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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 3 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 12

12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight

cw physical whump/injury, captive whumpee, intimate whumper, suggestive, mention of starvation, emeto, beating, choking

“You want me to do what?”

“Hit me,” Whumper said with a smirk. “Go on, I know you want to.”

Whumpee shivered, remembering the last time they had tried to fight back against Whumper. Their stomach turned at the memory of how easily Whumper had gotten them under control—beaten them senseless until Whumpee was a crying, shaking mess. And that had been back when Whumper had first taken them. When Whumpee still had their strength, mentally and physically. They couldn’t imagine how much worse they’d fair now in a fight against their captor.

“What are you waiting for?” Whumper asked, closing the space between them. They looked down at Whumpee with amusement. “Ah...are you scared of what I’ll do to you, honey?”

“Please, I don’t...” Whumpee tried to step away, but their back hit the wall behind them. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Whumper nodded in mock sympathy. “I know you don’t.” They grabbed one of Whumpee’s wrists and held it up roughly. “Look how frail you’ve gotten, darling. I doubt you could even hit me very hard...”

When they blinked, the tears began to spill from Whumpee’s eyes. “P-Please, don’t make me do this, you know I—”

Whumper silenced them with a kiss, their other hand grabbing onto Whumpee’s hair and holding them in place as they squirmed. Pulling back, Whumper said, “I know. You’re scared of trying to take me in a fight. But don’t forget what happens when you disobey me. I promise, it will be much worse than a beating.”

Whumpee’s breath caught on a sob, and Whumper took a step back. They towered over Whumpee, tall and muscular, with strong arms that could easily break them. Whumpee felt dizzy, hands trembling where they clenched into fists at their sides.

“Come on,” Whumper said with a laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got. If you impress me, maybe I'll try not to make you bleed.”

Whumpee had to stand on their tiptoes in order to reach Whumper. They hissed in pain when their fist landed wrong, barely drawing a reaction from Whumper but leaving their knuckles sore. They didn’t know how to fight, they didn’t know how to throw a punch, but that didn’t matter. Whumper didn’t want a fair fight—they wanted to humiliate Whumpee, and they wanted an excuse to hurt them back.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Whumper taunted as their captive cradled their hand against their chest. “Aw, now don’t give me those pathetic eyes, honey. You look absolutely miserable.”

“Please...” Whumpee tried again. But that word was as far as they got before Whumper’s fist connected with their face hard enough to knock them back into the wall. Whumpee groaned in pain, trying to stay on their feet.

Whumper grabbed their wrists and pinned them above Whumpee’s head, able to hold both in one hand. “Have I not been feeding you enough? Seems like you’ve gotten thinner since the last time we did this. Weaker.” Their other hand curled around Whumpee’s throat, strong fingers cutting off their air with ease. “Yeah, look at that. You used to be able to struggle more.”

They were right. Whumpee thrashed against their hold, but it didn’t do any good at all. Whumper had broken them down so much they didn’t have the strength to fight back. The hand on their neck pulled Whumpee forward before slamming them back into the wall. Whumpee’s vision blacked out when their head hit the concrete, and their lungs burned with each gasping breath as they crumpled to the ground.

“Fucking pathetic.” Whumper said it almost fondly, kicking Whumpee in the stomach. “I won’t lie, I’ve missed this. You’ve been so good for me lately, I haven’t had much reason to hurt you. I forgot how fun it is.”

Whumpee made a soft noise of pain, struggling to push themself up onto their hands and knees. They were aided by the hand tangling in their hair and yanking them up the rest of the way. “N-no more,” they begged, voice barely audible. “I can’t...”

Whumper chuckled. “But I’m enjoying this so much, honey. Unless you can think of another way to entertain me?”

Whumpee nodded desperately, which made their head spin. Fingers grasped at Whumper’s thighs because they couldn’t get the words out, chest tight and voice choked with sobs.

“Hm,” Whumper hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t usually give it up that easy. Must really be feeling it, huh?”

Another boot to the stomach made Whumpee double over, shoulders heaving as they puked.

Whumper took a step back and watched them with amusement. “Poor little thing,” they cooed. Whumpee was shaking, arms curled around themself protectively. “I don’t think I'll ever get tired of you.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump ((if you want to be added lmk!))

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befuddled-calico-whump · 2 months

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"if I turned up the heat..."

"Alexei, please, don't--"

"how long do you think you'd burn before your windpipe melted shut?"

Wildefire Masterlist

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink

#in a 'fuck uriah' mood apparently #drew this on my phone and it took a bit of effort but not as much as i thought #uriah fox #whumper turned whumpee #threats #choking #strangulation #whump art #whumpy art #begging

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worldboywhump · 3 days

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Hudutsuz Sevda- Ep: 14 (That bridal carry chef’s kiss 🤌🏽)

#hudutsuz sevda #male whumpee #weak #choked #bridal carry #bromance whump #rescued #concern #bromance #whump #hurt/comfort #hurt

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chaotic-orphan · 10 months

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Oh hey , hope u are doing well , I was wondering if you'd continue the post where the hero has electrical powers and the villian has telepathy

Intoxicating fear (II)

A crude awakening

Part one // Masterpost

*~*~*~*~*

A snap of fingers in front of Kit’s face and his eyes snapped into focus, his body jolting forward slightly. Kit blinked, head pounding as he tried to take in his surroundings.

His head was fuzzy, memory hazy as he tried to remember how he got here. Wherever here was.

He was standing up, his arms above his head. When he tried to pull them down, he heard the snap of chains. Warning bells sounded clear in his mind as he tugged them down again, but they didn’t budge.

Kit groaned as he looked up to see his hands locked into metal cuffs, attached to a chain that went all the way to the ceiling.

“Good. Very good, Malyn. So responsive. So suggestible,” a silvery voice purred behind Kit.

Kit froze for a split second before his reflexes kicked in. He snapped his fingers on instinct reaching for the electricity in the air. Familiar blue lightning sparked to life and Kit screamed as his entire body jerked in the chains. His body ceased, winding tight as his own electricity was weaponised against him. Kit grit his teeth as his body was forced to endure. The chains holding him up rattling as Kit’s body fell like dead weight once the electricity ran its course through Kit’s body.

A couple aftershocks jerked Kit’s muscles in his shoulder, and Kit sucked in a second cry of pain at the strain on his shoulders.

A cool hand rested on the back of Kit’s neck. Kit froze again, his muscles in his legs riding out random spasms from the aftershock as Kit forced his legs to stand himself up straight. His feet slipped as he tried to get his balance, accompanied by a sloshing sound. Kit glanced down to see his feet in a basin of water. His shoes and socks taken off and his trousers rolled up to the knees.

“You’re not as bright as I heard you were, Malyn,” said that horrible voice behind him. Kit’s heart thundered against his chest, as the hand slinked around Kit’s neck to come and stand in front of him.

It was Omen.

Kit knew it was Omen, obviously, he just didn’t really want to believe it.

That meant that Omen had actually taken Kit against his will. Taken him and made him forget the way to Omen’s fucking dungeon, and Other Hero was still at the fairground.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hey, Malyn. Calm down,” Omen said, his voice so far away. Kit’s head dipped, gasping on air, trying to breathe, but his body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he was panting, chest rising too quickly and falling too shallow for him to take in any oxygen.

Fuck.

Not in front of Omen.

He was trapped with Omen.

Tears streamed down his face as the realisation settled loud into Kit’s mind.

No one knew where he was.

No one was coming to find him.

He was chained in front of Omen, his… the—

Two hands on his cheeks and Kit’s wide eyes went to Omen, recoiling as much as his chains would let them.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

Kit gasped, looking into those dark eyes and wanted to cry as Omen spoke again: “Oi, Malyn. Relax.”

Kit’s body obeyed the command. His lungs forced to breathe, his muscles unwinding from tightness against his will, his mind still screaming at him as his body flooded with the ice coldness that followed Omen’s commands.

“There we go,” said Omen, grinning, as his thumbs rubbed the tears from Kit’s cheeks. When did he cry? “I knew you were scared of me little hero, but having a panic attack over me? I’m honoured.”

“G-go fuck yourself,” Kit ground out with a shiver. Omen tsked stepping back away from Kit, his grin spreading into a horrible smile on his pale red lips. Kit yanked at the chains holding him up and tried to steel his expression into a (hopefully) threatening one.

Omen hummed, tilting his head as he slipped his hands into tailored trouser pockets.

“Hmm, I think you should be nicer to me, Malyn,” Ambrose said, smile and happy tone contrasting his words: “If you piss me off I might just forget to come down here and give you food and water, let you use the bathroom. Keep disrespecting me and I’ll leave you to die in a pool of your own faeces. Understand?”

Kit didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to agree. He didn’t want to do anything other than not be here. Not be standing in front of Omen, the man who ruined his life. Fucking Omen of all people! Forcing his body into a synthetic calm.

Kit licked his lips, asking: “What do you want with me?” He cursed his voice for coming out quiet. Quieter than he’d like to have it be in front of this monster.

Omen’s smile seemed to grow if that was even possible.

“I want to know why you fear me so much,” Omen said, amusement lacing his curiosity. He didn’t get closer, he gave Kit space, but his eyes. His stare. It felt so invasive.

Too invasive.

“You can just look, can’t you?” Kit snapped, pulling at his chains. Omen’s eyes flashed at the emotion, flicking lazily up at the chains then back at Kit.

“You know, Malyn. Taking you was a spur of the moment thing, so I had to prepare all this for you,” Ambrose said, gesturing to the chains and the water. “To keep you. To hold you. I know Superhero, know how hard he tried to keep you secret from me.”

Omen stepped forward and Kit flinched. Then cursed himself for it as Omen let out a dark chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll get used to that. That raw, primal fear— like I’m the most repulsive person to ever live.”

“You’re a villain,” is all Kit said in reply, cursing the croak in his voice.

Omen cocked an eyebrow. “You flinch at every villain? Then you don’t have the stomach for the job, hero. Sorry to be the one to tell you.”

Kit’s hands balled into fists above his head as Ambrose took another step closer. Kit forced himself to stay still.

“What’s with this stupid game of cat and mouse, huh?!” Kit demanded, leaning forward slightly. If Omen wanted to close the gap to intimidate Kit, why shouldn’t Kit do the same? “You can read minds. Just take all the information you want and leave me alone!”

Omen grinned. His eyes drilling into Kit’s. Kit suddenly became very aware of his body, his heart drumming against his ears as Ambrose said nothing. He just stared.

“Here’s the thing, Malyn. I know you’re new on the hero/villain scene so I’m willing to go easy on you,” said Omen casually. He walked around Kit, past Kit’s line of sight. Kit tried to turn to follow him with his eyes, but his body wouldn’t move. He was forced to stare ahead as Omen continued.

“I’ll tell you why I won’t take your source of fear from your beautiful, terrified mind. It’s because—”A hand went to the back of Kit’s neck, fingers lacing through his hair and yanking his head back. Kit cried out as he found Omen’s cold eyes staring down at him. “—you protest too much. Clearly, that’s part of why I’m so terrifying to you, isn’t it? You want it to be easy like it was with Mentor. You want me to twist your mind until you can barely see straight.”

Kit tried to yank his head free, but Omen wrenched him further down and Kit hissed through gritted teeth. His shoulders screaming at him to stop struggling.

“I’m not going to do that, Malyn. You’re going to tell me why you’re afraid, and I’m going to be there. Watching every micro expression on your face as you do. Maybe there’ll even be some more of your delicious tears…maybe not.”

Omen wrapped a hand around Kit’s throat, grinning as he felt Kit swallow under his palm. He tightened his grip, and that’s when Kit’s fear took over. Blinding and incapacitating as Omen cut off his air.

He couldn’t breathe.

Omen was above them drinking in every pathetic struggle. Kit’s arms pulling at the chains, his feet slipping in the water below, every effort in his body to try and get a sliver of air into his lungs.

“Listen to those sounds you make, Malyn,” Ambrose said, his silvery voice the only solid thing Kit had as he desperately thrashed in Omen’s grip.

Omen watched, basked, waited until he saw the electric blue flash through Kit’s eyes. He waited a beat longer before seeing Kit’s resolve settle.

Omen let go at the last second.

The last second that Kit’s power took over in his panic and his body erupted in crackles of lightning that coursed through Kit’s veins and he screamed.

Every fibre of his being lit on fire as his electricity burned through his nerves, tearing them to shreds and leaving only pain in its wake. His jaw was clenched so hard he thought his teeth would break from the force; his neck stretched at an awkward angle as he twitched unable to correct it. Black encroaching on his vision as his body ceased against his own ability.

A normal person in Kit’s circumstance would be dead by now. In a basin of water, his wrists trapped in metal it turned his body into a perfect conductor. Omen may as well have put Kit in an electric chair.

Kit should be dead, but his ability, stemmed from a sensitivity to electric currents rippling through the air, also gave him a certain robustness to electricity. He thought meant he could withstand electric currents passing through his body easy.

That was until now.

Until Omen used Other Hero against him.

Until he nearly burnt himself unconscious not a few minutes ago.

He should be dead.

Except he just hung limp in his chains. His feet had slipped and so his toes were the only part of him on the floor; his were knees bent from exhaustion. All his body weight rested heavily on his toes and wrists. He didn’t have the strength to pull himself up.

Omen walked around Kit at some point during his second taste of his own power and dipped his head, so he was eye level with Kit.

Kit didn’t even have the energy to move his head as Omen took his chin in his cold grip, tilting Kit’s head to meet Omen’s black eyes.

“See? All this effort to try and escape me out of your delicious fear. Why in the world would I just take what I want when you’ll destroy yourself not to give it to me?”

Kit was happy that the darkness around his edges flooded his vision, and he was dragged blissfully into unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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suspensefulpen · 28 days

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Animal

TW: Choking, Bad Caretaker, Defiant Whumpee, Possessive Whumper

Whumper sighed as he stared down at the stack of papers in front of him. He was tired of looking at paperwork, he really wanted to take a break. No, a vacation.

Caretaker walked into the room and placed a fresh cup of coffee on his desk. Whumper paused when he noticed a scratch peeking out from under their sleeve. His hand instantly grasped their wrist, making them flinch. He frowned slightly and looked up at the nervous expression on their face. His thumb brushed over the scratch.

“What is this?”

“What? I–I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Caretaker forced a smile that Whumper could see right through.

His grip tightened as he rolled up their sleeve, much to their dismay. What Whumper originally thought to be a small scratch, turned out to be one among many large ones. Very few seemed to be healed. “Where did these come from?”

“Where…did what come from?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Caretaker! Where the hell did these come from?”

They went silent, their gaze shifting elsewhere before landing on something to their right. Whumper followed their gaze to the monitor that displayed live footage of the crouching figure in the corner of an unfinished room. Whumper stood, pulling Caretaker towards him before forcing them into the desk chair. They instantly attempted protesting as he turned to leave. He turned back, lowering his voice and leaning close.

“You don’t move from this chair, understand?”

Knowing what Whumper would be willing to do to show them, they nodded slowly. “Yes sir…”

Whumpee didn’t budge when he heard the clicking sounds on the other side of the door. It was probably just Caretaker again with food. He pondered scaring them again to make them go away. The food wasn’t all that great anyway.

When all of the locks were unlocked, the heavy door swung open, hitting against the wall with an ear splitting slam.

Confused, Whumpee sat up, instead finding an angry Whumper marching into the room. However, before he could move another inch, his back was forced against the wall with Whumper’s hand around his throat. He attempted prying the hand off as he desperately gasped for oxygen.

“You got some nerve Whumpee.” Whumper spoke sternly. “Thinking you can just get away with hurting my precious Caretaker.”

“Your precious Caretaker?” Whumpee wheezed. “They seem more like a servant to you.”

“I’ll make you their servant if you ever have the nerve to hurt them again.” His grip tightened. “I shouldn’t even allow you the luxury of getting food in the first place. You don’t deserve it.” Just as Whumpee’s eyes began rolling back and fluttering, his grip loosened. “Since you want to act like an animal, I’ll make sure you get treated like one.”

#creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #suspense #tw choking #bad caretaker #defiant whumpee #possessive whumper #kind of #caretaker x whumper #if you want

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whumpster-dumpster · 11 months

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Whumpee with a super sensitive gag reflex that won't let them swallow any pills without half choking

#whump #whump prompt #writing prompt #it's me i'm whumpee #medicine #choking

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timetohurt · 2 years

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listen, y’all don’t appreciate

hanging from your wrists

(without touching the ground)

enough.

cw: unwilling suspension, choking, loss of consciousness, begging, beating, broken bones

• Hanging by the wrists puts pressure on the chest muscles. The consequence of this is difficulty breathing, difficulty talking, because the lungs are compressed. The diaphragm that causes in-and exhalation would get exhausted so it’s more and more exhausting to breathe until… whumpee doesn’t have the strength anymore and passes out. It’s like slow choking and there’s nothing whumpee can do than to beg to be let down

• Blood circulation to the hands is cut off because 1) too tightly bound wrists that need to hold the whumpees weight and 2) arms above body in the air, so the arms would get numb after initial pain and sore and turn a pale color. After the suspension the wrists and arms could be swollen and hurting to the touch/bruised

• Straining the shoulder muscles, tearing the shoulder muscles, dislocating the shoulders, all very painful

• Hang your whumpee up and wait until they pass out, let them down until they regain consciousness, hang them up again, and so on and so forth. The realization and following panic after waking up that it’s not over after one time, that whumper will let them slowly choke and suffer again, and again, and again, the helplessness

small addition: whumpee won’t be able to move after this because the muscles (of the upper body half at least) are all strained and sore.

• Get a baseball bat or a cane or smth and spice things up a bit, everyone needs a stress relieve after all, the bruises, the broken bones, whumpee kicking and trashing, the struggling because whumpee doesn’t have enough air to scream

Anyways, lots of potential, you can do anything with this, love to see it. it’s like pizza, when it’s there, it’s good no matter the shape or form. 8.5/10

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whumpshaped · 7 months

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have some tragic backstory idk

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, lady whumper, conditioning, torture, burns, dehumanisation, knives, stabbing, gore, disembowelment, choking

"You are late." She shut her book with a loud snap, making Helle wince. "Again."

"Yes, Mistress," they said quietly. "Things have gotten out of hand–"

"Have they?"

They bit the inside of their cheek, taking a deep breath before finally meeting her eyes. Lady Marie was sitting in her favourite reading chair, her piercing red eyes pinning them in place where they stood. She was wearing one of her finer dresses — maybe she was expecting visitors. Maybe they'd messed up royally.

They swallowed, trying not to think about the potential consequences of embarrassing her in front of others. "I brought a human," they offered. "A– a nice one."

"You have been away for hours."

"Yes, Mistress."

She didn't even glance at the enthralled human standing behind them. Her gaze remained entirely focused on them, heavy, almost crushing. It sent shivers down their spine. They desperately wanted to look away, but they also had a feeling she would pounce as soon as they did.

"And you brought a human. A nice one." Her mocking wasn't cold and vicious, already letting them know that at the very least they would go hungry tonight.

"Yes, Mistress," they said dutifully, voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, forgive me for not taking out the nice cutlery."

Helle opened their mouth to argue, then prompty closed it again. She would know they were lying, most likely. No vampire needed hours to find a suitable human. The only vampire staying out that long was a disobedient one.

"I... it will not happen again."

"Oh, it will not." She put the book aside and stood up, and Helle immediately took a step back, bumping into the stupid human. "I knew you would not dare leave me, of course. Apart from the fact that you would not survive a single night on your own, I happen to know that you are very loyal. A useful quality." She walked over to them, and if Helle had been alive, their heart would've been pounding in their chest. "But others... others might question that."

She wasn't expecting guests. The guests had already left the mansion, and they had been out and about the whole time. They tried to swallow the lump in their throat once, then twice. "I apologise, Mistress."

"Your apology is as late as your arrival, pet."

"But I assure you, the blood–"

She moved quicker than they could comprehend, grabbing them by the shirt and hauling them across the room. They hit the wall with a thud, then the floor with another, but they couldn't even get their bearings before the woman was already on top of them. "Do you know what it was like to stand in front of the duchess and say one of mine was out hunting?" she hissed. "Then wait for hours on end as she insulted and berated me because of your incompetence? And you want me to taste the blood of the one pathetic human you managed to bring back for me, as if you had done me a favour by doing the one thing you were made for."

She flipped open her pocket knife, and Helle immediately recognised it as the silver one. They lifted their hand in a pitiful attempt at self-defence, crying out in pain when Lady Marie simply put the blade through one of them. "I am sorry!" they said desperately as she yanked it out, but there was no peaceful quelling of her thirst for revenge at this point.

She stabbed them again, and again, and again, and again, her vampiric strength carrying her through the motions effortlessly, with speed that left Helle dizzy and disoriented. They couldn't block a single one, nor could they keep count. Each one felt more ruthless than the last, drawing all kinds of screams and whimpers from their throat — until she targeted their trachea, of course. It was only bloody gurgles and wheezing after that.

Their whole body was burning by the end of it. Their guts were spilling out onto the carpets, a crime they would no doubt be punished for later. They were well past the point of struggling. They lay still as the corpse they should've been, save for the involuntary twitching of their ruined muscles. The coffin seemed like a favourable place to be, in times like this, safely tucked away under layers and layers of dirt, their only company being the worms that had found their way in. They hadn't appreciated it enough at the time.

"You will never make this mistake again," she said quietly. It wasn't a question that required an answer. It was a statement, and she had made sure no one in the vicinity would be able to dispute it. She glanced towards the other end of the room, and Helle realised the human must've fled long ago. They weren't thinking about keeping the stupid thing still while being stabbed seventy times. "A nice one indeed. Say, pet, do you happen to know the punishment of a servant that came back empty-handed?"

Helle tried to beg. They put their heart and soul into trying to make at least a single placating sound, a gesture, anything. They couldn't do it again. It had been so horrible the last time, they thought they were going to die, they couldn't, they couldn't–

"No? Well, then I shan't spoil it for you. But let me say this: I hope we have a gorgeous, sunny day tomorrow."

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #lady marie #vampire whumper #vampire whumpee #lady whumper #conditioning #torture #burns #dehumanisation #knives #stabbing #gore #disembowelment #choking

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astrowhump · 1 year

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Useful

Tw: torture (past and present), conditioning, asphyxiation, whipping, and just a bunch of other good stuff :)

11:00 p.m., master isn’t home yet, then it must be time for bed. Lucas pushes himself up from his knees, still trembling from kneeling on the cold tiles for hours on end, waiting for his owner to show up. He looks down at his kneecaps just to find them tinted red, caused by the pressure from his own weight.

The Canadian winter snow is still pelting, a ghost white blankets everything in sight. He’s lost in the panoramic scene for a moment, in the dagger-like icicles and the pine trees bending under the heavy shimmering carpet that covers their every leaf and the eery silence of stillness. Through the glass door and French windows, he watches as the moon shines on the pavement that’s covered knee-high, and for an instant, he imagines the tingling of the freezing snow on his legs. Before he knows it, his mind’s filled with thoughts of the unthinkable…the impossible.

The first obstacle would be the locked front door, hardly a challenge, he knows where master keeps the spare keys - where he keeps anything for that matter- Lucas has been the one keeping this place spotless after all, for a good chunk of the past four years and seven months and fourteen days.

He’s built up quite a tolerance to cold by now, thanks to master’s ‘seasonal torture techniques’. Apparently, keeping the poor boy out in -10 degrees Celsius temperature and frozen snow in nothing but his boxers until his body starts shaking violently and he bangs his trembling fists to the glass door as he begs to be let in, is just as much an amusement as burning him or drowning him or beating him bloody. Even though he could survive several hours in that weather, he’d most definitely lose all mobility within the first hour. He will need to cover himself up, with some of his owner’s winter clothes perhaps, not that a 6’ man with an athletic build’s clothes would fit perfectly on a 5’ 3” boy with a much smaller body, but anything that keeps him warm will do.

It’s gonna be an exhaustingly long walk before he sets foot outside the property and even then, they’re probably somewhere far into the woods, they couldn’t be more than a day of walking from the city though, master goes to the city quite often for work so it must be a reasonable distance.

The thought of escaping seems more and more like an absurd fantasy as his trail of taboo thoughts continues flowing. It was never gonna be anything more than that anyways. Besides, even if he did make it outside on his own, the owner would definitely find his astray mongrel somewhere along the way and when he does, he will make sure that ungrateful mutt knows the definition of real hell. First and foremost, he will bash in his kneecaps, turn him into the dog he is, just as promised. He’ll have to crawl on all fours for the rest of his pathetic life, And that’s not even all. The mere thought of the length of consequences that await him if he steps out of line makes him freeze in his place.

11:45. Did he just spend that long thinking about escaping? It’s almost funny; after years and years of training, this is where he belongs, this is who he is, he doesn’t have a purpose in life but to obey and please his master.

At last, his legs drag him to the upstairs bedroom where he changes into his sleeping t-shirt. The room is warm and his stomach is full, a fact he will never stop being grateful for. Just as he slides under the covers, the door to the living room is opened forcefully and then slammed shut and heavy shoes stomp downstairs. Lucas sits up in the bed, expecting to greet his exasperated master, but the footsteps never make it upstairs.

Naked feet touch the wooden floor and sneak down the staircase.

“S- sir?” He calls softly.

Light peaks out of the doorway to the study and that’s where his feet take him.

“Welcome home maste-“

An empty whiskey bottle flies towards him the second he steps through the door, but his head instinctively ducks and the glass shatters as it hits the wall to his back.

“Why the fuck is my whiskey bottle empty.” It doesn’t sound like a question but Lucas answers anyway.

“I’m not allowed in the cellar when I’m alone.” His voice is small.

“I’ll fetch you one right away sir, I’m sorry” he quickly adds as he feels the angry gaze bore into his quivering figure. He looks up to the vexed man and finds him fidgeting with his tie in a failed attempt to loosen it.

“Let me.” He carefully steps closer to help his master. He’s stepping on eggshells, every step he takes might be a step too far, but master allows him to get close and slowly hook his fingers around the tie and pull. He loosens the loop enough for the man’s head to easily slip through.

“Did you have a bad day, sir?” He speaks softly, placing the tie on the desk behind him and starts unbuttoning his owner’s white shirt.

Lucas looks up at him when he doesn’t hear an answer. The man’s mind seems to be rushing with irritating thoughts, however, his attention is grabbed as the busy hands on his shirt stop wriggling.

“Very.” He sounds tired. The hands continue undressing his top until his muscular form shows as the shirt is taken away. Big hands wrap around bony wrists.

“Weren’t you supposed to be asleep by now?” The pressure on his wrists increases and the boy’s nervousness along with it. He tries to back off a bit, but his movements are blocked by the desk behind him and master’s vigorous form in front. Helplessly sandwiched in between, he presses the palms of his hands to the tattooed chest holding him captive.

“I- I heard you enter and you seemed pissed. Thought that you uh…you might want to blow off some steam, sir?” His eyes wander off to the floor in shame, he does mean what he said, but he didn’t think it through, he shouldn’t have done anything before he was ordered to and now…now he has fucked up. Although, if he is to be punished, master might appreciate the distraction. His idiocy may prove helpful afterall.

He hears a chuckle, not threatening or derisive, rather…sweet.

The man’s breathing no longer seems ragged by irritation and his heartbeat calms under Lucas’s palms.

“Oh you sweet thing. You came to me willingly, to be used and abused. Such an obedient little puppy!” One of his hands let go of the little one’s wrists to card through his silky brown locks. Lucas moans softly into his touch.

He feels like a proud owner, turning that stray animal into this adorable domestic pet, ready to serve and please, needy for his master’s touch, ready to jump off a cliff without hesitation if master orders him so. He has been trained with such delicacy, his prized possession.

The hands in the pet’s hair firmly grip the roots and they pull and twist until he winces and looks up at him through defeated eyes, only to find a sadistic dark gaze thrown his way, he keeps his hands flat on his chest, there’s not much fight in him. The fingers pull until he feels his scalp tearing from his skull and he cries out. Master smiles at the sounds he makes, like a father watching his child sweetly speak gibberish. Finally, the hand lets go, but Lucas’s eyes stay leveled with his owner’s.

“On your knees.”

He drops to his knees like it’s instinct.

“Heel.” He starts stepping towards an empty wall between the bookshelves. On the wall hang two chained handcuffs, fixated by nails on the green wallpaper, his personal modification to make the study feel more like home to his precious little pet.

Lucas follows behind him with ease, used to the scratching of his knees as he crawls by his master’s feet, the hard wood beneath him gives its place temporarily to the soft wool of the Persian rug as they cross the middle of the room and then the uncomfortable wood again.

He extends his arms so that they can be restrained. An air of superiority lines his owner’s smile and he can’t help but pat the willing puppy on the head.

Once his wrists are firmly secured, the sheer fabric covering his upper body is ripped through. He sits there awkwardly as master pulls the remains aside.

His vision is limited to the wall in front of him now. Footsteps track distant and stop a few feet behind him. He listens intently now, all his senses heightened, they always are in these situations, when his brain knows something bad, something painful, is going to happen and his body is unable to do anything but stay still and notice every sensory trigger possible. Now even his mind won’t do anything but sit still and take it all in, defiance is no longer defined in his dictionary. The sound his hypersensitive ears catch next is that of a belt undone, followed by his next command.

“Stretch your back for me darling”

He does as told, moving his knees and elbows in opposite directions until every inch of his back - littered with wounds and physical implications of mental trauma - is exposed and stretched to full capacity.

“You ready sweetheart?”

Lucas keeps his head down and squeezes his eyes shut as if that makes anything better. He belatedly answers when he realizes he is expected to.

“Y- yes, master.”

The belt cracks in the air before it lands on his back. The leather is thick and heavy, and the pain that spreads through his bones and muscles is sickening.

His sweet voice breaks into a scream, so pleasant that his tormentor stops to appreciate it for a second. Another blow brings another sweet cry out of him. He could do this forever.

“Your body’s such a beautiful canvas, it would be a shame not to cover it with art.”

Lucas doesn’t move his composition an inch, offering his naked back for his owner to take his rage out on. However, he yawps as the belt whips his tender skin, one blow from the right and one from the left rhythmically, and the occasional cracks in the air just to make the already tremoring boy flinch even harder in anticipation of pain.

His tears slide straight onto the parquet and his head falls down between his strained arms, chin touching the chest. Master must see it because the next blow comes down on him harsher and faster than the rest and the edges of the belt cut into his skin.

His head rises, he shrieks and tears stream down his reddened eyes, his perfect posture is disturbed slightly. Such a sight. Though it is fun to break defiant brats, it’s even more enjoyable to crush an obedient mutt.

“M- master- “ he sobs. Several cuts on his back are bleeding now.

“What is it, pet?” He stops and walks closer to the bleeding trembling boy.

Lucas ducks his head back down. He had learned time and time again that asking for it to stop only brings him punishment. That word was involuntary, he regrets saying anything at all, even more so when his head is yanked backward by his brown curls drawing a wince out of him. Master’s dark eyes drill a hole into his blushing cheeks.

“Don’t be shy now boy. Beg me to stop. Cry for my mercy. All your wishes just might eventually come true.”

He smiles. It’s frightening and hits the naked boy’s body like a winter blizzard, sending visible shivers down his spine.

His head is let go just to fall limply between his arms again and he can hear footsteps retracting through loud sobs.

Suddenly, something soft grips his neck, silky…the tie. The loop he helped loosen earlier, tightens around his neck more than it should and it’s pulled up until he chokes out. Master looks at him with pity eyes as he loses composure and chokes himself even harder. He claws at the floor with his feet to keep his head up but the noose moves higher and higher, blocking all oxygen from ever touching his windpipe.

“If you want to breathe, ask nicely.”

His eyes turn in their place to stare innocently into those of his master. There’s not much air left in him to form coherent words.

“S- sir…p- nghh; please…Ah” only whispers leave his mouth. He gasps for air with his mouth open and a stream of tears down his messed-up face.

“-ease p-..mas- Ha- hngha.. mast- “ his face turns a dark shade of purple, matching the violet tie around his throat.

His owner only lets go of his lead a moment before he loses consciousness, or maybe one after. Either way the boy’s head falls to his chest, his weak naked body spattered across the room, only hanging up by tied-up wrists. The gradually fastening rise and fall of his chest is all the movement he makes. He mercifully undoes his restraints so the boy can catch his breath

Master pulls a chair to sit beside his panting mess of a pet on the ground and lights his cigarette calmly. Lucas slowly regains consciousness and pulls himself to sit on his knees, the tie still wrapped around his slender neck and vision still disoriented, back still hurting and bleeding, the exhaustion overtakes the pain by the slightest.

A snap of fingers. That means there’s an order to follow. His eyes look for the source of the sound. Master gestures for him to come closer.

His numb limbs are having a hard time trying to follow his brain’s orders but eventually, he pulls himself to all fours and crawls to the bigger man in the chair. The tie dangles around his neck like a runaway dog’s leash; except he could never run away, he has an extremely thoughtful owner, always alert and cautious, even after…four years and seven months and fourteen days - well fifteen now.

His sweaty palms make sticky sounds against the floor until he’s at his sir’s feet. He fits his body between his legs and rests his dizzy head on the lap of the other.

He knows this ritual by heart, after every single play or training or punishment or ‘let me take everything out on you because I can’ session, master smokes his cigarette as he winds down and then…zzzz…signs his brutalized body with the hot end of the cigarette. He hardly even flinches at the burning pain anymore, he’s way too beaten and it’s way too familiar. It almost feels reassuring even, a sign that agony is over for the time being. He’s relieved.

His body is carpeted in these marks, he couldn’t count them even if he wanted to. Most of them overlap, but master has his favorite spots, his neck and shoulders for example.

A loving hand sorts out his tangled locks and he dozes off to the touch, right there on master’s thigh. His eyes open sluggishly and look up for another order, or permission to pass out.

“Ah. Thank you pet, I feel much better now. Bring me that whiskey after you’re done cleaning yourself up, would you?”

“Mmhm…yes, sir”

He gently brushes off the stray strands of hair sticking to his sweaty face and bends his neck to press a gentle kiss to the boy’s temple.

“Up now. You’ve been such a good boy for me tonight. You can go to bed when you’ve done as I said. It’s way past your bedtime.” He whispers into his ears with a deep calm voice.

“Mmm..” Lucas nods and gets up on his feet lazily. He tries his best not to stumble over his own feet as he makes his way to the cellar.

Lucas is glad he proved himself useful for his master tonight.

Inspired by one of @whumpitisthen’s dialouge prompts.

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