Abused (L.S) (Punk!Harry)

Finding Hints

Harry had taped 15 videos- and he was prepared to tape a sixteenth, his second that day. Earlier in the day, he was forced to sit on Derek's lap, only the both of them were naked and Harry wasn't exactly simply sitting. It was torture. Now, Derek found out about two sleepovers and a date Harry had gone on. He just turned on the video piece of his phone, and quickly blurted out "April 30th, Harry Styles, I think my arm and hand are about to get broken. Can't run off, he'd kill me." He put the phone in its hiding spot for taping, then raced back to sit back on his bed. Derek stormed in not two minutes later, with a home phone in hand.

"I'm going to break your arm, then I'm going to break your hand. You're going to make up an excuse as to why this happened, and call Mrs. Tomlinson. I want you to die on my terms, not from some broken limbs. You'll call her, she'll come over, and take you with her. You have permission to sleep at his house tonight, but only so they don't get the wrong idea. Am I completely understood? Oh. First you're getting a long spanking though." Harry nodded submissively, and rubbed at his left arm. He knew this was the one Derek would leave broken in about an hour. He was so afraid, but he knew that once he had around twenty videos, he was completely safe. Maybe twenty videos plus five that included broken bones. Then Derek was surely put away forever. Just as long as he had enough evidence to put Derek away, but that wasn't happening yet.

Harry stood up from the bed, and waited for his step father to sit down. He did, as usual, but before Harry could lie over, Derek stopped him. "Go get your mum's wooden hairbrush. Clean it of hair, bring it back. I've flogged you before, you've gotten paddled before, but I think you need a small instrument that I can use a long time on you. I'll only be using my hand a little bit, most of it will be the brush. Scoot." To any other kid, this would be a comforting statement. To Harry, this was just more damage to be done. He quickly went off to his mum's room, and found the dress on her boudoir. She must have just cleaned it that morning, for it didn't have any hair in it. Harry brought the brush back into his room, and handed it to Derek. He nodded and motioned for Harry to get bare immediately. The sting of the brush on a bare bottom was one not to be toyed with, Harry just didn't know that yet.

He stripped his trousers and boxers off, then laid over one knee. Derek pinned his legs so he couldn't kick, secured his waist so he couldn't squirm, and smacked his rear once with his hand. "Wrists." He ordered, which Harry quickly obliged to- he wasn't stupid. His wrists got pinned behind his back, and Harry was completely helpless. The brush came crashing down, and Harry's eyes widened significantly. If this was how the whole punishment was going to be...

And it was. For fifteen minutes the only sound to be heard in the room is Harry's docile crying, and the wooden brush connecting with his bottom several times over, leaving marks everywhere for the lad. The marks, deep, dark, purple bruising even, yet not bleeding, that was the magic of the wooden brush. One last stroke of it, and Derek set it aside. Harry lay there sobbing, and started to fearfully tremble. His step father was not one to break a promise, and he promised to break Harry's bones. He lay there for a couple of minutes, before Derek stood him up. "Left arm. Extend it out, don't you dare try to jerk away." Harry nodded, and shakily put out his arm, shaking and crying the whole time. Derek held the hand tightly, and grabbed one of Harry's textbooks. It took a couple of hard hits and drops, but on the fifth try, Harry's lower arm bone snapped. He screamed, and went to pull the arm back, but instead of saving himself, two of his hand bones cracked as well. Derek rolled his eyes, and threw Harry to the floor, pinning his hand on the ground. The steel toed boots- he was wearing them. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the pain became too immense, hand bones cracking and snapping as if they were rose petals falling off their flower.

He wasn't sure how many cracks he heard in the end, but it was enough. He lay on the ground sobbing, desperate for someone to help him. He couldn't take it. He had to tell Louis- he had to get out of this hell hole. The home phone was thrown at his face, and he immediately dialed Louis' number, he knew it all too well. "Hey Hazzy, what's up?" Harry just sobbed louder, and cradled his arm. It was purple and swollen and he just needed help. He wanted his boyfriend. "Woah sweetie, hold on... hold on, I'm on my way. Okay? I've got my car keys in my hand, and I'm running out to my car. Stay on the line. Can you tell me what happened? Did you get spanked?" Harry nodded desperately, and watched Derek finally leave the room. He drug himself off the floor, and listened to Louis' soothing voice as he got slowly dressed and packed a small bag for himself. He stopped recording, and shoved his phone and charger in his bag.