LMOM: Collared- Part 13
May. 13th, 2010 12:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katekintailJust a quick note to all you wonderful people still reading this fic. I had one big plan when I started this story: equal parts hurt and comfort. It's getting bad for our favorite werewolf in this section but it's nearly mid-month and I still plan to stick to my... plan.
Title: Collared Part 13
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: BDSM, dub-con (non-con), bad treatment of the sweet Remus
Pairing: Remus/OMC, past Remus/Sirius mentioned
Disclaimer: This story is NOT of JKR’s making. I make no money from this at all. I also do not condone the keeping of werewolves as unwilling sex slave love pets.
Summary: Unable to make ends meet after the war, Remus submits himself to the Ministry’s program for werewolves.
Word Count: 1,714
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
Remus figured he shouldn’t have been too surprised about Aaron and Benji. There wasn’t much to do during the days except sit in the room and wait for the meals. You had to make your own fun, if you wanted fun, and just about the only option available was to take yourself in hand or ask one of your roommates to do it for you. He rather envied the way his two roommates could enjoy themselves in these circumstances. Remus wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the Market.
When he was there, he wanted out so desperately, hoping a home with an owner would be a better existence. But both of his experiences with owners had gone badly in the end. Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he was broken, just as Miss Angelica had claimed.
Remus heard the footsteps and wasn’t sure he wanted to even lift his head to see the visiting owner. The black shoes stopped in front of Unit Eight, however, and Remus looked up. This time, he didn’t waste time. “Please, Severus. I’m so sorry for what happened in the past, you have to believe me. You have to help me.”
Snape looked down his hooked nose at Remus. “Lupin,” he said sharply, admonishingly. Then he turned to go.
“Wait!” Remus got up and darted out, braving the hurt of the heavy barrier to do it. Desperation raced through him. Whatever Snape was doing with these werewolves he came for had to be better than the first two owners who had selected Remus. Remus called out to him, “Please, I’ll do anything.” But Snape was moving down the hall, snagging any old werewolf on his way out instead of Remus.
“Anything, hmm?” Remus turned to see a large man in a velvet smoking jacket. “I’ll take you, if you really mean it.”
Remus felt sick to his stomach as he accepted the man’s collar.
*
“If you please me,” the new owner said, walking Remus through the house, “you will receive rewards and privileges. Do you like to read, Remus?” He opened a door to reveal the largest personal library Remus had ever seen. It was almost the size of the one in Hogwarts, except these weren’t even school books. They weren’t even all wizarding books; Remus recognized handfuls of names belonging to muggle writers. He saw some titles he knew quite well, but he saw more books that were brand new to him. He longed to sit down then and there and devour books one after another as if they were chocolates.
The man moved on, showing Remus to a game room, a music room, a sun porch, a green house, and a conservatory. There was a bathroom with a tub so big Remus could have gone swimming in it. And there was interesting art everywhere on the walls, making the place look warm and homey.
His owner wasn’t much to look at. He was large around the middle and his two chins seemed to be searching for his neck, only to have found a third chin in the process. He was short and balding on top, with two ridiculous dark brown tufts of hair on either side of his head it looked like he was planning to grow out so he could comb them over. He reminded Remus a bit of his old Potions professor, only Slughorn had had a prominent walrus moustache and had been golden-haired.
Remus didn’t even know the name of his owner the first time sex was demanded of him. He had only been in the household a few hours and apart from being required to walk around in jeans and his collar only, the only demand made of him had been to prepare a small snack.
Cooking had never been Remus’ forte. Luckily, Miss Angelica had not had a problem with that part of his performance. But it seemed a small snack in Remus’ new owner’s book was not herbal tea, cucumber sandwiches, and lemon cream finger cookies.
“This is just about enough for a mouse to eat!” his new owner roared, picking up one of the small cookies and then dropping it back on the platter as if it were entirely inedible. “In fact, why don’t you serve it to the mice? Get that tray, werewolf.”
Remus obeyed, trying to keep his hands from shaking noticeably.
“Down on the floor!” the owner yelled. He smacked Remus hard on the back of his thighs with a wand, making Remus wobble. Remus took a knee, regaining his balance, and then bent the other leg so he was kneeling on the floor. He set the tray down, looking longingly at the food.
The man repeated slapped his wand against his open palm as he circled Remus, inspecting Remus’ form. The sound echoed in the cavernous, high-ceilinged sitting room. Each SMACK made Remus a little more nervous than the one before. Finally the man stopped in front of him, avoiding stepping on the tray. “Open your mouth. I want to use you.”
Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Remus closed his eyes and opened his mouth.
THWACK! The wand struck Remus’ arse hard, making him sit up straighter. His eyes opened wide, questioning the owner silently.
“Got to teach you a lesson, don’t I, werewolf.”
A lesson about making larger sandwiches for snacktime? Really, if he wanted a blow job, there were better ways to make it happen than get angry about the food. Remus could have given him a handful of other reasons. But, as it was, Remus couldn’t say a thing about it. So he closed his eyes again, even as another hot smack of wand against arse cheeks came.
The wand was skinny but hard. There wasn’t much give to the wood when it struck. And, depending on the angle, it burned hot for a second and then warmed with an aching sort of pain. The spill he had taken the night before, landing on his rear end on Miss Angelica’s bathroom floor, contributed to it.
Remus held his mouth open, relaxing his throat, determined not to gag. Remus was suddenly glad for all the practice he’d had in this department lately. His gag reflex had been one of the first things to go, right after his self-respect.
The new owner wasted no time at all in thrusting roughly into Remus’ mouth. He didn’t want a real blow job, though. Every time Remus tried something more complex like swirling with his tongue or stroking with it or even just sucking, the wand lashed at him like a whip.
And then, when Remus did nothing at all but stay perfectly still, the wand came at him for no reason other than the owner seemed to like doing it. The more he hit Remus, the deeper he thrust. The faster he hit, the faster he thrust. Soon, he was doing both nonstop. The man blurted out nonsensical words that were mostly filled with vowels. Remus sat there on his knees, bearing the smacks, taking the cock, and wishing he were anywhere else.
It seemed to take ages for the owner to come. When he did, the wand landed once more on his arse and stayed there, pushing, keeping Remus in position as the man spilled in spurts. Remus knew better than to refuse to swallow, but the cock was so far back that he didn’t taste most of it anyway. The man finished and collapsed onto the sofa. Mercifully, that meant the beating had stopped. By then, Remus had stopped being able to feel his backside; it was just on fire now. He knew from experience that the pain would return soon enough and sitting would then be unbearable.
Sirius had spanked him, upon request, during sex a handful of times over the course of their relationship. And Remus had had a few clients who had been into the more physical side of BDSM as well. But this new owner… it wasn’t just about power with him; it was about force. It wasn’t that he started disciplining and ended up getting off on it, it seemed, but that he was horny and had to invent a reason to hit just so he could come.
This was unhealthy, dangerous, and a whole lot less fun than anything Remus had done before. As the man lay there, panting and sated, Remus repressed the urge to wretch and the instinct to flee. He did, however, reach up to the hard leather collar the man had given him.
Remus had to get himself out of this situation and the only way to do that was to lose the collar. He would repudiate it on the basis of incompatibility and demand to be returned to the Ministry. Surely the man wouldn’t keep a slave around who wasn’t a good match for him, not when there were so many others out there who might be better. Sure, Remus had claimed at the Market that he had been up for anything, but this was so much further than anything Remus had expected. Remus’ fingers searched on the collar for the buckle. It was so tight he couldn’t feel on his neck where it might be as he wore it, but he was certain his fingers would recognize the cold metal when they found it. They circled around several times, feeling a never-ending circle of leather only. When he began to get frustrated, he pulled at the collar itself. He tried to pull at the leather, but it was flush against his skin so his fingers could not find purchase. He pressed his palms to either side of his neck and tried to ease the collar this way or that, but it wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t just on him tightly—it was magically bound to him. And him to it… and to its owner.
The owner stirred and actually smiled at Remus. “I think you’ve more than earned a reward.”
Even the prospect of a reward wasn’t much of a consolation. Remus felt trapped and violated and hurt. He was sure to have bruises and marks where the man’s hands had taken hold and where the wand’s strokes had fallen. Truthfully, Remus wasn’t sure how much of this he could take.
Title: Collared Part 13
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: BDSM, dub-con (non-con), bad treatment of the sweet Remus
Pairing: Remus/OMC, past Remus/Sirius mentioned
Disclaimer: This story is NOT of JKR’s making. I make no money from this at all. I also do not condone the keeping of werewolves as unwilling sex slave love pets.
Summary: Unable to make ends meet after the war, Remus submits himself to the Ministry’s program for werewolves.
Word Count: 1,714
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
Remus figured he shouldn’t have been too surprised about Aaron and Benji. There wasn’t much to do during the days except sit in the room and wait for the meals. You had to make your own fun, if you wanted fun, and just about the only option available was to take yourself in hand or ask one of your roommates to do it for you. He rather envied the way his two roommates could enjoy themselves in these circumstances. Remus wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the Market.
When he was there, he wanted out so desperately, hoping a home with an owner would be a better existence. But both of his experiences with owners had gone badly in the end. Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he was broken, just as Miss Angelica had claimed.
Remus heard the footsteps and wasn’t sure he wanted to even lift his head to see the visiting owner. The black shoes stopped in front of Unit Eight, however, and Remus looked up. This time, he didn’t waste time. “Please, Severus. I’m so sorry for what happened in the past, you have to believe me. You have to help me.”
Snape looked down his hooked nose at Remus. “Lupin,” he said sharply, admonishingly. Then he turned to go.
“Wait!” Remus got up and darted out, braving the hurt of the heavy barrier to do it. Desperation raced through him. Whatever Snape was doing with these werewolves he came for had to be better than the first two owners who had selected Remus. Remus called out to him, “Please, I’ll do anything.” But Snape was moving down the hall, snagging any old werewolf on his way out instead of Remus.
“Anything, hmm?” Remus turned to see a large man in a velvet smoking jacket. “I’ll take you, if you really mean it.”
Remus felt sick to his stomach as he accepted the man’s collar.
“If you please me,” the new owner said, walking Remus through the house, “you will receive rewards and privileges. Do you like to read, Remus?” He opened a door to reveal the largest personal library Remus had ever seen. It was almost the size of the one in Hogwarts, except these weren’t even school books. They weren’t even all wizarding books; Remus recognized handfuls of names belonging to muggle writers. He saw some titles he knew quite well, but he saw more books that were brand new to him. He longed to sit down then and there and devour books one after another as if they were chocolates.
The man moved on, showing Remus to a game room, a music room, a sun porch, a green house, and a conservatory. There was a bathroom with a tub so big Remus could have gone swimming in it. And there was interesting art everywhere on the walls, making the place look warm and homey.
His owner wasn’t much to look at. He was large around the middle and his two chins seemed to be searching for his neck, only to have found a third chin in the process. He was short and balding on top, with two ridiculous dark brown tufts of hair on either side of his head it looked like he was planning to grow out so he could comb them over. He reminded Remus a bit of his old Potions professor, only Slughorn had had a prominent walrus moustache and had been golden-haired.
Remus didn’t even know the name of his owner the first time sex was demanded of him. He had only been in the household a few hours and apart from being required to walk around in jeans and his collar only, the only demand made of him had been to prepare a small snack.
Cooking had never been Remus’ forte. Luckily, Miss Angelica had not had a problem with that part of his performance. But it seemed a small snack in Remus’ new owner’s book was not herbal tea, cucumber sandwiches, and lemon cream finger cookies.
“This is just about enough for a mouse to eat!” his new owner roared, picking up one of the small cookies and then dropping it back on the platter as if it were entirely inedible. “In fact, why don’t you serve it to the mice? Get that tray, werewolf.”
Remus obeyed, trying to keep his hands from shaking noticeably.
“Down on the floor!” the owner yelled. He smacked Remus hard on the back of his thighs with a wand, making Remus wobble. Remus took a knee, regaining his balance, and then bent the other leg so he was kneeling on the floor. He set the tray down, looking longingly at the food.
The man repeated slapped his wand against his open palm as he circled Remus, inspecting Remus’ form. The sound echoed in the cavernous, high-ceilinged sitting room. Each SMACK made Remus a little more nervous than the one before. Finally the man stopped in front of him, avoiding stepping on the tray. “Open your mouth. I want to use you.”
Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Remus closed his eyes and opened his mouth.
THWACK! The wand struck Remus’ arse hard, making him sit up straighter. His eyes opened wide, questioning the owner silently.
“Got to teach you a lesson, don’t I, werewolf.”
A lesson about making larger sandwiches for snacktime? Really, if he wanted a blow job, there were better ways to make it happen than get angry about the food. Remus could have given him a handful of other reasons. But, as it was, Remus couldn’t say a thing about it. So he closed his eyes again, even as another hot smack of wand against arse cheeks came.
The wand was skinny but hard. There wasn’t much give to the wood when it struck. And, depending on the angle, it burned hot for a second and then warmed with an aching sort of pain. The spill he had taken the night before, landing on his rear end on Miss Angelica’s bathroom floor, contributed to it.
Remus held his mouth open, relaxing his throat, determined not to gag. Remus was suddenly glad for all the practice he’d had in this department lately. His gag reflex had been one of the first things to go, right after his self-respect.
The new owner wasted no time at all in thrusting roughly into Remus’ mouth. He didn’t want a real blow job, though. Every time Remus tried something more complex like swirling with his tongue or stroking with it or even just sucking, the wand lashed at him like a whip.
And then, when Remus did nothing at all but stay perfectly still, the wand came at him for no reason other than the owner seemed to like doing it. The more he hit Remus, the deeper he thrust. The faster he hit, the faster he thrust. Soon, he was doing both nonstop. The man blurted out nonsensical words that were mostly filled with vowels. Remus sat there on his knees, bearing the smacks, taking the cock, and wishing he were anywhere else.
It seemed to take ages for the owner to come. When he did, the wand landed once more on his arse and stayed there, pushing, keeping Remus in position as the man spilled in spurts. Remus knew better than to refuse to swallow, but the cock was so far back that he didn’t taste most of it anyway. The man finished and collapsed onto the sofa. Mercifully, that meant the beating had stopped. By then, Remus had stopped being able to feel his backside; it was just on fire now. He knew from experience that the pain would return soon enough and sitting would then be unbearable.
Sirius had spanked him, upon request, during sex a handful of times over the course of their relationship. And Remus had had a few clients who had been into the more physical side of BDSM as well. But this new owner… it wasn’t just about power with him; it was about force. It wasn’t that he started disciplining and ended up getting off on it, it seemed, but that he was horny and had to invent a reason to hit just so he could come.
This was unhealthy, dangerous, and a whole lot less fun than anything Remus had done before. As the man lay there, panting and sated, Remus repressed the urge to wretch and the instinct to flee. He did, however, reach up to the hard leather collar the man had given him.
Remus had to get himself out of this situation and the only way to do that was to lose the collar. He would repudiate it on the basis of incompatibility and demand to be returned to the Ministry. Surely the man wouldn’t keep a slave around who wasn’t a good match for him, not when there were so many others out there who might be better. Sure, Remus had claimed at the Market that he had been up for anything, but this was so much further than anything Remus had expected. Remus’ fingers searched on the collar for the buckle. It was so tight he couldn’t feel on his neck where it might be as he wore it, but he was certain his fingers would recognize the cold metal when they found it. They circled around several times, feeling a never-ending circle of leather only. When he began to get frustrated, he pulled at the collar itself. He tried to pull at the leather, but it was flush against his skin so his fingers could not find purchase. He pressed his palms to either side of his neck and tried to ease the collar this way or that, but it wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t just on him tightly—it was magically bound to him. And him to it… and to its owner.
The owner stirred and actually smiled at Remus. “I think you’ve more than earned a reward.”
Even the prospect of a reward wasn’t much of a consolation. Remus felt trapped and violated and hurt. He was sure to have bruises and marks where the man’s hands had taken hold and where the wand’s strokes had fallen. Truthfully, Remus wasn’t sure how much of this he could take.