katekintail (katekintail) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2010-05-05 00:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2010, author: katekintail, kink: dubious consent, remus/macnair |
LMOM: Collared- Part 5
Title: Collared Part 5
Author: KateKintail
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: Forced sex (borderline dub-con-esque)
Pairing: Macnair/Remus
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: 1,182
Notes: Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010
“Mr. Lupin? Collared werewolves stand a much better chance of being selected. But we understand it is a very personal choice. If you would like me to go over what a collar entails, I can certainly—“
“Yes,” Remus heard himself whisper. “I mean, no, you don’t have to go through the details. Yes, I’ll wear a collar.”
The Ministry official nodded and pointed to the form in front of him. “Fine. Sign there to indicate that, then.”
With every signature, he signed his life away. With every signature, a little piece of his soul died. And when he was done, hundreds of signatures later, he was so numb and tired all he could think about was how glad he was that things were decided, that that part of his life was over and choice was completely eliminated now.
“Now that you’re enrolled, you’ll need to be inspected.”
Remus nodded obediently.
The door opened and in walked an enormous man with a heavy black mustache. He was tall and broad shouldered. His Ministry name badge read: Waldon Macnair. And his dark eyes were cold, unfeeling—just what Remus had expected from someone in his position.
Remus started to rise, assuming he would be taken somewhere to be inspected, but one of the man’s strong hands reached out and took hold of his shoulder. The hand forced Remus back down into the chair. “Stay,” the man commanded firmly. So Remus stayed. And the woman who had interviewed him left the room. Remus could hear the door being locked behind her.
“Undress,” the man said, staring down at Remus.
Remus stood and began to take his clothes off.
He had barely unbuckled his belt when Macnair grunted, “Too slow.”
Remus was careful not to roll his yes, but the last thing he wanted was to have another grunting man on his hands.
Macnair pulled a wand out and immediately vanished Remus’ clothes. Remus resisted the need to shiver, because he did not want to appear weak in front of anyone meant to evaluate him. So he stiffened up and held perfectly still as Macnair walked around him, inspecting.
“How long did you work for Voldemort?” the man asked Remus, and when Remus looked astonished, the man moved closer, rounding on him. “How long?!”
“Never!” Remus exclaimed. “I wasn’t one of those werewolves. I was on the side of good the whole—”
Macnair hit him. It practically came out of nowhere and hit Remus on the side of his face in a hard sting of pain.
“I swear!” Remus insisted. “You can use truth potions on me. You can ask the Order. That’s it! Ask Dumbledore! Or Moody! They know!”
Another slap. Remus winced and put his hand up to his face. He backed away from Macnair, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He knew the ministry official didn’t have to believe him, but there was nothing more he could say to prove his case.
The man grabbed him by the wrists and pulled his arms out. Piercing, black eyes moved up and down Remus’ arms, then up and down Remus’ whole body. “Fine,” he said at last. He released Remus. “We’ll move on to pushups then,” he announced, taking out a pocket watch. “As many as you can do in a minute. Now!”
Remus made a paltry attempt at pushups. He didn’t do much better at lifting the chair Macnair had charmed to be heavier than it was supposed to be. And running in place was such an unnatural thing for Remus that, even though he had the stamina, he didn’t do very well at it. It all left him hot and sweaty, so when he was asked to stand again by the desk, he had to work to stand still again.
Out came a measuring tape, which dangled from Remus’ head to foot. “Scrawny.” Then it measured around Remus’ middle. “Skinny, malnourished.” Remus felt hungry almost immediately at the mention. “And scarred.”
“I’m a werewolf.”
SLAP! The man’s large, open palm hit the side of Remus’ face a third time, adding a hard punch to the gut. And Remus, not the strongest he had ever been, nearly lost his footing from being struck. Hot tears sprang to his eyes but he looked up at the ceiling and blinked them back, taking only a second to block out the pains.
“Good,” the man said. “We can work with that.” Macnair put a hand on Remus’ arse and squeezed. Then his hand slid around Remus’ waist and touched his crotch. The large, sweaty hand fondled Remus’ balls for a moment then took hold of Remus’ cock.
Remus had been sure this wouldn’t be a standard inspection, but he hadn’t quite expected it to get this extreme this soon. Remus made himself grow hard at the touch, used to performing by now, and Macnair used the measuring tape there as well.
“How are you on nonverbal spells, half-breed?”
Remus tensed up and clenched his teeth. He supposed he would have to get used to being called that from now on. “I’m all right with them, if I had a wand.”
Macnair smirked. “Then I’d better used one for lubrication. Now.”
Remus felt the man’s hand, smack warm against his arse. He concentrated, thinking the spell just in time. Up went the man’s fist. And, oh Merlin it hurt. It wasn’t the worse Remus had ever had, that was for sure, but he was used to a little more warning and preparation before a major body part was thrust inside him. Fingers, hand, arm. Arm? How far in was the guy going to go? Pain shot through him, and it was all Remus could do to keep from crying out. He stayed silent, taking it, until the man gave up and pulled out. “Good,” was all Macnair said.
Then, without further warning, he yanked his robes up and entered Remus. Remus stayed still, bracing himself on the desk in front of him. Then man pushed him down, smashing his face into the blotter and the forms. Remus hoped he didn’t wrinkle or sweat or come on the papers; the last thing he needed was to go through all that signing all over again.
For all of Macnair’s build-up, he was surprisingly small and slow. It wasn’t that Remus had had better, because he obviously had. It was that almost everyone was better. This wasn’t really a fair inspection.
Macnair huffed and thrust and finally cried out, spilling into Remus. He recovered, huffing, red-faced, and Remus wondered how the man kept up with this task of his if that sorry display had left him out of breath.
Remus straightened up, feeling used, but used to feeling used. He waited patiently for the nod he eventually received from Macnair. “Acceptable.” Macnair pulled a crimson robe from the desk and threw it at Remus. “Dress.” Then he walked over to the door and knocked to be let out.
Remus found himself alone in the room for a few seconds. He wished later that he had savored that moment.