‘Verse:Unlikely Salvation Timeline: Ariadne is in training with the feds
The Merry Whump of May 12: “How squeamish are you?” Panic attack|Blowtorch|Basement @themerrywhumpofmay Also inspired by chatter with @magnificenthurt
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Ariadne didn’t even know they had a blowtorch. Seeing it in Riven’s hand makes her stomach do a weird little lurch. “You’re not serious,” she says, unsure how much she’s joking. “Getting cold feet?” Riven quips with a grin. He gesticulates with the blowtorch, flicking it on for a second. “I could warm them up for you.” “Very funny.” “This guy’s a tough nut, you’re not getting anywhere with the whip. This little thing is a bit scarier, don’t you think?”
The warlock in question is a real monster. Multiple murders, terrorism, you name it. He definitely deserves everything he has coming. When Ari doesn’t move to unlock the cell door, Riven does it for her, and catches her arm casually to drag her in after him.
The prisoner snorts, watching him manhandle her, and spits blood onto the floor. She sees the moment that he spots the blowtorch. He goes rigid, derision falling from his face. Riven grins at him. “Scared?” he mocks. “You should be.”
A henchman pulls the Whumpee up from the floor with a yank under one of their bound arms. The Whumpee wobbles but doesn’t lose their balance as they find their footing, but they’re quickly pulled forward towards a door where the Whumper stands. The Whumper’s hands are held behind their own back, though unlike the Whumpee they do so of their own free will. The Whumpee manages to stop and hiss at the Whumper, who doesn’t return their gaze but merely turns their head to look at the floor near the Whumpee. “Did I pass your little test?” the battered Whumpee says before they are shoved out of the room. The Whumper stays very still as the door to the room shuts slowly, pushed closed by the bloodied hand of the Whumper’s second in command. “Test,” the Whumper repeats aloud, their head slowly raising and meeting the eyes of their partner. “You’re telling me,” number two says. “Here I thought it was the real deal.” The Whumper’s face shifts as they rub a hand across the back of their neck and pace slowly. “The only test here was yours. And you failed. Miserably.” The number two lifts their shoulders in a small shrug before opening their mouth to speak, but the insolence of their gesture causes the Whumper to suddenly close the distance between them and push them back against the wall. The Whumper’s forearm pins them in place as they grab a fistful of their shirt, while the other grabs the second in command’s face roughly. “There will be no more talk of tests, or practice rounds, or dry runs,” the Whumper growls. “He will be broken, and he will be broken in half, and those halves will be broken again. Do you understand me?” The second in command manages to push the Whumper off of themselves, then adjusts their shirt back to where it was as they catch their breath. “Not a test, but somehow there’s fractions. Got it.” The Whumper smooths their own clothes and goes to leave, but pauses with a hand on their door before opening it. “Turn this into a test of my patience, and we’ll do the math on what happens then.” They open the door and slam it behind them, leaving their number two to think through their next steps to try and break the Whumpee’s will.
Whumpee knows they should be scared when Whumper pulls them up from their bed. But they were tired and bored.
Whumper had left them along for nearly the whole day, stapped to the bed with mittens strapped over their hands. They made it so Whumpees hands were nothing more than lumps. Completely useless.
Whumper carried them smoothly from their bedroom to the living room, where they were placed on the edge of the couch. They hadn’t been out here very often, it was reserved for when Whumpee was on their best behavior.
So when Whumper connected their chains to the couch Whumpee looked up at them in confusion, unable to speak past the muzzle in their mouth. “Shoulders back now, you’re doing good, but we need to be careful don’t we?”
Whumpee nodded, hoping they looked as grateful as they felt. Anything, even being chained to the couch was better, than Whumpers punishments. They had to throw the thoughts from their brain to enjoy this moment.
After Whumper was done they sat down next to them, curling up so they were nearly completely entwined. Not a second later the Tv turned on, starting to play the Harry Potter theme song.
Whumpees thoughts were completely swarmed by the show, they hadn’t watched it in, forever. A sense of nostalgia washes over them that was overshadowed when Whumper turned their head towards them.
“Are you having fun?” Whumper was smiling, showing all their teeth that glinted in the light of the TV.
Whumpee nodded, smiling even more when Whumper reached forward and unclasped their muzzle. Spit fell from it and onto the couch, “Aww look at you sweetheart. Where would you be without me?”
Whumpee didn’t know, but they still nodded they needed to give an answer, eyes lighting up when Whumper leaned over and grabbed something from the side table. The savory smell of soup was wafting under their nose and Whumpee was suddenly aware of how hungry they were.
They couldn’t think of the last time they ate, Whumper had said they didn’t need to eat.
And Whumper was always right.
So they ignored the way their stomach was cramping, how most of their thoughts turned to food.
They needed to be good.
But when Whumper brought a spoonful of soup up to their face they didn’t hesitate to take it into their mouth.
“Good job baby, do you want some more?”
A nod and another spoon were in their face. They counited to eat each spoonful that was placed in front of them. Gracefully taking each. Some part of their brain itched, warning bells ringing loudly but they couldn’t care.
After they had eaten through about half of the bowl though they started to feel happy. Fuzzy.
Warmth spread through their body, warming their fingers and making them want to wiggle their toes but they weren’t able to tell if they were moving them.
Whumpers form was no swimming in front of them, dipping in and out of focus. “Aww, are you feeling good? Does Whumper make you feel good?”
They nodded again and a doopy smile was spreading over there face. They felt weightless, but the hand on there thigh was the only thing keeping them from floating away.
They never wanted this feeling to end.
“Whumpee, eyes on me.”
Their eyes flicked to Whumpers with ease even as the room started to spin.
“What’s my name?”
The words left smooth on their tongue and they barely had to think before they were speaking, saying something they had refrained from.
When they arrive to Whumper’s base the blindfold stays on.
When Whumper takes them for torture for the first time the blindfold is still on place.
A whole year of captivity passes by and the blindfold hasn’t been removed even for a second. They live like a blind person, all they know are smells and screams. And this voice. This terrifying, calm voice of Whumper, who always describes in details what are they doing to Whumpee.
Finally Whumpee is rescued. Of course they have to get used to using their eyes again, but even worse to deal with is the fact that Whumper escaped and is still out there. But they don’t even know how does Whumper look like.
Whumpee never trusts anyone before they hear their voice first.
Whumpee who’s been born in the captivity and that’s the only life they know. After years of serving and being tortured by Whumper they are rescued by a team of strangers, who kill their owner. They have to deal with the outside world.
- Whumpee doesn’t know people can use touch to anything else but causing pain;
- A few days after a rescue they faint from hunger. They are genuinely shocked when someone tells them they don’t have to wait for the permission to eat;
- They hurt themselves when they’re alone, cause without pain they feel uncomfortable and strange;
- They spend a whole day just leaving and entering their new house after they hear they can go outside whenever they want;
- They can’t resist visiting Whumper’s grave every now and then. Sometimes they don’t understand this world to the point they almost miss their previous life;
- They sleep on the floor until one night Caretaker stays with them and informs them that yes, that bed in the bedroom really is for them;
- They can’t keep a conversation about casual stuff, before they only used words in special occasions when Whumper felt like asking them about something;
- They have plenty of stuffed animals. They refuse to talk to anyone else, so Caretakers have to eavesdrop to learn anything about how they feel or what are they going through;
- “And… night sky… I mean, you know, my cell didn’t have windows and I’ve never seen it before. And… oh man, it’s just… breathtaking. Why don’t people look at it all the time?”;
- “How old am I? What do you mean? I… I have no idea. Birthday? Why would I know that?”;
- First few months with the therapist they can’t even say a word, they just sit there, staring at the wall and pretend not to hear the questions;
- Their whole house is completely stiff with beautiful plants, there’s almost no place left for walking around. The only piece of nature they have seen before were nettles when Whumper wanted to have a little fun with them.
Thanks again to the absolutely AMAZING and LOVELY @whumpcereal who has truly been a fantastic sounding board to help me get through some REALLY difficult subject matter.
This on is REALLY long, but I didn’t want to break it up and you guys not get to see Ben get a bit of aftercare after what Volkov has done to him. So, enjoy the LONG chapter.
WARNING: This chapter as well as subsequent chapters contain explicit noncon. If you prefer not to read, I’ll totally understand. Heed the tags because this gets dark. It starts IMMEDIATELY where the last chapter left off, so it’s below the cut for noncon sensitivity.
When Ben regained consciousness, the training gag was back in his mouth, tickling the back of his throat again; Volkov’s toy still buzzed inside him. Ben coughed, and the toy shifted inside, but at least the gag did not seem near as troublesome as it had been. His throat felt raw and sore, but it was nothing compared to what Volkov had done.
The blindfold over his eyes was soaked with tears. His whole body ached and, to his horror, Volkov’s hand was on his cock again. Ben let out a groan as the Russian’s palm circled him again and he tried to shift his hips to the side. His throat ached with the sound of his own hoarse voice.
“There’s my darling Malyshka. I have a feeling you’re going to need to get used to the feeling of choking on my cock.”
Ben yelped as a second vibrator was pressed against his member. Nonononononono!!! How much worse could this get? How much further could Volkov debase him?
“Did you think this was over? Oh, my sweet, innocent boy. I told you I had no intention of holding back with you today. I fully plan on us being here for a while. Now, I’ve already come inside of you twice, so I need a bit of rest. You, on the other hand, decided to be a little shit.”
Ben let out a small whimper and then bit it back. No. Be quiet. Don’t engage with him. But it hurt. Everything hurt. And what didn’t hurt was too terrible to think about.
It wasn’t long before Ben couldn’t stop the whimpers and the wiggling. He was painfully hard and had been for a long time now. Volkov kept a steady rhythm, toying and teasing him with hands, fingers, and vibrator. Ben hadn’t known that pleasure could be warped this way, that feeling good could be such a betrayal.
Ben writhed against his restraints. His legs were sore, especially his bent knees, still splayed open and chained to the edge of the bed frame. God, he wanted to stretch so fucking bad. But his body couldn’t have what it wanted. Against his will, his hips bucked wildly, and he didn’t even try to stop the movement anymore. Volkov would build up a steady rhythm, stroking him, hand going faster and faster and let Ben start fucking into his hand–Ben couldn’t help it, he couldn’t–and then he would stop, suddenly, pulling his hand away.
Over and over, Ben was left frustrated and flushed with humiliation at what he knew he’d just been doing. And each time, Ben felt his resolve, his fight, crumbling and eroding further and further away.
“Would you like to come now?” Volkov asked playfully, thumbing Ben’s slit, making him jerk with forced pleasure. “Have you changed your mind, kitten?”
Ben sobbed. He didn’t want to, not like this. But god, he knew he couldn’t hold out any longer. He nodded, utterly broken and humiliated.
“Alright, Malyshka. I think you’ve earned that and more.”
Warning bells rang in Ben’s ears. What the hell did that mean?
The ring at the base of his cock was taken off, and Ben groaned in relief. Volkov jacked him with a fast, rough pace. Ben arched his back and came hard over Volkov’s hand in a matter of seconds, the vibrator still pressed against the head of his cock. Ben sobbed with humiliation and relief as Volkov milked the last of his orgasm from him.
Suddenly, something was being secured around the head of his cock. The fucking vibrator was another ring. Ben screamed as overstimulation slammed into him. He writhed and jerked his hips, again, trying to throw the ring off.
“I told you, my little scholar, that you’ve earned this. Let’s see how many we can wring from your body.”
Ben shook his head as Volkov pressed the vibrator further inside him. He knew he was in trouble as soon as the moan escaped from his lips. Volkov turned up the frequency, and so it began.
For the next two hours, Ben’s body was nothing but Volkov’s plaything, trapped in a brutal cycle of unwanted pleasure, orgasm, and unforgiving overstimulation. Volkov pumped the vibrator in and out; he changed the setting on the cock ring so that Ben couldn’t tell when the next pulse was going to come; he punished Ben’s cock with his relentless strokes. And he counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Eventually, Ben lost track. He couldn’t hear Volkov’s tally. He’d retreated inside of himself, and still it wasn’t enough. By the end, he was a writhing, babbling mess.
Volkov wiped his fingers, sticky with Ben’s forced seed, down Ben’s chest before reaching to take off the blindfold so he could get a better look at Ben’s desperation. A slow, toothy smile slid onto his face at the sight of Ben’s brown eyes, pupils blown wide from exertion. “There’s my lovely boy. All fucked out, aren’t you? Had enough yet?”
Ben sobbed, desperately nodding his head. His normally floppy brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his cheeks weren’t pink–they were beet red from exhaustion, stress and need. His nostrils flared, and he sucked in air through his nose in heaving gasps.
“I bet you have at least one more inside you just for me, don’t you?”
Ben shook his head. God please let this be over!
“I think you do. You want it to stop, you have to earn it. Are you willing to earn it?”
Ben nodded as tears streamed down his cheeks.
Volkov’s already broad grin broadened even more. “Good.” He pulled the silicone training gag out of Ben’s mouth. “Show me what you learned last time. Take me all the way down.” He unlocked the chain holding Ben’s cuffed wrists to the headboard, leaving his wrists bound in front of him.
Volkov was already half hard, and he helped Ben get to his knees. Without realizing it, Ben reached for the vibrating ring around his tip; he couldn’t handle both at once. No way.
It was the wrong thing to do. Volkov struck him hard on the cheek, opening up the cut on his lip again and sending him back to the mattress. Ben yelped with the force of the blow.
Volkov grabbed his hair with one hand, unclipped the short clasp between his wrists with the other, and then wrestled Ben onto his stomach. Ben struggled weakly as his arms were manhandled behind his back and clipped back into place. Volkov dragged him back to a kneeling position, and Ben screamed as his arms were yanked up and secured to the top of the headboard. Ben whimpered as his hair was pulled back and he stared up with wide eyes at Volkov.
“I really thought you were smarter than that, Little Scholar.” They stared at each other, both panting. “Did I give you permission to do that?” Ben squirmed in his hold as the vibrator around his dick whined suddenly higher.
Volkov shook his head with his hair. “I asked you a question,” he growled dangerously.
“Nghh,” Ben gasped, shaking his head as best he could.
“All you’re meant to do right now is be my fuck toy. Do you understand?” Volkov gave his hair another viscous shake.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut and nodded furiously. How the hell had he ended up here, prisoner to this mad man?
“You belong to me.” Shake. “I own you.” Shake. “You are MINE!” Volkov screamed the last word into Ben’s ear. He knelt on the bed in front of Ben and lowered him down towards his crotch, letting his shoulders strain behind him. “You better fucking make me happy or we’ll just keep going for a few more hours. Well, you will. I’ll settle down and take a long night’s sleep and you’ll spend the night writhing with an even bigger vibrator up your ass and your cock in a cage.”
Ben whimpered as Volkov pushed his mouth on to his cock for the second time that night.
Volkov slapped him to get his attention. “Use your fucking tongue. Make it good.” Ben had never had a blow job. He actually found the idea of mouth to genital contact rather revolting. However, in this instance, his sense of self-preservation overcame his revulsion. He obeyed, using his tongue to please Volkov, lapping against Volkov’s wet tip.
Alexsei used him for several minutes straight, pushing balls deep into Ben’s mouth more than once, but he lacked the intensity that he had earlier in the evening. It was slower, more measured, to draw out Ben’s suffering. Ben wasn’t just being fucked; he had to participate, to perform. Volkov admired the clearly painful tension in Ben’s shoulders and arms, the way his hands flexed and trembled with each thrust into his mouth.
Ben’s arms ached, the muscles spasming and trembling painfully behind him. And there was always the taste and texture of Volkov on his tongue. He had no idea how to truly give a blow job, so he just kept his tongue moving, hoping desperately that it was enough. He breathed through his nose, smelling sweat and sex, but there was no thought to what he did with his mouth. He blanked his mind as best he could, his only thought, keep moving.
So he did, he flicked his tongue over Volkov’s member, swirled it around, stretched it out and pulled it back. He had no energy to hold back his tears or stifle his trembling or the small cries that left him when Volkov would yank on his hair, wanting him to change angles. At least Volkov was letting him breathe this time.
Volkov pulled out of Ben and shoved him roughly down onto the bed with his ass still in the air, body twisted so he could get access. Ben wanted to cry with relief when his wrists were freed from the head board, but he didn’t have the chance. Volkov entered him without warning, without preparation, and only one tiny cry escaped Ben as he was pounded from behind.
Ben managed to clamp down on every sound he wanted to make except pained, breathy grunts. He was doing well, until Volkov reached around his abdomen and started stroking his sore, sensitive cock. Ben jerked and writhed, now moaning as Volkov’s hand moved at a punishing pace. Volkov came again after a few minutes, and Ben, still sobbing, spilled over his hand a few minutes later.
Volkov shoved Ben to his back on the bed, holding his knees apart and playing with the head of Ben’s cock, polishing it with the palm of his hand until Ben was thrashing and screaming. Before it could fall into pleasure once again, Volkov finally released him.
He grabbed Ben by the hair, pulling his face closer and backhanding him for the third time that night. Ben slumped back to the bed sobbing, bruised, and bloody.
“Don’t you ever pull that shit with me again, you little prick.” Volkov wrapped his thick hands around Ben’s throat just above the collar. He squeezed, and Ben gasped. There was no air. “You’re fucking mine! Do you hear me? MINE!” Volkov kept squeezing. Ben saw spots, then the edges of his vision grayed out. Ben tried desperately to suck in air, but nothing could get past the constriction around his throat. He felt himself losing consciousness, slipping into darkness. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and back into his hair.
Then, everything went black.
*!*!*!*!*
Volkov stared down at the fucked out toy beneath him. Little bastard didn’t want to scream? Fine. That could be arranged. He checked to make sure Benjamin was breathing. Volkov ran his fingers along the fresh marks just coming up. He’d have a lovely ring of bruises tomorrow. He undid Ben’s cuffs and put him in the recovery position before ringing for Dmitri to carry him back to his cage.
He pulled out his phone and took a picture of Ben, and then another of Ben’s face. He made sure he documented the sweat, blood, and tears staining his face, and the filth that still stuck to the boy’s body. This way, he’d never have to forget how ruined Ben was after this first time–and neither would little Benjamin or his brother. Before putting his phone away, he took a picture of the bruising around Ben’s neck. He’d get some rest and then send these pictures to Jake in the morning.
Volkov waited for his underling to take Ben away, with the instruction that the boy’s muzzle be put back on. If Benjamin would not scream, Benjamin would not speak. Volkov then crawled back into bed and slept like a baby. It was the first time he’d been able to work out all the tension in his body in a while. Fuck, it felt good. Next time he’d consider keeping Benjamin here so that he could wake up next to him and fuck him as soon as he woke up again.
*!*!*!*!*
When Ben came to, he was still bound, hands in front of him now. He wasn’t on the soft bed anymore. Not that he wanted to be. The ring had been taken out of his mouth, but it had been replaced with the tight muzzle. He was back in his cage. Despite everything, Ben breathed a sigh of relief and lay his head down on the cold floor of the cage. It was over. It was finally fucking over.
For now, a voice in his head supplied.
Ben stretched with relief at the realization that his ankles, while chained together, were no longer strapped to his thighs. His dick throbbed painfully between his legs and his backside felt like he’d been ripped in two; the ache was so deep he felt like it might never go away. But, damn it, he survived. And he hadn’t screamed when Volkov had fucked him. Not once.
Ben smiled under his muzzle. If it was the last thing he did, Ben swore to himself that he would never scream while Volkov used him Sure, he might make Ben scream during other tortures, but not that. Never. He could do it. He could keep that one tiny piece of himself alive in this hell hole. He would.
Alone and locked away, Ben let himself cry. He’d earned it, hadn’t he? The tears pooled beneath his cheek, and still he cried. He cried for home, for his lost future, for the person he’d been only two weeks ago. He cried for Zoe, and he cried for Jake and his parents. Ben cried for himself and what had happened to him over the last two weeks, and what had just happened to him in the last few hours. He cried for what would certainly happen again.
With the exhaustion of his tears came a quiet peace. Not a relief, but a reprieve. Ben didn’t fight the sleep that pulled his eyes shut. So what if he had a nightmare. He lived in a nightmare. Sleep was a welcome disconnect from reality. And Ben welcomed it with every fiber of his being.
*!*!*!*!*
Something brushed near his cage, and Ben gasped awake with a near scream. His eyes shifted around–was it Volkov? Had he already come back for more? He wasn’t ready. Not yet.. Ben sucked in smothered breaths through his muzzle.
“Easy! Easy, Ben. It’s just me,” Andrei said from the door of Ben’s cage.
It took Ben’s eyes a moment to settle on Andrei, for him to grasp that it was justAndrei, and no one else. His chest heaved, but he couldn’t get air; he felt like he was hyperventilating. It was a far greater response than it should have been. A panic attack probably, but knowing what it was didn’t make it stop.
“Breathe, Ben. Breathe. In and out. You’re okay right now. You’re okay.” Andrei spoke calmly as he opened the door of Ben’s cage. Ben jumped and pressed himself to the back of the cage, like a frightened animal.
“Hey, easy. Okay. Okay, I’ll leave it shut. Is that okay?” Andrei closed the door and sat back on the floor.
Ben met Andrei’s eyes. They weren’t the steel gray of Volkov’s. That helped. He focused on Andrei’s gentle, soft brown eyes. He breathed through the panic. Eventually his gaze drifted down, and he could see Andrei’s mouth was moving. His breath was still frantic in his ears, and he couldn’t quite hear. But still, he kept trying to focus on Andrei’s lips, trying to focus on his words.
“In… and out… In… and out.” Andrei nodded at Ben. “You’re doing great. It’s okay. We’re not in a rush. Take your time. I’m sorry I scared you when I took the cover off. I should have warned you.”
Ben nodded. He understood him.
“Is it okay if I open your door now? You don’t have to come out yet. It’s just you and me, kid,” Andrei’s voice was soft and gentle.
Ben nodded again; he remembered his rules. Andrei held the cage door open for him, and he crawled toward it.
“You don’t have to come out yet if you need a few minutes.” Andrei sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor next to the door, arms resting casually on his knees as he waited for Ben. “I’ll tell you the plan for the morning while you get your bearings. Vol- He’ll be down later. Wanted to sleep in. He said you could too. Would you prefer to keep sleeping or get cleaned up?” Andrei frowned as he took in the sight of Ben’s battered and bruised body, his filthy skin, the blood still on his face.
Ben lay at the doorway of the cage. He didn’t know what to do. He felt gross. He knew he’d been laying in dried sweat and blood and other bodily fluids all night. He looked up at Andrei, eyes pleading to be told what he should do. Ben didn’t want to choose; that never worked out for him. Not here. Whatever Andrei decided, Ben just wanted it to involve the least amount of pain possible.
“I promise I won’t do anything without your consent first. And I swear, I’ll be as gentle as possible. But you really do need to get cleaned up. I came in early so it would just be us and no Dmitri or Ilya. Is that okay?”
Ben nodded and crawled towards him. The effort it took to move his body even this far was exhausting.
“I’m strong enough to carry you. I have everything we need at the table. Is it okay if I assist you?”
Ben collapsed on the floor in front of Andrei and nodded his consent.
Andrei was very careful as he slowly pulled Ben up. “Let me know if I’m hurting you. Okay? I’m not trying to, but I need to assess your injuries as we go.”
Ben nodded. Andrei lifted him up and swung his arm over his shoulder. He carried Ben over to the table and helped him lay down on his side. Ben was aware that Andrei turned something on, there was a whirring sound and heat started to flow over him. A heater. Andrei had turned on a heater. Ben nearly giggled as the warmth flowed over him.
“Is that better?” Andrei asked.
Ben nodded.
“Is it okay if I take off the muzzle, Ben? It’s only for a little bit. Volkov ordered that you wear it all the time, and you’re forbidden to talk.” Andrei leaned in close to him. “But he’s not here right now.”
Ben nodded again.
Andrei removed the padlock and carefully undid the buckle. “Easy, easy,” he spoke calmly as he pulled it from Ben’s face. “I’m sorry in advance for when I have to put this back on.”
“‘S’okay,” Ben replied flatly, his voice rough.
“What did you do to have him forbid you from talking?”
Ben shrugged, but a shudder ran through his body. He moved his fingers to his throat as he recalled Volkov squeezing and squeezing there. Ben clenched his eyes shut at the memory of Volkov’s eyes looking into his as he strangled him.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re okay. He’s not here right now. You’re not there. Focus on here, okay. My voice, the table underneath you. Your heart rate, your breathing.”
Ben nodded, like he forgot he could talk for a moment.
“Is it okay if I start cleaning you up? I’d like to start with your face and then assess those bruises on your throat.”
“‘S’fine,” Ben said, voice raspy and harsh. He coughed and then winced in pain at the burn in his throat.
“You can keep your eyes closed if you want. It might help you relax.”
This time, Ben didn’t want to talk, so, again, he nodded and closed his eyes.
Andrei was true to his word and very gentle. He cleaned Ben’s face and neck with a warm sponge. His fingers were light as he probed at the bruising along Ben’s trachea.
“Ben, would you mind opening your mouth for me? I… I need to see if there’s any internal damage to your throat.” Andrei waited patiently, watching how Ben’s eyes rabbited around the room, as if her were still trying to make sure that Volkov wasn’t there. When his eyes settled back on Andrei, he nodded slowly and opened his mouth.
“Thank you, Ben. I’m going to put my hands on your chin and shine a light down your throat, okay?”
Andrei moved very slowly and paused before he touched Ben, waiting for Ben to acknowledge him. Ben opened his mouth wider in agreement. Andrei held on only as tightly as he needed to in order to steady Ben’s trembling. He shined his light down Ben’s throat and took note of the deep internal bruising that he observed there. Andrei turned the light off and Ben closed his mouth, his face flushing with embarrassment once again. Fuck that bastard. He must have been so brutal with the boy to leave bruising like that. Andrei swallowed, and not for the first time, he was grateful that he could.
“You’re going to be okay. You’ll be sore for a few days; you should conserve your voice when you can.”
Ben laughed. “L-like I h-have a ch-choice,” he rasped as he fought back tears;he’d cried enough yesterday. “W-why do you, you care anyway?” Ben’s voice was thin and unfamiliar to his own ears.
“You… well, you remind me of myself. Just a bit.”
“Volkov torture you too?” Ben couldn’t keep the hard edge of sarcasm out of his voice.
Andrei’s hands kept on. “Not physically, no. But do you think that this is what I saw myself doing when I first became a doctor?”
Ben shrugged again.
“May I move lower down your back, Ben? Some of these stitches will have to be done again, but it has to be cleaned first.”
“Fine.”
“When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a doctor.” Andrei kept his voice even as he talked. “Kids from my part of Russia don’t often have the means or ability to go to school, let alone become doctors. I was determined. I sought out every scholarship and program I could find. I got my undergraduate degree and my graduate degree, but when I was ready to go to medical school, there was nothing left. I had exhausted all my resources.”
Andrei dumped the warm water from the bucket and filled it with fresh water so he could continue cleaning.
“I heard about a brilliant philanthropist who was known to help people who were… promising. I’d worked hard to get the opportunities that I had. This was just one more thing to work hard at. It took me six months, but I finally got a face-to-face meeting with one Alexsei Volkov. He had billions at his disposal, always wore bespoke suits, and had an ear with the Kremlin. And he’d agreed to meet with me. I was a hopeful fool. I was utterly smitten with the legend of Alexsei Volkov. I bought everything he sold me, hook, line, and sinker.
“He agreed to put me through medical school, free of charge… with one small caveat: I had to come and work for him for a period of time after I graduated. He assured me I would be helping people and putting my medical degree to good use,”
Andrei paused and moved to Ben’s front. “May I clean your chest?”
Ben didn’t speak but rolled back to give him access. Andrei’s voice was calm, grounding. It was the most anyone had talked to him since he arrived here. At least the most talk which wasn’t threats and manipulation. At least he hoped this wasn’t manipulation. But what reason would Andrei have to lie?
“Anyway. It was my dream. And I would get to work with Alexsei. I willingly agreed and unknowingly signed my life away. I got my degree and had a job as well. It went well for the first year or so. Then he had me accompany him on a trip to the Philippines. It wasn’t a regular business or humanitarian trip. I… saw things. I saw Volkov do things… He made me participate and do things… Things I never thought I’d do…”
Ben giggled bitterly, still not fully processing everything. “Like helping someone that he’d fucked into unconsciousness?”
Andrei frowned. “Sort of. By the time we got back to Russia, I knew what he was. And I knew I’d never be able to leave him. He knew it too. Forced me to break up with my girlfriend. Kept me from contacting my family. I haven’t talked to them except for a five minute phone call here and there maybe three times over the last five years.”
Andrei looked at Ben as he finished cleaning his upper torso. “Like I said, do you think this is really what I wanted to be doing with my life? Volkov routinely shows me pictures of my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. It’s not because he’s being nice. It’s a threat. He’s letting me know he knows where everyone I care about is.”
Ben swallowed. “I… I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, Ben. Just wanted you to know why I’m here and why I care. I hate it here too,” Andrei whispered conspiratorially. “But I do what I can to help ease the suffering of those under his thumb in far worse conditions than me.”
Yeah, because helping Volkov draw out my torture and making sure I’m alert and concious is so fucking compassionate, Ben thought, bitterness coloring his view of the doctor once again.
Andrei sighed. “This is gonna be the hard part, Ben. I need to clean and inspect your lower half. If you’d like, I can start with your feet and legs.”
Ben nodded. He knew this was coming. His face flushed red with embarrassment at his condition–but then again, maybe Andrei had seen worse. Andrei changed the water again and then sponged off Ben’s feet and legs. As he got high up onto Ben’s thighs he had to change the water more frequently.
Ben was okay when Andrei was washing his feet. His breath caught slightly as Andrei cleaned the filth from his lower legs. He shut his eyes tight and felt his heart rate increase when Andrei cleaned his legs just above his knees and inspected the chaffing from the restraints that Volkov had put on him to hold him open. He bit his cheek to hold in his sob as the memories started to pour over him, through him and a soft groan escaped his lips.
“Ben, do you need a breather? I have to do the hard part now.”
Ben swallowed. “No. I can… I can do this. You won’t hurt me.”
“You sure?” Andrei rubbed at Ben’s tense calf muscles. “You seem tense.”
Ben gasped and his legs flexed at a sudden vision of Volkov rubbing his legs in a mock massage while he lay screaming and begging for him to stop from behind his gag.
“No! I’m good. I just… I fucking need this to be over!” Ben said through gritted teeth and harsh breaths. “Please.” Ben’s chest was heaving. “Please just finish.”
“Okay, like you said, I won’t hurt you, but some of this may be uncomfortable. If you need me to stop, I will.” Andrei checked his watch. “We still have time. There’s no rush.”
Ben gasped in a breath, it was stupid to be so emotional about a promise like that. But no one here had yet given him the option to say no. Andrei was holding that out to him like a lifeline. He was seen. His pain and trauma were seen. It was a small thing, but to Ben it was massive. He blinked rapidly as tears flooded his eyes.
“No. I want it over with,” Ben said, breathing slightly more calm than a few moments before.
Andrei repositioned him and started working.
Ben winced and hissed as the parts of his body that had endured the most trauma were cleaned and probed. He tried not to cry, but as the flashbacks started coming more quickly he gripped the edge of the table harder and harder. Ben squeezed his eyes shut and tried to do as Andrei told him. Focus on the feel of the table beneath him, his breathing, his heart rate, the sound of Andrei’s voice. But Andrei wasn’t talking now.
“Hey. Hey, Ben.” Andrei’s hands were on his face. “Hey, let’s take a break. It’s okay. You’re so strong. I can see it. You’re so very strong, Ben. You’re doing so good. I know this is hard. I’m so sorry that this is happening to you. Shhh. Shhh…”
It wasn’t until Andrei started shushing him that he realized he was crying, deep heaving sobs he’d been trying to hold in but that couldn’t be contained.
Andrei took his hand, and Ben gripped onto it like it was a life preserver. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s over. You’re not in that room. You’re not in that bed. It’s okay. Shhh.”
But it wasn’t over. It might never be over. Ben knew that Volkov was going to do this again and again and a again. He was going to come in here and drag him back to that room, to that bed. He’d do what he did last night as often as he wanted. And knowing Volkov, that would be frequent and Ben wouldn’t put it past Volkov to have even more evil surprises and tortures to inflict on his Malyshka. Whatever the hell that name actually meant.
Ben’s heart was in his throat. There was no air in the room. It didn’t matter how kind Andrei was, Volkov was a monster that was going to use him in any way he wanted. This was all an illusion. Neither Ben nor Andrei had any power here.
“Breathe, Ben. Breathe. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I should have realized you were in distress. I should have stopped. I was just trying to finish and get it over with. I’m sorry.”
Ben’s hair was sweaty again. He held desperately to Andrei’s hand as he rode out his tremulous emotions.
As his breathing calmed, he kept his eyes shut but told Andrei, “Please. Please finish. I need it done.”
“Okay. I’ll finish. And then I’ll help you get rinsed off. We’ll wash your hair. It’ll be okay.”
Andrei was gentle but quick. Ben had to bite down on the leather around his wrists as Andrei examined him, and he realized Andrei was trying to see if Volkov had torn him and how badly. As Andrei moved his gloved fingers out of him, Ben let out an agonized cry that he had held in since the night before.
“Okay. All done. All done. Hard part over.”
Andrei turned from him and tossed his gloves in the garbage. The damage wasn’t too bad. Andrei was honestly surprised that it wasn’t worse. He’d seen Volkov do so much worse, and to people even younger and more defenseless than Ben. He took a moment to take a few steadying breaths himself. He fucking hated this part of his job. He hated that he knew exactly what to look for, what kind of damage Alexsei liked to inflict.
He hated that he knew Ben would be okay because that meant that Volkov would drag him back to that horrible room and do this again, and maybe worse, sooner than Andrei would like. Maybe he could buy the kid some time, but it wouldn’t be much. If the damage were worse, he could bargain for more. But fuck if Volkov didn’t learn from his past mistakes as well. Sick bastard.
He grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to Ben.
“Drink. It’ll help.” Ben sat up as best he could, shivering slightly from the fear and humiliation that kept rolling through him. He sipped on the water. It did seem to help, and Ben found that he was ravenously thirsty. He finished the bottle of water within a few minutes.
“Th-thank you,” he managed to whisper to Andrei.
“You’re welcome. Is it okay to get you rinsed off now? I’ll help you stand. You must be sore and exhausted.”
Ben nodded, wiping at the tears that still kept coming.
“It’s okay, don’t try to hold it in. I know it’s hard.”
Ben couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe Andrei saw what other people suffered, but he had no idea what it was to be in Ben’s shoes. “Stop saying that! You don’t! You see all the medical stuff, but you don’t actually know. You don’t know what it’s like to have what he did to me done to you, for hours. Hours! I wanted him to stop. He wouldn’t stop!”
“I know. It’s what he does. You must have got angry last night. All I can say is I’ve never heard of him getting so furious that after a first time, he orders them muzzled. Hold onto that. It’s what will help you survive,” Andrei challenged.
“I-I just want it to stop,” Ben’s voice cracked with desperation, “and it’s not… It’s not going to. He’s going to do it again and I don’t want him to.”
“He is. We both know that. I’m sorry. Like I said yesterday, god, I wish I could do more. But I promise you that I will always be here afterwards to help you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Ben barely heard him. “I’m so tired,” he whimpered.
“I know. Come on. Let’s get you rinsed off and your hair clean. It’s still all sweaty. You can relax, sleep even if you want. I’m not gonna touch anything that hurts for a while. I’ll have to redo your stitches, but I can give you a local anesthetic. I told you the hard part was over, and I meant it.”
Andrei helped Ben sit in a chair under the shower nozzle. He turned the nozzle away from Ben until it was warm. All the leftover bits of filth and sweat were washed away. Andrei tilted Ben’s head back, supporting the base of his skull with one hand and directing the water over his scalp with the other. Ben kept his eyes closed, and Andrei noted the almost peaceful expression on the boy’s face. He turned off the water and lathered up some soap in his hands. Ben had longish hair, especially when it was wet; Andrei combed his fingers through it, but it took a minute for Andrei to work out all the dried blood and other fluids. He massaged Ben’s scalp, knowing how much tension it might help release.
Ben didn’t talk, but Andrei watched as the boy’s breathing calmed to a slow, steady pace for the first time since he took him out of his cage. Andrei turned the water on and rinsed out the soap. Then he repeated the process. He didn’t need to, Ben’s hair was clean of all the offending material, but he knew the boy could use someone touching him that wasn’t threatening, wasn’t harmful. He needed human contact that was free of pain. And so he gave it to him. He washed Ben’s hair three times before he finally turned off the water.
He got a towel, and unlike Dmitri who liked to pull hair and hurt, Andrei was very soft as he toweled Ben’s hair dry.
“Come on Ben, let’s get you dressed. You’ll feel more like a human being once you have your clothes back on.”
“Hmm. Yeah,” Ben replied sleepily in his ragged voice.
Andrei helped him up again, and Ben leaned heavily against him as they walked back to the table. Andrei helped him get dressed and then eased him back down onto the table.
“Andrei?” It was the first time Ben had called him by name. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Ben, what do you need?”
“What… What does Malyshka mean?” Ben lay on his stomach with his eyes closed. He didn’t see the frown on Andrei’s face.
“It means babe or baby, like a… um… term of endearment.”
Ben’s face twisted in disgust. “I thought it was something like that, fucker.” Ben settled his head back onto his arms and took a deep breath.
Andrei smiled. “He is.”
“Can I have your permission to inject you with some pain killers? They’re local for your back, so I can do the stitches.”
Ben lay with his head pillowed on his arms. “Yes. Do what you have to. I just don’t wanna hurt.”
“It’s okay, Ben, I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let it hurt if I can help it.”
Ben winced a few times as he felt the needle going into the abused sections of his back. Andrei tossed the needles and medication away. He’d put it all in the incinerator once Ben was asleep again; Volkov would be angry if he found out that Andrei had spared Ben any suffering.
Once Ben’s back was numbed, Andrei worked quickly. He restiched the cuts from the whip that had split open and made sure they were disinfected once again.
“Okay, Ben. I’m all done.” He gently touched Ben’s shoulder and smiled as a soft snore left the boy’s mouth.
Andrei gathered up all the supplies and evidence of drugs and gentle treatment and then walked down to the incinerator at the end of the hall. He tossed all of it in and kicked the furnace on. By the time he returned to Ben, he was curled up on the table, sleeping soundly. Andrei checked his watch. He still had time before Volkov and his men would be down here. He took the muzzle and set it on the prep table. He’d let Ben sleep as long as he could before he had to wake him and put that god awful contraption back on his face. Still. It was evidence that Ben was the fighter Andrei knew him to be.
“Bravo, Ben,” Andrei whispered, letting a gentle hand smooth Ben’s wet hair away from his face. “Whatever the hell you did to make the old man so mad… Bravo, kid. Bravo.”
Rescuers find a locked door to a room that, at first, looks completely empty. They look down to see two figures huddled together in the corner. One holds the other who’s passed out closely in their arms, and doesn’t look fully conscious themself. They shift a little as the rescuers slowly come closer.
“Hey there, you doing okay?” one of them asks as they reach a hand out. “What happened to you?”
As soon as they lay a hand on their shoulder, the conscious prisoner jerks away and snarls angrily at them, holding their unconscious partner closer to them. They won’t let any of the rescuers get close. They’re exhausted and injured and weak, but ready to fight and die to protect their vulnerable partner.
let your whumpee escape. let them get away from their captor, their interrogator, the group beating them, or the building that has collapsed on them. let them free themself under their own power, without any aid.
let them get away, but don’t let them find support.
make them try to find shelter as they cradle a broken bone, or press a hand to a wound to slow the bleeding until they have enough time to try to patch it up. make them search for a motel that’s cheap enough, or a deserted building or alley.
make them cobble together bandages out of pillowcases stripped off of the first bed they’ve seen in weeks. make them try to wrap clumsily torn strips around an injury they can’t quite reach well enough to treat on their own. let them collapse as they try to get back to the bed, and make them pick themself back up because no one is there to help them.
“Wakey, wakey, baby!” The tug of the chain slightly choked him and made him coughed before he was released again. Ronald chuckled, then gently touched his battered back. Just because of the eye gaze, he had to endure such severe torture.
“Time to get up and get to work!”
Oooh this is gorgeous!! The shadows and the bruises? And that chain? Chef’s kiss!
“Come now, dear. What’s the worst thing that could happen when you drop the tough act and just do as I say? All this—” he tightly gripped their arm and squeezed his thumb next to a healing cut, making Whumpee grit their teeth in pain, “—could stop.”
“You’ll just keep making things worse,” Whumpee said, conceding some of their fears. It was completely logical for them not to bend. “Worse and worse and—“
“No, darling, no. Not when you behave.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll just keep testing me. See how far you can push me. Keep upping the stakes until I’ll finally say ‘no’ and you’ll have your excuse to—“
“What makes you think I need an excuse?”
True. Even if they behaved perfectly, Whumper wouldn’t just stop. Which was the main reason they wouldn’t give in. Why submit when he was going to hurt them anyway? Pain, fine. Pain plus the burning shame of humiliation and the knowledge that they yielded? No. At least now they had the small pleasure of having him make an effort to get what he wanted.
And Whumpee knew that if they’d give into one simple request – get on your knees, look at me – it would soon escalate to worse things, push at their limits and comfort zone. Give a finger and he’d take their hand. And that little crack in their pride would keep getting larger, shame seeping in for giving in to the simple demands to escape some pain, until finally, it would splinter.
And they’d lose themself.
“Well,” Whumper drew away and instead crouched down next to them, helping them sit upright, but kept a tight grip onto their neck and tilted their chin up. “If you don’t want to get hurt, the solution is very simple, then.”
He smiled as Whumpee’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just don’t say ‘no’.”
