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Daddy's little boy

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A/N: This story is chock full of obscure fetishes, smutty scenes where there will be rough dirty sex and scenes where the Daddy/babyboy relationship play out more so than others. Please, if you are not comfortable with any of this, don’t read ahead. This story, as well as another story of mine mention self-harm and may contain scenes that trigger some people, I will try to break off before that scene and warn in the next chapter, so if you need to skip it you can.

This is a WIP, and I will try to post a chapter a day but I start school in less than a week, so no promises. Currently do not have a beta, anyone willing to help out would be great! J

I hope you enjoy the story!

Disclaim Her: Sadly I do not own any of J.K. Rowling’s work, although I like to imagine them in really dirty things, I only take them out every now and then to play.


Harry had had it! He was done with today and that was final, he refused to give himself to everyone else for another minute, everyone else could go to hell as far as he was concerned. Striding quickly down the hallway to the warded double doors he whispered the password mid-stride, finally releasing his pent up anger at the little house elf waiting to collect his things. Horror quickly replaced his anger as his mind cleared and he realized what he had done; how could he be so stupid?!

Which led to his current predicament, kneeling behind the thick oak bars, knees to wrist bound with his dummy spelled into his mouth, cutting off any complaints that could be made. Really he had no one but himself to blame for losing control of his temper, and taking it out on the poor creature was stupid, reckless and cruel; something his Master was not at all pleased with, and swiftly let Harry know he had messed up. Harry wasn’t sure how long he had been kneeling in here, but anytime he shifted he had to bite back a whimper as the soft cloth covering his bum rubbed across the welted skin. He had received 20 harsh smacks before Master had diapered him and spelled him into place, kneeling bound in his plush crib.

Tom had spent the last half hour trying to placate his distraught elf; Dixxy somehow believed it was his fault the boy had lashed out at him. Tom finally gave up and ordered the elf to make dinner while he relaxed in his study for the next hour, and to let him know when dinner was ready. Hopefully by then the boy would’ve had enough time to reflect on his actions and be prepared to apologize correctly? Morgana knew how he hated to have to hurt him, but he would not put up with a disrespectful brat either, that’s just not what he wanted in his little boy.

Tom had tried to focus on the last of his missives for the day, but really all he could focus on was the past year he had spent training and breaking his slave, rebuilding him into the person he was proud to own today. A little over a year ago, the boy named Harry Potter had stumbled onto his doorstep proclaiming defeat against the Dark Lord Voldemort, he cried about no longer having the will to keep fighting and begged the man to kill him and be done with it. He had come a very long way since that day.

That following week that Harry had turned up at his manor was spent consoling the distraught savior, counseling him and trying to pick up the pieces of this destroyed little boy, surprisingly the Dark Lord felt a pull to help him anyway he could. In the weeks that followed Voldemort had found the scars littering the boy’s arms and legs, and had confronted him, only to find out that the numerous times the boy had failed in committing suicide, no matter the damage he did to his body –something always kept him from dieing. Whenever he slashed at his veins and watched as his lifeblood flowed away, he would subconsciously heal the wound before he could bleed out, and now he would cut away at his skin just to relieve the pressure and anxiety he felt boiling beneath the skin. Harry quickly realized that Voldemort would not allow him to continue to tear himself apart. Once when Harry was so close to death Voldemort had healed his injuries and then proceeded to whip his ass like a child in trouble for his misdeeds. That moment had a monumental effect on things.

For one solid week Harry had refused to leave his room, he would curse anyone who tried to bother him and even managed to injure the head house elf when he threw a hot cup of tea back on her. That was the breaking point for the young boy, when the Dark Lord found his elf hurt he stormed into Harry’s rooms and demanded answers.

“I don’t know, go the FUCK away from me!” Pillows and a lamp followed these words and Voldemort was forced to duck as a pillow came flying at his face.

“Mr. Potter, you are wearing my patience very thin, I will not allow you to continue this behavior. If I find out you have hurt another of my employees with this attitude you will not like what happens to you. Do you understand me?” By now the Dark Lord realized Harry had stopped his tantrum and he had the young mans attention. He only hoped it wouldn’t come to that, he really regretted his previous interactions with the boy but finding Harry bleeding out in his bathroom like that had terrified him. He hadn’t even realized he had the boy over his knees before he was hitting him, let alone treating him like he owned him!

Harry sat on the floor where he had fallen off of the bed and stared up at the livid Dark Lord, he finally grasped the fact that this was the man who had punished his misdeed previously, clearly it stuck out in his mind, what if he did it again? Harry was so ashamed last time, he had hoped that in stealing and using Voldemort’s wand would finally kill him, what he hadn’t expected was for the man in question to find him and heal him; let alone punish him as he had. Whipped like a little boy caught stealing from the cookie jar!!

Harry watched the Dark Lord as a amalgam of emotions crossed his face, he was surprised when he found regret, hope and finally sorrow settle on his face; what did that all mean? He had been at the Dark Lord’s manor for almost two months, and in that time came to the realization he was nothing more than a man just like any other. He hurt, he bled, he angered rather easy, but he also smiled, could joke around and dare he hope the man could care what happened to Harry? He peeked up through his fringe at the man staring down at him, remorse filled him as he fought for words – he was past feeling shame for his actions, he only wanted the mans absolution of his misdeeds, he needed it.

Voldemort watched as the boy had come to an understanding with himself but held back from doing anything further until the boy confirmed his beliefs. Now he had to play the waiting game, how long could this possibly take?

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Author's notes: Just letting you know, no more updates!

Well! You're not going to be very happy with me, but this story is discontinued.

I am no longer writing, and depending on how things continue, I may just remove this piece. I have received a few PM's claiming the diapers to be too much and perverse.