Chapter 3
Draco shivered in terror. He knew Voldemort was waiting for an answer, although he was no longer holding his chin. Now he was petting him like a beloved pet.
"You, Draco, the price was you," Voldemort said in a silky voice. With a sharp flick of his wand, Draco was relieved of his cumbersome robes and bothersome muggle clothing. Voldemort slid his eyes over Dracos' body. The boys' mother had done well in keeping his wardrobe simple for this.
The Dark Lords hands reached out and caressed Dracos' naked back, stroking him on the buttocks lovingly. His skin was so smooth, like satin, paler than the creamiest milk.
Draco tried hard to swallow his fear, but this wasn't Pothead, Weasel or the Mud-blood. This was the Dark Lord himself. Dracos' fears were well founded. A silent 'swoosh' sounded from behind him just as he felt nine strands of tightly wound leather bite into his bare back. He couldn't prevent the gasp of pain that escaped his pale red lips. After a few moments, there was another 'swoosh' accompanied by pain. Draco felt tears welling up in his gray eyes. I will not cry he thought to himself, he swore to himself. The cat-o-nine fell five, ten, twelve, Draco lost count of how many times his back was struck.
"My dear, darling Draco," Voldemort sibilated with pleasure as he groped the young boys' flaccid penis. "I am so going to enjoy breaking you in." Draco realized with horror that the snake was standing between them, licking both his and Voldemorts penises' with her flickering tongue. The blond youth then realized he himself was getting hard from the attention. How is this turning me on? Draco thought to himself with revulsion. Voldemort seemed to know his thought and raised Dracos' head; forcing open his untried mouth, he kissed Draco with wild abandon.
Before the young Prince of Slytherin knew what was happening, his chains had been lowered and he was on his knees. Voldemort plunged his engorged member deep into the boys' throat, gagging him. Instinctively, Draco used his tongue to push the offending member out of his mouth. Voldemort simply sighed in pleasure, snatching both sides of Dracos' platinum head and slowly thrusting in and out of the boys' mouth. Tears filled his eyes as he was forced to fellate his fathers' Master. The snake coiled herself around Dracos' legs, causing him to shudder in loathing.
This seemed to please Voldemort even more. He began to laugh gleefully with each rocking movement of his hips. The sound of that maniacal laughter chilled the poor boy to his core.
After what seemed like hours, Voldemort began to pump faster.
"Ah, yessssss, yyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeessssssss!" The twisted man squealed in his rapture. Tom Marvolo Riddle exploded into Dracos' mouth. He held tight to the teen's head, keeping his penis deep in his throat. Draco had no choice but to swallow the warm, salty semen since he didn't want to choke. The action of swallowing seemed to give the Dark Lord more pleasure. Yet Draco was spared another go at the oral sex. Voldemort waved his wand and raised Draco back into a standing position. Draco knew he was crying, yet could not bring himself to attempt to hide it. Somehow, Draco knew that trying to disguise his tears would only delight Voldemort even more.
"Now Draco, my sweet young toy, you are going to learn how to truly please me," Voldemort promised in his snakelike hiss. Draco swallowed in fear, the bile in his stomach rising to the back of his throat.
Voldemort raised a thin, black, long, tightly wound horsewhip and smiled. Before Draco could even hear the crack, a long red welt appeared diagonally down Draco's' bare chest. As the crack resounded through the round chamber, pain blossomed across his chest. He barely contained the scream. The second strike, making a perfect 'x' upon his torso, tore the reverberating sound out of him, however. Three more lashes sounded before Draco passed out.
Narcissa was watching through a magic mirror, and felt herself grow warm with her own excitement and release. Now that Lucius was going to be in her own power, she would now be free to act as she wished, for the most part. Voldemort, the mud-blood bastard, would still need to be placated. He had Draco now, and her place was assured. Selling her son to him to get her husband back was a stroke of genius. She turned her eyes back to Voldemort as he played with her unconscious son. She laughed softly as the deranged Dark Master rammed his re-engorged penis into her sons limp body, she had always known the man was incapable of using men properly, they had to be little boys for him to feel truly powerful.
She looked at the bruises and cuts that were forming on his skin and realized, that since Draco had passed out, to make him move Voldemort was using Crucio on him. Narcissa decided she'd have to try that one-day.