Fic: Plums

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Title: Plums
Author: frayach
Betas: A huge thank-you to B.H and N.D.
Prompt Number: 254, submitted by kayoko
Kink Showcased: D/s
Pairing: Harry/Draco or Draco/Harry
Summary: The Master and his slave have “been together” for 10 years. They need their “relationship” like they need the air they breathe.
Warnings vomit-play, extreme anal fetish, medical instrument fetish, spanking and allusions to water sports and enemas – please, I am not playing around with these warnings
Word Count: 6,500
Author Notes – PLEASE READ: First, this story is only VERY loosely related to the prompt. It took on a life of its own. kayoko, please do NOT feel like you need to read this. Seriously, I won’t be offended at all. Second, this story WILL SQUICK 99% of you. It’s extremely graphic. Please don’t read it if you’re worried you might be grossed out because you probably will be. Third, did I mention you should read the warnings?
* Mods, you will have to make new tags for this fic




The slave opens his mouth, and The Master feeds him yet another slice of plum. His wrists are bound behind him so he can’t hold the glass of water The Master forces him to drink from. They’ve been doing this for an hour – a sliced plum followed by a half a glass of water. The slave has to force himself to swallow; his stomach is full and distended. Now and then, The Master reaches down and places his hand on it and presses. Each time, the slave’s mouth fills with regurgitated pulp, and he spits it out into the bucket beside him. His eyes water with the effort to keep himself from vomiting. It’s not time yet.

“Open you mouth,” The Master says and stuffs more plum slices down the slave’s throat. “You can take more than this. Last time you took nearly double.”

The slave groans with discomfort and humiliation and gags at the thought of having to eat any more. He spits into the bucket again and struggles to fight a full-on heave.

“I’m going to throw up, sir,” he says pleadingly. “Please, may I have your cock?”

“Not yet,” The Master says, his voice rough. “Soon, but not yet. Look at me.”

The slave must always keep his gaze on the floor unless The Master permits him to look up. He raises his eyes and watches The Master knead the bulge in his leather trousers.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth till you’re sick,” The Master says matter-of-factly.

Just the thought of having The Master’s thick cock down his throat both thrills and horrifies the slave. He heaves, and The Master abruptly lifts his spit-slick chin and stares into his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me,” he says. “You know what’ll happen if you do. You’ll lick it up and we’ll start all over. I want you to vomit from my cock, and one way or another, I always get what I want.”

The slave merely nods his understanding. He tries to speak, but he’s afraid to open his mouth.

Nothing is worse than disappointing The Master. The slave’s whole existence depends on giving him pleasure.


* * * *


The Minister’s unctuous assistant leads Draco to the Minister’s office as though he hasn’t already been there a thousand times.

“Tea?” she asks.

He wants to say no. Her tea is always too weak. But then again fetching it would give her a task so she’ll stop hovering nervously.

As always, he’s the first one there. It isn’t unexpected because the Minister always made them wait, but Draco had punctuality hammered into him by his mother. When he was a child, even a minute’s tardiness to dinner would cost him his dessert.

These Monday morning meetings are always agonising. He doesn’t understand why all the department heads have to gather like this. It seems to him that individual meetings would be far more efficient, but the Minister seems to enjoy their little, groggy-headed get-togethers.

Smedley Jacobs is next to arrive with a coffee mug the size of a small continent.

“Morning, Malfoy,” he says, raising the mug in greeting as though they were in a pub.

Draco gives him a quirk of a smile. “Good morning,” he replies in a tone designed to discourage anymore frivolous chatter.

The assistant enters the room with his tea just as Chastity Jones walks in.

“Malfoy, Jacobs,” Jones says brusquely. She is not an amusing person. Draco suspects it’s due to the unfortunate name her parents saddled her with.

Slowly, the other department heads drift in wearing a variety of peevish expressions. Harry will be the last to arrive. He always is. These Monday morning meetings are the only times they cross paths. The rest of the work week, they’re assiduously careful to avoid each other. Their roles are too rigid to permit social interactions. They wouldn’t know what to say to each other, and who knew how it might affect their next session. Neither of them wants anything to happen that might jeopardise their “relationship.”


* * * *


The Master keeps force-feeding the slave slices of plum, growing more and more aroused as the slave’s regurgitations increase in intensity and frequency. He can hear the chewed pulp hitting the bottom of the metal bucket.

Fuck. He isn’t going to be able to take much more of this, and, he suspects, neither can the slave. He stands up from the settee and opens his trousers. He’s sweaty and the leather trousers are tight. He has to peel them down off his hips. The slave inhales deeply, and The Master’s pierced cock bobs, breaking the thick strand of precome that is oozing from the slit. He returns to the settee and sits on its very edge.

“You may smell me,” he says in a voice that makes it clear that he’s just given a command and not offered a choice.

* * * *



Harry leans on the secretary’s desk flipping through the pages of the Prophet. He’s killing time, waiting for the last of the department heads to enter the Minister’s office. These Monday morning meetings are always excruciating. His and Draco’s sessions are on Sundays; they parted at eight just the night before. Seeing each other in their work robes twelve hours later is jarring to say the least.

When Wallaby arrives, Harry knows he’s got to go in. Wallaby is always late.

“Good morning, Potter. Lovely weather we’re having this morning.”

“Yup.”

Wallaby smiles at him. “Has anyone ever told you what a riveting conversationalist you are?” he asks, holding the door open.

Harry smiles back. “Nope.”

“Ah, there’re the stragglers,” Jacobs says.

Harry can’t help but look at Draco, but it’s only a quick glance. Draco doesn’t turn his head to acknowledge his arrival.

Their obvious avoidance of each other has convinced everyone that they loathe each other, which is handy. They always save Harry the chair farthest from Draco’s.

“Potter, how’d Saturday’s match end? Did the Aurors lose to the Unspeakables again?”
Harry glowers at Jacobs. His wife is an Unspeakable; Harry’s sure he already knows they lost miserably.

“Not so well,” he replies accepting a cup of tea from the Minister’s assistant. “Cheers. Jones, would you pass the biccies? I’m starving.”

“Why don’t you eat breakfast? Biscuits are hardly nutritious,” says Wallaby.

“Not all of us what to start our day with sprouts and carrot juice.”

Harry quickly nabs the chocolate Digestive, knowing it’s Jacobs’ favourite kind. He stuffs it in his mouth and grins at Jacobs.

“Hard luck, old boy,” he says in the most annoying tone he can muster.

“Bastard,” Jacobs says in a tone that suggested he means it.


* * * *


The slave buries his face in The Master’s lap, inhaling deeply. As it always was, The Master’s crotch is unwashed. The slave knows he hasn’t bathed in anticipation of their Sunday session. Despite his discomfort, the slave’s cock swells and hangs heavily between his legs. He loves the way The Master smells. The stronger and earthier, the better. The slave moans in appreciation.

The Master seizes the shaft of his cock and points it toward the slave’s face. The slave’s mouth waters, and it has nothing to do with plums. He wants to taste and be fucked. He can’t wait much longer; when he gags again, he brings up more than he has yet.

“Look at me,” The Master says. “And open your mouth. Don’t vomit until I’ve come down your throat.”

Before the slave is ready, The Master shoves his cock into his mouth and starts thrusting. The slave gags and has to spit, but The Master’s hand is on his head, holding him in place, forcing the slave to regurgitate on The Master’s lap. The Master groans with pleasure. The slave knows this is his favourite game.

The Master’s no longer thrusting – he’s fucking. The slave gags again. It’s both too much and not enough. He needs to be plundered. As though The Master had read his mind, he holds the slave’s head steady and plunges down his throat over and over. His expression is a fierce grimace of pleasure.

“Oh god, fuck,” he moans. “Fuck. Swallow my cock!”

The slave tries his best to do as he’s told.


* * * *


After what feels like a million years, the Minister finally arrives, and they all stand in greeting. Draco doesn’t look directly at him, but he can see Harry out of the corner of his eye and has to fight back a smile. Harry stands last and only halfway. Instead of nodding a greeting, he wipes crumbs off his robe.

“Good morning,” says the Minister, sitting down like a prince on his throne. Draco feels his lip curl ever so slightly. “Malfoy, why don’t we start with you? Has all that unpleasantness with the goblins been sorted?”

Draco sucks on his teeth for a moment evaluating his choice of answers. The variety ranges from a slight omission to a flat-out lie. He chooses the flat-out lie.

“Fine, sir,”

“Good, good. Those bloody goblins can be so unreasonable sometimes. When are you meeting with them again?”

“Friday morning.”

“Very good. While you’re at it, why don’t you find out how much they’re willing to loan us for the proposed Muggle Museum.”

Nothing, thankfully,” is what Draco wants to say. The goblins loathe frivolous projects that don’t result in any meaningful gain for them, and what’s more, the prospect of a Muggle museum will not be met with enthusiasm. Draco shares the sentiment.

Harry likely thinks the museum is a great idea. His friend Granger is probably the one who came up with it. Draco has no idea what Harry’s feelings are on the subject . . . or on any other subject for that matter. They only interact through their roles, and their roles don’t permit normal conversation. All Draco knows about Harry is what he gleans from newspaper articles. He knows Harry is married and a father, just as Draco is, but he doesn’t even know his children’s names. Nor does he know where Harry lives. They own a place in a nondescript Muggle neighbourhood. It’s just a tiny flat on the top floor of an unremarkable building and contains nothing that isn’t necessary for their play. There isn’t even a bed. Beds aren’t for the kind of fucking they do.

“ . . . and how goes the Treasury’s report on the state of our expenditures? I’ll need it on my desk sometime before the end of the month.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, sir,” Draco replies smoothly even though he hadn’t been paying even the slightest bit attention.

“Good, good,” says the Minister. “Let’s move on. Jacobs, you’re next.”


* * * *


The Master holds onto the slave’s ears and uses them to yank the slave’s head down just as he’s thrusting up.

Suddenly, he’s going to come. There’s no stopping it. The Master feels the slave’s throat contract as he gags. The slave’s cheeks are wet with tears and his chin and throat and chest covered with regurgitated pulp. He’s the most beautiful sight The Master has ever seen.
“I’m fucking coming,” he groans, throwing his head back and thrusting helplessly as he feels the come spurt from his cock. It goes on forever as the slave’s gagging throat massages the head and its piercing.

He scarcely finishes coming before the slave tugs away and vomits violently into the bucket. His whole body heaves and heaves and heaves as he retches. The choking, moaning, gurgling sounds are music to the Master’s ears. He’s going to be able to wank just from the memory of those sounds alone.

“Come on,” he says breathlessly. “Bring it all up.”

The slave is sobbing in-between retches. He’s shaking with the intensity of his vomiting. As he leans over the bucket, his sweat-soaked hair hangs around his face, obscuring it. The Master reaches down and grabs the hair in his fist, holding it back so he can see the slave’s face. He doesn’t want to miss a moment. He loves this more than anything, but they rarely did it because it’s intensely demanding for the slave – both mentally and physically. Part of his role as Master is his duty to protect and care for his slave. Although it mightn’t seem that way to an outside viewer, The Master is always aware of the slave’s outer limits. His duty is to break through the slave’s inner limits, but not go so far as to terrorise him. They’ve “been together” for ten years. Never in that whole time has the slave used his safe word.

At last the slave’s retching turns to hiccups. He’s weak and trembling. The Master banishes the vomit-filled bucket and summons a bowl of warm water and a cloth and another bowl that the slave can spit into. Of course, he won’t minister to the slave, but he wants to remind the slave that he’s cared about, and yes, most of all, loved.


* * * *


Harry is falling asleep. He’s still experiencing the effects of the day before. He keeps slipping back and forth between Jacobs’ excruciatingly boring accounting of his department’s goings-on and the memory of his and Draco’s play during yesterday’s session. It’d been intense to put things mildly. They began, as they always do, with an enema. They know they could use a spell and achieve the same result, but they both love the enema play too much to give it up. Plus, it’s a nice gentle way to start. Then came the spanking, and after that the vomit play. Nothing they do is more demanding on both them . . .

“Potter?”

Harry jumps at the sound of his name. Bugger. This always seems to happen – perhaps not all that surprisingly.

“Yes?” He always makes a point of leaving off the “sir.” The Minister’s barely suppressed consternation is the only amusing thing that ever happens at these stupid meetings.

“How have you progressed on that embezzlement case?”

Not far, Harry wants to say. The case seemed less important than the two recent murders in Liverpool’s wizarding district.

“I’ve assigned Barkley to look into it . . .”

“Why aren’t you handling it? Stealing from the government is no small matter!”

Harry wants to roll his eyes, but stops himself in the nick of time. “Neither is a gang of former Voldemort supporters apparently offing people for entertainment.”

Instead of looking placated, the Minister frowns. “I sometimes think, Mr. Potter, that you see Death Eaters around every corner. It’s time to stop fighting the War, don’t you agree?”

The whole room goes utterly silent, and everyone starts looking intently at his or her notes.

“Pardon?” Harry says. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly . . .”

“You did hear me correctly.”

“Two people have been murdered . . . !”

“Which is very unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” Harry sputters. “That’s what I’d call that bloody embezzlement case, not the deaths of parents with a young child! That little girl’s going to grow up an orphan!”

“Harry,” Jones says, putting her hand on his shoulder and easing him back down into his chair. “Perhaps this is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion.”

“I agree,” says the Minister. “We’ll continue this discussion on Friday, Auror Potter.”

Harry grits his teeth. How dare he? The bastard who they now have to call “minister” left Britain as fast as he could after Cedric died and only returned when he felt it was safe to. He doesn’t have a fucking clue! Harry takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Sunday can’t come fast enough.


* * * *


There’s only one piece of regular furniture in their flat – The Master’s settee. It’s big enough for him to stretch out fully and still have plush, plump pillows at both his head and his feet.

He lies down and places his folded arms behind his head and tries to settle on one of the various options for their next game. On the floor beside him, the slave dozes lightly. He needs to rest after what he’s just been through.

So many tempting options, but they only have time for one more. There’s little doubt that, despite his vomiting, the slave needs to piss. After all, he drank a lot of water. The Master could fuck him with one of their enormous dildos until the slave can’t hold it any longer and pisses all over himself. The Master’s spent cock twitches at the thought. Or they could switch tunes altogether and go for some bondage and torture, but he’s already tested the slave’s endurance too much.

Then there is that remaining plum . . .


* * * *


Poor Harry. Draco would love to stand up and walk out of the office in protest. How dare that cowardly man twisting the ends his waxed moustache say anything of the War, let alone Harry’s role in it! He grips the arms of his chair.

They’d found each other immediately after the War. They were both still traumatised and grief-stricken, and both had powerful demons they had to fight.

The knowledge of their mutual needs became apparent to both of them when they’d encountered each other at an adult cinema showing a film of extreme bondage and torture. They hadn’t spoken, but they’d moved so they were sitting together and wanked each other to orgasm. In a single conversation they revealed to each other what each of them wanted . . . no needed . . . the other one to do.

For a while they’d met at the cinema as they’d cemented their roles into place. Then they’d met in hotel rooms, and then after a year, they’d bought the flat and filled it with stocks and racks and a gorgeous leather swing. Instead of a carpet, they’d laid down a thick rubber matting from wall to wall (their play always involved one kind of bodily emission or another). Shelves contained dozens of toys and medical instruments, and the refrigerator and cabinets contained energy-sustaining food and drinks, none of which included alcohol. They never drank when they were together – it was far too dangerous.

“Well, are we finished here?” asks the Minister. “Have I forgot anyone? Oh, Potter, there’s another matter I wanted to discuss.”

Draco grips the arms of his chair again. It couldn’t be a secret to anyone in the room that the Minister didn’t like Harry. Probably because he feels threatened by Harry, which actually isn’t that unreasonable a fear. Draco has no doubt that Harry could be the Minister and someday probably would be. The public adores him. He’s the Press’s darling. The most inconsequential story about Harry was always on the front page while an important article about the Minister’s government was inside.

Not that Harry courted all the attention. He seemed either oblivious to it or annoyed by it. Draco doesn’t know. He never will.

But it doesn’t matter. He knows the real Harry.


* * * *

The Master wakes the slave with a couple of loud claps, and the slave rises to his knees and waits while The Master binds his wrists, inserts a ball gag in his mouth and buckles a harness around his chest. For his own part, The Master puts on a skin-tight latex hood that makes him look like an executioner. The slave shudders with anticipation, wondering what the Master has planned for them.

The Master goes to a rack on the far wall and chooses a paddle. He then goes to the shelves and stands for a moment, obviously considering his options. At last he settles on a steel anal speculum. Realising they’re going to engage in anal play, the slave’s cock swells and throbs with need.

Maybe this time, The Master will let him come.

But then his hopes are dashed when he sees The Master summon his wand and feels the plug slowly entering his urethra. He moans with desperation around the gag. He needs to come. His balls ache. He tries to say “Please” but then he feels the blow of the paddle on his arse, and he squeaks. The pain caused by the blow compliments the pain of the insertion of the plug, and he spreads his legs as wide as he can. The Master spanks him again.

“Good boy,” he says. “Now relax that greedy hole of yours.”

The slave’s eyes roll back in ecstasy when he feels the cold metal press against his opening. The speculum is greased and slides in easily. The slave’s eyes fill with needy tears, and he wriggles his arse, needing more – needing to be opened and filled.

As though he’d intuited his thoughts (which was actually most likely the case), The Master begins slowly opening the speculum. The slave rocks backward trying to take it deeper, but The Master slaps him hard on the arse.

“We will go at my speed,” he says. “Not yours. You don’t have my permission to pleasure yourself.” He then adds “you greedy slut,” but his tone belies the harshness of his words – it’s fondly amused and almost tender. It’s evidence enough for the slave to conclude that he’s making his beloved Master very pleased today.


* * * *


“What did you want to discuss?” Harry asks warily. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to restrain himself if the Minister says one more thing that pisses him off.

“That new recruit, what’s her name?”

Fuck, Harry thinks. He should’ve predicted this and come up with a standard answer ahead of time.

“Heidi Smith-Stebbins.”

“Ah yes, that’s the girl I’m talking about. I’ve heard some alarming rumours about her.”

Harry takes a deep breath and tries to stop imagining how his hands would feel around the Minister’s neck.

“Involving what?”

“Sir,” the Minister’s assistant whispers in his ear. “Involving what, sir?”
Harry turns to her and gives her a withering glare. She quickly steps away as though she’d looked into the eyes of Medusa.

Thankfully the Minister starts having a coughing fit, and his assistant runs to fetch him some tea. While everyone is distracted, Harry glances over at Draco. It’s always so odd seeing him in regular clothes. His robe is pressed, and an impressive number of jewelled rings adorn his perfectly manicured fingers. Harry looks down at himself. Whereas Draco’s robe is smooth and immaculate, Harry’s looks like he’d just plucked it out of the hamper and cast a lazy cleaning charm. It’s rumpled, and there’s a button missing, and, oh god, was that a curry stain? How’d Ginny let him out of the house looking like this? Was it revenge for having forgotten to bring home milk for two nights in a row? His only source of relief is knowing that as soon as he gets back to his office, he’ll strip it off and toss it in a corner.

Draco’s profile is striking. Well, everything about him is striking, but none so much as his profile. Harry has to wrench his eyes away. No one, most of all Draco himself, can notice Harry staring. Thankfully, the Minister stops hacking into his handkerchief.

“Where was I?” the Minister asks. “Ah, yes, your unruly new recruit, Mr. Potter. Perhaps it’s time to end her training and send her back to the wolf pack that raised her.”

Jacobs chuckles into his hand and then pretends to yawn discreetly.

“She shows significant promise,” Harry says and then grudgingly adds a “sir.” It goads him beyond words to have to use an honorary with the pompous bastard.

“Promise to maim and injure all her fellow recruits?”

“That was an accident . . . sir. I conducted my own investigation and determined there was no conscious wrong-doing.

“Hurumph,” the Minister grumbles. “You’re too forgiving of people with rash temperaments. Now why would that be, I wonder . . . ?”

Harry has to bite his lip before his “rash temperament” causes him to Transfigure the Minister’s revolting moustache into a decaying rat. Which, now that he considers it, might be an improvement.

* * * *


The Master’s heart starts pounding and his breathing grows increasingly shallow as he slowly opens the speculum. The slave’s rectum is bright pink. He opens the speculum as far as it goes, providing himself with an unimpeded view of the slave’s gorgeous colon. Everything about the slave’s arse is perfect. His hole is dark around the rim of his sphincter with the most delicate hint of pink at its centre. Inside is the velvety channel of his rectum that is constantly moving – and beyond that is the sheer unadulterated beauty of his colon. The Master has opened the speculum wide enough that he can see it. He’ll never forget the first time he’d used the speculum and explored the depths of the slave’s arse. He’d shook with the desire to see, not just his rectum, but his intestines. It was all he could think about, but then he’d discovered the only Muggle artefact that he couldn’t live without – an endoscope. Adding a couple of magical enhancements to the basic design, he created an instrument that would let him see far into the slave’s body, past the point where his bare sight could go. Then he’d had made a long flexible dildo that could reach that deep inside, and he’d charmed it so that when he inserted it he’d feel the sensation in his cock. He always wanked before he fucked the slave with that dildo because he didn’t want to hurt him by thrusting. Just the feeling of being so deep and the constant rippling of the intimate channel always made him come again.

He almost abandons his plans for the remaining plum in favour of the endoscope; he hasn’t yet used it this month, but then he recalls his plan which is much too delicious to abandon. Using the speculum to keep the slave’s rectum open, The Master pushes the plum inside almost to the point where he can’t see it anymore. Again, the slave wriggles his arse. He’s just as greedy to be filled as The Master is to do the filling. He paddles the slave’s arse again, reminding him that he doesn’t have permission to move yet.

“I’m thirsty,” he purrs roughly in the slave’s ear, making him shiver and causing goose flesh to cover his arms. “That’s a plum that’s in your arse. Wring it dry for me.”

The slave moans around his gag, and The Master lets him. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Squeeze,” he orders. “As hard as you can.”

The slave responds with a grunt of effort. The Master bends down and looks inside him. The plum has inched forward slightly. As it gets closer, The Master removes the speculum.

“Don’t push it out,” he says menacingly. “Just squeeze as hard as you can.” He can feel the slave’s whole body tremble with effort as he tries to comply.

It takes awhile, but at last The Master sees the first dribble of juice. He quickly summons a glass from the kitchen and holds it under the slave’s opening.

“Good,” he says. “But you can do better. Squeeze! Crush it if you can.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, juice squirts out, and The Master has to be quick to catch it. “Squeeze,” he says again, and more juice squirts out. The plum isn’t small, but it must be almost wrung dry by this point. There’s another squirt, but it’s weaker, and then the juice returns to being a dribble.

It’s one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen.

Eventually, the dribble stops. The Master stands and goes to sit on his settee. As he’s been trained, the slave’s eyes are on the floor.

“You may look at me,” The Master says.

The slave’s face is a dark red and his fringe is damp from all the work he’s done. The Master waits until he’s got the slave’s full attention. He lifts his hood until his face is uncovered, puts the glass to his lips and empties it in one big gulp.


* * * *


“Well,” says the Minister. “I’ll overlook this incident, but I want your instructors to watch her closely. We certainly don’t need another rogue Auror.”

Harry wants to say that, actually, that’s precisely what they need. He’d already noticed Smith-Stebbins and planned to see to her advancement personally. She’s tough and fearless and innately suspicious of authority. In other words, he sees a lot of himself in her. Whoever said he couldn’t play favourites?

“Now are we done? I’ve got other matters to attend to this morning,” says the Minister.
“And we don’t?” Harry mutters under his breath. Wallaby spits his tea into his cup. Harry can’t help it; he grins broadly.

After the Minister leaves the room, Wallaby gives him a punch on the shoulder. “You,” he says, “are testing The Great Man’s patience.”

Both Jacobs and Jones laugh, and Harry can’t not glance at Draco . . .

. . . who is smiling as he gathers his parchments. He doesn’t look up, but Harry knows the smile is for him and that he’s meant to notice it.

Harry has the sudden desire to go to Draco, lift his head, and kiss him on the mouth. The desire only lasts for a moment: a kiss would ruin everything. But nonetheless, he wonders how Draco’s tongue tastes and if his lips are as soft as they look.


* * * *

With the juice gone, the slave tries to push out the plum’s remains, but The Master grabs the paddle and spanks him hard.

“I didn’t give you permission to empty yourself,” The Master admonishes. He kneels before the slave’s arse again, and the slave feels the head of his cock against his arsehole. The Master enters him with a grunt, and the slave spreads his legs. The Master’s balls bump against his. The Master’s in as deep as he can go, shoving the remains of the plum back into the slave’s body. The Master stills for a moment, and the slave can feel his cock throb. Slowly, the Master draws back and pulls himself all the way out with a groan. It’s torture for both of them. The slave wants to be fucked and used without mercy.

Again, the slave feels the insertion of the speculum and its slow widening. Tears fill his eyes. He desperately needs to come.

“The plum is deep inside you,” The Master says. “I can barely see it. I want you to push it out like you’re having a shit.”

The slave starts doing what he’s been told, and behind him, the Master groans. They do something like this every session. Usually it’s a string of metal balls that the slave evacuates one by one. If his cock wasn’t caged and plugged, pushing out the balls always made him come, even without his cock being touched. The feeling of expelling something from his arse as The Master watches is unbearably arousing. He can feel the muscles in his rectum ripple around the plum. The tears that had been in his eyes start to spill. He prays The Master will take pity on him and remove the plug.


* * * *


Out of the corner of his eye, Draco watches Harry run a hand through his unruly hair in frustration. Yes, he’s laughing, but Draco knows that underneath he’s seething. Even five days from now, Draco knows Harry will still need to work through the emotions of this morning.
As he always does after these Monday meetings, Draco feels an intense need to go to one of their offices and play a game. His cock is throbbing beneath his robes. It would be so easy, and a few elementary spells would ensure nobody found out. The desk would make a wonderful prop for their play . . .

But they can’t. If they did, there’d be a precedent – a reason in the future to say “well, we did it before.” The necessary boundaries in their lives would collapse. It would be too easy to lose their public selves and slip into their roles fulltime. Draco knows that numerous Dom/slave relationships advance that far, but theirs cannot. Everything would have to change. That’s why they come to each other – to help them both manage their “real” lives.

But that doesn’t mean that Draco doesn’t fantasize about it.

“Lunch, lads?” Wallaby asks.

“Why not,” replies Jones. “Malfoy? Potter?”

“Sadly, I have work to do,” Draco replies, not feeling sad at all.

“You always have work to do,” Jacobs says. “Live a little, Malfoy.”

Harry gives a snort of laughter. He doesn’t look at Draco when he says “Yeah, Malfoy, live a little.”


* * * *


The Master watches the plum’s slow but steady progression and seizes his cock, pumping it hard.

“Push,” he commands breathlessly and widens the speculum again so he doesn’t miss a moment. As soon as the plum squeezes from the slave’s hole, he’s going to fuck him like an animal.

As the plum nears the slave’s opening, The Master pulls out the speculum and sits back on his heels. This is his favourite part – the moment when whatever it was he’d put in the slave’s arse squeezes through the rim of his sphincter and falls to the floor.

* * * *

“So, Potter, who’s going to win the World Cup?”

“Greece. Again. I’ve got tickets for the Final next Saturday.”

“Really? You bastard. Care for some company?”

Harry gives Jacobs a “sorry mate” shrug. “Ginny and Ron and the kids,” he says.

“Well, it was worth a try.”

Draco is talking with Jones. Harry can tell by the way he’s standing that the conversation’s about work. As soon as he realises the others are discussing the World Cup, he turns and tells Jacobs that he also has tickets. Harry knows he’s actually speaking to him, not Jacobs.

“I’m five rows up just in front of the goal,” he says. “Where are you, Malfoy?”

“Wow!” says Jacobs. “Mark your calendars and remember this momentous day: Potter and Malfoy actually spoke to each other.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him, annoyed that someone had noticed their exchange.

“Terraces,” Draco replies and doesn’t elaborate.

Harry breathes a sigh of relief. It would not do at all to be seated near each other. Neither of them wants the other to hear his mundane chit-chat. The mere idea of Draco listening to him buy pasties for the kids made his heart race unpleasantly. From Draco’s long exhale, he can tell that Draco shares his feelings.


* * * *


One last hard push, and the slave feels the plum slip free of his body, and immediately the gag, the cock ring and the plug vanish.

When he feels The Master mount him and slip his cock into his arse, he starts to sob. The Master debasing himself to fuck his hole is the greatest praise he can bestow.

“I’m going to come so far up your arse that you’ll be able to taste it,” The Master growls as he grips the slave’s harness and uses it to impale the slave’s body by pulling the slave back at the same moment he thrusts forward. Their balls bump with each thrust.

The slave feels the pressure of his cruelly forbidden orgasm build and build. He can’t stop sobbing. He’s so grateful. Not only is he giving The Master pleasure, he’s going to come. He hasn’t been permitted to come in over a month.

Just as he realises he’s going to explode, The Master calls his name and thrusts wildly. His name on The Master’s tongue is more than the slave can bear, and he comes violently, gasping for breath between his sobs. The Master calls his name again. The slave wants nothing more than to call out The Master’s name in answer, but he can’t. It isn’t permitted.


* * * *


Draco stands in the corridor watching Harry’s back as he walks to the lifts. It’s straight and proud. It hadn’t always been that way. He’d nearly been broken by the War and its aftermath. Their “relationship” and what they do together changed that. Harry had never said so aloud, but Draco could tell by the changes in his posture and his range of expressions over the years.

Wallaby says something. Harry turns to look at him and laughs. It sounds real and not just a thoughtless reflex. Draco feels his heart swell with pride and a unique kind of love that he’s grown to need and appreciate more than any other kind of love in his life. He’d be lost without it. Not that he’d ever reveal that to Harry. He can’t, but it’s enough to be able to acknowledge it to himself.


* * * *

“I’m going to come,” The Master grunts, riding the slave’s arse even harder than he had been. “Fuck, I’m going to come in your arse. Look what you’ve done to me!”

The slave’s heart races. The Master doesn’t often come in the slave’s body, preferring instead to pump his cock until he explodes on the slave’s arse or in his hair or on his face. The fact that he’s going to come in his arse is overwhelming.

Suddenly The Master goes silent and freezes mid-thrust. He’s coming; the slave can feel it. He can feel The Master’s sweat drip onto his back and his whole body shake. It goes on forever. The Master moans his name, his voice breaking in-between the two syllables.

When he stops coming, The Master stands and walks a bit unsteadily to the settee where he sits and tilts his head back. He’s still wearing the latex hood. He usually does at least once during their sessions. The slave had been deeply disturbed by it in the beginning, which meant The Master forced him to deal with it. Their play is all about pushing back their arbitrary limits and confronting their fears. The hood will never be his favourite prop, but it no longer upsets him.

At last, The Master unzips the hood and pulls it off. He shakes his sweat-soaked hair and combs his fingers through it. He summons a pocket watch and looks at the time. The slave can tell by the colour of the twilight outside the window that it’s late. The Master’s expression of disappointment confirms his suspicion.

“You’re looking at me,” he says. “You’re lucky we’re out of time because I’d give you a sound whipping. You may bathe and dress.”

He’s not allowed to walk in the Master’s presence, so the slave crawls to the bathroom. His knees and elbows complain; he’d spent most of the day on his knees and forearms with his arse in the air.

When he emerges, The Master will be gone. He’s always the first to arrive and the first to leave.

The towels are soft and plush and feel like heaven against the slave’s abused arse. He takes a deep breath and enjoys it before he summons his wand and banishes every trace of their time together. He doesn’t want his wife to notice and quiz him about it. Or anyone else for that matter.

They never Apparate straight in or out of their flat. Instead, they take the Tube. The slave glances around the room to make sure everything is clean and back in its place before he opens the door and quietly slips out.

* * * *

Of course, the slave had no clue, but on the way to the Tube stop, The Master always stops at a little café for a sandwich. He always sits back from the front window, but he can nonetheless see the slave as he walks by. He no longer pauses to cup his hands around a cigarette and light it. He’d stopped smoking years ago.

Tomorrow morning they’ll be sitting on the opposite sides of the Minister’s office, trying not to look at or talk to each other, but in their hearts, both of them knew that all they could think about was each other.

The Master finishes his tea and walks out of the café into the warm summer evening. He keeps walking until he’s able to shake off the trappings of The Master and assume the trappings of a husband and father and friend. Every Sunday it seems to get more difficult, but he knows he has no choice. He turns and glances up at the dark window of their flat and smiles. He’s sated and pleasantly tired and already planning next week’s games.

fin.

Comments

[absynthedrinker.livejournal.com]

Okay, I can safely say I didn't see that coming. An eerie look into the lives of two very damaged men. Wonderfully creative and perfectly executed.

Peace,
Bubba

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Bubba. Like I said on my journal, it means a lot to me that you found this meaningful.

[mijeli.livejournal.com]

I knew I was going to take that ride, wherever it would take me. You have done one thing that let me breathe, and that was the distinction between the characters' lives and their roles. You depersonalised The Master and the slave in a way that worked for me (and enhanced it by following a steady real life course). Reading this, I had an image of who was who, but to be honest, I couldn't be sure.

Enemas and vomit-play aren't likely to ever become kinks of mine, but I can't say you squicked me. I like ugly things, and I like how you approached them. The image of fruit was striking; its chewed pulp and essence turning sour in the digesting system. The taste, which switches so fast from sweet to expired.

Your ending left me with a bittersweet feeling - doubtful whether this will continue for much longer. Fantastic pick in time.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Bittersweet is a good way to describe it - we (and me too) equate kisses with real romance, I decided to test that.

The separation of their "two lives" was really important to me. I did a lot of research for this fic and learned that a lot of D/s relationships are "full time" - meaning there is no "other life." I tried to write that kind of story, and it just didn't work. I knew that this D/s relationship was going to have limits but that makes me feel like it's stronger for those limits (does that make sense?)

I like ugly things too. My husband doesn't understand why I always want to visit economically depressed cities & regions. Actually, I don't think "ugly" is the right word - I prefer "gritty." It's kind of a theme of mine. Gritty realism.

[kukumaru.livejournal.com]

That was a great read.

the relationship was depicted just the way it ought to be, full of compassion and the need to give on both sides, but executed differently.

is it intended to hint on who is the dom and who the slave?

[frayach.livejournal.com]

First of all - icon love :)

I'm so glad you saw the compassion angle. In picking my tabs, I seriously considered hurt/comfort.

It is very very very subtly intended to hint who is who. But that's just me. I wanted the reader to decide for themselves, and I wrote it so people would feel that way. If you really really want to know the "answer," email me at fraych@yahoo.com.

:)

[shadowfireflame.livejournal.com]

Holy. Shit. That was really way beyond intense, but I love your writing. The anonymity of the Master/slave relationship lets us cast the roles as we will (though I wonder if you cast them in your head or not--either way, I can't tell as a reader, and that's a huge thrill: literally, it could be either one).

Their play is all about pushing back their arbitrary limits and confronting their fears.

YES. That's exactly it. And the fact that we can see their everyday teeth-gritting interactions (which they have deliberately limited, that's awesome) juxtaposed with scenes from this relationship is amazing. It really shows how leading this kind of double life has helped both of them overcome their fears and deal with reality after being fucked up by the war.

You just...get the dynamics of a D/s relationship. Seriously, thanks for having the courage to post this. I really enjoyed it.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I never really understood the dynamics of a D/s relationship until I did some research for this story - I have a greater understanding and appreciation of it now.

We have a romantic ideal that says True Love is the kind of love that holds no secrets - where the people involved know everything about each other. But sometimes "splitting" worlds can lead to more intimacy. Does that make sense. They share a HUGE secret that no one else will ever know or be able to sabotage. It pre-exists their marriages. It's the foundation on which all of their lives' other realities are built.

[ina-pok.livejournal.com]

Wow. This was intense. I seriously considered not reading it, what with all the different warnings attached. But then, it's yours, and I love your writing, so I decided to read it anyway. And I'll be honest, I had to skip a little bit around the plum part there, and I don't think either enemas or vomiting will ever turn into a kink for me. But I wasn't as squicked as I thought I might be.

And I find this an incredibly interesting and fascinating story.
I loved the way you had the two parts of their lives separate. But only sort of. How over the last 10 years, they have developed a strange symbiosis, a stabilising relationship, Sunday's keeping them anchored and able to lead their lives the way they might otherwise not be able to.

Draco feels his heart swell with pride and a unique kind of love that he’s grown to need and appreciate more than any other kind of love in his life. He’d be lost without it. Not that he’d ever reveal that to Harry. He can’t, but it’s enough to be able to acknowledge it to himself.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Hi there :)

I loved the way you had the two parts of their lives separate. But only sort of. How over the last 10 years, they have developed a strange symbiosis, a stabilising relationship, Sunday's keeping them anchored and able to lead their lives the way they might otherwise not be able to.

You sum up what I was trying to get across so perfectly. I actually have nothing to add, because - yes, that. Thank you :)

[ura-hd.livejournal.com]

This was not disgusting at all. After reading all the warnings I was not sure what to expect, but the kinks are written in a way that is not bad at all. It actually was kind of interesting, because I never heard of them before. And it was surprisingly hot.

I like the parallel narrating of the lives real and the lives played. It is interesting how despite all precautions and understandings Harry and Draco do not manage to keep them completely separate, if even only in their heads and hearts.

I like that Harry and Draco have a genuine affection for each other. But it makes me sad that they never show it in any kind of normal way. I am especially sad that they never kissed and never will.

I can see why you never specified who plays what role, but in my mind Harry is Master. It just somehow makes more sense.

On an very-very side note, I hope that the Minister will lose his position. He is too annoying.

Life is weird, love takes many forms. This is a thought that this story brings to my mind.

In sum, great story! Thanks for digging up such unique kinks and be brave enough to post the story.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I was nearly too afraid too!

Life is weird, love takes many forms.

I LOVE this and completely agree. It's one of the reasons I write fanfic :)

I like the parallel narrating of the lives real and the lives played. It is interesting how despite all precautions and understandings Harry and Draco do not manage to keep them completely separate, if even only in their heads and hearts.

I'm so glad you saw this :) *hugs*

P.S. The Minister is a jerk. Four years later, Harry becomes Minister of Magic (and is always busy on Sundays *G*)

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Hi there!

I found the dynamics of the relationship really got me. I loved how secure that relationship felt because they knew exactly where their boundaries were. Even if they wanted more they would never go further. There's something incredibly comforting about that.

I agree! What a perfect way of saying it. I love it when my readers can sum up my whole stories in single paragraphs. After ten years, their "relationship" is more established than any of their others (including their marriages and parenthood). They still mean as much to each other as they always have.)

It doesn't seem like a relationship that would end any time soon to me. They both get a lot out of it still, even if a lot of the problems outside have been improved. It's not that they are doing anything different outside of the relationship, their coping rests solely on being able to have what they have together.

The "relationship" has moved beyond triage and has become a necessary reality even though they're much healthier and sure of themselves now than they were 10 years ago.

I cast Harry as the Master but only towards the end. I think it says more about me. That's part of the power of this story though.

Indeed :) Thank you so much for your comment, my dear.

[crazyparakiss.livejournal.com]

I can say with total honest that none of this disgusted me. In truth, I was wary when I read all the details you'd be writing about, and I thought to myself "I will get through this because that is what a fan does, stays even when something isn't enjoyable to us,". I am glad that I live by that, especially when it comes to your writing. You invoke powerful sensations through word, and you make us understand that, even deranged, love is beautiful. It is a needy thing, a painful and binding curse that draws two people together. It draws Harry and Draco to a flat to hurt/be hurt, command and obey, and repair the damages of each other's soul. This is beautiful, raw, and heart breaking.

Bravo Fray, this isn't squicky at all; it's honest, not overly vulgar in the need to disgust. It is just beautiful with honesty. Thank you for being strong and posting it.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Well, you know how close I came to chickening out!

Because at heart I'm a hopeless romantic, my H/D stories are always BIG LOVE CONQUERING ALL. The same is true of this story (or at least that's the message I was trying to convey). I'm so glad you enjoyed it - this is the most challenging nerve-wracking fic I've written. Thank you for all the pre-posting encouragement and hand-holding :)

[sashaminx.livejournal.com]

OMFG.

Wonderfully written. I got a bit stressed in the beginning over trying to picture who was who in the D/s relationship, but then I just decided to make it the way *I* thought it would be considering who they are and what they'd been through, and it fit really well! :)

Very interesting watching their careful avoidance of each other, and I guess situations like the world cup tickets would crop up on occasions. I wouldn't have the discipline to ignore someone who has such a huge impact on my life - it definitely takes a certain something to be able to live as a whole different person.

I'm curious as to which roles you had them in your mind when you wrote this...

ps: I didn't read the warnings because I can handle most things, but I *really* chose the wrong time to be nibbling on tea and toast =p

[frayach.livejournal.com]

LOL! Well, at least it's toast & tea and not something like risotto or lasagna ;D

I got a bit stressed in the beginning over trying to picture who was who in the D/s relationship, but then I just decided to make it the way *I* thought it would be considering who they are and what they'd been through, and it fit really well! :)

That's great!! That's exactly what I was hoping people would do. When I first started trying to write for the D/s prompt, I tried to write something in which it was clear who was in what role, and it really didn't work for me. The who's who aspect was too distracting. I almost gave up because I just didn't see how I was going to turn H/D into D/s. Then I thought of this approach. I'm so glad it's working for people (there's enough squick going on without people having to be canon-squicked *g*)

As far as what my thoughts are . . . . if you really really want to know (and potentially be squicked), email me at frayach@yahoo.com

Thank you so much for reading & commenting.

[leela-cat.livejournal.com]

The kinks in this run the very edge of what I can manage, and yet they are erotic because of how they make the Master and slave feel.

Even so, the strength of this story is in their relationship and the balance between their "real lives" and their "Sunday lives". I very much like that we don't know who is Master and who is slave. Each of them is very possible in both roles.

Very well done.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

their relationship and the balance between their "real lives" and their "Sunday lives".

I LOVE this! Yes, this is exactly the response I was hoping for. *squishes* Thank you, my dear.

[originofcheese.livejournal.com]

This was brilliant, and I'm pleased and surprised to say that I don't feel the least bit squicked by any of it.

The "vomit-play" is what tripped me up the most upon reading your warnings, and I was totally going into this expecting much "worse" than what was actually here.

It wasn't an all out squickfest, not even close (for me, at least), and I'm incredibly impressed with the way you handled it. Nothing involving vomit will ever be a kink for me, but I did find the initial scenes with the plums to be surprisingly compelling and fascinating. I think I might even view them as necessary to fully exploring the extent of the D/s dynamic, so I commend you for being willing to take it on and for handling it so well.

The most squicky warning aside, I really, really loved that you switched between the D/s scene and a scene showcasing the way H/D interact (and in many ways, do not interact) outside of that. The distinct divide between the two realities is painfully bittersweet and, for me, equally intense as the rest of what you've written. To be honest, it's probably the one aspect of this fic that will stay with me the longest.


So in short: I loved this, period. And I seriously admire your balls for being willing to push the limits and risking squicking everyone.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

And I seriously admire your balls for being willing to push the limits and risking squicking everyone.

My flist can confirm that I've been agonizing about this. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to post it, but then I emailed it to a couple of brave souls, and they both liked it and encouraged me to go ahead. Without them and the 2 margaritas I drank, this would've never seen the light of day.

I think I might even view them as necessary to fully exploring the extent of the D/s dynamic,

Yes, I agree. The D/s relationships is one of the most intimate I can imagine - too intimate imho. Nothing about the slave is a secret to the Master - including the very deepest recesses of the slave's body and all that the slave's body expels (literally & figuratively). Imho, the D/s ideal is actually very romantic, but it's way way to invasive for me personally. I like my secrets :)

I "divided" the parts like I did for my own writing/reading pleasure. I love H/D stories that feature very intense relationships being brought out into public. Ugh, that is not a good way to describe what I mean, but it's the closest I can get. If I was a reader of this story, I'd be so curious about what their "real" day-to-day lives looked like.

Thank you so much for reading & commenting.

[cinnamonselkie.livejournal.com]

*Blushes* Wow, that was amazing. And I think I can now say that I am officially unsquickable - except by Harry/Snape, but that's another story.

I loved the juxtaposition of their everyday lives with their arrangement, and the fact that you never revealed who was who. (I am dying of curiosity, but I think it works better not knowing for sure.) Cinnamon.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

And I think I can now say that I am officially unsquickable - except by Harry/Snape, but that's another story.

LOL! I'm a serious OTPer and get squicked by every other pairing except for well done H/Sc so I know what you mean.

It's so funny to see people's reactions to the anonymity - some people really want to know (I'm making them jump through a ton of hoops before I tell them), and some really don't want to know what was in my head. I definitely think it should depend on the reader's own preference. It's much more fun that way :D And I wrote it precisely so people could make their own decisions.

Thank you so much for reading & commenting.

[kayoko.livejournal.com]

It's a good thing I pride myself with being open-minded about fic! I've read scat and watersports before, but never vomit-play. It's been quite a ride!

I love that it's a mystery the whole time who is the Master and who is the slave. The suspense made me want to keep reading to see if those I cast as Master/slave were correct. So I'm glad that there isn't really an answer cause then I can't be wrong.

The portrayal of the D/s relationship is so real. This story really embraced the trust that is needed in a relationship like that. I think the moment for me was when the Master tells the slave to smell his cock. It should have been gross, but the slave's adoration was just so beautiful. I must say that I adored that the Master has a pierced cock cause that's definitely one of my kinks!

The scene with the plum insertion and juicing was very erotic. I could definitely understand why the Master gets all hot and bothered when the slave pushes the plum out of his arse. You also put caging and the urethral plug in there (another kink of mine)~

It's interesting that the Master believes he is trapped in either aspect of his life. He is trapped as a Master, but also trapped as husband/father/friend. I wonder if that's why he's holding back from turning this relationship with his slave into something more.

Having the scenes from the meeting with the Minister really helped explore what was going on with them outside of their Sunday meet-ups. They seem a bit frustrated with their lives and desperate to keep things separate. I'm still debating whether the boys would be happier if they acknowledge their relationship in public. I think I see the seedlings of romantic love, but would it be worth it to turn everyone's lives upside down like that? Ah, this is why i absolutely adore your fics!

Thank you for making me explore my limits!

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Wow! I'm so glad you liked this!! I was willing to bet you'd be horrified.

The scene with the plum insertion and juicing was very erotic. I could definitely understand why the Master gets all hot and bothered when the slave pushes the plum out of his arse.

The vomit-play has overwhelmed that rather graphic scene, which, on it's own, would probably push against some people's limits. It's a favorite of mine ;)

It's interesting that the Master believes he is trapped in either aspect of his life. He is trapped as a Master

I definitely see what you mean, but I also think that being confined by his role as Master is freeing in a way. I'm not sure if I can adequately express what I mean by that, but I think the containment of their roles frees them both to be far more adventuresome than they'd be in a more traditional relationship with all its insecurities.

Thank you for making me explore my limits!

And thank you for letting me :D

[uniquepov.livejournal.com]

omfg.

I very nearly didn't read this, as a number of the warnings *are* squicks for me, but I'm so glad I did. The intensity of the relationship juxtaposed with their everyday lives was incredibly powerful.

I'll echo some of the other reviewers - this is really well done and very brave. Brilliant. Honestly.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I'm truly amazed by how many people read this despite the warnings!! I really did intend to scare people away. It makes me happy that people found the storyline able to carry them past the squicks. I didn't want to write a PWP with these kinks because I think that would really be squicky.

[otta-ff.livejournal.com]

This is just absolutely fascinating. You never fail to dive deep into the psyche of your characters and this is certainly no exception. The "what" of their activities was such a tiny part of their relationship, yet spoke of the absolute trust they had in one another and the perhaps unique (but no less deep) love they shared. Fantastic and something I will think about for days to come.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

All the things you mention here are things I was really hoping to convey. I'm glad they came through for you.

the absolute trust they had in one another and the perhaps unique (but no less deep) love they shared.

Yes. That. :D

[valinorean.livejournal.com]

I skipped this when I first saw it posted. The warnings scared me, quite frankly. But kayoko recced it and decided to give it a try. I'm glad I did. I'm extremely surprised by the fact that I was not squicked by it, perhaps because you showed the 'loving Master' part so well. Thanks so much for sharing.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

You're welcome - thank you for reading and commenting :)

perhaps because you showed the 'loving Master' part so well

I'm SO glad this came across because if it hadn't, it truly would have been squicky, I think. At least to me.

[ivory88s.livejournal.com]

Ok, so I usually don't read the more extreme kinks (even though I crazy love this fest). However, I read some of the reviews and just HAD to read it. I don't have much more to add to anything everyone's already said. I was surprisingly not squicked. I've never read much D/s, but I love the way you explored their relationship. The realism of the need I felt in both slave and Master was intense and beautifully portrayed. And as much as I read kinkfest for OMGSEX, this piece was more than just the sex. It was about the intricacies of their relationship and their roles and it was amazing.

Thank you very much for posting this, it was wonderful to read. :)

[frayach.livejournal.com]

And thank you for reading & commenting!

And as much as I read kinkfest for OMGSEX, this piece was more than just the sex. It was about the intricacies of their relationship and their roles and it was amazing.

I knew that if I was going to write these extreme kinks that I'd need to do it as a whole story. A PWP would've been seriously squicky, imo. The relationship needed to be described or it was just going to be shocking for the sake of being shocking, which I really didn't want.

[maunetjeret.livejournal.com]

This was so intense and diiirty! It was so jam packed with emotion, too, though. So beautiful, if bittersweet.
I loved it.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad!

Your choice of the word "bittersweet" is really interesting - and apt I think.

[luthiennolatari.livejournal.com]

Reading the comments took me to notice that the Roles of the men were never revealed, but while I was reading, Draco was the Master.
D/s beatifully written, I'm always looking for more, and yours is really good. Congrats!

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I LOVE that you didn't realize that the identities of Master and slave were never revealed. I really wanted people to read their preference into the relationship.

[nursedarry.livejournal.com]

You did it!!!

Told you people would read it.

I still think it's marvellous!

N.D. ♥

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I would never have had the courage to post this without you and B.H. Thank you, love :)

[songquake.livejournal.com]

So, I try to think of myself as "virtually unsquickable." That is, I can find almost anything hot if it's done well, and therefore my "squick list" tends to be of elements that piss me off so much they take me out of the fic.

But I have to admit to being a bit thrown by "vomit play." You know, I don't think I even know anyone into that?

But I loved the way you wrote it. I'm going to praise your writing of the vomit play - what I loved about it is how much LIKE enema play it was, how much LIKE orgasm control it was. You wrote it as being about the slave's mastery of his own body in order to please the Master, and that is just about the hottest.thing.ever.

What was funny for me, in the POV thing, was how often I thought I'd almost had it figured out, only to change my mind a few paragraphs later.

And I do love the sympathy they have for one another at the Ministry meetings. And the knowledge Draco has that Harry will need to exorcise some of that come the following Sunday.

And the end! Oh how I wish that somehow they could stay in-role, but I know (boy do I know) why/how they can't, and that would perhaps make it less of a needed valve. Having a week to recharge after such heavy play is probably a good thing. :)

Thanks for this! It's always exciting to have my limits stretched!

[frayach.livejournal.com]

I do too, but it's nerve-wracking to be the one doing the stretching! I really wasn't sure if I would have the guts (haha) to post this.

I'm going to praise your writing of the vomit play - what I loved about it is how much LIKE enema play it was, how much LIKE orgasm control it was. You wrote it as being about the slave's mastery of his own body in order to please the Master, and that is just about the hottest.thing.ever.

Everything you say here is so true. In doing my research for writing this story, I found articles saying much the same as you do here. I think the appeal of enema play (which is a major kink of mine) is its similarity to orgasm manipulation - building pressure and fullness, intense effort to hold back, and then complete overwhelming loss of control. The same is true of vomiting. I don't think the fetish is for vomit itself, but for vomiting (the expelling), and what the act does to a person's body - that's where the eroticism is. And then, like you say, add the whole power dynamic, and whoa.

And the end! Oh how I wish that somehow they could stay in-role

The full-time D/s relationship is fascinating (and slightly disturbing) for me. I read a number of slaves' and Masters' blogs, and going full time D/s is such an incredible commitment - on the part of both people, but, imo, mostly the slave's. Once the power dynamics leave the erotic realm, I start to get squicked (funny, huh?) I wanted H & D to have other lives (one day either the slave or the Master will be Minister and won't that be fun!)

Thank you so much for reading & commenting. The comments on this fic are fascinating.

[alexis-sd.livejournal.com]

I hate time zone difference. Do you know how hard it was on me to wake up, see this posted and then have to take care of the laundry and all else that just had to be done, before I read this? Damn, I felt like all the chores took like trice as long to finish.

I loved the emotion of this fic. It's the strongest thing for me. All the kinks present are like a frame in which to showcase the strong, sometimes warring emotions of the characters. I wonder if I'm the only person who read about The Master and his slave without the need to assign names and faces to them (and what a brilliant way around your earlier troubles with the roles). They were. That's it as I see it. They see it like that. In that apartment, their one crossing point in reality whey are. They don't need to be something or someone that their wives, the public or whatever needs. They can simply be. Not be Draco and Harry. I don't think they want to be Draco and Harry there, because those two are so burdened that if the persons inside don't shed a bit of that burden they'll be crashed beneath.

Thanks for this.

The kinks themselves, were brilliant teasers. I like how you talked about them, but they kind of faded for me. It's their purpose that truly got me. I admit it's my first vomit fic, but I was fine with it. You did awesomely.

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Thank you, my dear :)

(and what a brilliant way around your earlier troubles with the roles

Yes. It took me forever to come up with that approach. I wrote several drafts - one with Harry as the Master and the other with Draco as the Master, but I felt the issue of who's in which role was really distracting to the story I was trying to tell. Before I came up with this approach, I decided this story would never see the light of day.

Not be Draco and Harry.

Yes. I went back&forth about whether to include the detail of The Master calling out the slave's name just because I felt it breached their roles, but then I thought, well, they've been together like this for 10 years. After all that time, a few of the boundaries soften. Plus he did it during orgasm - people are allowed to say (almost) anything during orgasm ;)

It's their purpose that truly got me.

Good! I really didn't want this to be a showcase for the kinks as much as I wanted it to explore the kind of relationship in which such practices are undertaken.

*hugs*

[kitschobrien.livejournal.com]

This was very much like reading one of those extreme BDSM pornos, only with emotions and complexity thrown in that usually, rarely crosses your mind other than 'I wonder WHY anyone would be into this!'.

I knew I'd like it. It was hot. The plum in the bum? Yes. I like that you left the roles unspecified. It's makes it interesting and you can read it differently the second time/simultaneously.

I've no idea why you were so afraid of this. It was masterfully handled. Blunt and graphic but still wielded with a sort of grace beyond mere shock value and fetish. Their relationship is as twisted and complex as their desires, and I love how there's the restrained craving for more than sex between them, yet they both know that it's beyond that.

Solid read: complex, short and layered.

Re: Plums

[frayach.livejournal.com]

Hey there! Late reply alert:

Thank you for taking the leap of faith in reading this story.

I've no idea why you were so afraid of this. It was masterfully handled. Blunt and graphic but still wielded with a sort of grace beyond mere shock value and fetish. Their relationship is as twisted and complex as their desires, and I love how there's the restrained craving for more than sex between them, yet they both know that it's beyond that.

I guess being the writer I didn't have perspective. I've never read anything even nearly as hardcore kinky as this, so I felt like I was really sticking my neck out. And (believe it or not), in RL I'm a bit of a prude - well, maybe not a prude, but I'm your typical repressed American-of-a-certain-age. I also had no idea what the reaction would be. If there were only a few comments, I would have felt really weird. . . anyway, I'm really glad I posted it. The comments I've received are amazing.

[scarletscarlet.livejournal.com]

Ooh, and infidelity, too! Because it wasn't just that they had a completely separate life at work, but at home, too. *utterly* distinct. You know, I wasn't sure who took which role. It honestly felt like it could have gone either way, and I don't at all mind not having it spelled out.

This skirts the edges of the kind of porn I sometimes go looking for - there's a really fine line between arousal and squick, I find :). This spent most of its time in the former ;). No, is that too classy a way to say it? Fuckit, kinkfest. This fic? ;lakjsdf hot. I expect to, ah, revisit it.

But, also, because your porn is never just porn - the relationship always has layers with you, and I do love that. It makes it so much more than just elegantly written, boundary-pushing erotica :). Because, fuck me, I expected the vomit part to be something I got through, not something I *liked*. Probably because of the power-play - the forced regurgitation, the stretched stomach, the pushing, the idea that there was going to be throat-fucking until vomit was unavoidable... that tapped into the kind of control over/loss of control over bodily functions that kinda fascinates me in a porn setting.

... one day, you will do more than just hint at enemas :p. On that day, I will break my keyboard capslock-mashing at you :D.

Unabashed enjoyment over here :).

[scarletscarlet.livejournal.com]

also, the thing with the plum. and the ENDOSCOPE DILDO that goes so deep he has to be very, very careful, aaaargh, you are full of IDEAS that are WIN.

Speculum stuff I have seen and just like :). People do very impressive things with horse speculums out there in the world of xtube.

[capri1225.livejournal.com]

I've waited all week for this post and it didn't disappoint! I thought I knew who was the "Master" and who the "slave" was but the ending tripped me up. It can go either way as far as I'm concerned. I won't email you to know who you had in mind because I think everytime I read it I will have a different take on it. Well done!

Re: Plums

[frayach.livejournal.com]

So sorry for the late reply, my dear . . .

I won't email you to know who you had in mind because I think everytime I read it I will have a different take on it.

I'm actually amazed by how few people have emailed me. I thought there'd be a flood. But it seems people liked the anonymity, which was the effect I was going for.