Cambrian’s Emporium of Everything (Multiple Settings)

Poll Winner

Themes: Dom/Sub, Rough Sex, Fucked Silly

Summary: In truth, there's no 'betrayal'. Harry really is as dark as they think he is. When they finally sentence him to Azkaban, there is no injustice. Frankly, he doesn't even mind being there. He's already consumed the shard of Voldemort's soul in his forehead. And he's still so very hungry. The Dementors and their prisoners make for tasty treats, but when Bellatrix submits to him instinctively, Harry decides she can live to serve him.

-x-X-x-

He doesn’t initially move, when they toss him in his cell. Instead… he lets the prey come to him. And when the rattling finally reaches his ears and the feeling of a cold wind graces his spine, Harry Potter does not shake or quake, nor does he whimper or cry out for mercy. No… he smiles.

The trial they had for him was as official as one could be. Had to be, really. He was their savior twice over. He’d killed Lord Voldemort as a baby, and then ended him a second time when he’d returned. By all rights, they should have been worshipping him as their god. However, when the full depth of his crimes against Wizardkind was understood… they really only had one choice at that point. Lock him up and throw away the key.

Harry didn’t blame them, not really. He knew what he was. He knew the monster he’d become. It’d all started way back then, on Halloween Night when he was only one year old. Those in the know had thought that Voldemort’s Avada Kedavra bounced off of him somehow and rebounded to hit the Dark Lord instead. But that wasn’t what had happened at all. The Killing Curse had not ‘Avada Kadoinked’, but rather… it had come up against the truth of Harry Potter… and met its match.

Lily’s ritual had protected Harry as it was designed to, but the Power of Love was a dark and terrible thing. There was a reason that the Department of Mysteries had a room dedicated to studying it… a room that had called Harry until eventually he hadn’t been able to resist anymore, until finally he’d broken in… and then he’d understood. He’d known his purpose. And he’d set out to fulfill it.

They thought they’d stopped him. That by locking him up in Azkaban and throwing away the key, he could do no further harm to their world. They didn’t understand. None of them did. Not the wizards and witches who put him here, not his fellow prisoners… and not the Dementors, who thought him to be a tasty new snack for them to sup upon.

As the first of Azkaban’s jailers approaches Harry’s cell, he rises to his feet and strides forward. He meets them at the bars, reaches through without hesitating, and grabs the Dementor by its cloak, yanking it in for a kiss. The creature isn’t expecting it, of course. The Dementor’s Kiss is the most terrible punishment ever conceived by wizarding kind. No human being has ever WILLINGLY initiated a lip lock with a Dementor before now.

But Harry is ravenous. Voldemort’s soul sits within him, as do a half a dozen others… and yet he’s still so hungry. And so he eats. He eats the first Dementor. He eats everything the Dementor has ever eaten to. It comes to rest within him and Harry feels… energized.

Breaking out of his cell after that is child’s play. Dealing with every Dementor in his path proves just as easy. Scared of their jailers as they are, the wizards of the British Isles barely staff Azkaban Island. Better to just leave the prison in the control of the Dementors, right?

Well, not when you’ve put the fox in the henhouse, no. Working his way through things, consuming and taking and gorging himself on prison guards and prisoners alike, Harry chuckles throatily, smiling softly as he enjoys himself for the first time in far too long. He always knew he would end up here eventually. Be it as a free man or in chains, it hadn’t really mattered. Azkaban was always going to be a step along his path and now that he was nearly done completing it, he could look towards the future and the next steps.

He could-

“My Lord? My Lord… you’ve come for me!”

Harry turns his head slowly, his emerald eyes glowing bright with subsumed power as he stares at the prisoner who’s addressing him. Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black stares back at him through the bars of her cell without fear or terror… but with pure reverence in her maddened eyes.

Though, her brow does furrow cutely in confusion at first when she beholds his young appearance. Obviously, he is not her Lord. He ATE her Lord. Harry waits for the Death Eater to turn violent and aggressive, to howl at him in impotent fury. But that moment, to his surprise, never arrives. Instead, she lets out a gasping breath.

“My Lord has taken on a new form… but this lowly slave recognizes her Master, no matter what he looks like! Please, Master! Please, take me with you! I am yours as I have always been! I have not forgotten my place! I have not strayed like all the others!”

Harry tilts his head to the side and considers both her and her words. To his mild surprise, he discovers that Bellatrix is right. He is not Lord Voldemort. He is much, much worse than Voldemort ever was. He is the Power of Love in a human body. He is the universe correcting a wrong.

And yet… Bellatrix believes she is his. She believes it so fervently, so earnestly, that she makes it true. There is a bond between them, a connection frayed but nevertheless there. His consumption of Voldemort gives Harry access to her Dark Mark, and thus her very soul. Reaching out physically as well as mentally, he tears the bars of her prison open while at the same time beckoning her to him with his mind. Bellatrix scrambles forward, licking cracked lips as she instinctively reaches for his crotch.

“Allow me to serve you, my Lord. It has been so long… I have m-missed you and your cock every day.”

Oh? So she and Lord Voldemort had that sort of relationship, did they? Hm… very well. But as she is now, Bellatrix’s appearance does not appeal to him.

With a wave of his hand… Harry cleans his new servant up. In an instant, her hair has been washed and swept back into a ponytail, rather than the mad mess she’d had before his arrival. Her pallor improves considerably, though her face is still quite white from the lack of sun. Her lips heal and fill out, and so does the rest of her body beneath the rags that she calls clothes.

Bellatrix stares down at herself in wonder for a moment, no doubt feeling the changes wrought upon her body. When she looks up at him again, the adoration in her eyes has increased tenfold.

“My Lord… my Lord’s power is as awe-inspiring as ever!”

With that, she tears off the rags providing her with a small modicum of modesty, revealing that her body has indeed been repaired in its entirety. She looks like she did the day she entered Azkaban now, and as Harry takes in her curvaceous figure, he has to admit… she looks quite good.

Letting out an insane giggle, Bellatrix reaches for his crotch again and this time Harry doesn’t stop her. She quickly extracts his cock, cooing over it and moaning as she rubs her face against his dick.

“Mm, Master’s cock… sooo good. As hot and throbbing as ever, ehehehe!”

She truly has gone mad… but then, from Harry’s perspective, it’s the whole world that’s gone mad. One great big cosmic joke. He was here to set it right. From the moment Lily had performed her ritual and sacrificed herself to protect him, she had sealed a young Harry’s fate. She had created the monster he’d become. And he would always love her for that.

For now though, Harry simply reaches down and curls his fingers around Bellatrix’s new ponytail. The former Death Eater gasps and quivers, before opening her mouth wide, her hands coming down to rest upon the top of her legs. She lolls out her tongue in offering… and Harry takes her up on it, thrusting his throbbing erection forward into her mouth and down her throat without so much as a ‘by your leave’.

“Gluuuughk!”

She’s as ready for it as she can be, but in the end that doesn’t amount to much at all. As he uses his grip on her ponytail to start bouncing her head up and down on his cock, Bellatrix gags and gurgles and chokes from the singularly rough treatment.

“Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!”

Not that she hates it. No… she loves it. Which is precisely why Harry is doing this. Truth be told, his own pleasure is second in all of this. He gets more pleasure from consuming then he does from carnal pursuits. However, Bellatrix has sworn herself to him as his servant and will serve him loyally in all things. For that, he has decided he will eat her last.

And until then, he will make sure she enjoys their time together. He will make sure she loves every last bit of her service to him.

“Hulghk! Hulghk! Hulghk!”

Slobber and saliva and drool coalesce on Bellatrix’s lower lip, eventually dribbling down from her chin all the way to her bouncing bust. Her breasts, full and beautiful now that he’s healed her, jiggle up and down with the force of his thrusting as he face fucks her right there in the middle of the prison corridor. All the while, she sits there kneeling with her hands atop her legs and just takes it.

Finally, Harry lets out a grunt and begins to cum. His balls churn and his cock pulses as seed begins to flow out of it and down Bellatrix’s throat. He pulls back halfway through as she starts to truly asphyxiate on his jizz, stopping her from expiring early and as a result, cumming all over her front for the rest of it. As she coughs and rasps for air, Harry tilts his head to the side, admiring the ‘artwork’ he’s made of her for a moment.

… But he can tell she’s not satisfied. Not even with this much.

“Stand up. Face the wall.”

Her voice is filled with excitement, even though it’s also raspy from the abuse.

“Yes, Master!”

Standing up, Bellatrix turns and bends over the nearby stone wall. She thrusts out her hips for him, spreading her legs wide and offering up her cunt. Harry… steps forward and slams into her without a single word. His cock, still rock hard, impales Bellatrix Lestrange right there on the spot. The insane witch lets out a throaty squeal at that, her head tossing back and her eyes rolling around in her skull.

“Yessss! Harder, Master! Please! Use me! Break me! My life is yours! I don’t care if you kill me, so long as it brings you pleasure!”

She’s lying, though whether she knows she’s lying or not, Harry can’t say. Not about the death part… she truly doesn’t care if he kills her or not. Which is good, considering her and the rest of this world’s ultimate fate.

No, Bellatrix is lying because in truth, SHE’S the one who would find pleasure in dying at his hands. She is quite mad by the standards of this world, but she’s perfect for him. Still, he has no need for her to die early or in such a wasteful manner. So… he limits himself, despite knowing her deepest, darkest desires. That does not mean he goes easy on her though.

No, she wants it rough… and rough is exactly what Bellatrix gets. Gripping her harshly by the hips, Harry begins drilling into the woman from behind, fucking her with greater and greater force until her attempts to remain bent over at an angle for him are ultimately stymied. Instead, the power behind his thrusts pushes Bellatrix up against the wall of the prison corridor in short order, causing her face and tits to grind against the stone.

Both things that make her even more aroused, of course. Her pussy walls flex and clench around his thrusting cock, even as she gushes down below. Her insides squeeze his length in the telltale sign of an explosive orgasm as she shrieks and squeals at the top of her lungs, begging him for more until eventually she can no longer form coherent sentences.

As he fucks her from behind, pushing her up onto her tiptoes with the force of his thrusting, Harry reaches around and grabs hold of her chest as well. Interposing his hands between her breasts and the unforgiving stone wall actually disappoints her for a moment, though she’d never say it out loud. Still, the loss of pain and friction takes away from her arousal oh so briefly… until Harry begins to properly maul her chest, squeezing it and kneading it quite harshly.

He pinches her teats between his fingers and pulls on them damn near hard enough to rip them off of her body. Only nearly though, he still has use for her to be whole and healthy for him. In turn, Bellatrix creams herself yet again, orgasming upon his cock as he abuses her just as she begged him to, roughly taking her from behind.

Finally, with a grunt, Harry finishes inside of her. He fills Bellatrix with his seed. As soon as he’s done, he pulls back and she spins around, recovering rapidly as she drops to her knees to take him back in her mouth. Harry allows her to do so, watching her clean him off for a moment. Then, he snaps his fingers and watches as thread spools into existence around her.

In mere seconds, Bellatrix is clad in some simple dark robes that still manage to be ten times the quality and look of her previous prison rags. As she looks down at herself in wonder, Harry pulls away from her, his cock returning to its confines as he returns his attention to his goal.

“Come. We are not done here yet.”

“Yes Master! Of course!”

She follows like the loyal dog that she is and Harry, in spite of everything… appreciates her more than he thought he would. She will be a useful tool in what is to come. Once he’s finished cleansing Azkaban, it’ll be time to move onto the rest of the world. He might start with Britain first, or he might leave them for last. He hasn’t decided just yet.

But when he’s done… all will be one inside of him. And Love… Love will be satisfied.