blurryeyeswhump

[blurryeyeswhump]

One Lost, One Found - Pt. 2

Ah sorry it took me so long 🙈

This is a three part series inspired by a poll asking what your favorite "genre" of whump is. Pt. 1 features psychological torture, Pt. 2 features noncon/intimate whump, and Pt. 3 features recovery/fluff. Pt. 1 - Games, here

That being said - PART 2 IS NONCON. I'd like to clarify that although Whumpee is referred to as "boy" he is not a minor. Also TW for a fair bit of blood, choking, torture, and forced to watch.

Thanks to those who asked to be tagged, it's super encouraging :)

Part 2 - Prizes

Whumper's hand came down hard across whumpee's left cheek. The boy's head snapped to the side and he yelped through gritted teeth.

"NO!" Caretaker howled from across the room. "I didn't know! I didn't know the rules of the game!" He threw his body forward against the restraints, thrashing to no avail.

Whumper ignored his pleas. He snatched Whumpee by the jaw again and twisted it forward. "Hold your head there," he purred. He struck Whumpee with another sharp, open-handed slap. Whumpee grunted softly, head jerking to the side.

"Look. Forward," Whumper demanded.

Whumpee obeyed, and another blow fell. He brought his head straight forward, eyes wide open, and was rewarded with another slap. Then another. The slaps started coming faster, so Whumpee barely had time to gasp in between blows. His head started lolling as he became dizzy, unable to hold it straight ahead.

Whumpee cried out as Whumper's hand curled into his hair. He twisted cruelly, yanking the boy's head back to arch his neck. He slapped Whumpee again, and again, holding his head forward by the hair.

"STOP IT!" Caretaker shrieked.

Whumper gripped Whumpee's jaw and muttered, "Your brother is making me angry..."

Whumpee's eyes widened as whumper's hand slid from his jaw to his throat.

Then the blows really started falling. Whumper squeezed tight, almost completely cutting off whumpee's air. He wouldn't have had time to take a breath anyway. Whumper's open hand had become a fist slamming into his temple.

His mouth gaped open, gurgled wheezes coming out. With each strike to his head, Whumpee felt like he was being ripped from the binding of his skin, starting to melt, to float away.

His throat burned with every rasp. His eyes streamed as he was choked, pink spit dribbling down his chin. His body sagged.

Just as his eyes rolled back, the vice on his throat let go.

Whumpee's ears were ringing, pulse thudding. Still he could hear Caretaker screaming. Whumper was striding toward him.

"SHUT UP!" Whumper bellowed. He planted a finger into Caretaker's chest as he writhed.

"Let him go!"

"You did this to him! This is the consequence of your choices, your selfishness!"

Whumpee groaned from across the room. His head pounded while the two furious men fought.

"Caretaker..." Whumpee croaked. He watched as Whumper scooped up the gag that had been in his own mouth earlier and rammed it into Caretaker's, pounding his head against the wall.

Whumper stormed back to Whumpee, rage drawn in every line of his body. "We're switching up the order," he growled.

The bindings around Whumpee's wrists and chest were swiftly undone. He collapsed to the ground, ankles still tied together. Whumper left him no time to fight, not that he had much strength left.

The man straddled him and sat squarely on his hips, pinning Whumpee's wrists under his knees. Whumpee cried out as Whumper took a knife from his pocket, remembering that Caretaker had condemned him to be cut.

Whumper lifted his body just enough to yank Whumpee's shirt up and slash through it, exposing the boy's bare chest.

Whumper produced something, a sort of box, from his pocket and flicked it so that a metal rod extended. Whumpee didn't have time to identify it before the rod slammed into his naked skin.

Whumpee downright screamed. His chest exploded with pain that shot through all his nerves like lightning. His body seized in a convulsion and his mind went blank.

Whumper's eyes were wide, staring at his prey trapped under him. Whumpee was sobbing in earnest, revived from his half-conscious state. Whumper raised the rod again and made as though to bring it down, laughing as he aborted at the last second. Whumpee shrieked and sobbed, his whole body tensing in anticipation. Whumper groaned as the boy's hips bucked up into his.

"Thank you, Caretaker," he laughed. "Your brother is a better prize."

The rod came down again, and again. Whumpee's agonized cries filled the room, drowning out Caretaker's wails.

Whumper's eyes were wild when he finally tossed the prod aside. He laid down on top of Whumpee so their faces were an inch apart, crushing him with his full weight. "Bite me, and you forfeit," the man whispered. "I'll do to Caretaker whatever I want, got it?"

Whumpee nodded.

He yelped as Whumper's fingers twisted into his hair again. Whumper lifted his head up and met him in a wretched kiss.

Whumpee was overwhelmed by the simultaneous feeling of Whumper's tongue snaking between his lips and his hips grinding down into him. His bruised wrists were finally free but he was too scared to do anything, gripped by Whumper's threat. All he could do was ball his fists and fight through the sick feeling that filled him, body stiff and trembling.

Finally, Whumper released him and lifted his body up in a jarring motion. Whumpee gasped as he was flipped onto his stomach. He started sobbing again as Whumper settled back down, pushing himself against Whumpee's ass.

"Just one last thing..." the man said.

Without further warning, Whumpee felt the bite of the knife in his back. He arched up and screamed, earning a hammering blow to the back of his head.

"Lie still!" Whumper yelled. "This is the part that'll hurt the least if you let it."

It took the last of Whumpee's strength to brace against the pain as his flesh was split open. Whumper took his time, drawing something, Whumpee thought with sickness. He's marking me...

Thick, warm blood spilled over Whumpee's back, trickling over his ribs and pooling around his stomach.

He felt Whumper's weight shift back slightly, as though he were admiring his handiwork. It briefly occurred to Whumpee that this was his chance- Whumper was off balance and his arms were still free.

But the threat caged him. He couldn't let this happen to Caretaker. He would not forfeit the game. So he laid still, and waited.

"Beautiful," Whumper muttered. With short-lived relief, Whumpee heard the knife clatter against the floor.

The sickness nearly overtook him as he heard Whumper's belt coming undone. He shut his eyes and shook with quiet sobs. Almost done, he thought. Almost done playing this game, then he lets us go...

Rough hand gripped his waistband and yanked, pulling his jeans and boxers down hungrily. He could hear Whumper panting over him. The belt slipped over his head and tightened painfully around his swollen throat. Panic gripped him as his breath was stolen again. He started to writhe under Whumper and his hands shot up to grapple with the belt, forgetting his resolve not to fight. Whumper pulled tighter, so that Whumpee couldn't even get his fingers between his skin and the thick leather.

Whumper leaned forward. In the back of his fading mind, Whumpee felt something awful dragging across his bag, coating itself in his blood. A hand joined it, scooping blood off his back and pumping Whumper's dick to full hardness. Impossibly, the belt tightened further as he lined himself up against Whumpee's twitching body.

Whumpee's mouth opened and his whole body arched back with a silent scream as Whumper thrust into him. His blood did nothing to ease the pain as he was forced open with no preparation. His greatest comfort was the black that had already half-enveleoped him.

He was slipping, sinking as he was pounded into, even the pain from the belt was fading.

Somewhere beyond the horrible noise of skin slapping and Whumper groaning, he heard Caretaker. He focused on the sound, tried hard to turn his head, to find Caretaker in the wisps of black vapor filling the room.

Then he caught sight of him, standing there, not tied to the pillar gagged but crouching down, taking his head gently, cradling it. They weren't in a dark room like Whumpee thought. They were in a field of grass, under a bright blue sky.

Now he remembered. They were in the back pasture, and Whumpee had slid and fell, cutting his knee open on a rock. That's where the pain was coming from, the smell of blood. What was that dream about the dark room?

He was biting back tears, trying not to cry. He wanted to be strong for Caretaker, to show him he wouldn't give up.

Caretaker smiled down at the small child, taking his head in his arms. "Shhh... it's okay Whumpee. You're okay, just let go."

The voice echoed.

"Let go."

"Let go of him!"

"LET GO!!"

@the-writer-needs-help @sowhumpful @fleur-alise

#noncon #this was devastating #what was that dream about the dark room? actually KILLED me

[blurryeyeswhump]

when the whumpee’s back arches in pain.

off a table, the ground - anything.

it gets me.

every time.

[blurryeyeswhump]

whumper gives whumpee a safeword then immediately gags them

#fave #fuck

[blurryeyeswhump]

CW: non-con drugging, imagined body horror, hallucinations

Whumper looked over from the crate he was sitting on in front of his bound captive.

“Hm? What is it?” He sounded almost eager.

Whumpee had thought it strange that Whumper stuck around for so long, usually he did his business (read: torture) and then left. Today, he lurked and did so wordlessly. Whumpee was already uneasy but now something was wrong. Really wrong.

Their heart was slamming in their chest, blood running ice cold, spots and bulges and shadows swam in their vision whether their eyes were closed or open.

“What did you give me?” they asked shakily.

“You asked for a Tylenol,” Whumper replied, inching forward.

Whumpee breathed through a tremor.

“I think I’m dying,” they said, jerking at their restraints. Something was in the room. They couldn’t see it but they know it was there, in the dark or maybe just behind the light. It wasn’t Whumper. It was something else. Maybe it was inside themself. It might claw its way out. Maybe the hammering inside their chest wasn’t a heart at all but something trying to break out.

“I’m dying, I’m going to fucking die,” Whumpee repeated, louder this time.

“Why do you think that?” Whumper cocked his head to one side with his elbows resting just above his knees.

“Something’s-wr-something’s wrong,” tears started burning in Whumpee’s eyes. This was not a panic attack this was not even real it couldn’t be.

Whumpee could feel themself getting desperate but they shied away when Whumper stood up and moved closer.

Whumpee could swear his eyes went black for a moment and the shadows behind him all but reached out to grab at them.

“What did you give me?!” Whumpee was suddenly much louder but their own voice sounded muffled like they were screaming underwater.

“You asked for a Tylenol,” Whumper repeated.

“But what did you give me?” Whumpee clenched their eyes shut, breathing heavily, and feeling like they might faint or fucking explode into confetti and guts.

Whumper smiled.

“You know, I’m not really sure,” he said, “I threw a few things into a bag and picked one out. Let’s figure out which one I grabbed together, okay? How do you feel?”

Whumpee opened their eyes in time to see the room seem to grow impossibly big around them and Whumper’s elated eyes began to droop and melt down his cheeks and into his Cheshire Cat smile.

“What do you see?”

#whump #whump blog #whumpee #my post #whumper #noncon drugging #hallucinations #body horror

[blurryeyeswhump]

Breath Control

Breath control in whump is absolutely fire and gives me Major whumperflies ✨🔥

TW: mention of noncon oral

Some of my favorite breath control ideas:

Dragging Whumpee to the edge of a tub and holding their head underwater intermittently, pushing the absolute limit until they're coughing and gagging and half drowned.

Whumper doing this while bathing Whumpee, alternating between drowning them and softly massaging their scalp with shampoo.

Some good old two-handed choking: Whumper laying on Whumpee, sitting on their chest, or pinning them to the wall, both hands around their throat. Whumpee's face turning red, mouth gaped open and pretty, desperate sounds slipping out.

Choking Whumpee in a headlock after violently wrestling them to the floor, maybe after they try to escape.

Choking Whumpee by pulling on a collar or a belt or a chain. It demonstrates the power dynamic SO well.

Noncon oral. Whumper buried to the hilt down Whumpee's throat, nose smashed against Whumper's stomach. They don't get to breath unless they use their tongue well enough.

Choking Whumpee with a hand on their throat and a hand pinching their nose shut, forcing them to open their mouth or pass out

Just... ✨waterboarding✨ The way the cloth sinks into their open mouth as they arch their neck back... Oh it makes me shiver

Using a severe allergy to Whumper's advantage. Slipping a peanut or shellfish into Whumpee's food and watching the terror in their eyes as their throat closes. If they want their EpiPen, they have to obey.

All of these make me giddy

Happy Whumping 🖤🌹

#fave #breath control makes my stomach do actual flips

[blurryeyeswhump]

One Lost, One Found - Pt. 1

As promised, your input in the poll was used to create a new series focusing on three categories: Parts 1 and 2 will blend the categories of psychological torture and NSFW whump. Part 3 will be dedicated to comfort and recovery.

Taglist is open for additions.

Part 2 and Part 3 (coming soon)

Part 1 - Games

TW: Restraints, implied future noncon, referring to an adult as a boy

The rage in Whumpee's eyes said everything his gagged mouth couldn't.

Slowly, despite Whumpee's best efforts, Whumper turned his head to the side, gripping Whumpee by the jaw.

Whumper leaned in close and began whispering something, lips brushing Whumpee's ear. Whumpee hunched his shoulders and tried to duck away, but Whumper held his head firmly in place, grinding it into the pillar he was bound to.

"Hey! What'd you say to him?!" Caretaker demanded. Whumper raised his eyes to make solid eye contact with Caretaker and kept whispering in Whumpee's ear. Something changed in Whumpee's face then. His eyes widened slightly and the lines of his face dipped from defiant to doubtful.

"Shut the fuck up! What're you saying to him?!" Caretaker shouted.

Whumper suddenly took a step back from whumpee, laughing heartily. Whumpee's shoulders stayed shrugged up and tense, brow furrowed with worry.

"I told him the rules," Whumper replied. His smile made Caretaker deeply uneasy.

"What rules?" Caretaker growled.

"Do you want me to let you and Whumpee go?" Whumper asked.

"Of course I do, what kind of question is that?"

"Then you and I are going to play a game, Caretaker. And Whumpee is going to tell you the rules," Whumper stated.

"And how is he going to do that with the shit you put in his mouth?"

"You claim to be his big brother, his protector. I want to see if you know him as well as you claim to. So I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and without his voice, Whumpee will tell you how to answer. Read his face, his eyes. You'll find the answer in what you see."

Caretaker furrowed his brow. "If I answer wrong?"

Whumper smiled coyly. "There are no right or wrong answers, but each answer will have consequences." He tapped his head and looked at Whumpee. "Whumpee knows."

"Okay," Caretaker huffed, thinking. He clenched and unclenched his fists, drawing blood up his arms, sore from being suspended above his head for so long. They needed to get out of here. Caretaker looked at Whumpee and nodded. "We can do this."

Whumpee didn't nod back.

"First question," Whumper said. "May I slap you?"

Caretaker scoffed. "What?"

Whumper jerked his head at Whumpee. "Don't look at me, look at him."

Whumpee decisively shook his head, a stressed look on his face.

Caretaker turned back to Whumper: "No."

"Excellent. Second question- May I shock you?"

Caretaker looked at Whumpee. Whumpee wouldn't make eye contact, but he shook his head.

"No."

"Third question- May I pull your hair?"

Again, Whumpee shook his head, but looked away. Something was up.

Hesitantly, Caretaker said, "No..."

"Fourth question- May I choke you?"

What kind of questions were these? Did Whumper actually expect them to consent to that kind of abuse? The obvious answer to all of these questions was "no," but Whumpee didn't seem so sure.

Caretaker's fear grew when he saw that Whumpee had started to shake. Whumpee shook his head.

"Stop." Caretaker said. "Nuh-uh, I'm not playing until you tell me the rules. I don't know what kind of trick you're playing with us, but I won't go on with a game I don't know how to win."

"That's fair," Whumper replied. "You don't have to play the game."

"Then we're not-"

"BUT finishing the game is the only way you can convince me to let you go."

Caretaker paused, looking at Whumpee. They had to do whatever they could to get out of here, and if this was the only way...

Whumpee looked up, defiant once again. He nodded decisively at Caretaker.

Caretaker set his jaw. "Next question."

Whumper smiled. "Smart choice. May I cut you?"

Whumpee shook his head. Caretaker spoke, "No."

Whumper paused. "May I undress you?"

Caretaker gaped.

"Fucking what?! No!"

He hadn't even glanced at Whumpee first, who stood stiff as a board, eyes popping out of his head.

Caretaker looked at Whumpee, "Are you kidding me? Absolutely not."

Whumpee looked away, breathing heavily.

Whumper looked amused. "As you wish. May I kiss you?"

Caretaker gritted his teeth and looked over at Whumpee. The bound boy was frozen as if in shock, staring straight ahead at Whumper.

"Are you kidding me? The answer is no, Whumpee! No he's not kissing me."

Whumper chuckled, "Whumpee?"

Slowly, the boy shook his head. Caretaker growled. What did Whumpee have to be so indecisive about? Did he want him to let this monster kiss him?

"Alright then. May I whip you?"

Caretaker looked over to see Whumpee crying, shaking once again.

"Whumpee-" he hissed. "Are you serious? He's-"

Whumpee shook his head, blinking away tears. He wouldn't look at Caretaker.

"No."

Whumper looked delighted. "Last question, Caretaker. Can I take you to bed?"

"NO!" Caretaker roared. "Is that why you took us? You're one of those fucking candy in a white van creeps? Is that's what's going on here?"

On the other side of the room, Whumpee broke down into sobs, body sagging against the restraints. He screamed behind the gag. Caretaker's hair rose on end. He'd never heard Whumpee make a sound like that.

Whumper strode over to the boy and undid the gag, making Whumpee's cries sound even louder.

"Tell him the rules, Whumpee."

"No! No, I never shook my head!" Whumpee sobbed.

"But Caretaker said no nonetheless. What were the rules, Whumpee?" Whumper demanded.

"Everything Caretaker says 'no' to, I- I have to let you do to me." Whumper whispered, staring at the floor. "And it's the only way you'll let us go."

Caretaker was dumbfounded. "You'll find the answer in what you see," Whumper had said.

He was a fucking idiot, watching Whumpee shake and cry as he answered. He should've known.

"No-" Caretaker spluttered. "No I take it all back! You can't-" He was panicking. "Take me instead, you HAVE to take me instead."

Whumper looked at Caretaker, sneering. "You can't do that Caretaker. I told you to read him, and you looked at him and clearly saw his distress. You made your own choice to look away, and you can't take that back."

"I didn't know! Please! You can't do this, you HAVE to do it to me instead! I didn't know!" Caretaker cried out, tears streaming down his own face now.

Whumper turned to Whumpee. "You decide Whumpee." He flung his arm out, pointing to Caretaker. "He can't take it back, but you can. He watched you cry and was too selfish to wait for your answer. You don't deserve what I'm about to do to you. Should it be him instead?"

Whumpee went completely quiet while Whumper talked. Something clicking into place that cut off his tears.

Without hesitation, he said "No. I- do it to me."

Whumper cupped Whumpee's chin in his hand and tilted it towards him. The boy didn't fight, just kept staring ahead with stony eyes, avoiding looking at Caretaker at all costs.

"You're brave, baby."

Caretaker screamed as Whumper's hand came down for the first slap.

[blurryeyeswhump]

Whumper: "Would you stop crying?? I barely touched you."

Whumpee, bleeding from multiple holes: "I..o-okkay-"

[blurryeyeswhump]

silence

#fav #perfect #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion

[blurryeyeswhump]

:3

Please reblog this post if you belong to the whump community.

Let's see how many reblogs this gets!

[blurryeyeswhump]

You don't think it's fair? Adorable. No, dear. It's not.

But how could it ever be? Do you expect me to respect you when you're so much below me? When you're a crumbling mess, face runny with tears and blood?

My knife will keep finding it's way to your skin, and my hand to your scalp, gently massaging while you take the pain.

You'll never dare stop me, and it's not just because of the spark of fear in your eyes - you know your place. You know your place is being obedient. It was never meant to be fair. You do not deserve fair.

[blurryeyeswhump]

ⓘ this user is thinking about the perverse intimacy of violence

[blurryeyeswhump]

why am i re-obsessed with vampires in this, the year of our Lord, 2024?

thinking about a world where vampires prefer bloodbag whumpees “seasoned” with different emotions

lucky bloodbags get picked up by vamps with a proclivity for blood that’s spoiled rotten with lavish treatment

one who’s not so lucky gets caught and becomes imprisoned by a whumper vamp who tortures them for that sweet, sweet fear-tinged, adrenaline-laced blood

Please tag me if you use this prompt! Not for credit but just because I really want to read it :3

#whump #whump blog #whumpee #my post #whumper #vampire whump #vampire #blood

[blurryeyeswhump]

When I hear the knock at the door I know it’s him immediately. Even the sound of his knuckles against wood is weak, hesitant, terrified.

It’s after 11 pm. He isn’t expected, and apparently couldn’t even be bothered to call or send a text first. He’s just hoping I’m awake and not busy and in the mood for him. I am. I set down my third glass of whiskey I’ve barely had a taste of and walk to the door in no hurry.

I open the door to him pocketing his hands quickly, no doubt wringing them just seconds ago. There’s a warm wind whipping through his long, messy, dark, hair. He’s uneasy.

“Hi, Milo,” I say. He’s looking behind me expectantly, hoping to be let in.

“Hey,” he says quietly, “I was hoping- I mean, if you were up— I just wanted,” he stops and tries to swallow down the anxiety gripping his throat before wincing a nervous smile at me.

I’m going to make him say it.

I lean against the door frame and cock my head a little. I say nothing. I want him to do it by himself. He’s a big boy despite the way he has to look up to meet my eyes.

“Silas,” he says, defeated, and it’s a plea all in itself. His stormy eyes now staring straight through my chest. Those eyes are something else. Like pitted cross-sections of steel.

“I need you,” he says.

“To what?” The words leave my mouth before he finishes.

“To hurt me,” he says before sucking in a shuddering breath. He’s looking at the ground now.

I let the silence sit between us just a few moments longer and then I speak.

“Alright,” I say. I step back and hold the door for him to slink inside. I shut and lock the door and watch him stare at the now closed exit. Reconsidering?

He looks back at me and I start walking wordlessly toward the cellar door. I whisk the glass of whiskey from the table and down it on my way down the hall. He follows me. When I open the door I gesture for him to go first and he does.

It’s been a little while since I’ve seen him. He’s only ever come here. I’ve never been to his place and the only time I ever saw him out in the “Real World” was when I unknowingly showed up at the restaurant he works at. He looked like he’d seen a fucking ghost. Taking mine and my date’s order, beads of cold sweat forming on his temples, stumbling over his words, and still likely covered in bruises under his white collared shirt. I ran him ragged that night and the uppity, blonde bitch I was entertaining was all too willing (or too engrossed in her phone to care,) to allow me to abuse the waitstaff. I haven’t been back and he’s never mentioned the fact that I stiffed him.

I follow him down and when he’s three steps from the bottom I plant my hand between his shoulder blades and shove.

A cry rips through his throat and stops abruptly when he hits the ground. The sound is replaced by coughing as he gags against the the dust wafting up from the impact and gasps to find the air that was knocked out of him. I step around him and set my now empty glass on my workbench.

“Jesus, Silas,” he sounds almost annoyed.

“Undress,” I say.

“What?”

“Take your. Clothes off.”

This is new. I’ve never made him do this before. I’m feeling adventurous. He might act shy but he’ll do it. I find it hard to imagine something he wouldn’t do for me. He’d lick the dirt off my shoes if I told him to, I’m certain of it. I’ll tuck that idea away.

He’s pulling himself to his feet. Nothing broken from the fall it seems. He turns and looks at me, maybe gauging how serious I am.

“Do you need help?” I ask.

He huffs through his nose and turns his back and starts unbuttoning his shirt. While he’s busy I grab a pair of cuffs and hook them through a latch I drilled into the wall. I did it just for him. I pop the latch shut and turn around to see him standing now in his underwear and socks.

His cheeks are red hot.

“Everything?” He asks.

“Everything.”

He looks down and uses his heels to drag down and step out of his socks, and then he looks up at me once again. It takes no more prompting and his thumbs dip into the waistline of his boxers. He peels them off and I steal a glance at the dark little trail of hair and his nervous cupped hands hiding the rest. I meet his eyes and smile a little.

“Knees.” I say jingling the cuffs attached to the wall.

He sighs through pursed lips and walks over to his spot.

“Back facing me,”

He kneels facing the wall and rests his forehead against it after offering his hands up to me. I lock him in and step behind him. He’s got a cute, fat little ass. Almost girlish. I never would have guessed.

I crouch down and he shifts uneasily. My fingers trace down his back, up his arms. I’m searching for evidence that I’ve been here. Some already yellowed bruises are still just barely visible. Like I said it’s been a little while. Some thin shimmery scars as well. What to do?

I could take a belt to his back. Open his skin up with a box cutter. See how red I can turn his ass.

Maybe I should keep him forever this time. The thought is amusing enough that I say it out loud. He huffs out the ghost of a laugh that’s bound up tight with a nervous apprehension.

“Would you like that?” I ask, and before I reconsider, I press my lips against his spine and goosebumps erupt down his back.

“I bet I could get really creative if I had you here all the time. Maybe I could even out-crazy you, hm? How long would it take for you to have enough pain that you get sick of it?” I speak against the back of his neck and then bite down hard on the spot where it meets his shoulder. He chokes down a whine and pulls weakly at his restraints.

“Hey, Milo?” I coo softly.

“Yes?”

“Would you ever want me to fuck you?”

It hangs in the air and he seems to hold his breath as the chills down his back reignite.

This has always been one thing. Since the moment I met him, he wanted pain. He wanted to hurt and cry and scream and be denied the mercy he begged for. Nothing else has ever come up.

Maybe it’s the liquor, maybe it’s not but I’m tired of wondering if he wants more and imagining the sick, delicious ways I can use it against him if he does.

“Speak, Milo,” I slide a hand around him just let it rest on his thigh. He leans back against my chest, gasping when I touch him.

“Yes!” He says as if I reached down his throat and dragged the word out myself.

I snicker against his ear.

“For how long?” I ask, and he answers immediately.

“The whole time,” he’s breathless.

“Oh you fucking little pervert,” I say and I kiss his neck while he squirms, “I have an idea,” I continue.

“Maybe, one day I’ll bring you upstairs, I’ll tie you up and gag you and throw you in the bedroom closet. Then I’ll fuck someone while you listen. That might be fun.”

I hear him sniff and I grab his hair and crane his neck back so he’s looking up at me. Tears. Just barely, but they’re there.

“Awwww, no? You don’t like that? You want me all to yourself? I was thinking about the blonde girl I brought to the restaurant. Remember her? Gorgeous, right?”

He nods weakly.

“Yeah, I thought so too,”

If this was going to work, it worked by now so I decide to check. I slide the hand on his thigh closer and closer to the center. He starts to whine and I cover his mouth with my left hand. My right hand inches closer and closer to its destination between his legs and ah! — there it is. He’s hard, painfully so. He winces and closes his eyes. I give him a little squeeze.

“Ohhh. You are really fucked up, huh?” I say before kissing the back of his head and letting him go. I stand up and he presses his forehead to the wall again. I cannot even begin to imagine the humiliation burning in his veins right now, let alone imagine enjoying it.

I’ve had my fill of psychological torment tonight. We’ll revisit this next time. I want screams now.

Without another word I grab the belt I left draped over a chair down here last time, fold it on itself, and start in on him. He screams and starts crying immediately since he was already so close to begin with. After ten or so consecutive strikes to his back I pause and he’s wailing out something nearly unintelligible. I can only tell from spending so much time with him in this state that he’s begging for me to keep going. He’s shaking violently and his arms are yanking at the cuffs hard enough to leave marks but he’s begging, so I oblige. I can feel myself hitting harder than normal but he’s really inspired me tonight. A few more and I pause only long enough for him to hear me speak.

“Tell me thank you,”

He does and I can tell he really means it.

#whump #whump blog #whumpee #my post #whumper #intimate whumper #masochist whumpee #masochist #asking to be hurt #non-sexual sadomasochism (gone sexual???) #silas and milo #nudity #psychological torture #belting #cutting mention #improper restaurant etiquette

[blurryeyeswhump]

your suffering is holy.

I’ve brought you closer to god than you will ever be again.

#whump #whump blog #whumpee #my post #whumper

[blurryeyeswhump]

Breathe now

"Oh, darling, hush now, it’s okay. Come on, relax. Breathe. Here, follow my lead." Whumper knelt down in front of the cornered, hyperventilating Whumpee and sought out their eyes. "Breathe in..." He slowly inhaled and held eye contact until Whumpee copied his movement. "And out, that's it."

Whumpee took shuddering breaths, but kept going along.

"In... out..." Whumper continued, voice soft.

And with each breath, Whumpee felt themself relax. Their heartbeat calmed and they could take deep breaths, filling their lungs with precious oxygen.

"In..."

Following the set rhythm, Whumpee automatically breathed out, preparing for the next breath, about to close their eyes as they finally calmed down.

But instead of the next crooning word, they heard a soft growl in Whumper's throat. He quickly covered with a sweet voice that fooled no one.

"Oh, love." Whumper sighed, shook his head and lowered his voice. The hand on Whumpee's shoulder slithered away and instead rested against their throat, keeping a soft pressure on their windpipe.

"Did I say 'out'?"

Whumpee's breath hitched in their lungs at the lethal tone. Their shallow breaths picked up again and their words stuttered along.

"No... no, I'm... I'm sorry, I--"

The hand on their throat tightened, just enough so Whumpee could still breathe in, but the lingering threat wrapped around their neck and still caught their words.

"Now, let's try again. In."

-

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpifi

#oh my god #fave

[blurryeyeswhump]

Love the idea of a whumpee being forced to choose their own torture.

“Do you want to be whipped or choked today?”

“Would you rather spend the next three days without food or sleep?”

It doesn’t matter if they don’t want to pick, Whumper will just beat them until they choose something.

And best of all, when they cry and beg for the torture to stop Whumper will of course hold Whumpee’s flushed, tearstained cheek and feign pity:

“Aww. You asked for this. Remember? You wanted this.”

#whump #whump blog #whumpee #my post #whumper

[blurryeyeswhump]

Have you seen Infinity Pool 👀

I want... disposable whumpees :]

Whumpees who know they're one of many, many others. Who know they're not special or useful. They know their time is running out. That getting too damaged means getting discarded.