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hp_rarefestTitle: Sacrificial Lamb thy Name is Draco
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sp_owl
Prompt: #106 submitted bymahmfic
Pairing(s): Draco/Voldemort, with a tiny bit of Narcissa/Voldemort
Word Count/Art Medium: approx. 1,300
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): non-con, snake-tongue, voyeurism, castration, bondage, face-fuck, torture, blood, edging, humiliation, naked and clothed, gagged, spit for lube.
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Prompter asked for dark/fic, and I did try to make this dark.
Summary: Draco must save his mother from the dark lord’s attentions any way he can.
Sacrificial Lamb thy Name is Draco
Draco doesn’t think he can stand it again.
Night after night, tension building as the three of them sit at the long dining table, making small-talk with that devil, each fully aware of what’s going to happen as soon as the meal is over.
Because it happens every night.
And there’s no end in sight unless someone does something about it.
Draco’s father is nothing but a shell of what he’d once been…emasculated by Voldemort’s wand and impotent in every way.
It’s up to Draco.
When Voldemort finishes eating and dabs his lips with the napkin embroidered with the looping black M, it’s the first sign of what is to come.
"That was a delicious meal." Second sign.
His red eyes turn to Narcissa. Third sign.
And it begins.
Draco’s mother stands, brave as ever, and shoots Draco a warning look when he opens his mouth to object. She must have read his mind—his inability to take it anymore. She follows the dark lord out of the dining room, skirts swishing, and it’s only moments after the door clicks shut upstairs that Draco hears the bed banging against the wall and the sounds of his mother trying to muffle her grunts and wails.
Before, Draco would run outside to the treehouse his father built him when he was small, climb the ladder, and bury his head beneath the blankets on the small bed. This time he has other plans. Under his father’s blank-eyed gaze, Draco walks to the corner, shoves the piano aside, and lifts the trap door. Carefully, Draco lowers himself to the hidden passageway beneath the house. He takes the dark stairway one step at a time, feeling his way, until he reaches the second floor where his parents’ bedroom is located. The master suite has been taken over by Voldemort, and Draco hasn’t seen it since his father was castrated and sent to sleep in his study where his shrivelled balls hang over the fireplace as a reminder that he is not the head of the manor anymore.
Draco pauses at the door, summoning his courage, and then turns the knob and slips into the dark wardrobe. He can just make out the rows of his mother’s dresses hanging with their matching shoes tucked beneath them, like a line of headless women standing aside for Draco.
He moves to the door, flicks his wand with a whispered, "Transparo," and watches.
Voldemort has his mother tied to the four corners of the bed, his snake’s tongue flicking at the crevices of her body. Narcissa moans, arching upward, and the dark lord laughs. It is obvious he has already had her once, as his flaccid cock hangs out of his trousers, still dripping.
"Like that, witch? Let’s see if you like this." He touches his wand to her nipples, and she screams. Draco can see the welts popping up everywhere the wand tip goes, ribs, breasts, belly--horrible, bubbly welts that make his mother writhe and cry. When Voldemort reaches between her legs to put the wand inside her, Draco yells, throwing the door open so hard that it bounces off the wall.
Draco’s mother stares at him wide-eyed, sweat covering her body and tears drenching her face, the horrible welts standing up all over her pale skin.
"No, Draco…"
"Enough." Voldemort makes a movement with his wand and gags Narcissa with her panties.
"It seems your son has come to your rescue." Voldemort walks to Draco and looks him up and down. "Is that right, Draco? You’ve come as the sacrificial lamb in order to spare your mother?"
Draco thinks fast. It was his father’s interference that got him castrated, and Draco would rather hold onto his balls.
"I’ve come because I’m jealous for your attention, my lord."
A slow smile spreads over Voldemort’s hideous face.
"Jealous? How interesting. But I would have taken you any time you wanted, Draco."
"You give all your attention to her. I want it for myself. All of it."
Narcissa tries to protest from under the gag.
Voldemort flicks his wand and her ties disappear. "Go away, witch," he tells her. "If you say one word, I’ll kill him."
Narcissa has no choice but to grab her robes and run out of the room.
"Take your clothes off, Draco. Slowly."
Draco tries not to tremble as he removes his shoes, robes and then his shirt and trousers. Lastly, he takes off his underpants, trying not to cringe under Voldemort’s steady, lascivious gaze.
"Beautiful," Voldemort says, licking his lips with his forked tongue. Draco isn’t sure when the dark lord made the alteration in his tongue; it just appeared one day. It is definitely intimidating as it flicks out of Voldemort’s mouth when he isn’t talking. The feel of it on Draco’s skin makes him shiver in revulsion.
"You know," Voldemort says, tongue tickling Draco’s neck between every other word, "it isn’t as though I haven’t thought of you." He reaches around and grabs Draco’s privates, squeezing them hard. Draco can’t hold back his yell of pain, and he feels the dark lord’s erection press against his arse.
The scratch of a zipper going down is loud in the otherwise silent room.
"Turn around and get on your knees, boy."
Draco does; not to obey would be suicide, and then Voldemort would be at Draco’s mother again.
Faced with the dark lord’s cock in his face, there is nothing for Draco to do but to open his mouth wide. Voldemort feeds it to him, every inch, until Draco’s throat is so full, he can’t breathe.
"Just look at the lovely shade of red you’re turning," Voldemort says as he begins to pump in and out of Draco’s mouth.
Draco tries desperately to draw air through his nose, but it’s impossible. His rising panic makes it worse, and he whimpers around his mouthful.
Voldemort grabs hold of Draco’s hair, pulling at it as he fucks his face. Draco’s head spins. He knows he’s going to expire right there…suffocate with the dark lord’s pecker in his mouth…but then, thankfully, Voldemort pulls out.
"On all fours."
Draco collapses, rolls over, and drags himself up onto his knees.
Voldemort shoots a wad of spit between Draco’s arse cheeks and unceremoniously shoves his erect cock into him.
Draco screams.
To say it hurts would be a grave understatement. The pain is excruciating. Voldemort laughs as he thrusts, and Draco feels him taking blood from his thighs—Draco’s blood—onto his fingers and painting all over Draco’s back with it.
"Such lovely, pale skin," Voldemort says. "Your blood looks so good on it. You didn’t tell me you were gifting me your virgin arse, Draco. How sweet."
Through his pain and misery, Draco hears Voldemort begin to pant and curse, speeding up his thrusts so that Draco’s face is repeatedly pushed into the carpet.
"Tell me how good it is."
"It’s…good…so…good." Draco might as well be dead; he’s already dead inside. But he must spare his mother.
Voldemort pulls Draco upward, holding him as he jerks out the throes of his orgasm, pushing into Draco’s ravaged arse over and over again, the sounds of his cock squishing through Draco’s spunk-filled hole filling the room.
After he lets go and withdraws, he pushes Draco over onto his back.
"Not even a little hard, Draco? I seem to have neglected my lover."
He leans down and lets that hideous tongue flicker over Draco’s cock until Draco can’t help but get hard. When it delves into his slit, Draco cries out, arching up and begging for release.
Release comes, finally, after what seems like hours of Draco edging closer only to be left hanging again and again.
"Go take a bath," Voldemort says. He stands up and straightening his clothes. "I’ll expect you clean, naked, and waiting for me in this bed when I come back. Arse in the air. Understood?"
Draco nods. He slowly rises to his feet.
"And my mother?" Draco asks, voice dull.
"As long as you’re mine, I have no use for her." Voldemort leaves the room.
It is worth it.
Author/Artist:
sp_owlPrompt: #106 submitted by
mahmficPairing(s): Draco/Voldemort, with a tiny bit of Narcissa/Voldemort
Word Count/Art Medium: approx. 1,300
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): non-con, snake-tongue, voyeurism, castration, bondage, face-fuck, torture, blood, edging, humiliation, naked and clothed, gagged, spit for lube.
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Prompter asked for dark/fic, and I did try to make this dark.
Summary: Draco must save his mother from the dark lord’s attentions any way he can.
Sacrificial Lamb thy Name is Draco
Draco doesn’t think he can stand it again.
Night after night, tension building as the three of them sit at the long dining table, making small-talk with that devil, each fully aware of what’s going to happen as soon as the meal is over.
Because it happens every night.
And there’s no end in sight unless someone does something about it.
Draco’s father is nothing but a shell of what he’d once been…emasculated by Voldemort’s wand and impotent in every way.
It’s up to Draco.
When Voldemort finishes eating and dabs his lips with the napkin embroidered with the looping black M, it’s the first sign of what is to come.
"That was a delicious meal." Second sign.
His red eyes turn to Narcissa. Third sign.
And it begins.
Draco’s mother stands, brave as ever, and shoots Draco a warning look when he opens his mouth to object. She must have read his mind—his inability to take it anymore. She follows the dark lord out of the dining room, skirts swishing, and it’s only moments after the door clicks shut upstairs that Draco hears the bed banging against the wall and the sounds of his mother trying to muffle her grunts and wails.
Before, Draco would run outside to the treehouse his father built him when he was small, climb the ladder, and bury his head beneath the blankets on the small bed. This time he has other plans. Under his father’s blank-eyed gaze, Draco walks to the corner, shoves the piano aside, and lifts the trap door. Carefully, Draco lowers himself to the hidden passageway beneath the house. He takes the dark stairway one step at a time, feeling his way, until he reaches the second floor where his parents’ bedroom is located. The master suite has been taken over by Voldemort, and Draco hasn’t seen it since his father was castrated and sent to sleep in his study where his shrivelled balls hang over the fireplace as a reminder that he is not the head of the manor anymore.
Draco pauses at the door, summoning his courage, and then turns the knob and slips into the dark wardrobe. He can just make out the rows of his mother’s dresses hanging with their matching shoes tucked beneath them, like a line of headless women standing aside for Draco.
He moves to the door, flicks his wand with a whispered, "Transparo," and watches.
Voldemort has his mother tied to the four corners of the bed, his snake’s tongue flicking at the crevices of her body. Narcissa moans, arching upward, and the dark lord laughs. It is obvious he has already had her once, as his flaccid cock hangs out of his trousers, still dripping.
"Like that, witch? Let’s see if you like this." He touches his wand to her nipples, and she screams. Draco can see the welts popping up everywhere the wand tip goes, ribs, breasts, belly--horrible, bubbly welts that make his mother writhe and cry. When Voldemort reaches between her legs to put the wand inside her, Draco yells, throwing the door open so hard that it bounces off the wall.
Draco’s mother stares at him wide-eyed, sweat covering her body and tears drenching her face, the horrible welts standing up all over her pale skin.
"No, Draco…"
"Enough." Voldemort makes a movement with his wand and gags Narcissa with her panties.
"It seems your son has come to your rescue." Voldemort walks to Draco and looks him up and down. "Is that right, Draco? You’ve come as the sacrificial lamb in order to spare your mother?"
Draco thinks fast. It was his father’s interference that got him castrated, and Draco would rather hold onto his balls.
"I’ve come because I’m jealous for your attention, my lord."
A slow smile spreads over Voldemort’s hideous face.
"Jealous? How interesting. But I would have taken you any time you wanted, Draco."
"You give all your attention to her. I want it for myself. All of it."
Narcissa tries to protest from under the gag.
Voldemort flicks his wand and her ties disappear. "Go away, witch," he tells her. "If you say one word, I’ll kill him."
Narcissa has no choice but to grab her robes and run out of the room.
"Take your clothes off, Draco. Slowly."
Draco tries not to tremble as he removes his shoes, robes and then his shirt and trousers. Lastly, he takes off his underpants, trying not to cringe under Voldemort’s steady, lascivious gaze.
"Beautiful," Voldemort says, licking his lips with his forked tongue. Draco isn’t sure when the dark lord made the alteration in his tongue; it just appeared one day. It is definitely intimidating as it flicks out of Voldemort’s mouth when he isn’t talking. The feel of it on Draco’s skin makes him shiver in revulsion.
"You know," Voldemort says, tongue tickling Draco’s neck between every other word, "it isn’t as though I haven’t thought of you." He reaches around and grabs Draco’s privates, squeezing them hard. Draco can’t hold back his yell of pain, and he feels the dark lord’s erection press against his arse.
The scratch of a zipper going down is loud in the otherwise silent room.
"Turn around and get on your knees, boy."
Draco does; not to obey would be suicide, and then Voldemort would be at Draco’s mother again.
Faced with the dark lord’s cock in his face, there is nothing for Draco to do but to open his mouth wide. Voldemort feeds it to him, every inch, until Draco’s throat is so full, he can’t breathe.
"Just look at the lovely shade of red you’re turning," Voldemort says as he begins to pump in and out of Draco’s mouth.
Draco tries desperately to draw air through his nose, but it’s impossible. His rising panic makes it worse, and he whimpers around his mouthful.
Voldemort grabs hold of Draco’s hair, pulling at it as he fucks his face. Draco’s head spins. He knows he’s going to expire right there…suffocate with the dark lord’s pecker in his mouth…but then, thankfully, Voldemort pulls out.
"On all fours."
Draco collapses, rolls over, and drags himself up onto his knees.
Voldemort shoots a wad of spit between Draco’s arse cheeks and unceremoniously shoves his erect cock into him.
Draco screams.
To say it hurts would be a grave understatement. The pain is excruciating. Voldemort laughs as he thrusts, and Draco feels him taking blood from his thighs—Draco’s blood—onto his fingers and painting all over Draco’s back with it.
"Such lovely, pale skin," Voldemort says. "Your blood looks so good on it. You didn’t tell me you were gifting me your virgin arse, Draco. How sweet."
Through his pain and misery, Draco hears Voldemort begin to pant and curse, speeding up his thrusts so that Draco’s face is repeatedly pushed into the carpet.
"Tell me how good it is."
"It’s…good…so…good." Draco might as well be dead; he’s already dead inside. But he must spare his mother.
Voldemort pulls Draco upward, holding him as he jerks out the throes of his orgasm, pushing into Draco’s ravaged arse over and over again, the sounds of his cock squishing through Draco’s spunk-filled hole filling the room.
After he lets go and withdraws, he pushes Draco over onto his back.
"Not even a little hard, Draco? I seem to have neglected my lover."
He leans down and lets that hideous tongue flicker over Draco’s cock until Draco can’t help but get hard. When it delves into his slit, Draco cries out, arching up and begging for release.
Release comes, finally, after what seems like hours of Draco edging closer only to be left hanging again and again.
"Go take a bath," Voldemort says. He stands up and straightening his clothes. "I’ll expect you clean, naked, and waiting for me in this bed when I come back. Arse in the air. Understood?"
Draco nods. He slowly rises to his feet.
"And my mother?" Draco asks, voice dull.
"As long as you’re mine, I have no use for her." Voldemort leaves the room.
It is worth it.
