Affection

Affection, touch, is something that every person subconsciously craves, but it must be done in moderation. Affection is not completely free, but must be freely given. During the first year of training, give affection to the slave as if it is going out of style. After that, it is only a reward, and all other deeds, bad and unsavory, are to be met with a cold shoulder. The lack of affection is the punishment, which, if you are doing it right, is a much worse punishment than pain.

It is this lack of affection that leads to the next step, the intermediary between the addictions of affection and sex. The gap is simple.

One Harry Potter, age two, was a very fortunate boy. He had a roof over his head, food to eat, never got spankings, and always got to play with the coolest of uncles. It was hard at first, learning to live with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, but now, it was home. He had just gotten done with his few chores, small things like cleaning all of the short tables in the house, cleaning out the fireplace, and tidying up the small space in his aunt's and uncle's closet where his bed was kept when his uncle came in to check. "I am all done, sir," the little boy said, making sure to call the man sir instead of uncle, or he would go without his uncle's love for a whole day.

"Very good, pet. You did well with your chores." the man said as he bent down to eye level for the boy and brushed his cheek. "Very good," he said one more time, the boy smiling with a proud grin. His hand was trailing down to the back of the young boy's neck, where the boy felt tingles run up and down his spine, pleasure and joy locking him in place as the hand wandered. "I am proud of you, pet. Now," Reaching very, very close to something he was not ready to touch, he finally pulled away from the disappointed child. "Do you think you can stay here and color today? I have to go to work, and I can't take you with me."

Nodding, the small boy smiled broader. "Yes, sir! I can!" A sharp look sent the boy shrinking back. "Sorry, sir. I forgot. It won't happen again. I will be quiet. I promise." His narrow eyes softened.

"Good. Goodbye, pet."

"Goodbye, sir," the child said, but his uncle was already gone.

He tried to color, tried to be good, but it was hard for the two year old. Thinking he could just look around his uncle's room without getting caught, he wandered out of the small closet and into the bedroom. There wasn't much to see, but all of it was interesting. The bed, which Harry had made up for them that morning, was tall with elegantly designed metal bedposts that had strange little metal rings on each one that he never could understand.

Turning from the interesting bed, Harry wandered over to the small recliner set in the corner by the closet. There were two of them, with a small table between the two. Behind them was a bookshelf with a few books, ones on gardening, household repairs, and a few with weird pictures of men and women in a weird dance. He thought it looked interesting, but decided the words were too advanced for him right now. He walked away and back over to the bed, this time on his uncle's side. there wasn't much to see, but when he looked in the drawer, he found a book, an odd set of four leather bracelets with metal clips and loops hanging off of them, and a rubber ball on a wooden bar, with leather straps on either end. The bracelets were small, and would likely fit him in a few years, and the rubber ball was no bigger than an inch and a half.

He became lost in looking at the odd objects, thinking they were sort of beautiful, wishing they were his, but he knew he would be locked away in his closet and ignored if he took anything. That didn't mean he couldn't look.

It was at that moment, when Harry was distracted with the strange and pretty baubles, that Petunia, his aunt, went into the room. She froze at seeing Harry looking at the items in his Uncle's drawer instead of coloring like he was supposed to. "HARRY!!!" she screamed at seeing him there, and he jumped and turned to his aunt with wide eyes. "You rotten, ROTTEN child. Go to your bed. NOW!" Tears fell from the boy's eyes as he ran to his bed in the closet, and his aunt took his toys and stuff out before leaving and locking the door. Harry stayed on his bed, crying, knowing he had been a bad boy. He was ignored the rest of the day, and that night, Petunia was arguing with his uncle about things he really didn't understand, stuff about a book and slaves and what exactly his uncle had planned for him.

He fell asleep late, and when he woke up, he was nestled between his aunt and uncle on the bed, his uncle petting him in a way that always gave him tingles. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be bad. I was just curious and bored and… I'm sorry."

"Are you making excuses, pet?" he asked, and Harry shook his head against his uncle's chest.

"No, sir. Sorry, sir. I don't mean to. I was wrong. I should have stayed where you told me."

"You are forgiven, pet. Thank you for your apology," he pulled Harry closer and put his hands on the boy's butt. "But next time, wait until I get home and ask if you can explore. Dealing with your boredom will help you with patience. I like patient people."

"You… You do?" the boy asked, wanting to make his uncle happy and proud.

"Yes, pet. I do. Your aunt and I both love it when you can be patient, so we don't have to deal with too many things at once. Do you think you can do that?" The small boy nodded and nuzzled into his uncle's chest, happy to be wrapped in the comforting warmth of his arms. "Good boy, now get some rest. you have lots of chores to do tomorrow, and you won't be able to if you are tired." Young Harry nodded, and he was asleep in minutes.

Vernon stared at his nephew as he slept, and sighed when his wife rolled over to talk to him. "I don't know any other way to make sure his parents' freakishness stays dormant, Tuni. You saw how he reacted when you sent him to the closet. He was devastated. He wants to be good for us, and if we told him that we didn't want anyone seeing what he can do and that it was a curse to make us deal with it, he would bury it so deep that he will almost never use it, even if he was being chased down and beaten. Not to mention that he will one day want us to hit him, and he will heal so fast from it that no one will know."

"I… I suppose you are right." she said nervously, "But I don't like it. The way you touch him… it's disgusting, and he doesn't even know there is something wrong with it."

"Which is why he will be homeschooled when he and Dudley are ready. We will tell people he is slow and violent and suffers a mental retardation, so we are homeschooling him. No one will see anything wrong with it, and he will NEVER know any better."

"And when you reach the point where that book says he should know sex? He's a child. I would kill anyone who touched our dudders like that when he is so young… and that book…" she was shaking, tears falling. Affection was one thing, and beatings didn't have to go past spankings, but sex… it would bind the boy to him for the rest of his life.

"I know, Tuni. I know it's wrong, and I would never do anything like it to Dudley, but we at least have a couple of years before that time comes. We have time to decide what to do, I just… Petunia… I don't want him to leave us when he turns eleven. I know we likely have no choice, but I want him to want to come back here. I want him to want to stay in contact. I want him to want to be normal for us. I want him to want our approval and happiness above all else. If we can do that to him, he will stay with us and serve us for the rest of his life. He will forever protect us and Dudley from the freaks, our own personal freak to act as bodyguard to Dudley for the rest of his life." The more he said, the more Petunia liked the idea. Her Dudders would forever have his own magical bodyguard, and the price was a whip and giving the boy sex? It didn't even have to be them who gave it. they could… hire someone… or just use objects. they didn't have to actually have sex with the boy… and… and he wasn't stealing her Vernon from her, or her Dudders. He was just… an extra.

"Okay," she finally said, caressing her husband's cheek and pulling the sleeping boy close. "If you are going to do this, I might as well help. He has to know that you and I are both the boss, and maybe when the boys are eight, we can get Dudley used to the idea of being the boss of his cousin. He needs to know that, while your word is law, Dudley and I are both his master as well." She pulled Harry closer, burying his head under her chin, between her bosom. "He will be ours. Not just yours. Correct?"

"Yes," Vernon said, pulling his wife and nephew close and holding them as they both fell asleep.

Harry would be theirs.

Harry would be the Dursley slave.