#idk why this pathetic little freak fascinates me so much ok?

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 2- A New Dolly

Why does this game unlock a fucked up part of my brain FR-

It's no fun when he's left all alone after the torturing is done... Why not make himself a soft, sweet little doll that can keep him company in the monotonous breaks between his thrilling work?

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Physical and Psychological Torture, Bondage, Rape/Noncon, Experimentation, Amputation, Mind Break

That frail looking, disfigured torturer managed to catch you unawares. The blow to your head had knocked you unconscious and while you were out cold he managed to haul you onto the flat table in the torture room and bound your hands in place. Even as your head throbs and your eyes struggle to adjust to the unnatural dark of the dungeon, you know that you are totally fucked. You don’t need to see the implements that the little freak was fondling and drooling over to know that your death will be a slow and painful one. 

“Yesch, Yesch… So many different ways, s-sso little time…” He was mumbling to himself, picking up one thing only to hesitate and set it down before picking up another. The soft metallic clank of the tools repeatedly tapping against the sheet the torture devices were displayed upon constantly played upon your frayed nerves, making you twitch and jump at every little noise that echoed off the stone walls of the torture room.

You couldn’t see much from the angle you were laying. Not only were your wrists and ankles bound, but your head was strapped down so that you couldn’t turn your neck at all. All you could do was stare at the torturer’s hunched back, waiting for the inevitable. When he turned around to face you, your stomach dropped. 

Everything about him was grotesque. You couldn’t stand to look at him but looking away into the pitch blackness wasn’t a good alternative either. Panic began to numb your mind as the torturer looked over your body. He seemed to still be debating to himself on the best place to begin your torture. 

“Too little… Too little…” You jumped and tried to shrink away from his touch, the tips of his brittle and cracked nails touching your bare hand had your skin crawling and a chill racing down your spine. A pathetic whimper bubbled up from the back of your throat. It was all you could do to not burst into hysterical sobs. The anticipation of pain and suffering might be the worst kind of torture, you thought. But you didn’t know cruelty like this miserable creature did… 

Trortur was scrutinizing every little detail of your body. Your bone structure, your weight, the suppleness of your skin… He pinched the skin of your cheek, pleased with how soft it was and how it quickly snapped back into shape. You pressed your prettily shaped lips into a thin line as his fingers traced around their edges, but it wouldn’t stop him from prying them open so he could look at your pearly white teeth. All there, in pristine condition…  

“F-Fine s-specimen… S-sso…” The words got lost in his throat as he fished for his trusty knife. It was an old favourite of his: sharp enough to flay a man but also sturdy enough to cut through the pesky leather straps that held your armour together. The look of terror on your face went straight to his core as he sliced through the first strap with a flick of his wrist. 

“W-Wai- W-Wait a moment-!”  

Trortur hummed to himself as your struggle against your bindings renewed. The whimpers and cries of despair and defeat are so sweet on the ears… Yours were no different from the others, yet the thrill it brings him is already enough to cause his hands to tremble and he has yet to cause you any real pain yet! 

Cut.

Cut.

Cut.

Your chest plate is peeled away like a layer of skin. With every breath you took, your chest heaved. Sweat soaked through your tunic and your eyes were pinpricks with fear. Trortur placed his hand on your chest so he could feel the beating of your heart. 

Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum-  

Quick, just like a little rabbit’s… He stroked the slope of your chest, his own heartbeat quickening as your body shuddered and tears formed in your bloodshot eyes. 

“Do you know when a p-perschon dies?”  

No prisoner has ever engaged Trortur in his little musings, but he never really minded. Your eyes were fixated on him, never wavering, never blinking, as a look of pure terror was etched onto your face. You were paying attention and that was more than most afforded him. 

“I-Isch it w-when their heart s-stopss beating?” His hand swept back up your chest, laying to rest over your heart that slammed persistently against your ribcage.

“Or w-when the blood i-is drained from their body?” He raises his hand and places it on your head, a searing pain suddenly causing you to hiss and wince in pain. When Trortur brought his fingers to your face, you could see a smear of blood painted on his sickly yellow skin. 

“I-I think there i-isch another kind o-of death… One where the m-mind goess but the b-body remains…” The blood from your head wound is wiped across your lips. Your mouth twitches and you instinctively licked the blood from your lips. The look on the torturer’s face shifted into something that made the corners of your vision blacken and caused a faintness to wash over you. You were on the verge of blacking out from fear and terror but to Trortur, you were a swooning beauty.  

It was common for arousal to be associated with pain. It was something that Trortur was… intimately familiar with, but it wasn’t only him that experienced euphoria where pain was involved, whether it be from experiencing it or inflicting it onto others. Over the years that he’s been a torturer, he’s seen men and women alike, no matter their birth status or the religion they followed, they all experienced pleasure in the harm he caused them. Shaking, quaking orgasms in the midst of brutal torture…. Of skin being stripped away in neat strips, bones being broken, being sawn in two…  It was the pain and trauma that killed them all, but would it be possible for the pleasure to be an equally devastating force? He had to know the truth and now he had the perfect test subject for this little experiment… 

The kiss to your lips was clumsy and full of teeth. You couldn’t shrink away from it nor could you turn your head in protest. His lips were chapped and rough yet covered in foul smelling and tasting saliva. You clenched your fingers into a fist and screwed your eyes shut. The torturer pulled away, cackling maniacally as his body trembled. 

“Hrrrm-! Mmm-! Oh yesch… You will do perfectly…” He purred as he scurried away from your side. He went back to the tray and picked up… a bone saw- Oh no- No no no no no no- NO! NO NO NO NO NOOOO-!!!  

Your pleas went on deaf ears. A tourniquet was placed on one of your legs, in the middle of your upper thigh, the pressure so tight and cutting that you cried out and began to scream hysterically before he even began to press the blade into your flesh. Trortur needed to take a moment to steady his breathing before he began the procedure. 

“D-Don’t worry… There will only be a slight-”  

The moment the saw’s teeth bit into your skin, something primal broke inside of you. It was like the world was in slow motion; you thrashed and screamed but you couldn’t hear your voice over the beating of your heart. The first drag of the saw cut through your clothing and sliced into the skin of your thigh. The second cut deeper into your flesh, hot pain shooting up through your body and warm blood spilling down your leg and pooling under your body. The third had your body quivering and sobs spilling from your lips. The fourth, however, hit bone and what you felt was indescribable. 

You felt like you were dying. To say it was painful would be a grave disservice to the utter agony that you felt. The initial pain seemed to last forever, like it was one hellish moment that would stretch on for the rest of eternity. This is what you imagined the Sulfur Pits to be like. This unbearable pain forever and ever with no relief in sight. You lost count of how many times your leg was sawn into. It all blurred together until the white-hot pain had numbed you completely. You must be in shock, right? Your entire body felt wet and cold and hot at the same time. You didn’t know it was over until a chill ran down your spine and the torturer held his hand in front of your face.

“Ohhh… S-See thisch?” Something slick and musky smelling was rubbed underneath your nose. You didn’t have the energy to react. Only a few stray tears ran down your cheeks.

“Pleasure really is tied to p-pain…” Your sweat and blood soaked hair was smoothed down with a trembling hand. 

“O-Only three more to go…” 

W-What…?  

It started over again on your other leg. Then again on one of your arms. By the time he started on your remaining limb, you had no more tears left to shed. You couldn’t feel anything other than the throbbing of your heart where your limbs once were. This is when you die, right? There’s no coming back from something like this. You have no arms, no legs… All you can do is stop breathing…

But you didn’t.  

Something broke inside of you that day. Whoever or whatever you were before entering the Dungeon of Fear & Hunger was no more, only a shell was left behind that was nothing more than a living doll to the torturer, Trortur. 

Anything spark of defiance that remained in you was quickly demolished once the real torture began. Every moment that he wasn’t with another ‘subject’, Trortur was with you, inflicting every conceivable form of pleasure that his sick, twisted little mind could conjure up.

Even in your mostly unresponsive state, he could still pull moans out of you whenever he would stroke you with his tongue or when he would plunge his fingers inside of you. With time, it’s become easier and easier to get you to cum. No longer did you fight against him and hold back. Now you would come unraveled with the gentlest of touches. And when he fucked you? Utter bliss… Your moans and cries were so sweet… just like how you would clench around him and milked his cock for all it was worth. 

All you would be for the rest of your life is the fuck doll of a demented torturer, kept locked up and hidden away so that no one other than him would be the one to break you over and over and over again. There is no comfort in the moments you have alone as you sit in utter silence and dark, nor was there when that deformed man was hunched over you and humping away at the hole between your legs. Nothing felt like anything anymore… Not when the agony of existence was constantly numbed by the pleasures of the flesh.

Ending H- A New Dolly

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

#fear and hunger #fear & hunger #fear & hunger x reader #fear & hunger ending h #fear & hunger trortur #tw non con #tw amputation #tw dead dove #it only gets worse from here #idk why this pathetic little freak fascinates me so much ok?