Freedom Bound in Chains

BY : TaintedSensibly
Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 51418
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

A/N: This is a re-write of my old unfinished story Freedom In Chains. Things have been changed and added. The plot will go in a different direction, but I have used old material. Please let me know if this is worth persuing.

Chapter WARNING: This chapter contains Minor with Adult: Oral, Hand, and Anal. It is Non-con. There is also Physical Abuse. Please skip these scenes if they are triggers. It is there for a reason and furthers plot.

Freedom Bound In Chains

August, 1984

Four-year-old Draco Black was yanked from a deep, peaceful sleep and dragged from bed. It was dark. The woman's face so close to his, and all he could see were wide eyes.

“Come on! Hurry!” she yelled in his face.

So dark. He could hardly see as he was painfully yanked forward and toward the door. And the air was thick, making Draco cough. His heart was pounding; Miss Heather was screaming, “Hurry! Hurry! Go downstairs!” The other kids stumbled and cried as she pushed them toward the door. Draco's pajamas grew damp with sweat. It was so hot. Then he heard it. A roar. Like a dragon from a story book. Then he saw the flickering light. Yellow and hot. Fire!

Draco knew fire was bad. He grabbed Jillian’s hand. She was the only one younger than him at the orphanage and she slept in the bed next to his. He pulled her downstairs, ignoring her loud, fearful screams. Bigger kids were running away. The nurses were yelling for them to get out. Draco stumbled as someone slammed into him from behind and hit his shoulder on the wall. He lost Jillian’s hand and started to cry.

Then he was outside; he turned to look at the front of the orphanage. It was burning! Flames jumped and flashed from every window. There were still people inside. He could hear them scream even over the cries from all the kids around him. Sirens pierced the night. People came running from all down the street.

Draco turned as a man took his hand. He looked up, tears streaking his face, shocked and afraid.

“Come on. I’ll take you somewhere safe,” the man said gently. “We have to get you off the street.”

Draco allowed himself to be tugged through the crowd. When they finally breached the press of bodies, the man swung Draco up on his hip. Staring over the man's shoulder, Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away from the burning building. His home was burning to the ground.

He was spun around and placed inside a van. “Buckle yourself in,” the man ordered gently.

Draco struggled to obey, but something didn’t seem right. “But… where are we goin’?”

The man turned around with a white cloth in his hand. Draco's eyes widened as the man slapped it down over his mouth and nose. Draco struggled and kicked, but he was falling sideways and blackness crawled across his mind.


Draco woke and immediately rolled onto his side and threw up. Tears streaking his face, he looked around. He was in a very small room. He could almost touch each wall if he stood in the center and reached both ways. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. The walls were bare; the floor was tiled. The only thing in the room with him was a big white towel that he had wrapped around him like a blanket. A grate in the middle of the floor caught his attention. His vomit was sliding toward it and dripping down.

He shuddered and crawled into the furthest corner from the only door. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was in big trouble. He knew the man who’d taken him wanted to do bad things to him. He knew it might hurt a lot. Shaking, Draco drew his legs up to his chest and curled into a tight ball. He sat there for an eternity, wrapped around his fear, when the door finally opened.

The man from before gave him a smile and crouched down. His hair was thin and oily, hanging around his face. His cheeks were wide and fleshy, his eyes seemed small, but they never blinked behind his square glasses. He was big. Tall and wide, pudgy, he filled the doorway completely. In his big hands, knuckles dusted with dark hair, he had a bowl of rice, chicken, and vegetables. He offered it to Draco.

Draco's eyes darted around, desperate for escape. His hands scrabbled at the walls as he pressed himself tight into the far corner.

“Are you hungry? I bet you are. Come here, baby. Sit in my lap and I’ll let you eat.”

Draco began to sob. He tried to get away, but there was no room. The man grabbed him easily, dragging him across the tile floor and into his lap. Draco sat rigidly as a large arm pinned him against the man’s chest. He could feel how hot the man was. He was sweaty even through his clothes. Draco shuddered and gagged, almost throwing up again. He wanted to turn and claw the man’s eyes, to bite and scream. But he knew it would only get him hurt.

A spoon rose to his lips. Draco stared at the offering with sick dread, shaking and terrified.

“You’re a good boy. Yes, you are. Come on. Open up.” The man smiled and rubbed his cheek against the top of Draco's head when Draco finally forced his mouth open. “Yes. That’s it. Good boy.”


Years seemed to pass. Draco never left the closet. He used the grate in the floor to go to the bathroom. He was filthy, itchy, and it stunk. Sometimes the man came with food. Each time he forced Draco to sit in his lap. It no longer bothered him. Draco actually looked forward to the hated man’s visits. He was lonely and bored. He thought he’d go crazy if he didn’t get out of here soon. He was pacing the small room, literally bouncing himself off the walls just to break the silence.

The door opened and Draco stilled. The man smiled down at him happily. “Hey, baby. How are you? I brought you a surprise.”

Draco noticed that the bucket the man held was filled with soapy water.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll feed you, okay, baby?”

Draco stood still as the man pulled off Draco's shirt and then removed his pants and underwear. A sponge pulled from the man’s pocket felt good going over his dirty skin. Draco practically melted into a puddle of goo it felt so good. Tears stung his eyes. He knew this wasn’t right. Knew it was bad the way the man lingered over Draco's privates, rubbing softly back and forth, back and forth. He wanted it to stop. He just wanted to go home.

He looked up at the man tearfully. “Please…” he begged softly. It was the first time he had spoken to the man, and his voice cracked and rasped from the long silence.

“Hush, baby. I’m taking good care of you.”

Draco brought up his arm and pressed his face into the crook of his elbow. The man dropped the sponge and touched him with his hand instead. Draco kept his eyes tightly shut as his penis and balls were stroked and petted. The man’s hand trailed further back between his legs. A large finger pressed at his hole. Draco cried out, terrified.

“Trust me, baby. It’s not going to hurt. Hush, now. That’s it. Hush.”

Heart jack-rabbiting in his chest, Draco cringed as a slapping sound entered the closet. A quick glance showed him the man was on his knees, pants open. His thing was huge and red. It began to smell, even over the soap. That big hand worked harder up and down as the man pressed and rubbed at Draco's hole. The man’s fingers tapped at the entrance, threatening to go in but never actually doing it. Draco bit down on his arm. The pain anchored him, distracted him from what was happening. It lasted forever; the man alternating from stroking his privates to teasing his butt. Draco felt a scream building in his throat. He was covered in sweat, his body shook with fear. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand it.

“Such a good boy. So beautiful… Yes…”

Slowly the slapping sounds got faster, the hand on his privates rougher. Something gooey and hot splashed on his stomach. Draco gasped and looked down to see white stuff splattered across his skin. Dazed, Draco said nothing as the sponge came and cleaned him off once more.

“That’s it, baby. You were so good for me. Come here.”

He said nothing when he was dragged naked into the man’s lap and fed. The man took Draco's clothes when he left, so Draco curled up naked in the towel, eyes unseeing. He didn’t cry. He was empty.

It felt like years and years went by. The man visited him often, and now he was withholding food unless Draco spread his legs, held his cheeks open, and let the man touch.


Pale slender body, the boy on his knees, chest and check pressed to the floor with his pale thighs spread. Those small hands reached back at his order to expose his hole. A single silver eye, wide and dull, stared over the soft curve of the boy's shoulder as the man knelt behind his prize.

“You are so good at this, baby. I knew you would be. So good.”

He lifted the camera and took several pictures of the provocative sight. He stuck a finger in his mouth, wetting it. Trembling he reached forward and touched that perfect, soft skin. Over the round cheek, down the crease. The boy tensed and his back arched slightly. His eye glistened through his silky blond hair so beautifully. His round mouth was open and panting, his cheeks reddening. Up and down he ran his damp finger until it dried and the boy was trembling and crying softly.

He sucked his finger in his mouth. He was hot and throbbing, panting almost as hard as his boy. He couldn't wait any longer. He grasped those small hips in one hand and pulled them closer. The boy rose up on to his hands and knees. His head hung. Sweet boy-sweat coated the child's flawless skin.

Reaching forward with his wet hand, panting breaths and fast beating heart roaring in his ears, he pressed his finger forward into the perfect heat of the boy's body.

The child bolted up right, head flown back, and screamed as if he were dying. The sound pierced through his haze and he yanked his hand free, spun the boy around, and slapped him hard across his little face. The boy flew sideways and hit the wall with a loud thud.

“Shut up, you stupid brat!”

Terrified for no good reason, furious and almost ready to burst his pants, the man stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him.


“Hello, baby. It’s been two days. I know you’re hungry.”

Draco felt hallowed out and the food the bastard held smelled like heaven. “Why… why are you doing this?”

“I’m just trying to make us both happy.” The man smiled and knelt down just inside the door. He opened his pants and lifted his hands up, grabbing the door frame. “I won’t touch you this time, baby. I promise. That's what you want, isn't it? And I’ll give you all this yummy food. Just touch me. See how big I am for you. It’ll be easy.”

Draco felt dizzy. He was so hungry. The man promised not to touch him, so how bad could it be? He’d just do it quick and eat. Shaking, Draco crawled over on hands and knees. His hair was lank and greasy. It fell in white strands around his face and into his eyes. He lifted up to his knees in front of the man. He was rewarded with a bright smile.

“Good boy. That’s it. Just put your hands around it.”

Draco dropped his eyes to the large thing. Carefully he wrapped a hand around it, but his fingers barely circled half of it.

“Both hands,” the man rasped, voice low and hoarse. His eyes practically glowed as they watched him.

Glaring hatefully, Draco used both hands to encircle the thing all the way around. Then slowly he squeezed and brought his hands up and down, up and down.

“Faster, baby… Oh, just like that… My sweet angel…”

Draco worked his hands until he was panting, sweating, and nearly faint with hunger. By the end, both of them were yelling - Draco from exhausted effort, the man from pleasure. When the white stuff shot out, it hit Draco in the face and up under his chin. Draco practically flung himself away, sobbing, and wiped at his face frantically with the towel.

“Shhh, you did so good, baby. So good. Come here, hush. Come on. Eat for me.”

Draco snapped. He balled his fists and yelled up at his captor with all the fury trapped inside. “Just leave it here! I don’t want to see you! I hate you!”

The man gave him a wounded look, but he did as Draco said. He pushed the food inside and shut the door. Draco crawled over and ate it quickly. It tasted salty from his tears. When he was done, he shoved the empty dishes away and curled up in the corner.

“I’m going to escape,” he promised, rocking himself soothingly. “No matter what, I’m going to get away from here.”


“Let’s try something new, baby.”

He knelt just inside the closet that held his treasure. The single light bulb hung from the ceiling and cast clear white light, filling the small space. The boy was thinner now than when he had stolen him, but he was still perfection. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those perfect plush lips. Candy pink. His heart felt close to soaring out of his chest in anticipation. His hands opened his pants with practiced movements and took out his cock. He smiled and drank in the boy's dead expression.

“I want you to put it in your mouth today, okay? I’ve got a really special treat for you if you do a good job.”

The boy curled tighter into his corner, but his eyes tracked the piece of cake he pushed into the closet. There was longing in those luminous gray eyes.

“Come on, baby. Please, for me? I’ll really like it if you do this.”

The boy was torn, tears spilled over the flushed cheeks, but then he was crawling forward. Slinking like a beaten animal, big eyes staring at his rock hard shaft, and it was so erotic he almost came right there.

“That’s it,” he gasped, breathless. “Come here. Good boy.”

The boy took a deep breath and his little hands wrapped with practiced ease around him. The touch of those soft hands, cooler than his dick, lit him up. He bit his cheek to keep from forcing this faster. Those hands slid up, steadying the head, and it was happening. Those petal pink lips parted, eyes still wide open as a tiny tongue lapped at the tip.

“Shit,” he hissed, nails practically digging into the wooden frame of the doorway.

The boy opened his mouth as wide as he could and still his lips stretched a bit as this cock pressed inside.

“Oh my god.”

The small throat tensed, the boy gagging.

On edge, strung tight, he practically barked his next order. “Close your lips tight.”

The boy did his best, he really did, but barely more than the head could fit inside. Desperate, he bounced his hips forward, pressed a bit of the shaft in with the head. The boy pulled off with a gasp, dry heaving. He was sobbing now, but there was no stopping this.

He didn't want to break the boy, his perfect boy, but he had to have it. Now. No more waiting. He pulled the boy's head up and pressed at those lips. He slipped inside, and this time, he wasn't retreating. A moaned whine escaped the boy. Muffled by the rod in his mouth. Too soon, not even half way in that wet heat, he hit the boy's throat. The boy's face was stretched, his eyes wild. The boy's face red as he couldn't breathe, and it was so fucking good.

His fingers laced in the boy's silk-soft hair, he slowly fucked that tight throat, ignoring the boy's thrashing. “Oh holy fuck! Oh yeah! Fuck yes, so good!” He could see his dick moving in the boy's throat, the outline pressing in and pulling out. He was dripping with pre-cum and the boy's spit.


Just as the boy's eyes rolled back into his head and the little fists stopped beating on his thighs and hips, falling slack, he came so hard he screamed. His vision went white, his body electrified.

Exhausted, he stared down at the child that lay crumpled on the floor, enraptured as white cum dripped from the boy's nose, the corners of his mouth, splashed his chin and cheeks. Still tingling from the intense orgasm, he reached forward and turned the boy onto his side and hit his back a few times until he gasped and coughed up semen.

He took several pictures of the gorgeous sight. “Such a good boy,” he praised again and again. “You look so pretty, baby. Rest. I’ll bring you dinner later.”


“He’s beautiful. You should see this kid. His eyes… I could stare into them for hours.”

Draco jerked awake, eyes crusted with sleep. The man was back.

“You sound like a woman, Howie!” a new voice barked, followed by a laugh that was harsh and deep. “All I care about is his sweet little ass! How old do you think he is?”

“Four or five. I’ve had him for about two months.” The doorknob turned. “You’ll be careful with him? I really like this one, Sean. I'm ready to break him in, but you're so much better at not making them bleed so much.”

Draco stared fearfully up at the men in his doorway. He pulled the towel closer around him.

“Come here, baby. Let my friend see you.” The man reached in and grabbed his ankle.

Draco trembled, but he didn’t fight as he was pulled out of the closet for the first time in eternity. He lay limp, staring up at the strange, hairy man who leered down at him. Big, rough hands lifted him and carried him over to a bed. He’d been in the closet of the hated man’s bedroom all this time!

But he had no time to think about that. He was placed gently on his back. Draco's captor crawled up next to him and petted his hair. For the first time since being taken, Draco grasped at the man’s promises, desperately believing that he’d be okay. He told Draco that he’d get a special treat of ice cream and candy as soon as the other man was done playing.

What followed was something not even Draco's worst nightmares could have come up with. His captor’s arm threaded under his knees, keeping them up by his chest. The other arm was around under his neck, his elbow bent so his hand could stroke Draco's hair. He was pressed close to Draco's side as Sean knelt at the end of the bed in front of Draco's bottom. He felt on display and vulnerable. He felt betrayed and frightened, so small and breakable. Sean’s hungry eyes filled his vision.

He screamed as a slick finger pushed into his body. Sean laughed at his tears, and Draco's captor did nothing to stop it from hurting. In fact, the man told Draco that his friend was being very careful. “Feel that, baby?” the man soothed, stroking Draco’s hair off his sweaty face. “He’s using a lot of lube. He’ll stretch you nice and wide. I promise it’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

“God, he’s tight. Never had such a tight ass,” Sean grunted, voice breathy with excitement.

“Make sure you don’t hurt him,” his captor warned, holding Draco protectively.

Draco arched with a whine as a second finger slid painfully next to the first. It felt tight and hot. “Stop!” he screamed, voice high and shrill with fear. “You’re killing me!”

Sean groaned. “Fuck that’s hot!”

Draco thrashed his head back and forth. He felt full, like he had to poop really bad.

As time passed and Sean used his fingers, moving them and stretching Draco's muscles, Draco felt a haze saturated his mind. It felt like he’d always been on this bed, pinned and hurting and afraid. It was never ending. The constant burn made him feel sick. Just when he thought he’d survive, another finger was added and he’d start from the beginning.

Draco gasped as Sean added his white spunk to the lubrication on his butt, the man's hand pumping and pumping just like his captor always did. His lower half and his thighs were dripping wet. The sheets under him were slick. He was spread wide and he hated it. He was crying and whimpering, feverish with terror. His butt was lifted up further and his eyes bugged as he watched Sean lined his re-hardened penis at his tortured hole.

“No!” Draco screamed. “Noooo!”

“Go slow,” his captor demanded, holding Draco tighter. “Don’t hurt him too bad.”

“Oh fuck. Oh god. This is gonna feel so good.” Sean pressed forward slowly, savoring the moment.

The pressure built and built. It didn’t stop coming. Draco screamed! The pain! The pain was unbearable; he was being ripped in two!

Draco body went rigid as the terror ignited into a rage. It knocked his breath right out of him. Made his vision swim red. He’d done everything his captor had asked. Why wasn’t he stopping this? Draco hated him, hated him, HATED HIM!

Sean pushed in and out, slow shallow thrusts, breaking Draco more each time he thrust forward, going a little deeper.

His captor’s voice droned on in his ringing ears; Sean’s animalistic grunts and pants bathed Draco's agony-contorted face.

And Draco kept screaming until he thought he was dying.

Something began to boil inside of him. All the fear, all the betrayal and rage; it surged up through his stomach and tore through the agony to the source. Sean’s rocking hips froze. His eyes went wide and suddenly he was frothing at the mouth. Draco's captor let out a startled yell, his arms releasing Draco as if burned.

Maddened with pain and fury, Draco kicked his legs, pushing Sean away from him and out of his body. He yelped as he was left empty and raw. His butt felt like an open wound, but he couldn’t curl up and cry now. He had to get away! This was his chance!

Panting through the sickness and pain, the nearly deafening throb of his lower half, Draco crawled toward the edge of the bed. A trail of blood slithered down his thighs. Sean was thrashing, choking. His face was swollen and purple, shiny. Draco dropped to the floor. Gritting his teeth, he pushed to his feet. His insides burned and his legs collapsed underneath him. Sobbing, Draco crawled for the door.

“Oh my god! Sean! Shit!”

He forced himself to stand, to open the door. He staggered into the hallway, limping, nearly dragging his feet. There were stairs. He practically fell down them. Dazed, in agony, he stared out a window. He could see outside: the city street, passing cars, freedom! Draco let out a little cry of joy and crawled forward. He was shaking badly as he dragged himself to his feet, reaching for the doorknob.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind and lifted into the air. Sweet, cloying cloth was pressed into his face, smothering him. He passed out.


“… one grand, can you believe it?”

Draco woke in so much pain that he could hardly breathe. Dizzy, he squinted through his tears; an office, a man behind a desk, another sitting in a chair at the edge of the room.

“He’s used,” the not-desk man said.

“Yes, but he’s pretty enough. We’ll get a few days out of him. He’ll more than triple our investment,” desk-man replied. Suddenly they were both looking at Draco, and the smiles on their faces terrified him.

The next few hours were a blur. He was collared and dragged around on a leash. Draco couldn’t walk. His insides felt bruised and his butt was on fire with agony. He crawled. The men seemed to like that. They didn’t hurt him for it. He was taken to a dark, underground room. It was large. Way bigger than any room at the orphanage, even the dining room. It was dark with throbbing blue and red lights. Deep music pulsed and jumped, making it hard to hear anything.

Other kids were there. Most all were older than Draco by several years. All of them were on tables like food laid out at a buffet. Some were crying, some lay like broken dolls. Men were pushing into the holes between their legs and into their mouths. Then Draco was lifted onto a table. The leash was tied to a bar hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t have enough slack to get down.

Men – all ages and sizes – came over to look him over. They touched and petted his skin, sometimes pinching. Draco begged them to stop at first. He looked for help in each face, but their eyes were shinning like Sean’s. He stopped speaking after that. He had no idea how long he was groped when suddenly a hand cupped the back of Draco's neck, pulling his head down so that it was nearly level with the table’s edge. The position made the collar cut into his throat painfully, but the bastard didn’t care.

The man pried Draco's jaws open and pushed his penis inside. Draco screamed, but that only made the man push forward harder. He gagged and choked. Fingers touched his raw butt and Draco lost it. The sizzling hate tore through him like a bonfire and lashed out. The man slid in and out of his mouth a few more times when suddenly Draco's mouth was clear. He gasped and coughed. Looking up through his hair, he saw the old man bent over puking his guts out. Similar sounds came from behind him, and the fingers left.

As Draco watched the man violently heave, he began to smile. No one would touch him without consequence again.


Draco hissed in pain. He woke covered in bruises. The ground he lay on was swaying. It was dark. Squinting he could make out other shapes, could hear the soft sounds of kids crying. It was very familiar, and for a split second he thought he was back at the orphanage. Then a door opened above him and spilled light into the room. The room was large and filled with dozens of dirty kids. They stared back at him with big, scared eyes.

A man stomped down the wooden stairs and came right up to Draco. Draco screamed and kicked as he was lifted. His whole body hurt. The man didn’t even flinch. He simply brought his fist up and bashed it into Draco's skull. Draco went limp, and the man carried him up the stairs, down a hall, and into a very small bedroom.

“I’m your master now, boy,” the man growled in Draco's ear. He was holding Draco close to his chest, his meaty hand squeezing Draco's face painfully hard. “Bought you off some crazy fool convinced that you were poisonous or something. Least you were cheap. I’m going to need you to do a job for me. If you can’t do that, you’ll be worthless.” The man’s face loomed inches from Draco's own. “You know what happens to useless boys on my boat?”

“Stop!” Draco choked out, terrified, as his legs were prized apart. The man lifted a baseball bat, pressing the smaller end against Draco’s hole. It felt way larger than a penis, and so hard and cold. Draco didn’t want anything to touch him down there ever again. “No! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!”

“Oh, you’ll be good, or I’ll fuck this into you until you die. Now what do you say to your generous master?”

Draco was nearly hyperventilating. The man was applying more and more pressure until that huge thing was beginning to stretch him painfully open. “Please!”

“Please what?” the man yelled, slapping him in the face.

“Please, Master!” Draco screamed out just as he began to feel blood trickle down his leg.

The bat disappeared. The man pulled him up so he was kneeling on the bed and they were eye to eye. “I’m going to punish you for being so slow to understand. I don’t need a stupid boy running around. You can take an inch of this bat for five minutes or you can take a beating for an hour. Which is it, boy?”

Draco sobbed, but he knew his answer. He knew what his answer would always be if given the choice. “The beating, Master.”

Master grinned at him and smoothed back his hair. “You’re strong, boy. What’s your name?”

“Draco,” he answered, voice dull and choked with tears.

“Got a fancy name there, little slut,” the man said with a laugh. “Listen to me, Draco. This can either break you or make you stronger.”

The man moved Draco's body so that he was lying on his belly over his knees. The boy was naked. His pale white skin was already marked and dirty, but the man anticipated the heat and furious red color he'd create. The little slut had his eyes closed and his hands fisted in the man's pants down by his calf. He smoothed his hand over the soft skin of the boy's back and ass, his heart already picking up.

“You can take the pain inside. Let it live and breathe, and then it will be over. Or you can fight it and it will chip away at you until you’re as good as dead.” The man leaned down so that his mouth was tickling Draco's ear. “How can you beat me if you’re dead, boy? You’ve got to kill me, don’t you? Like all those other bastards. Survive, Draco. You survive until you figure out how to take me straight to Hell with you.”

Draco screamed shamelessly as he was spanked brutally, his tender insides blazed in agony.

The man brought his hand down again and again. Alternating cheeks and occationally dipping to the boy's balls and soft thighs. He loved the little fox-like yips and yelps. The boy's blond hair was plastered to his head with sweat, his whole body damp with it, soaked in pain.

They were only twenty minutes in and the boy was already limp as a noodle and sobbing weakly. The skin was red hot. He'd be black and blue when the man was done. Maybe even unconscious. Grinning, he raked his nails down the boy's back, drawing blood and fresh screams, just checking to see if the boy was still with him, then he resumed beating that small little ass. He laughed as the slut began to wail brokenly, and still his hand continued to slap the boy's ass raw. 

As the hour came to an end, the man felt himself get hard. The boy wasn't unconscious. The child was silent now, breathing deep, barely a hitch to every inhale. Those luminous large grey eyes were open and staring. The boy had found his subspace. He pulled the boy up and lay him on the bed, face up. It had to be agony to the boy's battered backside, but the boy didn't even flinch.

The man opend his pants and pressed his cock between the slender, heated thighs. He pinned the boy's legs shut with his own knees and thrust into that channel, his dick sliding under the boy's burning ass every thrust forward and dragging between the tender skin of the thighs on every pull back. The heat was almost painful and he groaned lustfully as fucked the boy's warm and pliant body.  

“You're mine now, slut. Mine. I own you.”

Chapter End. 

A/N: I'm not sure how many of you will read this author's note, however, I felt I must explain something. I received a review from someone very upset by this story. I was called sick and accused of promoting pedophilia, if I wasn't one myself. I've received flames in the past, but this one really hurt me.

I in NO WAY endorse or think it okay to hurt a child in any form. I do not think it sexy or acceptable. That being said, sexually abused children exist in the world. I personally have experienced that horror. On my journey, I have studied the psychology of perpetrators and survivors of sexual abuse and sexual slavery in an attempt to make sense of it all. And this story is my way of piecing all I've learned together to understand how such darkness can exist. Because it DEFINITELY is more complicated that a “few people are sick”. There is a societal system in place that allows child abuse and rape to FLOURISH. It is not something that happens rarely. A large percent of our populace has experienced sexual assault and abuse, and human trafficking is PROSPERING today.

If it wasn't clear before, what Draco and Harry suffered in this story is HORRIBLE. I thought to contrast the abuse they suffered at the hands of adults to the consensual love between the boys. To show how sex can be a beautiful thing in one form and a weapon in another (which baffles me still today).

The fact that the boys are still children and sexual is also realistic. Children of sexual abuse and especially sexual slavery have had sex become normalized. Once the box is opened, it can't be shut. A lot of people think this is disgusting and that the kid is forever tarnished by it, but through Draco and Harry I want to test that social convention.

I am not promoting children becoming sexually active. Children should be children! But I don't want to just write off the kids who had no choice and had that door open early. I don't want shove them in a dark societal corner. Their knowledge and sexual experience is socially unacceptable, but that's what is. I want to explore Draco and Harry coming to terms with society and society coming to terms with them.

I am deeply concerned if this story is interpreted in any other way.

Thank you for allowing me to explain this. The reviewer who was so disgusted by me did not leave me a way to answer back, but I had to get this out. 




You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story