Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Cracked	By : Mermaid-in-a-Manhole Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 43531 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 16
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters within that universe, and I am not receiving any money for my fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Note: Ok, so the entire chapter is either rape or torture, with the tiniest little bit of plot thrown in there, so I won't put any warnings within the chapter itself. Instead, I'll do a tl;dr thing at the end of chapter notes for anyone who's squeamish or gets triggered by these things but is still reading this for some reason. Enjoy the darkness.
Harry let go of Tonks as soon as they were clear of the Floo, and she stumbled to her knees. He allowed his mask to fall away and sighed in relief. “Now then, it’s much better to see a witch in her rightful place!”
Tonks looked up at him from where she knelt, and she paled at his hungry expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry waved his hand and she went limp. “Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks, I hereby bind you as a slave to myself, Lord Harry James Potter-Black. Let no one ever release your bindings by anything except death!”
He summoned a knife from the kitchen and grabbed a fistful of her hair. In her paralysed state, she could do no more than grunt and tear up in pain. “I remove this hair to signify the end of my slave’s freedom and the start of her new life.”
Chunk by chunk, he cut off all her hair, knowing he could order her to grow it back once the ritual was done. Once she only had small, misshapen tufts of hair left on her scalp, he dropped the knife and disrobed, freeing his hard cock. He looked down at her and tugged on himself a few times, then rolled her over so she lay on her back. He ripped open her blouse, then got the knife and sliced open her bra, freeing her somewhat small breasts. Next, he used the knife to rip her skirt enough so he could rip the rest of it off by hand, then tore her panties off.
Tonks was making grunts which he assumed meant, “No, no, no!”
He disregarded her pathetic attempts to get him to stop, and instead groped her breasts harshly, then moved onto tweaking and fiddling with her nipples until they were hard little pebbles, then sucked one into his mouth before biting down, hard. The faint taste of copper let him know he’d broken the skin, so he let go and saw the tooth marks surrounding her areola were tiny wells of blood. As he watched, the blood overflowed and a droplet tracked down into the crevasse under her breast, which he was happy to discover turned him on immensely as his cock was now almost painfully hard.
He nudged her legs open and surveyed his property. She was bare except for a small landing strip, and her inner lips were slightly moist, reacting to the nipple play stimuli. “Look at that, Nymphadora, it seems you like this,” he said, and ran his finger over her clit. She gasped and convulsed slightly at the feeling, then made another grunt of denial. “Oh, but you do! You’re already so wet for me.”
He stuck a finger inside her and stroked her inner muscles, delighting in her reactions. A tear had started to roll down her cheek. Another finger was added, and he scissored them within her. His fingers were completely soaked now, and with a sudden, unexplainable urge, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It was a sweet, yet oddly tangy taste, with a small hint of sharp bitterness, and he found he liked it. He lowered himself down so he could lap up the sticky liquid from the source, and nearly moaned at the overwhelming flavour.
He withdrew his tongue regretfully, but knew he had years and years to explore her folds with his tongue, so he instead positioned his cock at her slit and slowly pushed in, overcome by the slick, warm walls hugging him. He met a slight resistance and chuckled. “Oh, little Nymph, you’re a virgin! How delightful!”
He drew back slightly before slamming in and thrusting away in wild abandon. Her grunt this time was more of a muted scream, and for several minutes, all that could be heard was the slapping of skin on skin and the violent, animalistic grunts from Harry alongside the sobbing grunts from Tonks. Harry stiffened and came with another grunt, and when he became aware of his surroundings again, he calmly said, “With the taking of this slave, let her be forever bound to Lord Black until such time as death takes her.”
He pulled his soft cock out of her, and summoned a few things which he’d prepared beforehand. As he’d known Tonks would be his slave, he’d gone into the storage compartment of his trunk and pulled out a pet collar, a leash, food and water bowls, and a human-sized cage which had once had the skeleton of a large dog in it. He’d then made the word Nymph appear on the collar and the bowls.
The collar, leash, bowls, and cage soared through the air towards him, and he lowered each of them to the ground carefully. He opened the cage and levitated the still limp but sobbing Tonks inside, set the bowls within and poured water into one of them with Aguamenti, and then fastened the collar around her neck. “Now, you are to respond to ‘Nymph’,” he told the shaking woman.
He put the leash onto the collar and magically fastened it to the top of the cage, which was too high for either of them to reach. As she was still limp, she looked like a marionette as the collar cut off her airway because the leash was too short to reach the bottom of the cage. He watched in satisfaction as her eyes bulged and she choked as her breathing got cut off entirely, then just before she could fall unconscious, he lifted the spell which had made her limp. Immediately, she sat up so she was no longer hanging by the leash and started gasping, sobbing, and retching.
“You are not to use your Metamorphmagus abilities for anything unless I say so, which means you’ll need to keep your new haircut until I feel like remaking you. You also may not speak, urinate, or defecate without permission. As it’s the early evening and you definitely haven’t earned the right to eat anything, I’ll just leave you here to contemplate things as I eat a lovely dinner my house elf cooked.”
*
The next morning, Harry made his way downstairs to the cage. According to Dobby, Nymph had cried all evening and into the night, finally falling into an exhausted sleep around two in the morning. He quietly opened the cage door and stepped inside, then backhanded her, waking her. “How dare you cry for such a long time! My elf didn't get to sleep until two because of your pathetic snivelling!”
He kicked her in the ribs, and she cried out in pain. “You are worthless, you are nothing!” He kicked her again, this time in the thigh because she'd curled up to try to protect herself from his onslaught. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”
“Please, Harry, whatever they've done to you to make you act like this—”
Harry interrupted with a punch to her head. “You do not have the privilege, nor even the right to address me by my name. Unless we are in the presence of people who don't know that you're my slave, you will only address me as “Master”, and I expect you to obey my every order. And for your information, no one made me act like this. The so-called light side ignored what the Dursleys did to me, even made sure I stayed in that disgusting house like Mr High-and-Mighty Headmaster demanded, but the light didn't make me like this; Voldemort killed my parents and left a piece of himself inside me that was trying to possess me practically my whole life, but he didn't make me like this either. If anything, the most blame goes to Dumbledore for making me endure the torture that was Occlumency lessons from Snape, which really turned out to be mind-raping sessions, and then Dumbledore also never allowed me to get proper medical treatment for my abuse or the mind-rape, because either he hired Pomfrey knowing that she wouldn't care about an abused child, or he's spelled or potioned her to always ignore the signs that were right under her nose and ignore my pleas for help.”
Nymph was shocked at his little speech, and had even uncurled herself during it, so he promptly kicked her in the stomach. She let out a whoosh of air and another cry of pain, both of which Harry simply ignored as he lowered the elastic rim of his sleep pants so his morning wood showed. “Do you want me to hit you again?” he threatened when she went to say something. She shook her head hastily and looked at his hard cock in disgust and horror. He smirked. “How about you take care of this for me then? I warn you now that I expect you to swallow, and if you spill so much as a single drop, or you bite me, I will torture you until you can't control your arms or legs.”
Nymph whimpered helplessly, but seeing she had no choice, she manoeuvred herself so her leash wouldn't choke her when she went down on him, then hesitated for a split second before opening her mouth and taking him in. However, before she could start sucking, Harry held her head in place and started pissing into her mouth. Her eyes widened and she desperately tried to escape from his grip, but he was too strong. Just before his piss overflowed from her mouth, he said to her, “remember, swallow it all or get tortured.”
With the most disgusted scrunched-up face she could manage while a big, hard cock was in her mouth, she closed her eyes and swallowed his piss down again and again until he was done. He removed himself from her mouth and observed her while she gagged, until she vomited the piss and whatever her last meal had been out on the floor in front of him. He grinned a nasty smile, bent down at the waist, and lifted her chin with a finger. “That was more than a drop, Nymph.”
She was instantly terrified, and scrambled to the back of her cage, shaking her head in denial. “No, no, no, please, M-Master, please!” she stammered.
Harry wiggled his finger at her in disapproval. “Ah, ah, ah! I said you would get punished if you did, and you did, so since you know I always keep my word, you know I'm going to have to do this.” He untied the leash handle from the cage and tugged at it. “Come on, follow me. On hands and knees.”
Too scared to try to disobey him, she did as she was told and exited the cage. Harry said, “Dobby, clean up this mess.”
Dobby appeared, said, “Yes, Master,” and clicked his fingers to clean up the urine-vomit, then disappeared again. The elf never spared a glance for Nymph, which meant he was truly fully acclimated to his new Master. Harry was glad.
He led his slave into the basement, then made her stand up. Some chains hung from the ceiling and others snaked across the ground they were fastened to, there was a modified St Andrew's cross which could become horizontal along one wall, and a wooden horse stood next to a pillory on the opposite wall. Half of the wall opposite the stairs was filled with torture devices, and the other half had what he considered kinky tools like magical vibrators, gags, and the like.
The second his slave had seen the room in all its glory, her whimpering kicked up another notch, and Harry heard her saying, “No, no, no, no…”
Once she had stood up, he fastened some shackles to her wrists, and the chains these shackles hung from were attached to the ceiling just far enough apart from each other that Nymph had to stand on her tiptoes if she wanted her arms to remain in their sockets. Her breath was coming in quick, shallow pants, and it only increased when she caught sight of Harry's cruel smile. “Now then, little Nymph, since this is your first punishment, I won't require you to count how many times I hit you, then again, I don't think I feel like punishing you with whips or canes today. You're not worth my effort.”
He leisurely got his wand from its holster and pointed it at her. “Crucio,” he intoned, and she started screaming. He knew from personal experience that the torture curse felt like a thousand hot needles stabbing every inch of the body, but from Voldemort's memories he knew that all Auror recruits had to experience the curse for a full ten seconds to understand what it did to the body and why it was illegal to cast on a human being. He kept it on her for five minutes, enjoying her unearthly screams, then stopped, not wanting to fry her brain completely.
Her whole body shivered in tremors, and her screams stopped, now giving way to whimpering. “What did you do wrong, slave?” Harry asked.
“I-I puked out your piss,” she said in a hoarse voice.
Harry backhanded her, causing her to lose her balance, scream in pain as her shoulders were nearly dislocated, and flail around to try to regain it. “What did you do wrong?”
Her currently grey eyes clouded over in confusion. “I… spilled more than a drop?”
Harry used a weak cutting curse on her thigh, splitting the skin and allowing some blood to flow down her leg. She screamed again, and then he said, “I'm disappointed in you, Nymph. Only a few minutes ago I told you what I expected of you, and you can't even remember a simple instruction. You don't matter; you’re worthless! However, I am your Master, and you are my slave. As I am a good Master, I will help you to learn. What do slaves do when their Master orders them to do something?”
Nymph sniffled. “Th-they do it?”
“Very good,” Harry said. He healed the gash in her leg as a reward. “You will stay down here and think about what that means in regards to what you did wrong. I will return when I feel like it.”
He left her there, fully intending to wait a couple of days before returning. To bide his time, he finally sat down to look through the Black property portfolio. There were a fair few more than the measly three from the Potter portfolio, but as he looked through them, only one or two of them looked nicer than the Potter ones, excluding the cottage in Godric's Hollow, of course. Actually, he was thinking about getting that one bulldozed and rented out in Muggle real estate, just to stick it to the Ministry, who for some reason believed they owned it and thus has the right to make it a war monument, without paying a single knut to the Potter Estate.
In total, there were twelve Black properties. Three were manors in Britain, although apparently they were occupied at the moment and the people in each of them hadn't paid rent for fourteen years. A small note said that they were occupied by the Malfoy, Parkinson, and Nott families, respectively. He'd have to think on what he should do about this, but that could come later.
The fourth property was a small townhouse in London, and the picture that accompanied it made him realise that it was the house at Grimmauld Place. He'd have to look through—
Oh.
One of Voldemort's memories surfaced as his mind went through all the Dark objects he'd seen in that house. In a display case in the drawing room, there lay a small, silver and green locket with a powerful Dark aura. They had all tried to open the blasted thing, and all had failed. Now he knew why, and he was rather glad they hadn't managed it. Well, only one thing to do if he wanted to destroy Voldemort. “Kreacher!” he barked.
The filthy elf appeared with a faint pop, ranting and raving about how he didn't want to serve the traitorous Harry Potter. “Stop that racket!” Harry demanded, and Kreacher could only obey. “Now, do you know of a small locket that resides in Grimmauld Place that will not open, no matter how hard you try?”
“Kreacher knows of no such locket in Grimmauld Place,” the elf replied, sullen.
Spotting where the elf had specified his statement, Harry amended, “What about a locket that you saw when Voldemort made you go to a cave and drink a torture potion? A locket that he placed in the basin the potion had been in?”
Kreacher twitched and tugged desperately on his left ear. “Kreacher knows of that locket, but he wonders how Harry Potter knows of the cave and the potion.”
“That is none of your concern. Where is it, if it is not in Grimmauld Place?”
“Kreacher does not know, but he knows the fat, stinky, greedy man who took many of Mistress’ other treasures, also took the locket.”
Harry blinked. “Did you ever hear this man get called Mundungus, or Dung?”
“Yes!” Kreacher said, nodding his head fervently.
“Find him and bring him back here, tied up so he can't escape. I suspect he will be in Knockturn Alley somewhere. I expect you to be back here with him tomorrow evening at the latest. You may not talk to anyone unless it is absolutely necessary for this task or for your survival.”
Kreacher bowed reluctantly. “Yes, Master.”
The elf popped away, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief at being away from such a disgusting creature. He returned to perusing the remaining properties.
He had a mansion in the outer Hebrides, and a small cottage, situated on an enormous block of land, in southern Ireland. Two properties were in the United States; one a penthouse flat in New York City overlooking Times Square, and the other a small family home in Florida, within spitting distance of the theme parks. He owned a tequila distillery in Mexico which had a five bedroom cottage under heavy notice-me-not and muggle-repelling wards; he had a villa in the Italian countryside which had an enormous vineyard and winery attached that, according to another note in the ledger, supplied some of the most expensive wine in the world.
Finally, he owned a mansion in New Zealand on the southern island, and a whole tropical island which was apparently a floating island and could move at the ward controller's will. Fascinating.
Out of all of the properties he now owned, he most wanted to visit the Potter one in France, the Black one in Italy, and the floating island. He knew he would have time during what he still had left of summer, which was just under three months, so he mentally mapped out his ideas for the visits. He was starting to come up with a few small plans for what to do about the remaining properties, so they wouldn't just be money sinkholes; obviously his first step was to evict the Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson families. The thought of Malfoy's face when he realised he was homeless allowed him to fall asleep that night with a satisfied smile on his face.
*
As expected, Kreacher showed up the next afternoon with the squirming and trussed up form of Mundungus Fletcher. “Good job, Kreacher. Stay where you are until I tell you otherwise.”
He turned to Dung, but didn't bother asking him any questions—instead he ripped through his mind to look for the answer. The thief had very basic Occlumency skills, yes, but they were no match for a Master Legilimens. When he found what he was looking for, he cursed his bipolar luck. Last week, Dolores Umbridge had happened upon Dung selling his stolen wares and had taken the locket as a bribe to refrain from reporting him for not having the proper paperwork. He exited the snivelling man's mind and paced back and forth, mentally raving about the circumstances, until he saw Kreacher.
“Kreacher, you are to kidnap Dolores Umbridge, making sure that she has the locket on her somewhere, and bring her back here,” Harry said. “Same rules as your last mission, but this time she can be found in the Ministry, probably near the Minister's office. Make sure no one notices when you bring her to me.”
It wasn't even an hour later when Kreacher returned, this time with the Toad in ropes. Fletcher was still crying after the brutal mind-rape Harry had carried out, so Harry kicked him for good measure. “Give me the locket, Kreacher,” Harry said, and Kreacher did so. Then, without further adieu, he cast the killing curse at both of the bound people at his feet, then banished the ropes surrounding them. “Kreacher, you are to carry them both to Knockturn Alley somewhere and position them as though they are having sex. Then, I want you to vanish their clothes, and come back to me. I want no one to see you do this task.”
Kreacher, shocked at how casually Harry had killed two people, quickly did as ordered and was back within ten minutes. “Kreacher did as Master ordered,” the elf said, finally accepting that Harry was Dark enough to be Lord Black, and thus his Master.
“Good. For your final task, you are to return to Grimmauld Place, grab a knife from the kitchen, go to your old Mistress’ portrait, destroy the portrait without damaging the rest of the house or the wall it hangs on, and then stab yourself with the knife repeatedly until you die. You will not tell, mime, or show in any other way, anything you have done or will do today, to anyone. If anyone is in the house, you will rant and rave about refusing to be my elf, that you would rather die than belong to me.”
Kreacher's skin was now a very white colour, but as he had accepted Harry as his new Master, he was now bound to carry out his Master's orders. He disappeared with a pop, and Harry simply turned and walked out of the room, smiling at the locket he now held in his hand. After all, he already had two elves, both of whom had acclimated to his personality, and Kreacher was too old to go through that again, and he'd already proven himself untrustworthy. Simply put, he was an annoyance and a hassle, and couldn't change, so Harry felt he was justified in ending the miserable elf's life after helping him to complete the final order his beloved Master Regulus had given him.
The rest of the day was relatively boring, being taken up by stabbing the locket with one of the Basilisk fangs he'd taken from the butchered creature, and brewing the healing potions Nymph would need, but come sunrise the next day, he went down to the basement and surveyed the half-dead thing that was hanging from the ceiling. Him opening the basement door had woken her up from her tortured stupor, and now she was regarding him with hopeless, pained eyes. She didn't make a sound. “What did you do wrong, slave?” Harry asked softly.
“I-I… dis-sobeyed my Master,” she said in a broken voice.
Harry nodded and smiled brightly. “Good girl! Now, why is that a punishable offense?”
“I am your s-slave, Master. Slaves obey their Masters; I didn't, so I was punished,” she finished, and Harry heard the fear in her voice, but he also heard how much care she took to say exactly the right thing without allowing any of her pain to escape her lips. Evidently, she was still hanging onto what little pride she had left, so she was not quite broken, yet, but she was well on her way, and a few days of him using her body as he saw fit would see her break completely.
He magically released her from the shackles that held her up, letting her drop to the floor without a care. “Kneel,” he said, and he watched impassively as she used the last of her strength to do as ordered. He freed his morning wood from his sleep pants and held it in one hand. Nymph shuddered, but obediently took it in her mouth and swallowed all of his piss. She gagged once, but then regained control of herself and sat back on her knees as tears coursed down her face in humiliation.
He tucked himself back in and took the leash that was still attached to her collar. He led her back up the stairs and into the dining room, where he'd lined up a few vials of potions on the table. “Open wide,” he said cheerfully, and when she did as told, only hesitating for a fraction of a second, he made her swallow an anti-cruciatus potion, a pepper-up, and a fertility potion.
“Now then,” Harry said, clapping his hands together once, evoking a flinch from Nymph. “Grow your hair until it's down to your lower back and make it perfectly wavy and black.”
The woman did as told. “Make your eyes a hazel colour, but more green than brown. Good. Increase your breast size until they're a size E, make your areolae darker and larger, your nipples bigger and constantly stiff, your body shape into an hourglass one… no, decrease your waist more than that. Better. No hair on your body besides what's on your head at all, tighten your pussy, and keep it that tight, make your ass bigger, perfect and firm, that's it. Skinnier thighs, make yourself shorter than me, delete your gag reflex and separate your oesophagus from your windpipe, making your windpipe only connect your lungs to your nostrils and your oesophagus only connect your stomach to your mouth so I can fuck your throat and you can still breathe, and finally, your second toe must be shorter than your big toe on both feet.”
Before him knelt a perfected version of the old Tonks, one so very close to being broken so she could be re-made as Nymph, his perfect little fuckdoll.
Then, happy with the changes, he picked up the dog bowl, with her new name on it, from the table, and set it down before her. It was full to the brim with dog food. He patted her on the head, bent down and slapped her ass, and sat down at the table. Dobby popped into the room and served him breakfast, and he dug into his eggs, bacon, and sausages.
Nymph's stomach growled at the sight of the delicious food, as she hadn't had anything to eat in four days, but she knew that she would get punished if she asked for any of it. Her Master had already given her food, and she was expected to eat every bite. Begging whatever higher power might exist to save her from this nightmare, she lowered her head and ate like she knew he expected her to: without hands, like a dog.
Tl;dr: Harry reveals his true colours as soon as they're through the Floo. He binds Tonks as his slave, renaming her Nymph, molests her, rapes her, and imprisons her in a cage in his living room, then has dinner, not allowing her any. The next day, he beats her for crying for the whole night and not letting Dobby sleep because of it. He forces her to take his morning wood in his mouth, but then just pisses in her mouth for fun. He punishes her for spilling his piss when she vomits from that, by suspending her by her wrists from the ceiling of his basement and leaving her without food or water for 2 days. During that time, Harry hunts down the locket through Kreacher, who then kidnaps Dung and The Toad for him. He kills them, gets Kreacher to put them in Knockturn, naked, like they were having sex but died during the act, then orders Kreacher to kill himself. Nymph has learned from her punishment and eats a meal of dog food while Harry enjoys breakfast.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Cracked