Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: Snapshots: Forsaken :: Beta (Latter)

Beta (Latter)

Note: This is AU to the main story. It follows directly on the heels of Alpha (TIISP).

After several moments Voldemort spoke, and when he did his voice was deceptively casual and quiet. “I allow that I have been quite lax with you over the years, and I can clearly see now that it has been a mistake on my part to be so. Your training has suffered in more ways than one, my little pet, and I aim to correct those faults in your character and demeanor, so let us start now.” Then he barked, “Off!”

Brand slipped off his father’s lap with alacrity.

“Mistake number one, pet. You neglected to respond to me as you should.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“No apology? Mistake number two, pet.”

“Yes, my Lord, I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“Mistake number three, pet.” Voldemort sighed with mock regret and continued, “Is that any way to present yourself to me? You show a disturbing lack of respect, and I must say, you’re getting entirely above your station to aspire to the privilege of wearing clothing in my presence. So we shall correct that now. Strip, my sweet little pet, and show me the respect I deserve.”

As he was doing so Voldemort said, “Soon enough you shall understand that I require perfect obedience from you, pet. I never gave you permission to think for yourself, after all. Perhaps I should call that mistake number four? I think I will. And I’m sure I can think of any number of punishments I can visit upon you that should drive home the point.”

He paused to eye Brand up and down slowly, then nodded. Brand had dropped to one knee and bowed his head in submission, his hands flat on the floor. A part of him recoiled at the sight, but another part was quite insistent on reminding him that this was only a perverted little game his son had initiated, and there was no harm in playing along—within reason, of course.

“That’s a good pet. It pains me to realize that I have thus far failed to make you understand that you should obey me without hesitation or complaint. Daring to question me in such a manner, or any other, shows your lack of faith in me, your chosen master, and that is such a terribly sad thing indeed.” Voldemort rose to his feet and slowly circled Brand, eventually coming to a stop in front of him again.

“And how do we properly greet our master, pet?”

Brand immediately reached out to grasp the hem of his robe and kiss it, then resumed his former position.

“Very good, pet. Keep that up and I may forget exactly how many mistakes you’ve made thus far. Now stand up and let me look at you properly.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Brand said softly as he rose, keeping his head bowed.

Voldemort made another circuit, this time letting his hand brush over the exposed skin before him, half closing his eyes in pleasure at finally getting to touch the object of his ardent desire. Before he completed his round he smacked Brand sharply on the ass to see his reaction, then grinned at the soft sound that issued from his son’s throat. Interesting indeed.

Facing him once again, Voldemort brushed his hand over his son’s penis, smiling at how it jumped against his hand. “I think I might enjoy punishing you in the future even if you have behaved yourself. Now be a good little pet and follow me, properly.”

He was curious to see how Brand would react to that, and started off toward his bedroom at a normal pace. Once inside he turned and waited, amused and pleased to see Brand eventually shuffle in on his knees and come to a stop a short distance away. “Stand up, pet. That’s right. I think I know just how to punish you, but first a little something that befits your station. Something that cannot help but remind you of your place.”

He turned and looked around, then stepped into his bathroom and grabbed a hand towel. That he transfigured into a collar of sorts before returning to his son and placing it around his neck. “There.” It was wide enough so as to force Brand to keep his chin up, though he compensated by dropping his eyes instead. Voldemort went back to the bathroom and rummaged around for several more items he could transform, then returned once more.

Cuffs went around Brand’s wrists and his arms were folded up behind his back and crossed, a length of chain securing the cuffs to the collar. He had no doubt whatsoever that Brand could release himself with barely a thought, but just to be safe he touched his son’s mind to assure himself he wasn’t causing him any distress. What he found was an odd haze, and that caused him to retain the link.

Then he stepped around and kicked Brand’s feet apart, waiting until his son had regained his balance before saying, “Very good, pet,” and patting him on the ass affectionately. He produced a paddle and shifted off to the side, then swung. Brand jerked, arching his hips forward in reaction, and made Voldemort worried for a moment that Brand would not actually be able to stay standing, so he reached up with his free hand and took hold of the chain.

Then he swung again, and continued to, keeping a careful mental eye on Brand’s thoughts as the flesh he was assaulting turned a pleasing shade of red. He was somewhat surprised to realize by the time he was ready to stop that Brand’s mind was nearly devoid of thought. It was as though his son was swimming in some kind of deeply submissive pleasurable haze, reacting almost blindly to stimuli.

He tossed the paddle to one side and stepped around to face his son. Brand’s mouth was open slightly, his eyes closed, and he was visibly aroused. “Did we enjoy our punishment, pet?” he asked curiously.

“Yes, my Lord,” Brand whispered.

“Maybe next time I’ll use a whip,” he said, and saw Brand swallow. “Yes, I can see you like that idea. Would you like a reward for being such a good pet and taking your first punishment so well?”

“If it pleases you, my Lord.”

“It does. On your knees, pet,” he commanded gently. “That’s right. Now you wait right here until I call for you.” He left, heading back into his sitting room and calling for an elf with a request to bring a selection of food. When things were set to his liking he called, “Attend me, pet.”

Brand shuffled in a minute later and stopped in front of him. Voldemort had arranged things so that he sat aside the table rather than facing it, and he had removed all of his clothing but for his robe. “I thought we might eat, pet, so why don’t you come a little closer. I think it is only fitting that I hand feed you, and between the tidbits I deign to allow you, you can amuse yourself by pleasing me directly.”

“Yes, my Lord,” came a whisper, then Brand shuffled forward to fit himself between Voldemort’s legs.

It was awkward, Voldemort allowed, given that Brand was restrained in the manner he was, but within seconds his son had positioned himself so he could take his father’s cock in his mouth and begin to lavish it with wet attention. Voldemort let out a soft groan, given to close his eyes briefly at the sensation, then forced himself to take a piece of chilled melon from the platter and eat it.

After several more, each one becoming increasingly more difficult to manage, he reached down and threaded his fingers into Brand’s hair and forced his head back. “One for you, pet,” he said, then placed a section of melon into Brand’s mouth and watched him eat. “And another.”

When Brand’s mouth did return to his aching length it was cool, taking the edge off his need, but the persistent actions of his son quickly enflamed him past the point of reason and he abandoned the food in favor of slumping in his chair and digging the fingers of both hands into Brand’s hair. He began whispering encouragement, sinking himself in both the direct pleasure and the knowledge that he was receiving it from Brand himself, only vaguely realizing that he was hissing in Parseltongue as he was brought to a completion that nearly made him lose consciousness.

Perhaps he had.

When he did recover, Brand was waiting patiently, eyes downcast. He sat there for a few moments, just breathing, then reached over for another piece of fruit. “Here, pet.” Brand obediently took it from his fingers and chewed, swallowing a moment later. Voldemort continued to feed him fruit until half the amount had been consumed, then ran his fingers through his son’s hair.

A quick check of his son’s mind showed the same blissful haze of non-thought, so Voldemort finished his own meal, then said quietly, “Back up, pet,” and was rewarded with immediate compliance. “Back to the bedroom, pet, and I shall join you shortly.”

The moment Brand had disappeared Voldemort rose and fixed his robe, then called for a house-elf to remove the platter and to bring him a couple of other things. He spent a few minutes mixing his ingredients, then swept off to the bedroom. “You still have a few punishments, pet, so let us move on to the next. I think you’ll appreciate the subtlety of this particular torture. Stand up. That’s right.”

He set down the dish he was holding and pulled one of the armchairs away from the wall and reversed it. “Come here, pet. Bend over and use this to support you.” Once again Brand obeyed immediately, sending a strange little thrill through him, and he picked up the dish and ran his middle finger through the syrup within, then kicked his son’s legs apart again.

As he pushed his finger slowly into Brand’s anus he commented casually, “Have you any idea what this is, pet? I’m feeling quite generous at the moment, so I shall tell you.” He paused deliberately, working his finger deeply and evenly, then removed it to drip more of the syrup on it. “It’s a mixture of honey and cinnamon oil, pet. And very shortly, once I’m done playing with you, you’ll understand what it does. It’s going to burn, to itch, but it won’t actually harm you. You’re going to want to squirm and beg for me to do something to cool you off. I forbid that, of course. You’re going to be a good pet and stay perfectly still, won’t you?”

“Yes, my Lord,” came a breathless whisper.

“When I think you’ve been punished enough, I’ll make it all better, pet, though I do believe the feeling of me sheathed inside you, fucking you relentlessly, will only make it worse until I cum.” He purposely fingered Brand’s prostate as he asked, “Can you feel it yet, pet?”

Brand’s reply was slightly strangled, and Voldemort noticed that his muscles had become quite tense. To add to the punishment he used a quick cleansing spell on his hand, then took up yet more of the syrup and massaged his son’s cock with it. “Did you know, pet? When this dries it will tighten. It should make for an interesting combination of sensations. In fact, I think this counts as meeting two of your punishments, so we’ll shortly be down to just the one.”

He stepped back and nodded, then licked his fingers and hand clean, using a spell as an afterthought to finish the job. Then he walked away, though not far, but making sure that Brand could hear his passage. In point of fact, he waited just outside the door for a full ten minutes before he stepped back in and said briskly, “I think we’ll take care of the last punishment, as well. Such a good idea, and there’s really no sense in waiting. Given that your ass has lost some of that delightful colour I think it’s wise, and with a whip I can mark your thighs as well.”

A glistening layer of sweat had formed on Brand’s skin, a testament to his control and ability to remain still. Voldemort produced a small whip, something between a cat-o-nine and a flog, and angled himself to the side. “I think you’ll enjoy this, pet. And remember, I forbid you to move.”

Five minutes later Brand’s ass and thighs (even inner) were crisscrossed with welts that stood out in sharp relief against his unmarked skin, extra having been added for every minute movement his son had made involuntarily. Voldemort was really quite pleased with how they had come out, and it guaranteed that his son would not be able to sit comfortably for some time. He considered it a bonus. The whip was tossed aside, and Voldemort circled around to kneel on the chair itself and say, “Kiss me, pet, and show me how much you love your master.”

Brand lurched forward and latched onto his mouth hungrily, pouring a wealth of feeling and pent up frustration into the kiss. Eventually Voldemort pulled away, quite certain that his lips were bruised, and said, “Do you think you’ve been punished enough, pet?”

“Only if it pleases you, my Lord.” Brand’s voice was nearly a whine, probably the closest to begging Voldemort would ever see his son approach. He chuckled inwardly, very much aroused and ready again, then pushed back and stood, letting one hand trail along Brand’s slick back as he circled around.

Voldemort hooked his fingers around the chain and pulled, drawing Brand up to a standing position, then urged him toward the bed, turning him before he pushed. It was, perhaps, a bit cruel to do so, knowing that when he did sink himself within his son that the welts he had so lovingly placed would cause Brand discomfort, or even pain, but there was little he could do about that now. Even if he took him from behind they would be irritated. In fact. . . .

On that thought he summoned one of the cushions from the sitting room and placed it under Brand’s hips. He had not missed how his son had changed the wording of his answer and took it to mean that Brand would not actually mind a bit more in the way of punishment, but that it was up to him to decide. The cushion fabric was, naturally, not at all smooth. That, combined with the restraints, should keep his son in the right mind set.

Voldemort eased off his robe and tossed it to the side, then coated his fingers with more of the syrup from earlier and slipped onto the bed to rest between Brand’s wide spread legs. Several minutes of preparation (combined with lavish attention with his mouth to the achingly stiff erection his son had presented him with) was enough, and Voldemort straightened and positioned the head of his cock at Brand’s anus, then impaled him with one swift movement.

And while he still had the presence of mind to do so, Voldemort took another look at his son’s mind, finding it to be a seething maelstrom of desire and pleasure and need. He then let go his restraint as Brand had long since done, and rode him fiercely, collapsing some time later over a son that was screaming out his pleasure like a demented thing. His last thought before sinking into the arms of Morpheus was that it was quite a nice thing his suite was soundproof.

He awoke some timeless span later to an insistent poking of his side and a sigh of frustration, followed by a crisp, “Father, if you don’t wake up I will not hesitate to hex you.”

He swatted at the irritating hand and grunted, then abruptly opened his eyes and sat up. Brand was sitting cross-legged on the bed, naked as the day he’d been born and not looking particularly shy about the fact. Voldemort blinked a few times, then said in a hushed voice, “Please tell me you don’t hate me.”

Brand rolled his eyes in obvious annoyance. “No, father. I do not hate you. After all, I was the one who provoked you past restraint, knowing what would happen. Should I hate myself? Should you hate me, or yourself? If so, we’re going to have one hell of a mutual pity party here.”

Voldemort smiled, albeit somewhat tentatively. “You did give me a choice.”

Brand nodded. “That I did. And I can’t say I was at all disappointed. I’ve never felt so free in my entire life. I know, it was playacting, but still, there was something about just handing over all control to you and. . . .” He drifted off into a dreamy smile of recall.

“Maybe it’s because you are, as you’ve said, forced to command nearly every moment of your life.”

Brand snapped back to attention. “I suppose you’re right. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Why?” Voldemort asked suspiciously.

Brand did a slight double-take, then grinned. “I’m just asking, father. I’m not suggesting you let me play evil overlord next time. Well, if there is a next time.” He glanced off to the side with a slight frown.

“You have only to ask.”

Brand flashed him a brilliant smile. “At any rate, I only asked because I would be willing to try, should you want it, that’s all. Though, I rather think I might start laughing or giggling or something. But really, father, I would try. If not, that’s perfectly all right with me.”

“I’m slightly surprised you aren’t calling me Tom again.”

Brand shook his head. “Absolutely not. I only did that for emphasis.” Then he paused to smile again, and said, “I feel fantastic! Well, I suppose these welts are a bit uncomfortable, and don’t get me started on the rug burns. I really think you owe me a massage, father. But, oh!”

Voldemort angled his head in bemusement. “Brand, I am the one who hasn’t been to bed with anyone in decades. If anyone should be crowing right now, it would be me!”

“Do go right ahead,” Brand said cheerfully.

Voldemort shook his head, then stopped and rubbed his face with both hands before saying, “Brand, I just want you to know how happy I am to see you smiling again. I hope it stays.”

Brand sobered and gave him a serious look. “I know,” he said quietly. “Maybe we are guilty of something vile and disgusting, but I find that I simply don’t care at this point. I’ve been awake for quite a while and. . . .” He shrugged, then continued, “Father, I understand how you feel about me, and honestly, it’s only a short step in that direction for me. No, it never occurred to me that you would or did, but you do. I belong to you, no matter what, and I’d like to think you belong to me, regardless of the circumstances.

“If you want to continue this, then please, by all means. We’ll simply need to be careful, that’s all. I meant what I said earlier. I’m not going looking again, and most people are so intimidated by me that I’ve little fear anyone will look to me either. The only one who would dare is you.”

“You do, and I do. I would not deny you anything.”

“I’m such a bad influence on you, father,” Brand said, cheerful again. “Next time, though, I get to be on top. Now, are you ready for breakfast, because I’m starving. And then, I think a nice long bath. . . .”