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UnBroken	By : OddDoll Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 6172 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Unbroken
By Odd Doll
Chapter 19
Phoebe didn't return to Severus' hospital room. Instead, she flooed the protection services Timmons had listed for her and then set alarms and wards around the suite. They wouldn't hold up to attack for long, but she hoped they would buy her enough time to Apparate or floo to a safe place. At five p.m. she met her lawyer at his office to review her will and discuss the terms of a trust he would draft in the next few days. By the time she returned to her suite, she needed to prepare for her clients, and returning to the hospital was out of the question.
Often people assumed that Phoebe was good at what she did because she enjoyed beating and humiliating people, or perhaps that she was able to turn off that human part of herself that cringed at hurting another. While it was true that she could turn off that part, it was also true that Phoebe was good at reading people. Give 'em what they want, and the better she became at figuring that part out, the more successful she became as a domme.
To be honest, though, there were certain things that she most decidedly did not like, and one of them was kneeling before her: the submissive woman.
Phoebe circled around the woman that the de Tonder brothers had brought with them. She had just finished a session with each of the brothers, and they insisted that Jan's woman be given the same treatment. In Phoebe's opinion, Jan was too soft to be a good dom, and the woman was going to get the surprise of her life.
The soft slap of the butt of the crop against her palm and the click of her heels on the tile were the only sounds in the room. Even the woman's breathing seemed still, expectant. To any other domme, the woman was a study in nude, submissive perfection. The way her bottom rested on her heels with her weight on her tense curled toes thrust her pelvis out just so. Her fingers laced behind her neck with her elbows pressed back to push her small breasts forward in a not-so-subtle invitation to be used for pleasure. She held her head straight, but kept her eyes to the ground.
Thin, mousy brown hair hung limp over the backs of her hands to her shoulder blades, where the ragged ends covered all but the tip of the rose tattoo on her right shoulder. Typical, Phoebe thought. She disliked tattoos and the dirty look they gave to what should be a smooth expanse of skin. This one had very nice skin, and she gave in to the urge to kneel down and run her hand across the side of one breast and down to her hip, feeling the silky smoothness and the softness of the flesh as she let her palm slip around to the woman's butt. She was a bit too thin, but overall the body was acceptable. She brushed her fingertips over her buttocks, and then let her forefinger trace the cleft to the base of her spine, leaning so close to the woman that they were almost in an embrace. The woman's lower lip rolled inward a fraction, and she bit it. She wore no perfume, but her hair gave off a fruity scent that was oddly sweet and arousing in this setting. Phoebe smiled to herself as she stood and resumed her circling.
It was not that she disliked women. What drove Phoebe to a state of irritated rage was the type of mousy, weak woman who submitted by choice, always. Not just willing to be subjugated during sex play, but submissive from the moment her master shoved her out of bed until he allowed her to rest for the day. Women like this triggered an irrational desire to literally kick them in the ass until they stood on their own two feet. The occasional foray into the pleasures of pain and subjugation were one thing, but Phoebe could not see submission as a lifestyle choice. Of course, she hired any numbers of those types for the entertainment of her guests, but that was another story.
She clenched her jaw, irritated, and reminded herself not to go too far. It had been a long time since she had worked three clients in a row. Physically, she knew she could manage, but the two previous sessions with the de Tonder brothers, and the prior week, had just about wrung out every last ounce of emotional stamina she possessed. Women like the one before her always tempted her to go too far, to make the humiliation a bit too brutal, to let the whip bite just a little more.
The woman's eyes followed the progress of her shiny black ankle boots as they passed in front of her with each turn. Something in the flick of the lashes and the quick curl of the lips gave Phoebe pause. She halted, facing her with her spiked heels planted slightly apart in a firm, aggressive stance.
"Look at me."
The submissive tilted her head back and met Phoebe's gaze with a blank one of her own. The plain features remained still, no fear or anticipation shone in the eyes. Nothing. It was too perfect. Phoebe dropped to her knees and roughly grabbed woman's jaw. She pushed her head back until the woman had to look down her cheeks to keep her eyes locked with Phoebe's. Just when she was thinking this one was too good to be real, the woman broke her stare with an almost insolent roll of her eyes to one side. Now it was Phoebe felt an anticipatory flutter. She pulled the woman's head forward again and leaned toward her. Still holding her jaw with one hand, she kissed her roughly until the woman opened her mouth, letting Phoebe's tongue explore her own. There was desire there, but also an unwillingness to show it. The kiss ended with a bit of a bite from both of them, and that is when Phoebe was sure. This seemingly meek woman was a masochist after all. She wanted to be broken in the most painful way possible and would bait Phoebe into doing it, if she had to.
Phoebe stood and planted herself before the woman again. "What's your name?"
"Helene."
"Such a regal name for such an ordinary little mouse. Stand."
Helene started to lower her arms to steady herself as she came to her feet. Phoebe slapped the crop against her upper arm, forcing it back into position. Helene had clearly never been trained to rise with her arms raised. She swayed as she brought her feet forward and struggled to find her balance. When she had risen to an awkward crouch, her shoulders leaning forward and her butt in the air, Phoebe slapped her hard on the rear. The woman flew forward with a short scream, and landed on her face on the tiles.
"Not too graceful, Helene."
Helene lay on the floor on her side, her eyes squeezed shut. Phoebe was unconcerned. The tiles were a thick vinyl, and the woman had only fallen a short distance with little acceleration. She had done this many times.
"Get up! And let's see if you can do it without looking like a stork."
Helene rose up onto all fours, and Phoebe snapped the crop on her on the arm. "Arms up. Really, are you this hopeless with Jan?"
Helene had been trained enough to know better than to answer. She settled back onto her heels, arms raised, and tried to rise. Once again her shoulders shifted far forward as she fought to keep her balance, not as far this time, but still far enough for a hard slap on the rump to send her flying.
This time, Phoebe grabbed a handful of the woman's hair, forcing her to remain upright while she rose.
"Let's get this over with. I've got so many pleasantly...unpleasant...things planned for you."
It went on like this for some time. When she decided Helene was ready, she had her assistant, Andrea, cuff her to the chain hanging from the ceiling. Phoebe stood behind the woman, so that she could not see her, and leaned against the wall. She was tired, near exhaustion, and emotionally wrung out.
She shoved herself off the wall and walked over to Helene. The woman's head sagged forward, and her hair hung limp and damp with sweat. Phoebe pushed it off her back and over one shoulder. It was time for the whipping she knew the woman wanted. She briefly considered and decided to use the flog instead of the strap. In her current state she could not trust herself not to make an error and break the skin. The woman already had a lacing of fine scars down her back. She retrieved her strap and returned to her position behind Helene.
Phoebe raised the strap high, staring at the scars, and for the first time in over twenty years, she faltered. Before her eyes rose the sickening image of Severus lying in his dark, dank cell, his back covered with scar tissue. This is different. I do this because she's permitted me to. She begged me to. She enjoys it. But bile rose in Phoebe's throat. She lowered the strap. The fruity scent of shampoo, mingled now with sweat and musk, made her head swim; the draft from the vents sent a shiver down her back. The moment grew longer, and longer still, Phoebe standing there in the bright fluorescent light, trying to focus on anything that would pull her back into the present. Slowly she raised the strap again, only to lower it just as slowly to her side.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her assistant straighten her posture, alert to something out of the ordinary happening, and Phoebe snapped to attention.
"Andrea, you finish," she said, walking over to her and handing her the strap. "I'm done." And she knew it meant forever.
*****
From her suite, Phoebe Apparated to the bedroom of her home. Standing on one foot at a time, she unzipped her boots and kicked them into the closet. Her leather vest went next, and the matching miniskirt. She turned on the shower to a scorching blast and washed herself over and over. Only when she was red from head to toe, and even the memory of musk and fruity shampoo were erased, did she step from the shower.
After she donned a feminine sweater in her best shade, lavender, with jeans and comfortable shoes, she Apparated to the hospital and snuck into Severus's room. Sitting at his side, she watched him sleep in the low light. His breathing was clear, and he now had a magnificent profile, with a beak of a nose. His right hand lay across his abdomen, and she could see the outline of the wand clutched in it. What strong instincts he had.
For a long time, she just sat there, thinking about him. He seemed like an intelligent man, well-spoken and sensible. He shared so little that there was no basis for her to judge his character. She guessed that she would find out more in the coming weeks. A little bit of guilt filtered into her. She had been so busy worrying about her own needs, and taking care of his, she had not considered that he might play his own part.
Severus stirred and opened his eyes. He stiffened when he realized he was not alone and raised the wand.
"It's me."
"Phoebe." His voice sounded different, resonant and silky. It was very sexy in the dark.
"Can I just hang here for a while?"
"If you like." There was no emotion behind it, as if he were deliberately hiding what he truly felt.
"I'm sorry I woke you," she said, feeling awkward.
"I don't mind. I haven't much to do but sleep."
They sat silently for a moment before Phoebe asked, "Severus, what do you really want from me?"
He breathed in and out once before saying, "I have no right to ask anything from you. You've already done far more than is reasonable to expect."
"Severus..." She did not want to make him uncomfortable, but she wanted him to be happy. "I want you to tell me what you would have, or where you would go, if it were a perfect world. If you don't ask, you'll never get it."
He turned his head away and stared up at the ceiling. It took him a long time to answer, but at last he said in a soft voice, "I want to go home."
"Where is home?"
"Hogwarts."
Phoebe bit her lips and felt a tiny lump in her throat. "Okay. Maybe you can make that a long-term goal."
"I suppose." Now his doubts bled through, with a tinge of a darker emotion that she suspected might be despair.
"What's the next best thing?"
"Scotland, I suppose."
"Well, then, I'll get you there. I promise."
"Thank you."
"I will be there for you as long as you need me."
"Phoebe..." He was almost begging, and she decided to let it go. He clearly was unused to compassion. It made her more determined than ever to see him settled into a new life.
"I've been thinking," she told him. "I'd like to hire some bodyguards and try to stay here."
He turned away from her, his chest rising and falling in a barely perceptible sigh.
"Look, let's go away for a few weeks. I'll take you to some place quiet and safe. You can get a little stronger without having to worry about performing magical battle in the middle of the night. Once you're a little better off, we can talk about what we're going to do."
"All right."
"You do have a choice, Severus. If you have a better plan, tell me."
"It's good enough for now." He seemed sincere, and she relaxed against the back of the chair.
"Do you mind if I stay a while?" She didn't want to be alone.
"Not at all. I..."
"What, Severus?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"I've spent a great deal of time alone over the last year," he whispered.
It just about broke her heart, and she wondered if he was lonely sitting here all day. She vowed to spend more time with him.
They chatted in spurts that trailed away into silence and resumed again minutes later. Neither wanted to be alone, and although she had other friends and acquaintances to lean on, she couldn't make herself leave him. Even after he dozed, she remained with him late into the night, studying his profile and thinking dark thoughts.
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UnBroken