C.W. descriptions of fear, whumper making unwanted advances, noncon/dubcon kiss, sadistic whumper, masochist whumpee, threatening with a knife, freeze response, the beginning of a very fucky relationship
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“Come in.” Hayko said, keeping his eyes down.
The form wasn’t going to fill itself. If he succumbed to every distraction, he would never get anything done and the attention problem certainly didn’t help. But the scruff of feet behind the door was composed and the knock, quiet, hardly enough to disturb him.
Hayko’s new office was simple and elegant with a pleasant enough view, and pleasant enough was all he had ever wanted. First looking out onto the sea of buildings, he had marvelled at just how high-up the feeling had been, even though above the rest wasn’t really something he had ever wanted.
But it felt nice, for once. To be above the rest instead of kneeling on the ground.
Having his own office and having the money to have his own office. He’d laughed at the wistful dream, through law school. And now? With how the business was going, a certain person had been a little more-than-generous with compensating him. Not that Hayko’s inspiration for law had been monetary.
But then again, moral good-doing hadn’t stopped his kitchen ceiling from collapsing every week.
Hayko finally looked up when there was no reply. “I-… Come…in?”
Then, two more slow knocks.
Hayko stilled, breath catching before he set down his pen. His first sense was stabbing panic and then, the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. “Come in, Nick.”
“Much better.” And there he stood, unavoidable now that the door was out of the way.
Whumpee immediately stopped struggling. They clenched their shaking fists and closed their eyes, their breaths became longer and quieter. Fear grabbed their heart when they understood that they did it again. “What. Have you. Just. Said,” Whumper asked slowly with anger in their voice. “I-I… I begged you… to…,” Whumpee’s words were shaking even more that Whumpee themselves, “I begged you for mercy,” they whisperd. “Again,” added Whumper. “Again,” repeated Whumpee silently.
Whumper sighed, visibly irritated and approached their closet with torture tools. They took the shining needle and the thick thread and threw it under Whumpee’s feet. “Stitch it up,” they said. “W-what…?,” Whumpee lifted their head and looked at Whumper. “You’ve heard me. I’m tired of your filthy mouth” Whumper sat comfortably in their chair and grabbed a glass of red wine, “Sew your lips together. And do it slowly, dear. I love watching you bleed”.
Whumper organizes tournaments in which Whumpees fight each other in a small, dark arena. They are surrounded by other slaves, cheering them up or calling them the worst names. There are no rules here, other than one of the Whumpee’s passing out the only way to finish the fight is Whumper’s order.
The fighting pairs are never random, Whumper knows exactly who among their precious Whumpees hates who. I mean of course they know, it’s Whumper who turned them against each other one the first place.
The winner can do whatever they want to the one who loses.
Whumpee was cowering behind an old throne. They were quivering and trying their best not to make any sound. They tried to cover their mouth with a hand, but it instantaneously reminded them of Whumper, taking away their voice for weeks with that tight, heavy gag. There were so cold in here and their holey clothes couldn’t keep them warm enough, their teeth were gritted in order to avoid any noises. They felt soreness and exhaustion, but giving up wasn’t an option.
Suddenly Whumpee heard steps. Their echo was spreading loudly throughout the old, ruined castle. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Whumper’s joyful voice appeared to be closer than Whumpee thought. They jumped and ran towards the back door, trying to be as quiet as they could. They were fighting with the clanking chains around their wrists, so they didn’t pay attention crossing the treshold. Sharp pain in the leg stopped and threw them to the ground, making a dreadful noise. Goddamn traps! They started crawling, looking for some place hide, any place, but the bloody trail would give their location away anyway.
The sound of slow steps and a blade being brought up came from the throne room. “No… no, no, no!,” Whumpee felt panic, but they couldn’t move. They could just watch how Whumper appears with a horrifying smile and comes through the door, passing by the trap. “I found you,” Whumper said with a spark in the eyes. They approached Whumpee and petted their trembling head. The blade touched Whumpee’s cheek and wiped a single tear, leaving a deep, red line of blood instead. Whumper leant down and whispered to Whumpee’s ear, “I win again,” covering their mouth from screaming.
“I think there was a misunderstanding,” said Whumper, ignoring Whumpee’s cry. Another lash landed at Whumpee’s back. Their eyes were full of tears, but it wasn’t the pain that hurt the most, it was frustration. They had been so close, so close to escaping, to freedom, so close to see their friends again. God, they don’t even remember their faces anymore.
“You thought you’re my prisoner,” Whumper’s voice was calm, which was always terrifying Whumpee way more than when they were mad. “You thought you can try to escape, fight with me, that you have a chance to have your life again. But listen to me very carefully,” Whumper came closer and grabbed Whumpee’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “You are a slave. You are mine now. You can’t say no, you can’t disobey, you can’t keep fooling yourself that your life still belongs to you,“ their hand moved on Whumpee’s throat, tightening the grip. “Your body is mine to hurt. Your mind is mine to twist. Your soul is mine to fill with darkness,” after a while of silence Whumper released Whumpee’s neck. They took a desperate breath and fell down, right next to Whumper’s feet. Whumper looked at them with a contempt. “Focus on the pain. Remember it. Remember it every time you will think about leaving me again. Because this,” strong lash came with that last word, “this is your life now, “ another lash, “and it will last for decades”.
Whumpee’s feet fumbled and slid across the carpet as they scrambled to keep up with Whumper. Fingers bruised deep into their arm, wrenching their shoulder forward as they were dragged upstairs to the office.
Whumpee stumbled forward, tripping over the rug as Whumper shoved them into the room. They clattered to a halt on top of the antique trunk Whumper used as a coffee table.
“Get in.”
Whumpee glanced around the room. “Ge-….what?”
“Getin.” Whumper nodded to the trunk behind them.
Whumpee twisted to stare at it. It was- it was barely bigger than them! Whumper couldn’t be serious. “Wh-why?”
“Because you’re going to be bleeding a whole lot less if you get in yourself instead of making me put you there.”
Not the question.
Whumpee swallowed with some difficulty, but managed to turn on their knees, picking at the cool metal hatch pin until it came up. They stared over their shoulder. “Please - a-at least tell me what I did.”
Whumper snorted out a mirthless laugh. “You’re doing it right now. Does that give you a hint?”
Whumpee’s eyes twitched away, heat rising to their face, they started at the small dark corner of the box. Their legs and fingers were trembling.
No,all of them was trembling. The tremor wound from their lungs down through every horrified cell of their body, scratching at their mind and screaming at them to stop.
Slowly - so slowly - they lowered themself inside.
.
(To be continued with the rest of the claustrophobe scene…)
