneath his knees he guided the legs up, spreading them wide
and exposing Harry's reddened entrance and the base of the toy that had fucked
it open. Licking his lips, Voldemort grabbed the toy an cruelly yanked it out
in one smooth move, making Harry cry out at the top of his lungs.
Before the boy could regain his breath Voldemort slammed himself inside,
sheathing his hard cock inside the teen's passage with a groan of satisfaction.
Harry threw his head back, mouth open in a soundless scream. Voldemort was
quite a bit bigger than the toy, stretching Harry further and making him feel
it every inch of his cock as it invaded his violated hole despite the night
he'd had.
Voldemort stroked the boy's face almost lovingly. “You're going to confirm
every claim I make and repeat it. Am I clear?”
Harry's head lolled to the side, leaning into the touch limp like a rag doll,
soft whimpers and pants rushing from his parted lips.
“Am I clear?”Voldemort demanded, thrusting hard into Harry's pliant body.
“Ye- Yes...,” Harry gasped, weakly wriggling to adjust to the heat and pressure
filling him to the brim.
“What are you going to do?” Voldemort asked softly, dangerously, as he pulled
back for a moment, before roughly filling the boy again.
“C- Confirm every cla-claim and-... and repeat it...” Harry whimpered, glazed
eyes wandering without seeing anything.
“Good boy,” Voldemort purred.
Muttering incantations under his breath the Dark Lord started the ritual, runes
flaring up brightly around them, including the one on Harry's chest. Slowly he
rolled his hips, making Harry moan weakly.
“I am your Master,” Voldemort declared, his tone brooking no argument.
For a moment Harry just stared, uncomprehending, before an particularly hard
thrust snapped him out of it. “You- You are my M-Master,” he stuttered, whining
long and low as Voldemort rewarded him with a few long strokes over his
neglected manhood.
“I am your Owner.”
This time Harry caught on faster, repeating the phrase almost desperately. “You
are my Owner.”
Again Voldemort pushed his hard cock into the Boy-Who-Lived, relishing in this
almost effortless conquest of the child that had been his downfall. “You are
mine, Heart, Body, and Soul.”
The last thrust had hit Harry's prostrate head on, and Harry only blinked
confused as he tried to regain his breath.
Voldemort tightened his grip on Harry's hips, probably leaving bruises, and
repeated the phrase.
“I-I am yo-yours, Heart, Body, and S-Soul.”
Voldemort smirked. “You belong to me for eternity.”
“I belong to you f-for eternity.”
“You are my property.”
Shuddering, Harry rasped, “I am your property.”
Red eyes trained on hazy green, Voldemort knew he was almost there. Within
moments the Boy-Who-Lived would be no more, reincarnated as the Dark Lord's own
personal human toy.
“You are MINE.”
Victory was so close he could taste it. Just one last step, one last response
to seal the boy's fate....
“I am yours,” Harry repeated dutifully.
Blinding light flashed from all the runes in the room, and with a victorious
shout Voldemort came within his nemesis, filling the boy with his essence and
making the binding permanent. Riding out his high the Dark Lord kept fucking
Harry's unresisting body as he watched the rune etch itself into the boy's
flesh, a pitch black tattoo that proclaimed Voldemort's triumph and ownership
for all the world to see.
The Boy-Who-Lived was dead. Exterminated. Utterly destroyed.
Voldemort had won.
Sobbing whimpers drew his attention. With a self-satisfied smile Voldemort
gently petted the boy whose passage was still clenching around him like a vice.
“Such a good pet,” he murmured. “Let Master give you your reward.”
He removed the cock-ring and fisted Harry's hard manhood. The former Boy-Who-
Lived wailed and came in seconds, passing out soon after.
Voldemort didn't care and simply ordered a House Elf to clean up everything. He
had a victory to celebrate.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     So, not entirely expected so soon, but here's the next chapter.
     Again, not sure whether there'll be more after this.
     And to Krysania and Sol-chan (yes, I followed your discussion, even
     if I'm not in the habit to reply myself), sorry, but I'm not planning
     to turn this into a story with any real plot. The first chapter was
     basically to make the situation at least vaguely plausible and to
     explain some of the stuff going on. This is PORN, plain and simple,
     and just a way from me to get a hell lot of naughty images out of my
     head.
     That said, if either of you (or other readers) do want to turn this
     into a real story: feel free to do so. All I ask is credit for what
     I've written. And a notification, so I can check it out for myself
     and/or direct others towards that work.
     Now, onto the story. Enjoy!
 
When Harry woke up he had no idea where he was. It took him a while to realize
the intricate designs he had been staring at were located on a ceiling. A very
beautiful ceiling, in fact. What the hell?
Automatically he reached towards his nightstand to get his glasses, before he
realized he was seeing perfectly clear already. Had he fallen asleep without
taking them off? He reached for his face, fully expecting his fingers to meet
wiry frames, but there was nothing.
He blinked a few times. Perfectly clear vision. He ran his fingers over the
bridge of his nose. No glasses.
The fuck?
Trying to get up to find a mirror turned out to be a bad idea. Harry had to
bite back a painfully surprised whimper when he realized exactly how bad his
body ached. The soft bed he was lying on did little to soothe his sore muscles,
which felt as if he'd had a bit too enthusiastic wrestling match with one of
Hagrid's pets. Especially his arms. Damn, what happened?
“Young master?” a squeaking, high-pitched voice asked.
Slowly peering over the side of the bed – which was frickin' huge; how had he
ended up here? – Harry discovered that the one who had spoken to him stood in
the middle of the – he suddenly noticed – lavish room and bore a striking
resemblance to Dobby. He supposed the voice should have been a clue.
“W-what?” Harry croaked, coughing when he found his throat was even sorer than
his body, as if he'd been to an exciting quidditch match or something and had
screamed himself hoarse. Seriously, what had he been doing yesterday? Last he
remembered was trying to do his homework-
He froze. No, that was notthe last thing he remembered. He shivered. No. No!No
way in hell-
Harry let his head drop, desperately trying to keep from hyperventilating. The
cake. The letters. The portkey-
V. turning out to be none other than Voldemort himself.
Fighting to keep the bile in his throat from rising, he shuddered from sheer
horror when he realized the odd taste in his mouth was from sucking the man's
cocklike a goddamnwhore, from willingly letting the Dark Lord ejaculate into
his mouth and licking that monster's cum from hisface like some fucked up cat.
Harry giggled hysterically at the unintended joke. Fucked up. Haha.
His amusement was short-lived. He had swallowed Voldemort's seed. He had let
Voldemort fuck his mouth and had been happy to do so.
And his body- Oh, god, Harry felt sick. His body was so sore because he had let
the murderer of his parents , the one who had tortured and tried to kill him,
fuck him into the bed during some kind of ritual he couldn't remember. And
Harry had welcomed it. Had begged for Voldemort to shove his cock up his ass.
He had accepted Voldemort inside him, had let the man shoot his seed up his
rectum and had orgasmed with his arch-enemy's flesh still spreading him open.
If his friends could see him now... Harry closed his eyes, feeling the
prickling of tears behind his eyelids. He did not want to imagine their
disgusted reactions.
Harry was dimly aware of a voice somewhere in the room squeaking, “Ah, Lord
Master, the young master is awake!”
He was snapped out of his mortified panic when a pleasant baritone answered.
“Good. You are dismissed, Luppi.”
Just a few words, but sent sent icy chills down the young wizard's spine. No,
no, no; wake up, wake up, wake up! This had to be a nightmare-
“Good morning, Harry. Or should I say 'afternoon'?”
The moment he laid eyes on his enemy all his shame and panic suddenly cut off
as if someone had blasted them away, leaving him floundering in a sea of
bewilderment. An alien, terrifying affection welled up in him as unstoppable as
the tide.
Something in his chest tingled, as if a key had been turned in a lock and had
sealed a part of his soul away. It felt frighteningly permanent.
Yet all he could stutter was: “M-Master?”
Was the man before him really Voldemort? He was nothing like the monster that
had risen from the cauldron so many nights ago. This man was... well,
beautiful. There was really no other word for it. An almost inhuman beauty, the
contrasts between hair and skin too big to be normal, but still...
Apparently his memories from the night before could be trusted to some degree.
Mere seconds ago that realization would have filled him with horrified dread,
but now a sultry heat stirred in his loins instead. Harry struggled to
understand his own response, but couldn't find any reason for the sudden
switch. Somehow, it didn't seem so important anymore. Instead, yesterday's
memories stirred something inside him. Something inexplicably eager.
“You tricked me,” Harry accused tremulously. He fought against the urge to
climb to his knees and place himself at the Dark Lord's feet. His sore backside
tingled in remembrance of his... Master inside him, first his fingers and then
his cock, brutally claiming every bit of innocence he had. That memory should
not make him want to spread his legs and beg his Master to do it again.
But it did. And with every passing second Harry cared less and less.
His Master just smirked at him. “I did.”
Harry would have cried if he had been able to. Assuming he could have found a
reason to be upset. “Why?”
His Master seated himself on the bed, red eyes almost thoughtful as he reached
for the duvet covering Harry. Harry flinched when his Master pulled it off of
him but didn't try to get it back, only blushing a deep crimson when he
realized he didn't have a stitch of clothing on him.
Warm fingers touched his hip, languidly sliding over his skin until they
reached his shoulder, where they dipped and brought his attention to the fact
that the collar was still around his neck, a long and thin silver chain linking
him to the headboard. Harry suspected the chain was a lot stronger than it
looked.
Why couldn't his Master's fingers be cold like he had expected? Warm as they
were their touch was disturbingly pleasant, making a vague, almost anticipatory
heat curl inside him, purring at the attention he received as his Master played
with his leash. Harry vaguely recalled that he shouldn't be wishing for his
Master to do more, shouldn't be wishing for his Master claim on him like he had
yesterday, marking him with his essence. But he couldn't remember why.
“Because you were a thorn in my side. My nemesis and a weapon in the hands of
my enemies.”
Harry drooped, the guilt and shame that had previously been so elusive now
creating a heavy ache in his chest.
His Master smirked at him, the gorgeous red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“But you are no longer that pest of a boy, now are you, my pet?”
Fervently Harry shook his head, mortified at the thought of having been such a
trial to his Master. “N-no! You are my Master, I wouldn't- I don't want to-!”
He swallowed, raising his eyes to meet his Master's, pleading for a way to make
things right.
His beautiful Master moved fully onto the bed, his countenance victorious and
pleased as he loomed over Harry. He leaned forward, hands pressing down next to
the teen's head, caging his pet with his presence. His breath ghosted over
Harry's ear, making the boy let out an involuntary whimper. “You wish to make
up for your follies, my pet?”
Harry nodded, relieved and just a touch desperate, shivering at the sensation
of his Master's robes brushing against his skin. Harry could feel his body
react to his Master's proximity, his manhood rising and his passage clenching
with want. Abashed, Harry tried to get his reactions under control. His Master
hadn't said he wished for Harry to repent for his actions that way.
His Master laughed softly in his ear. “Spread your legs, my little slut.”
Oh. So maybe his Master did want it that way. Harry obeyed hastily, heat
rushing through him as his Master's eyes roved over his naked flesh. A long
finger sent shivers down his spine as it traced the cleft of his bum,
momentarily pressing against Harry's fluttering hole before continuing upwards,
over his tightening sac and up his straining erection, catching the bead pre-
cum about to roll down his length. Harry moaned.
To Harry's surprise his Master rolled off of him, instead lazily reclining
against a mass of pillows, red eyes watching Harry with lascivious amusement as
he stretched out upon the bed. It was a very arousing sight.
Swallowing nervously, Harry turned beseeching eyes to his Master. Was his
Master no longer interested? The outline of his Master's manhood seemed a good
indicator he still was, given the tent in the fabric.
“Undress me, Harry.”
Harry brightened at the command, kneeling next to his Master and eagerly
setting to work. One of his Master's hands ghosted over his lower back, dipping
to place itself squarely upon Harry's behind, squeezing the firm globes of his
ass. Moaning softly, Harry leaned forward to give his Master more room, earning
a hum of approval.
A whispered word, and a viscous wetness filled Harry's empty passage. The teen
sucked in a surprised breath, his hands starting to shake a little. His
Master's robe had fallen almost completely open, revealing that the Dark Lord
was as naked as his pet underneath.
Red eyes watched his face as the last bit of silky cloth fell away and Harry
was suddenly face to face with his Master's cock. Harry reddened, casting a
questioning look at his Master's face. A dark brow rose and the hand that was
not molesting the teen's ass gestured at the hard flesh. Bashfully, Harry
opened wide, tongue peeking out to lick some of the wetness from the blunt
head, cheeks darkening at feeling the heat of his Master's shaft against his
sensitive tongue. Breathing in the almost oppressive scent of his Master's sex
Harry took a deep breath before closing his lips around the leaking head,
sucking the heady taste of the Dark Lord's pleasure deep into his suddenly too-
empty mouth.
Voldemort made a pleased noise, tangling his free hand in Harry's hair to guide
him up and down. Harry whined around the Dark Lord's turgid flesh when he felt
his other hole being filled as well, two fingers pushing the ring of muscles
apart with a burning stretch, sinking deep into his passage. It was too much
and too soon, but Harry could only moan as his sore ass was spread open by his
Master's digits.
“Such a greedy hole you have, pet, letting me in so eagerly. Did you enjoy
yourself that much yesterday?”
Harry shivered, restrained by the fingers in his hair and thus unable to give
his Master a proper answer. The teen doubled his efforts, making eager noises
as his Master slowly started to fuck him with his fingers, the tips dragging
over that wonderful spot inside that made Harry feel as if his own dripping
manhood was massaged from the inside out. Pleasure sparkled through his nerves,
setting them on fire, and Harry could feel his length give an appreciative
twitch. If he had been able to speak he would have begged.
Voldemort dragged him off by his hair, forcing Harry to straddle his hips as he
let his fingers slip out of his pet's abused entrance. Running a tongue over
Harry's ear – much to Harry's shy delight – he whispered, “Do you want me to
fuck you, Harry?”
“Yes...,” Harry whimpered, licking his lips, panting from the molten arousal
blazing through his body. Harry could feel his Master's hardness between his
cheeks, wet with Harry's own saliva and radiating heat. His passage clenched
around the emptiness his Master's fingers had left behind. “Master...”
Large hands on his hips guided him upwards, high enough for the head of his
Master's cock to press against his entrance, his own weight pressing him down
just enough for Harry to feel the hot tip spread the twitching muscles. Then
his Master suddenly let go and Harry was too late to catch himself. He let out
a shocked shriek as his own weight speared him with his Master's shaft, the hot
flesh sliding far deeper than he had expected, his passage burning from the
sudden intrusion making the already sore muscles within yelp in protest.
For a long moment Harry could only sit in his Master's lap, gasping for breath
as he tried to adjust. Voldemort watched with hooded eyes, enjoying his pet's
trembling reactions and the way his pet clenched around him like a living, too-
tight glove.
Slowly the pain ebbed, leaving only a feverish feeling of fullness. Tentatively
Harry shifted, almost choking from the resulting rush of aching pleasure. His
Master felt so big inside him...
“Move, pet.”
For a moment their eyes met, large hands settling on Harry's hips and urging
him upwards. Trembling, Harry closed his eyes, biting his lip as he tried to
obey his Master. His legs felt like jelly, but slowly he managed to lift
himself, whining in the back of his throat as his Master's cock dragged against
his insides as it slid out. Halfway up Harry's legs gave out, dropping him on
his Master's crotch once more. He gave a weak scream as the shaft inside him
slammed against his prostrate on his way down, like an electric shock shooting
pleasure through his system. Beneath him his Master made a breathy, amused
sound.
Lip clenched firmly between his teeth, Harry attempted again and again, slowly
getting enough control over his legs to set up a semi-steady pace, his silver
leash jingling with each move, rolling his hips as his Master instructed him to
increase his Master's enjoyment. Soon his muscles were burning from the
exertion and his chest heaving to draw more oxygen into his protesting lungs.
Sweat rolled down his body in salty rivulets, plastering his hair against his
skin. His own member was throbbing between his legs, his effort to please his
Master leaving him no chance to give himself any relief, and the Dark Lord not
caring enough to do it for him, too busy enjoying the sight of his former
nemesis fucking himself on his cock.
“What a slutty pet you are, Harry,” Voldemort murmured, pulling lightly on the
leash to bring Harry's face closer to his. “Are you enjoying it, riding your
master like this?”
Harry groaned and nodded, the pace his Master had demanded of him leaving him
no breath to speak.
The Dark Lord smirked, reaching down to lightly rub Harry's stretched ring,
teasing the sensitive skin as if wanting to emphasize the fact that it was his
cock filling Harry's aching passage, and Harry was willingly pleasuring his
former enemy with his body in the most intimate and indecent way possible.
Harry just moaned, beyond caring that his Master was supposed to be his enemy,
the animosity he had once felt for the man locked away and already almost
forgotten. All he wanted was for his Master to keep fucking him, for Voldemort
to find pleasure within his body and ownhim. That he himself was finding
pleasure as well was a nice bonus.
Abruptly he was flipped upon his back, his legs suddenly over his Master's
shoulders as Master plowed into him, clearly fed up with his clumsy attempts,
just wanting to to reach his peak. Harry threw his head back and tried to meet
every thrust, breath hitching every time his Master shoved his hardness inside
him. It was fast and violent and his insides felt painfully stretched and
rubbed raw despite there being enough lubrication for every thrust to make a
soft, squelching sound, and somehow it was so good.
“Such a good little whore,” Master panted, leaning forward and bruised Harry's
lips as he harshly kissed him, roughly plundering his pet's wet mouth. “I
wonder what your parents would say if they could see you now? Or Dumbledore.
How disgusted the old goat would be to know how willingly you're letting Lord
Voldemort use you.”
Harry shivered, whimpering as that wonderful spot inside him kept getting hit
almost painfully hard every time his Master slammed into him. “M-Master!
Please!”
He felt his Master's smirk against his lips as his tongue brushed against
Harry's. “Begging, little Harry? What happened to hating me, hmm?”
Harry reached out, shaking arms wrapping around Voldemort's neck, pulling him
closer as Harry responded to rough plundering of his mouth, tongue shyly
peeking out to taste his Master's lips. “Not anymore,” he mumbled, distracted.
“You're Master... Just want Master...”
The Dark Lord's expression was positively wicked. “Oh? And what do you want
from me?”
Harry's already colored cheeks darkened. “Inside me... wanting me...” Feeling
bold, Harry pulled his Master's face closer, tongue darting out to wet his
lips. “Filling me with seed till I can't walk...”
A sharp intake of breath and surprised laugh. “Really now? Such a wanton slut
you've become. The Light Side's little whore.”
Harry nodded, barely registering what he was agreeing to, only that it was his
Master degrading him and therefore it was all right. “Only for Master,” he
mumbled.
He felt a grin against his throat as his Master's mouth left dark bruises in
his neck. “Good.”
~X~
In the end, his Master used him well into the morning, to the point his entire
body felt sore and his passage ached with every move he made.
Somehow, the knowledge his Master had enjoyed his body that much was more
satisfying than winning a Quidditch match. Harry sighed, snuggling deeper into
his pillow, basking in the glowing ache and the dazed warmth his own pleasure
had left behind.
He shivered as he felt some of his Master's essence leak out of his aching
hole. He tried to clench his sphincter to keep it in but the muscles hadn't
recovered enough from the stretching yet, making him feel strangely vulnerable,
the image of his entrance gaping open and dripping with his Master's seed
refusing to get out of his head. Master could bent him over right now and ram
straight in...
“Hands and knees, Harry.”
Harry almost jumped out of his skin at the unexpected order, having not noticed
his Master's return from his shower. Hastily Harry obeyed, presenting the Dark
Lord his leaking hole. Long fingers slid into him, coated with something cool
and slick that almost immediately soothed the pain from his Master's abuse.
Harry moaned softly, enjoying the sensations. His Master took care not to tease
out his full arousal by avoiding that special spot inside him, for which Harry
was thankful, but the slow glide of his Master's digits sliding in and out of
him was pleasurable nonetheless.
Then his Master withdrew his hand. Harry turned and blinked owlishly while his
Master wiped the remainder of whatever he put inside him off on a piece of
cloth.
“You will remain here in this room. Luppi will bring you food soon. Before I
return I expect you to have bathed and made yourself presentable. I will return
in five hours. Be ready.”
Still a bit dazed, Harry nodded. He would do as Master commanded.
He barely registered his Master leaving, eyes sliding shut as exhaustion pulled
him under. Five hours was plenty. He could afford to catch a bit more sleep.
Harry never noticed the numbness radiating from the mark on his chest, sealing
his will and the part of him that was still screaming and crying in horror and
despair, trapped behind walls of polished obsidian that isolated the person who
he truly was from his magically altered mind and his throughly violated body.
 
 
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