Aunt petunia POV:
Before him, I'd enjoyed sex, fleeting moments of pleasure with Vernon's predictable grunts, but now? I can't live without it, I thought, my breath catching, my pussy growing wet at the mere memory of Harry's touch, his dominance, the way he unraveled me with every command, every thrust. Vernon was a shadow compared to him, a dull echo of a life I no longer craved.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice low, deceptively casual, but I felt the undercurrent, the test beneath the words.
"Yes," I said, looking up at him, my voice soft, my eyes meeting his, a mistake I realized too late.
In a flash, he grabbed the leash clipped to my collar—a thin leather strip I wore beneath my blouse, a secret mark of his claim—and yanked me to my feet, the teacup clattering into the sink. "Yes what?" he demanded, his tone sharp, his grip unrelenting, his eyes boring into mine.
"Master," I cried, my voice breaking as he flung me over his lap, my skirt riding up, exposing my bare thighs, the air cool against my heated skin.
"You insolent whore," he yelled, his hand crashing down on my naked ass, the sting sharp, blooming into a fiery ache. "How many times do I have to tell you? It is always 'Yes, master', or 'No, master'. Nothing more and nothing less." His hand struck again, and again, each slap precise, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen, my skin burning under his palm.
Tears pricked my eyes, spilling over as I sobbed, "Yes, master, forgive me," my voice trembling, my body betraying me with a rush of arousal, my pussy clenching despite—or because of—the pain.
His hand froze mid-air, and he jerked me upright, his eyes flashing with anger, a storm brewing in their green depths. "What did you just say?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
"Yes, master," I replied, my heart pounding, confusion clouding my mind.
"No, you didn't," he said, his gaze unrelenting, pinning me in place.
I replayed my words, panic rising as realization dawned. Yes, master, forgive me. I'd broken his rule—only "Yes, master" or "No, master" unless he permitted otherwise. His eyes narrowed, catching the moment I understood my mistake, my face flushing with shame and fear.
"Didn't I just say that all you could say was 'Yes, master', or 'No, master'?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
"Yes, master," I whispered, my throat tight.
"And did you say 'Yes, master, forgive me'?" he pressed, his tone unrelenting.
"Yes, master," I admitted, my voice barely audible.
"And now you need to be severely punished, don't you?" he said, his words a command, not a question.
"Yes, master," I said, my body trembling, a mix of dread and anticipation coiling in my core, my pussy dripping, betraying my arousal at his dominance.
He grabbed my leash in one hand, the bag he'd brought in the other, its contents a mystery that sent a shiver down my spine. Leading me to the bedroom, he moved with purpose, his grip firm, my bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floor, the leash a constant reminder of my submission. The bedroom was dim, the curtains drawn, the bed looming large, its dark wood frame and high mattress a stage for our games. Just the right height, I thought, my pulse quickening, knowing what was coming.
"Undress me," he commanded, his voice cutting through the silence, his eyes locked on mine.
"Yes, master," I said, my fingers trembling as I unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off to reveal his toned chest, the faint scars of his past a map I'd traced with my lips. His pants followed, my hands brushing his hardening cock, a thrill shooting through me as I caught our reflection in the full-length mirror. My long blonde hair was disheveled, my nipples stiff with anticipation, my ass pink from his earlier slaps, the marks a badge of my surrender.
Harry bent me over the bed, my feet flat on the floor, my body at the perfect angle for his punishment. He tied my hands behind my back with a silk cord, the knots tight but not cruel, his touch a mix of control and care. My breasts pressed against the cool sheets, my ass exposed, vulnerable, my pussy throbbing with need. He owns me, I thought, the realization both terrifying and exhilarating, my submission complete under his gaze.
"I picked a few things up for you," he said, his voice low, teasing. "I knew that I would need them sooner or later. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes, master," I replied, my voice steady despite the fear curling in my gut.
I heard him rummage through his charmed ring, a storage device that held countless items, its magic a mystery I didn't question. He held something before my face—a paddle, its surface gleaming, the words Bad Girl carved in bold block letters. My heart sank, my breath catching. Harry had spanked me with belts, crops, and his hands, but this paddle, with its raised lettering, was designed to sting, to mark me in ways that would linger. He planned this, I thought, a mix of dread and awe at his foresight, my pussy clenching at the thought of the pain to come.
"I had this made especially for you, Petunia," he whispered in my ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down my spine. "You are a bad girl who can't remember how to answer her master properly. Aren't you?"
"Yes, master," I said, my voice trembling, my body braced for what followed.
"Now, because I have had to remind you twice tonight, I think you need 20 strokes on the ass and 10 strokes on the tits," he declared, his tone final.
"Yes, master," I replied, planting my feet, my body tensing, readying for the onslaught.
Harry pressed his hand on the small of my back, holding me down, the paddle's first strike landing with a sharp crack, the pain searing, radiating through my ass. Worse than I imagined, I thought, tears welling as he hit the same spot repeatedly, the word Bad Girl imprinting on my skin. By the fifth stroke, I was crying, my sobs loud in the quiet room, and by the twentieth, I was bawling, my ass a blazing inferno, the welts throbbing, my body shaking. Like lava, I thought, the pain overwhelming, yet my pussy dripped, my arousal a humiliating truth.
"Look at your ass," he ordered, his voice firm.
"Yes, master," I sobbed, turning to the mirror, my reflection a shock—my ass glowed the brightest pink I'd ever seen, the words Bad Girl spelled out in angry welts, a brand of my failure. Harry grabbed my hip, flipping me onto my back, my bound hands pinned beneath me, my breasts exposed, vulnerable.
"Now it is time to do those tits," he said, bringing the paddle down across my nipples, the pain a white-hot shock, my howl echoing as he struck again, counting each stroke. "One… two… three…" His fingers slipped to my pussy, finding it soaked, a smirk curling his lips.
"Fucking slut," he said, his voice dripping with disdain and approval. "You like being punished, don't you?"
"Yes, master," I moaned, my body betraying me, the pain and pleasure blurring into one.
"Do you want me to fuck you now?" he asked, his tone taunting.
"Yes, master," I moaned, sobbing, my need for him overwhelming, my body aching for release.
"Maybe later. I have something else in mind," he said, his words a cruel tease, my heart sinking even as my pussy throbbed.
He grabbed my leash, pulling me to the floor. "Kneel, and I want to see your ass on your heels, you fucking slut," he ordered, smacking my throbbing tit, the pain sharp, reigniting my tears.
"Yes, master," I said, lowering myself, my sore ass pressing against my heels, the pain a constant reminder, his 9-inch cock hard and looming before me.
"Do you want to suck my dick?" he asked, his voice a challenge.
"Yes, master," I replied, my mouth watering despite the ache in my jaw, the need to please him overriding everything.
"Then what are you waiting for, bitch?" he snapped.
I licked up his shaft, savoring the salty taste, my tongue swirling around the head before taking him into my mouth, his girth stretching my lips. "Oh yeah, bitch, suck it," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "I love the good cock sucker, but I love the good throat fuck more." He grabbed the back of my head, forcing his cock down my throat, my nose buried in his pubic hair, gagging as he thrust. "Yeah, bitch, choke on it," he growled, his rhythm relentless, my jaw aching, tears streaming as I sobbed and choked, his dominance complete.
I knew he was close, his cock pulsing, but he pulled out just before he came, leaving me gasping. "Don't think I'm going to let you off that easy," he gasped, his eyes glinting with intent. He bent me back over the bed, tying my legs to its posts, spreading them as wide as possible, my feet still on the floor, my pussy and ass exposed, vulnerable.
"Now for the real fun," he said, slipping a blindfold over my eyes, the darkness heightening my senses, my heart pounding.
I heard him rummage through the bag again, the sound ominous, then felt cold lube against my asshole, a whimper escaping me. Not that, I thought, fear spiking, my body tensing.
"Shut up, bitch," he growled. "I have been waiting two days to fuck that tight little ass of yours, and tonight I am going to do it."
"No, master," I begged, my voice breaking, panic rising.
"Trust me, a dirty little whore like you will love it," he said, his tone unyielding.
I felt something slide into my ass, smooth and intrusive, and whimpered again. "It's just my finger, relax," he said, sliding his cock into my wet pussy, the pleasure a sharp contrast, my moan loud as he fucked me slowly. So good, I thought, my body relaxing, his finger moving in sync, pulling out as his cock thrust in, the rhythm building, my arousal spiking.
He fucked me harder, his finger probing deeper, and as I came, he slid a second finger into my ass, the sensation pushing me over the edge, my orgasm so intense I nearly blacked out. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice smug.
"Yes, master," I panted, my body trembling, pleasure and pain entwined.
"I knew you would, you dirty whore," he said, pulling his cock out, ramming his fingers into my ass, my moans loud as he added a third, triggering another orgasm, my body bucking, my mind lost to sensation.
"You filthy anal whore, I know what you need," he said, removing his fingers, my moan one of loss. "Do you want me to fuck your asshole?"
"Yes, master," I begged, my need overwhelming, my body craving him.
He spanked my ass with his hand, reigniting the welts, my tears flowing as he laughed, then thrust his massive cock into my ass, the fullness shocking, my gasp loud as he pounded me. "Isn't this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice taunting.
"Yes, master," I said, my body adjusting, the pain giving way to pleasure.
"Do you like it?" he demanded, fucking me harder, his rhythm relentless.
"Yes, master," I screamed, the sensation overwhelming, my body his to command.
"Here you go, you anal whore. Take all of it up your ass," he said, grabbing my hips, driving deeper, the mirror reflecting my submission as he removed the blindfold. My reflection showed my pink ass, branded with Bad Girl, my tits throbbing, my face tear-streaked, my body writhing.
Harry rammed harder, pinching my sore nipples, each thrust stinging my welted ass. "I knew that you were a natural anal slut from the moment I saw you," he moaned. "I love fucking your ass. Tell me how much you love it."
"I love being your anal whore," I panted, my voice raw. "I love being your dirty little slut, master." Another orgasm built, my body trembling.
He came, his cum flooding my ass, triggering my own climax, the intensity shattering, my scream echoing as he collapsed onto me, his weight grounding me. My ass burned, my tits throbbed, but the pleasure was worth it, my submission complete. He untied me, my limbs shaky as I stood, catching my reflection—tits and ass pink, Bad Girl welted across them, hair wild, face puffy, cum leaking from my ass.
Harry smiled, his eyes gleaming. "You're the best slut I will ever going fucked or… maybe not," he said, his tone teasing, cruel. "Now go clean yourself up, you stupid whore."
I obeyed, my body aching, my mind reeling, his words stinging yet fueling my devotion. He's everything, I thought, stumbling to the bathroom, the leash still dangling, my submission his triumph. Harry watched, slipping his charmed ring back on, its secrets hidden, and drifted to sleep, unaware of the power he'd cemented over me, my life forever his to command.