Subject: Harry Potter and the Successive Submission 1 Harry Potter and the Successive Submission — Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and a standalone piece. All references to specific, living individuals are based on fiction and the author has no claim to knowledge of their sexual orientation. Any and all mentions to and references of fictional characters and their properties belong to their respective copyright and trademark owner(s), production company (ies), and/or their publisher (s) and this author does not claim to hold these rights. The author can be contacted at ook — Part 1: Harry Potter and the Keeper’s Beating Harry quietly closed the door to his room at Privet drive. The break between terms always felt unending, particularly with the amount of busywork that he was given to fill his days. Uncle Vernon had Harry pulling weeds, trimming hedges, and cleaning the back patio, and he was absolutely spent. He peeled off the drab, dirty muggle clothes the Dursley’s provided him and tossed them in the corner. He mustn’t forget to remove them before Aunt Petunia sees them, and uses it as an excuse to leave him with all the laundry again. It had only been three years since starting at Hogwarts and already the muggle clothes felt almost foreign to him. He missed the freshly laundered uniforms and the free feeling of a robe draped across his shoulders. Harry was sweaty and grimey, but he was exhausted, so he flung himself onto the lumpy single bed. At that moment it felt less like a prison cot and more like a cloud. Tossing in his sleep, Harry dreamt of the things that he missed as he was imprisoned at Privet Drive. He was flying his broom through the spires of Hogwarts, weaving between turrets and past windows. Flying always felt so freeing: that he could speed away from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, away from Snape and his torturous potions classes, and away from the spectre of Voldemort. The broom glided through the Quidditch pitch, and he could see his friends cheering him on as he sped through the throng of players, untouched. Landing in the centre of the pitch, the crowd roaring, Harry felt the swell of pride that came with even an unsuccessful match. The crowd’s cheers were quickly silenced, as the scene around him changed. He and the team were instantly in the Changing Rooms, but he couldn’t make out anyone’s faces. The swirling of Gryffindor robes and excitement for post-game parties was one of the few places Harry felt truly at home. Faceless body’s pulled off pads, jeered across the change room, jostled playfully. Through the blurred mass of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team, he could see only one person with absolute clarity: the blond, wiry-haired Cormac McLaggen about to enter a fit of rage. McLaggen’s face was rising to the characteristic scarlet of a full blown meltdown. He turned towards the faceless figures around him, screaming wildly, as he did after a losing match against Ravenclaw where the team had a particularly bad performance. As Cormac screamed, the other figures melted away until Harry was the only one left. McLaggen turned to Harry, chest heaving from the tirade, blonde hair askew. “And as for you, Potter. How the hell did you let Chang get the snitch? You may as well have been sitting on your broom backwards, for all the bursa escort bayan fucking use you were!” Cormac was screaming right in Harry’s face, spit flecking Harry’s glasses. Cormac bore over Harry, his piercing blue eyes shooting daggers. Harry drew his gaze away from McLaggen’s stare, even though that was always a hard thing to do. Cormac’s blue eyes had a way of staring through you, and pulling you. As he screamed, McLaggen’s Quidditch robes had fallen away, only his britches, shinguards, and boots remaining. His trim chest heaved, and was as red as his face from rage. Sweat glistened across his chest and down his tight abdominals. McLaggen always took pride in his appearance and was one of the fittest members of the Gryffindor team. His chest was broad with a light coating of blonde hairs, and the chiseled pecs angled towards juicy, dusty pink nipples. He didn’t quite have washboard abs, but was well on his way, and had perfect crevices to guide a willing tongue. Harry was always stealing glances in the dorms or changing rooms, and Cormac’s trim body frequently featured in Harry’s all too common fantasies. “I’m… sorry Cormac. I’ll do better next time” Harry stammered. “Next time? You’re jumping ahead fucking early. We haven’t even dealt with this time yet” Cormac’s rage had switched burning hot to ice cold. Harry looked back up at Cormac, and he felt the older student’s hand press around the back of his neck. “What the hell are you going to do about it, Potter?” Cormac pulled Harry closer. All of Harry’s clothes had melted away, and he was left standing in only a tight pair of white briefs. “I’ll make it up to you Cormac. Please” Harry begged. He felt Cormac’s hand roughly grab the front of his underwear. Cormac squeezed his quickly hardening package tightly. “You bet you fucking will.” Cormac gripped even harder, the pressure causing sticky precum to erupt into Harry’s white underwear. The vice-like grip didn’t allow for any escape, but Harry didn’t even consider it. Low moans started emanating from deep in Harry’s throat, causing a vicious sneer to cross Cormac’s lips. He gripped tighter again, the veins bulging along his arm as he squeezed Harry’s helpless package. The other hand remained on Harry’s neck, and Cormac slowly moved his thumb across Harry’s chin and brushed it along his wet lips. “Seems like you’re enjoying this Potter. Are you learning your lesson?” “I don’t think… so… Cormac.” Harry gasped out as McLaggen pulsed his grip on Harry’s crotch. “You need more, don’t you?” “Yes… I need… more Cormac.” Cormac’s gaze hadn’t broken, even as Harry conceded that his vulnerable cock and balls needed further punishment. “You definitely deserve it.” Cormac released his grip and the room swirled: Harry was immediately lying on one of the wooden benches in the centre of the changing room. Cormac stood over him, his chest still glistening with sweat. He kept thinking how sweet it would taste to run his tongue over Cormac’s heaving pecs, and suck on his pert nipples. “Pull it out, Harry. You need to learn that lesson.” Cormac barked, startling Harry. Harry pushed his underwear down, and his hard, leaking cock jumped out pointing straight upwards. He tucked the band underneath his plump balls, tight in his silky nut sack. There was görükle escort a smattering of neatly trimmed jet black pubic hair surrounding his pale shaft. His pink cock head flared out, as a large bead of precum emerged from his slit. Having his erect penis on display for Cormac only made it throb more. “Fucking hell, Potter. Looks like your cock loves a bit of punishment” McLaggen jeered. All Harry could muster was a groan in response. Cormac knelt down between Harry’s legs, circling his fingers around Harry’s shaft, and jerked slowly. Harry was in ecstasy as his engorged cock was slowly pleasured by McLaggen. As more precum dribbled from Harry’s throbbing cock head, Cormac suddenly removed his hand to watch Harry’s cock twitch. “You want more, don’t you Harry? You’re desperate for more.” Cormac whispered. “Please Cormac. I need more.” Harry pleaded. Cormac was right: he was desperate for more punishment from the Keeper. “Good. Now start counting, Potter.” Cormac’s hand returned to Harry’s cock, holding it solidly by its base, beneath Harry’s churning balls. He raised his hand and slapped Harry’s cock sharply, sending precum flying. A loud yelp escaped from Harry’s lips and his body tensed as the stinging pain radiated along his cockshaft. “Did I fucking stutter? Count. Each. Slap.” Cormac broke his cool and screamed at Harry, viciously slapping Harry’s cock to make his point. “Oh! Fuck! Oh! One!” Harry started counting the brutal beating his cock was taking. With each slap his dick grewer redder, his balls swelling more and more. Cormac clearly had a lot of steam to blow off, and it just happened Harry’s cock was his target. As Harry counted, Cormac’s slaps grewer harder and faster. At fifteen, Cormac released his grip on the base of Harry’s shaft. Taking a moment to regain his breath, Harry couldn’t help but feel more turned on than ever after his cock was so relentlessly abused. “That cock is still rock hard, Potter. I don’t think we’re done just yet.” Harry barely had time to register that Cormac had no intention of completing his punishment before he felt a hand wrap wrap around his nuts, and yank them away from his body. Harry yelped again, as his nuts were stretched to their limit, back in Cormac’s vice grip. “Count again, Potter. And don’t fuck it up this time.” “I’m sorry Cormac… I promise I’ll do be… AH! One!” Harry recoiled as Cormac brought his fist down on Harry’s vulnerable nuts. “Come on, you fucking earned this” Cormac spat, pummeling Harry’s nuts again. The assault continued and Harry gasped breaths in between counting the strikes against his jewels. Precum leaked constantly from Harry’s cock, dripping onto his stomach. His churning balls were encouraged by each punch, just as Cormac was encouraged by Harry’s heaves and yelps. By the time Harry reached fifteen again, his balls were bulging in his sac, now a purply colour from the abuse. Again, Cormac released Harry from his grasp, and pain and pleasure flowed through Harry’s body making him near delirious. “Good job, Potter. I think we’ve sorted this one out.” Cormac stood up, smirking again at Harry’s precum drenched body and bruised cock. “C-Cormac…” Harry began, “I don’t think we have.” “What do you mean, Harry?” “I want more, Cormac? I’m fucking bursa escort bayan desperate for more.” McLaggen’s smirk turned into a broad smile. He stood over Harry, small beads of sweat winding their way through the few blonde hairs on his chest. Harry felt a deep shame about his perverted lust of punishment, but the prospect of pleasure quickly overcame his reservations. His battered cock seemed to only react more to pain and punishment, driving Harry mad with desire. He wanted to submit to any abuse Cormac was prepared to offer. “Please, Cormac. I want more. I want it harder. My cock is yours to destroy.” Harry begged. Harry felt the toe of Cormac’s leather Quidditch boot brush gently against his bruised nuts. Even the slight movement made Harry wince. The hob-nailed brown leather boots rose to Cormac’s knee, offering protection from Bludgers and the falls of Quidditch. Originally shiny, these were scuffed from use, the thick leather having seen many spills in practice. Cormac lightly tapped the capped boot against Harry’s nuts. “Like this, Harry?” “Umpf… No Cormac – harder” Harry pleaded. The tap had sent a wave of pain from his swollen nuts to his stomach, but it only sought to make his pummeled shaft even more painfully hard. Cormac drew his leg back, a wicked grin on his face. His foot rocketed toward Harry’s crotch, and the leather toe connected with Harry’s vulnerable testicles. Half screaming in agony, half moaning in ecstasy, Harry felt the full impact on bruised balls. The pain made Harry giddy, sending waves throughout his body. “Oh, Fuck Cormac!” Harry droned, hypnotised by the ache of his crushed balls. He writhed on the bench, halfway between desperate arousal and world shaking torture. The punishment he was inflicting on Gryffindor’s golden boy had fattened Cormac’s bulge, and he was openly groping himself as he stood over Harry. “Look at what you’ve done now, Harry.” Cormac chastised Harry – after the swift kick his sticky, precum coated cock had left flecks all over McLaggen’s boots. “I’m… so sorry… Cormac,” Harry was still gasping in agony as the aching ebbed away slowly. “You know what this means?” “Yes Cormac… Please… Punish me harder,” Harry could hardly believe he was begging for more torture, but deep down he knew this was what he deserved. “Make me regret it, Cormac. Ruin my cock. Please Cormac. Please!” As Harry begged, not for mercy, but for pain, Cormac brought his right knee up to his chest. Harry could see the protruding dull spikes from the sole of the boot. He was terrified, but wanted nothing more than to feel Cormac unleash his anger on Harry’s exposed crotch. Cormac was aiming to stamp not only on Harry’s purple, bruised testicles, but also his stinging shaft. McLaggen gave one last smirk to Harry and unleashed his stomp, slamming downward with all his might. Harry stared in awe at the boot hurtling towards his defenseless penis. As Cormac connected with Harry’s crotch, a jolt passed through his body and the sound of a slam jolted him awake. The visage of a sweaty, sadistic Cormac McLaggen was gone, replaced by the darkened ceiling of his room at Privet Drive. Harry was back in bed, filthy from work with the sheets drenched in precum. His testicles ached, sadly not from McLaggen’s punishment but from the load that had been building as he dreamt. Soft thudding in the entrance hall made Harry scramble to rearrange the sheets – releasing his blue balls would have to wait. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long or his fantasies might get the best of him.