Chapter 1: Midnight Wounds
The room was cloaked in the heavy silence of midnight, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of Severus's bare chest as he lay sprawled across the tangled sheets. His mind churned with thoughts of Minerva—where had she vanished to? Two days of absence gnawed at him, her sharp wit and commanding presence a void he couldn’t ignore. A sudden, sharp knock at the door jolted him upright, his heart thudding with a mix of dread and anticipation. Wrapping a sheet around his waist, he strode to the door, the cold floor biting at his feet.
When he flung it open, the sight before him froze him in place. Minerva stood there, but not the Minerva he knew. Her once proud frame trembled, naked and battered, blood streaking down her pale skin. A pair of cat ears perched atop her head, twitching nervously, while a fluffy tail swayed behind her, betraying her agitation. A cruel collar encircled her neck, a chain dangling from it like a leash of shame. Bites and bruises marred her flesh—her breasts bore angry burns, her thighs were a map of violent handprints, and her swollen, bleeding pussy told a story of unspeakable torment. Her green eyes, usually so fierce, shimmered with fear and a fragile thread of hope.
“Minerva…” Severus breathed, his voice a low growl of shock and fury. “What the hell happened to you?”
Her ears flattened against her head, tail whipping side to side as she shivered, whether from the biting winter cold or terror, he couldn’t tell. “Please… let me in,” she whispered, her voice cracking like brittle glass.
He stepped aside, and as she stumbled past, he saw the full extent of her injuries—lash marks crisscrossing her back, her ass raw and damaged. She turned to him, tears streaming down cheeks red from slaps, and pleaded, “Don’t… don’t fuck me, Severus. I can’t take it. I’ll do anything—anything else. A blowjob, whatever you want, just not that. Please.”
Her words hit him like a curse, and he raised his voice despite himself. “Calm down, Minerva! I’m not going to hurt you!” But his sharp tone triggered something—a jolt of electricity from the cursed collar made her cry out, collapsing to her knees. Before he could stop her, she clawed at his trousers, yanking them down with trembling hands. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking it hesitantly before her lips pressed against the tip, desperate and mechanical.
“Stop!” Severus barked, gripping her throat—not to harm, but to pull her away. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated from whatever drugs they’d forced into her system. “You’re not thinking straight, damn it. I’m not them.”
She whimpered, a pitiful sound, as the collar sparked again, forcing her compliance. But Severus wouldn’t have it. He hoisted her up, ignoring her weak hisses and scratches, and carried her to the bathroom. “You’re freezing, you’re hurt, and I’m not letting you drown in this mess,” he muttered, his tone softer now as he ran warm water over her battered body. She fought him, claws raking his arms, her tail thrashing, but he held firm, washing away the blood and filth.
Once out of the bath, he wrapped her in a thick blanket, pulling her close against his chest. Her body was ice-cold from the winter streets, her skin pale with frostbite’s cruel kiss. She flinched at every touch, her ears twitching as if expecting a blow. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said firmly, feeling her tense in his arms. “You’re safe here, even if you don’t believe it yet.”
Her tail brushed against him accidentally, and she froze, a gasp escaping her lips. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—” She clamped a hand over her mouth, as if expecting a whip to crack down for the smallest infraction. Memories of pricks, belts, and wooden rods flashed in her mind, her body trembling at the thought of punishment.
“Stop apologizing,” Severus snapped, then softened his tone. “You’ve been through hell, Minerva. I’m not your enemy.”
She nodded shakily, but the fear lingered in her eyes. He handed her a mug of tea, hoping to warm her further, but her bruised hands fumbled, spilling the hot liquid. The mug shattered on the floor, and she recoiled, curling into herself. “I’m sorry! Please, don’t hit me—I deserve it, I know, but please—” She braced for impact, shielding her head with trembling arms.
Severus knelt beside her, his voice a low rumble. “Look at me, damn it. I’m not going to lay a finger on you. Not like that. Ever.”
Her eyes peeked out, wet with tears, as her body quaked. But beneath the fear, something else stirred—a primal heat, forced by whatever cursed potion they’d dosed her with. Her breathing grew ragged, a soft, pained mewl escaping her lips as her body betrayed her, dripping with unwanted need despite the agony of her wounds. Severus’s jaw tightened, sensing the war within her, knowing one wrong move could shatter her completely.
“Hold on, Minerva,” he murmured, his hand hovering near her, careful not to touch her sensitive ears or tail. “We’ll get through this. Together.”
Her gaze locked with his, a storm of trust and terror, as the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, her body panting, sweating with a mix of pain and forced desire. Whatever came next, Severus knew one thing—he’d protect her, even from herself.
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