Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harco Empire	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
[Note: conversation =: “speech” & ‘thoughts’ & *telepathy* & #Parseltongue# & {telephone}]
(Cock & balls torture, strapping, penal water torture, threats of worse.)
~~~ TORTURE ~~~
Chez Dursley: “Have you finished stuffing yourself with our food, Freak?” Vernon glared at Harry: “Right then … Upstairs into your room.”
Harry sighed and did what he was told. His uncle followed him and had him open his trunk. All Harry’s homework books were taken out, plus other items that his so-called guardian thought were magic. Vernon counted them; after each group of five, his uncle looked at Harry with a malevolent gleam in his piggy eyes.
“Those can be locked away; you won’t need them again.”
“But I need them for my homework.”
“No you don’t. You’ll not be returning to that freakish school once I’ve beaten some sense into you.”
“But …”
“Thirty-five items you’ll never need again. Thirty-five days – thirty-five strokes. Then, when you’ve seen sense, you can burn them. No more unforeseen happenings, no more odd visitors. Ah-h … what a heavenly feeling.” Vernon smiled as he contemplated the imaginary scene and then turned, glowering at his nephew. “Come here Freak, trousers down, over my knee.”
Harry tried to escape, but Dudley was blocking the doorway because he had been listening at the door.
“I’ll hold his arms, Dudders; you remove his trousers and underpants.” Vernon held Harry face down on the bed.
Dudley took his time with Harry’s zip, pretending it was stuck, but in reality Dudley’s hands were stroking Harry to full erection. The trousers eventually came off and Harry’s boxers were next. His cock stuck out through the flies and rubbed its underside on the rough blankets of his bed. Dudley pulled hard on the boxer’s legs causing Harry’s hard-on to travel rapidly and painfully through one hundred and eighty degrees. As Harry legs flopped down on the side of the bed Dudley could see the reversed reddened pole sticking out between Harry’s parted thighs.
“Dad, look at this.” Dudley pointed to Harry’s crimson pecker.
“That proves he’s a freak. Stand up, Boy!”
Harry was reluctant, so Dudley grabbed his arms, brought them back and lifted him into a standing position. As he straightened, Harry’s prick narrowly missed hitting Vernon in the face.
“Disgusting Freak, what’s this?” Vernon slapped Harry’s cock.
Harry cringed as much as he could, pushing his bare arse back into Dudley’s clothed groin. Vernon carried on slapping from different angles. He was not doing it too hard and, instead of hurting, Harry found himself even more turned on.
It was obvious to Harry that Dudley was also aroused by what was happening as he could feel an increasing bulge when he arched back. Sometime during the process Harry realised that his uncle had started counting.
At thirty-three, Harry gasped, threw his hips forward and shot his load. Vernon scooted down the bed and the cream landed on the tatty coverlet. When he had finished, Vernon gave Harry’s cock two hard slaps.
“Disgusting freak, look at the mess you’ve made. Lick it up.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Dudley, you stay with him and make sure he does.”
“Yes Dad.”
As soon as Vernon had left, Harry felt Dudley undo his flies. Then Harry felt the skin contact of Dudley’s hardness. Dudley bent Harry forward so that his nose was in the mess on the coverlet.
“Lick, Freak.”
Harry found the taste was not as awful as he imagined it would be; neither was the feeling of Dudley riding his crack. As Dudley became more and more energised his hands slid round Harry’s body in order to increase his grip. Only when they reached Harry’s stiff stem did Dudley realise that there was something to play with. As Harry finished cleaning up the mess Dudley’s hands started to compress the captive’s danglers. As Dudley squeezed, Harry arched back. The movement stimulated Dudley’s engorgement. A few grips later Dudley shot his little load all over Harry’s back.
“I’m done with you,” said Dudley, sotto voce. “He’s finished, Dad,” he shouted.
“Well done Dudders, lock him in his room. Come and have your going-to-bed drink before it gets cold.”
Harry collapsed on the bed, shuddering; his mind in confusion. He understood Dudley’s point of view, but Uncle Vernon was entirely different. Harry was not sure whether it was real punishment, or something else. What he did know was that he had been excited by the treatment and was rather looking forward to more. He lay in bed wondering if Draco would take to something like that.
~~~ THE MANOR ~~~
Returning four hours later, Sven removed the ankle and wrist restraints, he also unhooked the block from the stand, letting it pull the young Malfoy’s parts between his thighs. Draco huffed when the weight yanked downwards.
“You there! Are you going to remove this?”
“No!”
“What…! Take this off immediately, you disobedient kobold.”
“Master says Son has to wear it.”
“Well I say remove it. Obey me or I will have you punished.”
The kobold sighed: “Master said Son would be awkward. Oh, well!”
Sven took hold of the block and started turning screws. Draco relaxed expecting soon to be free. Instead he felt an increasing tension as the Block began to expand.
“Ee-ee-ee. Stop it!”
Sven wound on pulling Draco’s balls further apart: “Son has to apologise to Sven, so Master says.”
“What? - - Oh! - - - - Ah! - - - - - - EE-EE-EE … Alright, I apologise.”
“Why?” Sven’s hand played with the block, swinging it between Draco’s quickly splayed legs.
“I … A – pol – og - ise … To Sven … for cal - ling him … dis – o – bed – i – ent.”
Sven smiled grimly: “Son will go to room now, yes?”
“Yes! … Please will Sven ease the pressure?” Pleading with a lesser being hurt Draco’s self-esteem greatly.
“Master will see to it later. Son will go to bedroom now, or Sven has to make block stretch further.”
“Oh no! Please don’t, please. I’ll go straight away.” Draco waddled off, holding the block so that it did not pull too much. To avoid being seen he used the secret stair all the way up to the turret entrance into his bedroom.
The young Malfoy lay on his bed, trying to turn the screws on the block. None of them would move, not even a millimetre. All he succeeded in doing was to make himself sore and maintain his enforced erection.
Lucius arrived with a malicious grin on his face. “You need the key to turn those screws. Let me show you.” His father turned the screws pulling on Draco’s already taught skin.
“Please, Father; no more. I’ll not have sex with anyone until I’m properly married.”
“Oh but you will, my Son. Many times,” Lucius released some of the tension.
“I – I don’t understand? Why am I being punished?”
“The Malfoys have standards, Draconius. We do not, repeat, do not go whoring around in railway carriages; unless of course, it’s in our own private train.”
“We have a private train?”
“Of course not, we don’t need one, but what the Royals can do gives imprimatur to the Malfoys. Why do you think we will be paying for you to have a private room at Hogwarts next term?”
“Uh? Can I use it like that?”
“Of course. We seduce people to make alliances. Why do you think your godfather always supports our side?”
“What! You and Uncle Sev. Gosh.”
By this time the block had been released, but Lucius hands were still caressing Draco’s hard-on.
“Imagine, for a moment, that you could involve someone influential by jumping their bones and having them infatuated with you. Then, later on, being able to use that connection to influence policy. I always wished Dumbledore had been willing.” Lucius was now jerking his son’s cock absentmindedly.
“Like … who … Father?” Draco’s hormones were rising rapidly.
“Someone of your own age who’s likely to be a big name in a few years’ time.”
Draco was almost there.
“Not a Weasley,” his father continued, “they’re minor players. Your best catch would be Harry Potter. Now - that -- would --- be ---- a ----- good ------ catch -------.” Lucius trailed off …
As soon as Harry’s name was mentioned, Draco shot, Lucius continued to pump, but evermore slowly as his puzzled face turned into a pleased smile.
“You haven’t? Well I never! Merlin! What a capture. Well done Son. If the Dark Lord returns we can hand him over on a plate. If he doesn’t, then we’ll be allied with the new power in the land.”
“But Father, I’m enjoying the encounters and so’s he, I think.”
“Politics is fun Draco, especially sexual politics, enjoy it; I do. Don’t go at it hammer and tongs, that way he’ll get tired of you, or you’ll start to find him boring. A nice slow burn works wonders. How far have you got?”
Draco looked at his Father in amazement. “Uh?”
“C’mon Son don’t be shy. Have you been inside him yet? Did you enjoy the warm gripping tunnel of his bottom?”
“Father! What are you saying?” Draco blushed redder than his diminishing prick.
“Maybe you are slightly too young for that yet. Have you ridden him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you. Lie face down on your bed.”
Draco was worried about what was going to happen, but dare not disobey his Father for fear of further sessions with Sven’s whips and the block. He watched Lucius take his clothes off and saw his erection. ‘Not as big as Harry’s is now’, thought Draco.
“Oh dear, I can’t do with that.” Lucius regarded his son’s red-raw buttocks.
Draco felt a healing charm remove all the contusions on his bum. Then he felt the elder Malfoy’s hands caressing his buns.
“So white, so tender, so beautiful,” purred Lucius.
Draco closed his eyes, dreading penetration. Instead he felt his father’s knobbly intumescence snuggling between his arse-cheeks.
“Don’t be so tense Draco; you’re too small to breach yet. Just flex your muscles gently.”
Draco did as he was told alternately gripping and relaxing his bum-muscles. The elder Malfoy’s reciprocating movements caused the younger Malfoy’s body to ride up and down on the soft sheets. Not only did Lucius reach his climax between Draco’s flexing buns, but Draco reached his own by the silken sliding of the bedclothes beneath him.
Lucius promised his son more lessons in non-penetrative seduction and left. After cleansing himself and the coverlets, Draco lay dreaming, wondering if Harry would enjoy this new talent and seemed to get a ghostly ‘yes’ as a reply.
Puzzled by this connection Draco scoured the Malfoy library, coming up with the same book that Hermione had found. He studied it and tried to enhance his sendings. It confirmed that regular sexual contact helped in this form of communication and so resolved to seduce Harry again.
At Malfoy Manor, the sexual instruction of Draco broke when the owl delivered his school report. Lucius was furious at his son’s supposed poor showing. Most parents would be pleased that their offspring were always in the top three at class; not Malfoy senior, his progeny had to be forever on top.
Draco re-entered the punishment room, pushed down the stairs by an irate Lucius.
“Get up; you good-for-nothing. Letting a Mudblood beat you at your best subject, Merlin’s wand! Tie him face down on the bench, Sven.”
“Yes Master.”
“Thirty-five times you have not been top, so for thirty-five days you will report here to the dungeon kobold and receive thirty-five lashings. Am I understood, Draconius?”
Draco’s face drained of what little colour it had: “Yes-s-s F-f-fath-ther,” Draco stammered, dreading the forthcoming month.
Lucius turned to Sven: “And I want to hear him scream.”
“Yes Master, it shall be so. Will you stay to see the punishment?”
“No! I shall be in my study, listening. And Sven.”
“Yes Master?”
“Make it last!”
The kobold was strong and his broad hands soon had Draco firmly restrained, face-down, on the hard bench. Whilst the younger Malfoy quailed in expectation, Sven bent down below the bench and started adjusting screws.
“Master says Son must scream!” Sven said loudly. “So scream you will.” Then he added quietly so that only Draco could hear. “After five, blubber, at ten gasp loudly, fifteen start begging, after twenty scream quietly building up to as loud as you can by thirty; last five will be very hard to make Son’s bum red; got it?”
Draco thought this was an odd way for a torturer to behave. He also felt the bench rising in the middle, lifting his buttocks and stretching the skin taut. As the bench rose, a crack in its upper surface opened beneath the captive’s abdomen. Shortly afterwards Draco felt his accoutrements dangle freely.
Sven was cunning. He knew that one day Draco would be master in turn. So, he needed to ingratiate himself with the younger Malfoy. The kobold picked out a double strap for chastisement purposes.
The strap hit the upraised buttocks with a sharp crack. Draco was amazed, it stung slightly, but the noise it made suggested tear-jerking pain.
“One!” Sven called out loudly. There was a goodish wait before two was called.
The treatment continued up to five. Draco was so amazed at the lack of pain he forgot to blubber when six was called. He felt a kobold hand grip his genitals and gasped in shock.
“Son must blubber at five, not gasp,” whispered Sven, using his fingers to explore Draco’s sensitive area.
At seven, Draco gave a moaning sob, increasing the volume slightly at each hit. Meanwhile, below decks, encouraged by a kobold’s fingers, his engorgement was growing.
At ten the gasp was genuine, not because Sven had changed the double strap for a louder one, but because of a kobold todger tickle.
Fifteen came and the younger Malfoy started begging, more because of the fingers not playing, than because of any unbearable hurt in his behind.
The scream at twenty was muted, as by now Draco could sense the direction the kobold was taking. It also registered a rough pulling of his penis. The crescendo of screams was matched by an equal crescendo of Draco’s carnal circumstances. The last five lashes did hurt but were offset by the increasingly horny happenings below. Thirty-four was accompanied by Draco’s gusher, and the scream contained definite sexual overtones. Before the last lash, Sven milked Draco of his last lascivious drop. The final crashing slap was accompanied by a twirl of the Malfoy mushroom. Draco screamed loudly, but he was unsure whether it was from hurt or for lust.
When Lucius came down to inspect his son’s scarlet posterior he noted a small creamy puddle beneath the captive. He looked at his dungeon-master and winked, not that the face-down captive noticed.
“Well done Sven. Let that be a lesson for you, Draconius. You may release him now, Dungeon Master.”
For some reason the figure thirty-five seemed to resonate with Draco’s trial sendings to Harry.
~~~ REPORT ~~~
When Harry’s school report arrived, Uncle Vernon was equally incensed.
“Where are the proper subjects, Freak? These are all about things we do not mention in this house.”
“But those are the only ones taught, Uncle,” Harry replied in a tremulous voice, suspecting where this was leading.
“Where is the Algebra? Where is English Literature? You’ll never hold down a proper job without good marks in the three R’s. You are obviously not trying hard enough. I’ll have to alter your punishment.”
Harry almost blurted out that he was trying hard and about homework under the night time sheets, but then thought better of it: “Yes, Uncle,” he said as meekly as he could.
“Take him upstairs Dudley; strip him ready for punishment.”
“Yes Dad,” Dudley agreed readily. “C’mon, Freak, get up those stairs.”
Dudley was rough as he removed Harry’s clothing, making sure that every garment removed was accompanied by a hard-squeezed package. Naturally, Harry sported a hot hard-on when the last garment came off. Dudley milked it for a minute and then stopped when he heard Vernon stomping up the stairs.
“Disgusting as usual!” Vernon raised his hand to slap the protruding flesh.
Harry cringed, awaiting the blow. Vernon’s hand stopped in mid-flight.
“Dudley? What is the current prefect’s punishment at school for not following the rules?”
“A special shower, Dad; why?”
“Still the same, then? Mmm … That seems appropriate. Take the Freak to the bathroom.”
“Right on, Dad.” Dudley’s grin had a malicious twist in it.
Harry quailed at Dudley’s obvious glee, but the strong arms coercing him couldn’t be dissuaded.
There was a loop handle in the wall behind the bath to help older people get in and out. Harry’s hands were put behind his back and tied to it. It was a bit low so he had to bend his knees slightly. Dudley and Vernon grabbed an ankle each and pulled, parting Harry’s thighs and enabling him to straighten his legs. He was now wedged with one foot at the base of the bath and the other near the plughole. Harry could not regain his former posture because the secured hands restricted his movements; he also realised the exposure of his danglers.
Vernon took the spare shower and fitted it onto the hot tap, Dudley did the same with the one they used every day, but fitted it onto the cold tap. Dudley went first, making Harry’s genitals contract under the freezing water. Uncle was next, almost scalding them into expansion [it was a good thing Vernon was niggardly about electricity and kept the hot water at just above comfortable]. Harry struggled as the alternate jets played with his pubic area. He nearly came when the hot water was on him, with its needle jets set to erogenise him. The restricted cold jet was sharp and stung, occasionally catching his glans lips and painfully entering his urethra. When Harry started to scream, Dudley wrapped a towel around his face as a muffle. Eventually the hot water cistern ran out of hot water, and the torture ceased.
“Untie him Dudders, I’m going to read the newspaper. I’ll see you at lunch in half an hour.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Dudley took advantage of Harry’s distress with soapy fingers. As he came, Harry wept because of the soreness inside his prick. He wept again later; when he had a pee. And yet a perverse part of him had been turned on by this treatment.
Alternate days of pecker slapping and cock washing followed one another in a tedious procession, until Harry was almost on the verge of agreeing to burn his books.
~~~ CESSATION ~~~
What drew things to a halt at Privet Drive was the arrival of Aunt Marge. Harry’s conflicting feelings were enhanced. He disliked her intensely, but she had saved him from the various tortures. Vernon felt very guilty about what had happened in the bathroom and tried to avoid Harry. That pleased Harry too. When Aunt Marge was made into the balloon and Harry left the house Vernon felt relieved; although he did put up token resistance.
What drew things to a halt at Malfoy Manor was Lucius having to go away on business, taking Narcissa with him; they were not due back until after term started. To his surprise Draco was put on his honour not to stray and was given sufficient floo powder to access Diagon Alley. He was also given enough galleons for his new books and a generous amount of spare pocket money. His ever-doting mother also added her contribution to his pocket money. His jaundiced mind registered that the superfluity of gold was only to make the Malfoy clan look good in the magical community's eyes.
As he had several days to go before he needed to buy his books Draco decided to enjoy the facilities of the Manor whilst there were no supervising adults around. It was great! There was no-one to enforce rising times, or meal times, and he could go to bed just when he felt like it. His freedom was soon to be curtailed.
This particular summer day had much promise. The wind was light; the sky was blue and Draco had been flying on his broomstick ever since he finished his late breakfast. The exertion of that and the hot sun had him sweating profusely, so steering towards the outdoor swimming pool Draco, jumped off, shucked off his shorts and jumped in to the cool water. He enjoyed the freedom of swimming au nu for about half an hour. That included climbing out and trying various dives from the springboard. As he climbed out for another go he heard someone coming. His shorts were on the other side of the pool and with them his wand.
“Well, well! Look at this, Vince. Our little princess in his birthday suit! All ready and prepared for our attentions.” Theodore came around the corner, accompanied by Vincent and trailed by Gregory.
“I am not a little princess, Theo, as you can well see,” Draco huffed.
“Oh but you will be soon. There are no adults to stop us.”
Draco was no fool and knew what they intended, especially when he could see anticipatory bulges on two of them. Gregory just looked confused. Draco knew that his pucker was due for a triple perforation. He also knew that he did not want that to happen. To lose his anal virginity to those thugs was definitely not part of his plan.
Luckily for Draco his discarded broom was nearby so he stretched out his hand and it came to him. Mounting he rose-up: “You’ll have to catch me first!” and zoomed off over the hedge.
It took them a couple of minutes to accio their brooms and come after him. Draco had several advantages: he was already airborne, he knew the ins-and-outs of the Malfoy estate, and he was an excellent flyer. His disadvantage was that there were three of them and his wand was still concealed under his discarded shorts. The recovery of which was his first priority.
Once they were airborne he let himself be seen about a quarter of a mile away. The three spread out to intercept any possible side manoeuvres. Draco led them on and then disappeared behind a hedge. They zoomed in for the kill. The tall evergreen hedge Draco had gone behind enabled him to pass laterally along in front of them, hidden from view. At one end was the entrance to the rose pergola which led back to the pool. Turning sharply, Draco zoomed along inside the heavily scented tunnel, hidden from his pursuers’ eyes by the arching blooms. He arrived at its end just as they found that he was not behind the high hedge. Thus, whilst they searched, he, out of view. reclaimed his wand. Leaving his shorts where they were, he flew nakedly to the house, around its side and up to his bedroom balcony. Being such a fine day the elves had opened all the mansion’s the windows to air the rooms, so Draco managed to access his suite. Miniaturising his broom and the bag that Sonny had already packed, Draco ran down to the floo room, prepared to escape. There he met Sonny.
“Where are you going, Master?”
“Diagon Alley, to escape those thugs.”
“May I use the floo afterwards to go to the Zabini residence?”
Draco knew what his elf intended: “You have my full permission.”
“Thank you master.”
Draco threw the floo powder into the fireplace: “Leakey Cauldron.”
Immediately afterwards Sonny threw some floo powder in: “Zabini Residence.”
Five minutes later the trio of pursuers arrived, having sussed out how Draco was trying to avoid them – At least Theodore had.
Theodore tested the floo thaums and found they pointed to Blaise’s home: “I think we should be careful. I don’t fancy taking on both Draco and Blaise. So, we’ll bide our time here until Draco returns.”
~~~ FREEDOM ~~~
Both Harry and Draco had been heavily supervised, harshly in fact. Their time in Diagon Alley would be relatively unsupervised.
Draco had this immense feeling of relief, knowing that no strict father was overlooking him and that he had escaped, at least temporarily, the machinations of Theodore and his two thugs.
For Harry in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, there was no supervision either. The room was more comfortable than the one at Privet Drive, the food was plentiful, and the Minister had better things to do than supervise a young adolescent. So, both of them felt free, probably for the first time in their lives. Free to explore their real selves, not the images other people put upon them. Harry most definitely did not feel like ‘The defeater of Voldemort’. Neither did Draco feel like the ‘Perfect little Malfoy’ image he seemed to have thrust upon him. The problem with such regimented upbringings is that you are sheltered from the knocks and bangs of daily living. Harry was a little more worldly-wise than Draco, but still not entirely used to wizarding society yet.
- 6
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- 8
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