This is Claimed sequel and I highly raccomand you to read it before starting this story.

Raised comes with some general WARNINGS (but I you've read Claimed you probably don't need them): this is a dystopic universe where master/slave relationships are the norm (and so is everything that goes with that kind of relationship); it's faberry centered with some brittana and... another pairing coming up soon.

Last time we saw Rachel and Quinn they were happy-ish and together, now we find them in a strong and painful scene. It's a scene that takes place about halfway through the plot, and from the second chapter on you will read about how we get to this point. I know, I know, it seems I didn't learn anything from your comments on Claimed but... I did. This time I won't drag you along with me for 10 chapters, this time the real dynamics between Rachel and Quinn in their new relationship will start to emerge soon. How about chapter 3? Does it seem fair? Anyway, as usual all your comments are really appreciated! And before we start let me thank Dee who's doing an incredible job being my beta reader!

DISCLAIMER: Glee is mine because I'm actually Ryan Murphy and this is the Faberry Heaven I was talking about on twitter. Since I couldn't do it on Fox, I did it here! Also: I own two unicorns and a hippogriff.

[ABOUT TWO MONTHS AFTER THE CLAIMING]

How many people were there around them? One hundred? More? All looking at her, with those eager, rat-like eyes, feasting on her pain. She couldn't stand their looks, the way they waited for her to break but, most of all, she couldn't stand her own weakness. When did she become so fragile she wasn't able to face those gazes? When did the Infamous Quinn Fabray get so soft?

The whip hit her lower back. She arched forward biting her lip and muffling sounds of pain. Her wrists were tied above her head to a ring on a wooden pole. She was wearing just a slip and the ring she put on the day Rachel claimed her.

"Five!" A male voice called from behind her back.

Only five? Shit. What was going on with her? She used to take more than that and now she couldn't even stand a simple whipping? That was insane, she just needed to...

"Six."

Fuck! How could she manage to stand it before? What was her trick? How could she...

"Seven."

Quinn moaned, closing her eyes. She used to have a place to where she could run away from reality, her illogical, safe harbor, where flowers sang with contralto's voices, and she could move the sky up and down just inhaling or exhaling air.

"Eight."

This time a soft sound escaped her lips as she grasped on the rope tying her to the pole. She wanted so desperately to go back to that place, where nothing could hurt her, but it seemed too long since the last time she went there, and she sort of lost the way.

"Nine!"

Her foot slipped but she clung to the rope. She knew her skin was broken, she could feel tiny streams of blood running down her back, just like when Raphael used to whip her. Except this time Raphael wasn't the one holding the whip, he was standing in front of her, arms crossed in front of his big muscular chest and a slave kneeling at his feet. This time the one holding the whip was Rachel Berry.

"Ten!"

Quinn's legs failed her, making her fall down, hanging just from her wrists. Raphael was looking at her. She could feel his gaze on her and she bet that if looks could kill she would be a corpse for some time now.

"Eleven!"

Nine more to go. She just needed to hold on a little long...

"Twelve!"

SHIT! Quinn squeezed her eyes shut but a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Rachel was going too fast, she couldn't even breathe between the blows.

"Thirteen."

Quinn raised her head enough to look at Raphael who stared back at her. He didn't look so confident anymore, he was biting his upper lip, narrowing the eyes, unsatisfied by how the punishment was going. If Quinn had the strength she would have smiled at him and his broken dreams of revenge.

"Fourteen."

The whip hit her while she was trying to get on her feet again and, as she fell back down, she pulled harshly on her shoulder. That was it, she was not going to try again, not while the whipping continued restlessly.

"Fifteen."

The whip reached her side and Quinn yelped burying the face into her arm. Just one second, one second to just breathe, God, could she have one second?

"Sixteen."

She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting. She knew Raphael was watching and the only thing keeping her from passing out, in that moment, was knowing he was hating her for taking it without a sound.

"Seventeen."

Her lip started bleeding as she sank her teeth in it, breaking the tender skin. She tasted the iron flavor of blood in her mouth, silently counting down to the end of her punishment.

"Eighteen."

It hit her on her shoulders. Her head was leaning on the pole, by then, and she was breathing heavily trying to keep control. In the crowd Brittany had turned around to avoid seeing the whipping a few lashes before, and Santana was hugging her, fighting hard to keep her own tears at bay.

"Nineteen."

With her eyes tightly shut Quinn couldn't see as Raphael's jaw tightened for the last blow that was going to fall on her. His lips were pressed together in a thin, white line: the night didn't turn out the way it was supposed to.

He invited a lot of people to his home to assist the punishment, to assist what was supposedly his triumph and a great moment, but as soon as Rachel Berry and her slave walked into his home he knew something was wrong.

The last time that cheeky blonde was in his house she had the decency to look scared, but that evening, she was just distant. He didn't like that. What fun could he have if she wasn't scared? But things were only to get worse for him as he walked them into the lounge for the punishment and he moved to get Quinn to her place: tied to the pole.

"Don't touch her!" Rachel stopped him before he could even grab Quinn's wrist.

"Excuse me?"

"I said: don't touch my slave."

He smiled incredulous. "How am I supposed to punish her if I can't touch her?"

"I said she was going to be punished, I never said it was going to be by you."

The crowd was watching silently: it was never a good idea to step in while two dominants were arguing, especially if those dominants were Raphael Shinezar and Rachel Berry.

"That's ridiculous, I'm the offended and I demand satisfaction."

"And you shall have it." Rachel answered. "Have a seat and watch, but do not ever, ever, try to lay a finger on my slave."

Rachel tried to walk past him but he grabbed her arm.

Let go of me right now or you'll regret it, Raphael." She hissed.

"I'm not going to stand here letting you and your dirty little slave play me for a fool."

"The law demands the slave to be publicly punished" Santana stepped out of the crowd talking out loud. The whole crowd turned to her and Rachel took the chance to free herself and walk towards the pole with Quinn "it doesn't say it must be at the hands of the offended."

It was customary for the offended to be the one to punish the slave who wronged him and everybody, including Raphael, had expected him to be the one to raise the whip on Quinn. Except that, being Rachel the slave's owner, she was the only one that had the ultimate power to decide how the punishment had to be carried out.

Raphael's eyes darted through the crowd, looking for somebody, anybody, that would support his request to be on the right side of the whip, but all those people just stared back, stunned, just like him, at how things turned out. When he turned around towards the center of the room he saw that Rachel already tied Quinn to the pole and she was ready to begin. The first crack of the whip came just seconds after that.

"Twenty." The man counted the last blow.

Rachel rolled up the whip and walked towards Quinn.

She thought it would have been easier, given the fact she was an actress, but keeping her composure during the whipping took more than she thought.

Rachel approached Quinn from the front. Quinn's head was bent down, her blonde, short hair, covering her face, her breathing shallow. She called her name once, softly. She didn't want to touch her before Quinn knew it was her and the whipping was over, but Quinn didn't seem to hear her.

"Quinn?" She called again, and this time Quinn's head rose, slowly. Rachel cupped her face, wiping away one tear.

"Good girl." She rewarded Quinn with a quick smile. "I need you to do one last thing, Quinn. You have to leave this room on your feet, ok?" Their bodies were so close that Rachel could just whisper into Quinn's ear. She began running a hand over her stretched arms, up to the ligature marks and down to her shoulder a few times, to shift Quinn's attention away from her tortured back and, at the same time, wake up her numb arms. "Can you do that? Can you stand?" Quinn grunted back something Rachel didn't understand. But she did see Quinn's legs move as she tried to lift herself up enough so that her body didn't lay limpness, hanging from the pole just from the rope. Quinn failed her first feeble attempt to stand, but Rachel wanted to give her a second chance before helping her. It was really important, at this point, that Quinn could do it on her own. She knew her girlfriend had made quite an impression on the crowd taking the whipping, and she knew Raphael was boiling with rage and anger, his need for revenge gone unfulfilled.

On her second attempt Quinn managed to stand. She was swaying but, still, on her own two feet.

"Very good, Quinn. Now I'm going to take you off this pole. I'll hold you by your waist but you need to stand on your own, ok?" Another grunt was her only answer.

Rachel took Quinn's wrist off the rope and her arm fell to her side as if it was lifeless, looped around Rachel's neck. For a moment Quinn slipped, almost falling, but she drew on her last energy to stand and, when Rachel freed her other wrist, Quinn steadied herself against the pole to be able to stand upright.

"Very good." Rachel moved on Quinn's side, holding her by the wrist, trying to avoid the spots where the whip hit her. "Let's go home now."

They walked through the crowd as the people parted to let them pass. The infamous Quinn Fabray, once again, proved that she was truly the Untamed Painslut. She stood by her name and took the whipping going all through the pain and beyond. She didn't flinch, she didn't scream or try to avoid the blows, but most surprisingly, she didn't defy Rachel as they all expected her to. They thought they were going to see that famous look on her face as she challenged the dominants, instead they witnessed something very different. It was stunning, for most of them, seeing the kind of bond Rachel and Quinn shared. Most of them knew Quinn from before, many had seen her during one or more of her claims, and they all were well aware of a quite different attitude from her. She didn't seem the same person anymore, and neither did Rachel. Something happened to those two and you had to be blind not to see the way they were bonded.

As they were walking past the last people in the crowd Raphael stepped into their way.

"Move." Rachel simply said, not even raising her head to look at him, one hand firmly placed on Quinn's hip and the other one holding the arm around her neck.

"I'm not satisfied. This hardly makes up for how your slave has offended me."

Rachel looked up. "I don't care. She had to be punished and she was; everything else is just your problem, not mine. Now step out of my way."

Raphael swallowed, clenching his fists, fighting the urge to punch that stupid woman. Of course those two found each other, they were just the same, defiant, disrespectful useless bitches!

"Raphael." A man walked up to him, whispering something to his ear. It seemed to relax him a little and, as he stepped aside, he gave Rachel a fake smile that scared her more than anything.

They walked out of the house and, after a few moments, they heard hurried steps following them. Rachel handled Quinn over into Brittany's arms as she opened the car and the four of them got in to drive back home.

They carefully placed Quinn on the backseat, on Brittany's lap, and for the whole drive Britt held her tightly, whispering soothing words in Quinn's ear as Santana kept shooting evil glances at Rachel whenever she didn't avoid a bump in the road or hit the brakes too hard.

In about 15 minutes they were home.

Brittany lifted Quinn up and brought her to the bedroom she shared with Rachel, carefully placing her on the bed. Quinn moaned in discomfort, keeping her eyes closed. She felt feverish and wanted nothing more than to sleep and stop feeling the throbbing on her back.

Britt gently rolled her on her belly and, holding her hand, she brushed away the hair from Quinn's face. Santana was gazing at them from the door frame, standing next to Rachel. The brunette hesitatied. All the confidence she showed before, at Raphael's house, was gone.

"You know what to do, right?" Santana asked her, but Rachel stared blankly back. The Latina sighed, realizing for the first time that, with the claiming, her role drastically changed: before, she was only Quinn's emergency call, but now she had to take care of Rachel too. "Clean her wounds, use some disinfectant and a soft towel soaked in warm water; let the wounds dry on their own and give her something that knocks her out."

Rachel nodded as she reconnected with reality and understood she had to take care of Quinn. For a second, seeing her girlfriend lying on the bed and realizing the full extent of the whipping, she felt lost but now, thanks to Santana, she was back on Earth.

"Good. Me and Britt will be waiting for you in the kitchen."

The Latina took Britt's hand and headed downstairs.

Emh... out of respect for readers I add this note:

I'm utterly disappointed when a fanfic I read doesn't have an end, so it won't be this the case. I know where I want to go with this story and what I want to tell, so I don't think I will suffer from "writer's block" or something like that; but I've just started a new project (I'm actually working to cross one of the items on my "do-before-die" list so...) and I'm not sure how much this new project will get in the way.

I'll try to be regular as I was with Claimed, but chances are that sooner or later I will be "away from keyboard" for a while (or at least I hope so, because it will mean my project is getting real...). When that time will come... FEAR NOT, MY READERS!... cause it won't be an endless hiatus. Raised will have an end, that I can promise you, if you'll still be around and willing to read it, of course.