Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Mindfuck	By : LynstHolin Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17968 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter universe. It belongs to JK Rowling, and I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Mindfuck
- 1
I end up writing the most interesting things for requests XD

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Harry Potter had no idea how long he'd been isolated. It was hard for him to remember a time when he wasn't. There was a cold metal helmet over his head that covered everything but his mouth, rendering him blind. He could hear nothing, not even his own screams. He was naked and shivering and laying on a dank stone floor with his hands tied behind his back. Hunger had burned in his belly for what had seemed an infinity, but he didn't feel it any longer. Water trickled down rough walls; Harry caught it with his tongue.

The lack of sensory input had made him howl and thrash for a while, but he exhausted himself quickly. Eventually, he began to hallucinate. At first, it was just auditory. "You're no son of mine," his mother hissed.

"If I'd known that you would lose to the Dark Lord, I'd have drowned you at birth," sneered his father.

"I cannot believe I trusted you, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly.

"You stupid, undisciplined boy. If you'd only tried to learn Occlumency, you wouldn't have been defeated," Snape said witheringly.

The visual hallucinations came. So many people looking at him with deep disappointment. Molly Weasley with tears streaming from her eyes. Hermione screaming as she was dragged away to the grim fate that awaited her as a Muggle-born. Hogwarts overrun with hordes of the Dark Lord's minions, smashing and looting and raping, the way victorious armies had done since time immemorial. Bellatrix Lestrange fawning over Voldemort as he sat in the Headmaster's seat in the Great Hall, both of them laughing as they watched the orgy of destruction going on around them.

Harry started to believe that he'd died and gone to Hell.

When hands seized him, he gasped. The ropes were released from his wrists, and he was pushed into a tub full of warm, bubble-filled water. The mask kept him from smelling anything, but he imagined that the bubbles smelled of lilac. Then he wondered if lilacs even existed, or if he'd just hallucinated them.

Two pairs of hands washed his body. They weren't gentle, but actually being touched by other humans made Harry weep with happiness. The mask split in two and peeled off. The light was agonizing; he screwed his eyes as tightly shut as he could. The tiniest sound was unbearably loud, and he put his hands over his ears. Water was dumped over his head. Rose-scented, not lilac. Fingers roughly worked shampoo into his hair, and he was rinsed again. His hands were pried from his ears. "Stop being a baby." Harry recognized Narcissa Malfoy's voice. A comb squeaked through his wet hair, yanking out snarls. He was lifted from the tub, and jets of warm air dried his hair and body.

Harry was able to open his eyes a crack. Yes, Narcissa Malfoy was drying him with her wand, as if she was his mother. Or a servant. She didn't look happy about it. Another woman was helping. When she got close enough for Harry to see her clearly, he remembered seeing her at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, sending Goyle off to school.

Once he was dry, Mrs. Goyle used a depilating charm that removed not just his facial hair, but all his body hair. The women efficiently worked subtly scented oil all over his body. Harry blushed at some of the places they touched. He was pushed down onto a chair. "Untense your eyes," Narcissa commanded. Harry was able to open his eyes a bit wider; they were adapting to light again. Narcissa was holding a make-up palette, looking at him appraisingly. "Hmm. You'd look much better with brown, but the Dark Lord wants you to look tarty." She ran a small brush across a little square of black eye-shadow. "Close your eyes, but don't scrunch them up." The brush ran lightly across his upper lids, giving him a little shiver. "Open your eyes, look up, and make an O with your mouth." Narcissa did his lower lids, then used a finger to clean up stray bits of shadow and to smudge his upper lids. That was followed by several coats of mascara.

It didn't even occur to Harry to ask why he was in a dungeon getting a make-over. After what he'd gone through in his mind, it seemed almost normal.

With another small brush, Narcissa applied scarlet to his lips and nipples. She brushed his hair out vigorously. It was still long, to his shoulders. Harry could see his shadow silhouetted against the wall, and his hair stood out around his head in a soft cloud.

"Put these on." Narcissa held out something small and lacy. Sheer knickers with powder blue bows on the sides. Harry obeyed. The women held out a silk kimono with a pattern of chrysanthemums, and he held his arms so they could slide it on him. At least I have clothes, he thought. The women slipped shoes on his feet; they were dark blue satin, with ridiculously high, skinny heels.

"Why does the Dark Lord want Potter like this?" Mrs. Goyle asked.

"He wants to humilate him, Sada."

"Oh, that's all right then. If it was because the Dark Lord's one o' them sort, well, my Gregory might be next."

Narcissa frowned. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Harry was helped up and to the door. He was weak from lack of movement and food, and his knees and ankles wobbled as he tried to walk in the heels. Without his glasses, Harry couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be moving through the nether regions of Hogwarts. They stopped before a thick oak door banded with iron. It swing open, and Harry was pushed forward.

"Put him on the bed and leave us alone," a voice commanded.

"Yes, my Lord," the women said. Harry was tossed onto a soft surface. The door creaked closed.

Harry heard footsteps rasping softly on stone, the rustle of clothing. Hands touched his eyes. Harry flinched, half-expecting them to be plucked out, but there was just an electric tingle. "Open your eyes now, boy," the voice commanded silkily.

The room was completely visible to Harry. The fireplace, big enought to roast an ox in, and the fire that chased away the cold dampness of the dungeon. A lit oil lamp in a side table. A buffalo hide rug on the floor. The bed his body laid on. Harry's robe was half off, and his skin contrasted with the deep blue velvet bedspread.

"I know you'd be lovely with the spectacles gone. Such pretty eyes shouldn't be hidden."

Harry gaped at the man who was leering at him. He was slender, his skin as pale as his eyes and hair were dark. He was breath-takingly handsome, but his eyes and mouth had a cruel cast to them. "You..."

Tom Riddle was wearing a black velvet bathrobe that left much of his hard torso exposed. He put one knee on the bed, and the robe opened enough to show a perfect thigh. "Yes, me."

"It's a glamour." Harry's voice was weak and creaky.

Tom laughed. "You think I'm trapped in that hideous body? Come, now. I'm insulted that you don't think better of my powers than that. Feel." By now, he was straddling Harry. He took one of Harry's hands and put it on his cheek. It was warm, and a bit stubbly. Harry moved his fingers to the nose, down to the lips and chin. It was no glamour. "My other visage is for terrifying people. This one is for... seducing."

Harry took his hand away from Tom's face and tried to draw the kimono closed. Tom laughed, taking a vial out of his robes. He thumbed it open and held it to Harry's lips. When Harry clamped his mouth closed, Tom pinched his nostrils shut. Harry tried to resist, but his lungs were soon convulsing. He opened his mouth and took in a big, whooping breath, and Tom tossed the contents of the vial in Harry's mouth. Instantly, Harry felt stronger, more awake. He began to struggle, trying to throw Tom off of him. Tom grasped the sides of Harry head, black eyes boring into his. Harry gasped as he felt the man enter his mind, possessing him in an unspeakably intimate way. Harry could feel Tom everywhere, peeking at his most private places.

Voldemort's skill at Legilimency had been Harry's downfall. The two of them had been facing each other in a rubble-strewn courtyard, eyes locked. Harry'd waited for the Dark Lord to raise his wand, but he never did. Instead, he'd raped Harry's mind. Harry had been instantly paralyzed, his wand falling from his nerveless fingers. Voldemort had battered his way through Harry's head, seeing everything that was Harry. It was agony.

What was happening now was entirely different from that thrusting invasion. Harry twitched as Tom brushed up against the pleasure centers of his brain. A strange, swirling caress made him instantly hard. "What are you doing to me?" he asked.

That rich laugh again. "Mind-fucking you. Literally." Erotic images flooded Harry's brain. Some were from his mental store of wank material: the fantasies he'd had about certain boys he'd seen naked in the Quidditch changing rooms, moving pictures he'd seen in porn smuggled into Hogwarts. Tom added his own imagery, and it was far more baroque than anything Harry had ever dreamed of. Harry moaned and thrust his hips at the air as he was tormented with visions of himself bound to an X-shaped cross, being used by Death Eaters like he was nothing but a toy. He didn't want to be aroused by it, but Tom had control of that part of his brain.

Harry rolled over on his belly, wanting to grind himself against the mattress, but Tom flipped him over onto his back again. "I want to see you, my lovely little whore." Harry was given a picture of what he looked like: long, slim body writhing nearly naked, rouged nipples erect; cock twitching and straining against the sheer, creamy lace of the panties and leaving a wet spot; face flushed, scarlet mouth open and panting. A sheen of sweat covered him. It was mortifying, seeing himself in such a state, but it also ratcheted his arousal up another notch. He put a hand on his erection, wanting to finish himself off, but Tom knocked his hand away. "I didn't give you permission to do that."

Harry whined. The combination of lust and humiliation was potent. He was at that trembling point when climax was imminent, but he couldn't quite get there. His hips pumped fruitlessly at the air. Tom was laughing again. "Beg for it, my whore."

"Oh, please please please," Harry rasped. The tendrils in his mind twisted, and he erupted into pure, radiating bliss that didn't stop until it was nearly unbearable. Slowly, Harry came back to himself, hearing his ragged breathing and feeling the wetness inside his knickers start to get cold. What he'd just experienced made the orgasms he'd had in his furtive masturbatory sessions seem like pointless spasms.

Tom did a small cleaning charm, and the knickers were dry again. "Get up and sit at the table." A small dinner table, two chairs, and a small repast appeared. Harry got up on unsteady legs and walked over to it, his heels clicking on the stone floor. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the food. He sat, and Tom sat across from him. Harry siezed a loaf of bread, but Tom knocked it from his hand. "You'll make yourself sick if you eat too much. You'll eat what I give you." Tom cut the bread, putting cheese on one thin slice. "Eat it slowly, or you'll not get any more."

Harry's instinct was to cram it all into his mouth and bolt it down, but he managed to just take small bites. Never had such simple food tasted so good to him. Tom didn't eat. He just sat with his hands folded, watching Harry. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here." Harry grunted assent through a mouthful of food. "I know everyone expected me to kill you when you were disarmed, but Snape was unable to hide the truth from me. I know you're one of my Horcruxes. Killing you would be a form of suicide, would it not? So, instead, I will make you love me."

Harry swallowed. "That will never happen," he declared, his voice shaky.

"It won't?" Tom was in his head again. Harry was filled with an exquisite feeling of both longing and fulfillment. It was like an embrace. He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing into it. Tom's chair scraped back. The man got up and stood behind Harry, sliding his hands under the kimono and toying with Harry's nipples. He turned Harry's chin so they could kiss. The Dark Lord's lips were warm and silky, sliding across Harry's gently at first, but soon becoming demanding and bruising. The fingers at Harry's nipples pinched and pulled. Harry moaned. "You're half-way there, already. See how you respond to my touch?" Tom's hand was down the front of the knickers, teasing Harry's erection. "Get up and face me."

Harry stood shakily.

"Let the kimono slide from your body slowly." The feel of the silk caressing him as it fell gave Harry goosebumps. "Now pull at the end of one of those little bows. Slowly again." Merlin, how Harry wished he could disobey that voice, hide from those eyes, and keep his body from betraying him. His cock quivered as he tugged at the bow on his left hip. The panties fell half-open. "Now the other." The panties fell to the floor, and Harry stood there in nothing but the high heeled shoes. He could see himself in a mirror across the room, his whore make-up slightly smeared and his cock visibly throbbing. Tom pulled Harry close and kissed him again, and Harry couldn't stop himself from writhing against the older man. Tom laughed into the kiss.

Tom was rummaging around in Harry's head. He brought up a memory of Draco Malfoy's white body in the boys' Quidditch changing room, his thick cock hanging beneath pale blond pubic hair. Then Tom showed Harry one of his subsequent masturbatory fantasies: hiding in a closet, spying on Draco while the blond boy tried on lingerie; Draco catches Harry wanking in the closet and punishes him by making him dress up, too. "Interesting, considering how much you hated him at the time," Tom said. "Let me show how I punished his father." Tom filled Harry's mind with an image of Draco tarted up with eye-liner and lip-gloss, wearing knickers like Harry's in style, but black with red ribbons. His gray eyes were tearful as he was goaded into parading around in front of laughing, mocking Death Eaters in a pair of black patent leather platform shoes that buckled around his ankles and sheer silk stockings that went up to mid-thigh. He looked pleadingly at his father, but Lucius could only watch his son's humiliation impotently.

Harry whimpered. The glimpse of Malfoy being forced to live out one of Harry's most cherished erotic fantasies was the sweetest torture. Harry had that just-about-to-come feeling again, so acute that waves of heat rolled up the insides of his thighs, but Tom wouldn't let him finish.

"If you're good, Harry, I'll let you play with little Draco Malfoy. I'd like to watch." Tom gave Harry an image of Draco beneath him, long, stocking-clad legs splayed open shamelessly, that white face flushed with desire. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," Harry moaned.

The Draco in Harry's head begged him, "Fuck me, Potter, fuck me." The blond boy stroked his own nipples throught the sheer black camisole he was wearing as he stared at Harry, hot-eyed.

"I can make him do that for you. But only if you love me." Fingers wrapped around Harry's cocked and squeezed. A thumb circled lightly around the head. "Do you love me?" Harry just whined. "You will. I know you more intimately than anyone else could. I know what makes you shake with lust. I know what makes you shake with fear. I can give you ecstasy that no one else ever could. I know the things you want that you try to deny to yourself."

Harry was mesmerized with desire. He didn't put up a fight when Tom pushed him onto the bed and spread his legs. He just sighed into the bedspread when Tom touched a place no one else had ever touched before. He groaned as Tom slid into him, both physically and mentally. It wasn't worth fighting, was it? The Dark Lord had won. Harry had lost. He was now Voldemort's possession. There was no way out, and anything, anything would be better than to be put in that mask again. Tom dug his fingernails into Harry's hips as he thrust. He filled Harry's mind with an image tailor-made to pull his trigger: Malfoy making him wear lingerie in front of all the Slytherin boys, "Oh, God," Harry cried out as he climaxed again.

Tom pulled out and stood up. "Fix your make-up, darling, and put on your rob. It's time for me to show you off to everyone."
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