He'd tried to get away, each time she'd catch him. She'd kept him in chains in a dungeon at first, using curse after curse, torturing hour after hour. He never cried out, not even for the crucio. he'd bite his tongue so hard it would bleed. Better to bleed than to scream.
She'd been frustrated at first, their screams usually came so easy. but he just wouldn't, but soon, her frustration turned to awe. Soon the curses weren't for torture, but for testing.
He new she was testing him, wanting to know how long it would take, what would finally be his undoing. he new he was just a toy that she'd play with until it was broken. That's what all of her victims were, toys. But unlike her other toys, he'd lasted more than a few hours, more than a few days. He new she'd eventually grow tired of this toy, and a whispered killing curse would lead her to her next toy.
She'd kept him for weeks in the dungeon before he was worthy of a hot bath. She had grown tired of their routine. she'd planned to kill him, the bath was her way of showing how entertained she'd been before the curse would come. But naked and clean, he no longer appeared a frightened little boy, or a soon to be broken toy, but a stubborn and unbreakable man, a shelf able and reusable plaything. She'd gotten tired of their game, but now, with a body like that, she could play new games.
He'd been kept in the dungeon for what felt like an eternity. The hot bath was ecstasy to his abused and broken body. But he couldn't enjoy it as much as he'd wanted. He new she was not merciful or generous. which meant he'd served his purpose and now he would die. But death did not come, and the way her eyes danced with joy and undeniable lust made his skin crawl.
She'd no longer kept him in the dungeon, instead he lay chained to a bed in a room with no windows, no light until she was ready for him. Sometimes he would remain chained, sometimes a quick imperio and she'd command him and he'd obey. She was never gentle, chains torn into his skin, sometimes her sharp nails, other times the end of a whip or a blade would cause him to bleed and she never ended with out a curcio. Still, he never cried out, its what she wanted, he knew, and she knew too.
He'd tried to get away, each time she'd catch him, but he still fought, still struggled, and still tried to break free. He had to, he had to die free or die trying. He knew if he gave in he'd be bound to her, his soul would never rest. He knew, she knew, but she'd catch him, it was their game, she enjoyed it, he was her toy, her unbreakable toy, and she was in awe.