Carrot Top 51- Restriction

Well, this was originally going to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it up into two separate chapters. Anyways, here’s chapter 51! Chapter 50.Masterlist.

CW: medical whump, experimenting on a whumpee, restraints, power-restricting/shock collars, some lady whump (nothing graphic, very brief), manhandling, possessive whumper, unconscious whumpee.

- - -

“Is this the right place?” Micah whispered.

They had been traveling for nearly four hours, following the directions of the coordinates on the small device. They were all on the edge of their seats- exhausted, and incredibly worried. Mickie finished rebraiding her hair for the hundredth time and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her pants. 

“Well it looks pretty similar to the last time we had to rescue him, so I’d say we’re here.” Justin stated. He finished chugging the water bottle he had in his hand, crumpled it up and tossed it off to the side. 

“The last time?” Micah glanced around- staring at the concrete building, towering walls- a few stories high, glowing faintly in the dark light. “What should- what should I expect?”

“Considering he was practically drowning in a pool of his own blood- whatever that man has done, it’s- it’s going to be bad.” Mickie snarked- her voice trailing off as she stared out towards the building. 

Micah bit back his tongue, trying to swallow the fear. He had to stay level-headed for as much of this as he could. He glanced at Mickie as she zipped up her jacket. She looked so much like her brother- acted a lot like him too.

He wished the first time meeting his boyfriend’s sister would’ve been in better circumstances than a rescue mission.

His boyfriend…

Could he even call him that? 

He obviously knew the boy liked him, that was clear. But if he was ready for a whole other level to their relationship was another question.

As soon as Andrew was better- once he was safe, he’d ask him. He’d make sure of it.

Micah climbed out of the helicopter, following everybody else as he adjusted the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants. 

They didn’t know he had brought a gun- after all, from their explanations they never needed them because of their powers. But he was just normal. Micah didn’t know how to fight like they did. But he did know how to defend himself.

And this man- whoever this ‘Splice’ was, had obviously done unexplainable horrors to his friend. 

There was no way he was walking in there empty-handed.

“So, Justin and I will walk in there first- hopefully we can minimize any fighting necessary with my controlling powers- and then Mickie, you can disguise you two and follow close behind? Kind of as backup if necessary, but I want you to stay out of sight if possible.” Ali explained.

Everyone nodded, they knew this had to go as smoothly as possible. For Andrew’s sake.

- - -

It had been a little more than eight hours, and he was getting ready for the ninth transfusion. Double checking and triple checking everything- it seemed like it was going well. The cuts had closed up by now, which was good. He needed to retain the new blood- not continue to lose it. Splice admitted he looked beautiful though- the red lines covering the back of his body- the way his hair fell towards the ground- his eyes perfectly closed as he succumbed to the machine. 

He checked the blood in the eighth bag from where it was hung- it was nearly empty- when the door to the room burst open, and two small figures stepped inside.

“You’re early!” Splice cried.

“W-what?” The girl said.

“This is not how I had planned it to go!” He cried, throwing his hands down onto the cart of supplies with a crash. The two kids just stared at him in shock, the boy with a weapon of ice poised to attack, the girl standing just behind his shoulder. Her eyes were so focused on Andrew that she didn’t even glance towards the man as he spoke.

“I needed three more hours. Just three!” Splice groaned in frustration, shoving the cart to the wall with a crash. The girl flinched back as tools and supplies rained to the ground as it toppled.

Splice dug his fingers through his hair. What was he going to do now? The process was going to be interrupted if they tried to rescue him. True he could always restrain the other two while he finished, that was an option, but before he could come up with a plan, the boy jolted towards him.

“Let him go!” He cried as he lunged an attack.

Splice groaned in frustration, knocking Justin back towards the ground with a well-aimed kick. He quickly sprung back to his feet and began throwing punches and attacks as the man tried to defend. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl rushing towards his prisoner where he lay.

“Oh no you don’t-” He stepped away from Justin, causing him to fall off balance. Splice grabbed Ali by the arm as she reached for Andrew and threw her across the room in a swift move. He darted to the control panel- grabbing a lever towards the side.

“Stop!” He shouted. “Don’t move. This lever controls everything he’s hooked up to- I pull it, and all the machines keeping him alive and breathing, will shut off, splat, kapoot- that’s it.”

“No- don’t-” The girl whispered. 

“Oh I won’t hesitate.” He threatened. “It’s very noble that you want to help, and rescue him, but I need you to back away from the boy.” Splice demanded. The two kids did as they were told- holding their hands in the air. “Good. Now it’s very vital that I finish what I was doing, or this whole thing I’ve been working on will be useless.”

At the sound of his words, Splice’s own form seemed to melt off of his body. It pooled to the ground before rising up and splitting in two, creating two other replicas of the man. 

Ali shuddered as one of them approached her- they always looked so dead inside- nothing behind their eyes, no thoughts- no feelings, just whatever command they were given. 

“Grab her.” He commanded.

Ali couldn’t mind control something that didn’t have a mind of it’s own.

Her powers were useless against it as the figure pulled her arms tight behind her back, holding her in a tight grip. Justin darted towards her to help but the second clone grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 

He cried out, trying to swing a punch with his other arm but it was blocked just as quickly as he swung it. 

“Hey now-” Splice called out- motioning towards the lever- “I suggest you cooperate. For your friend’s sake here.”

Justin glared towards the man and let his arms be pulled behind his back with a grumble- glancing towards Ali to make sure she was alright. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Andrew the entire time. 

“There we are, that’s better.” The man stated. He disconnected the drip bag that was now empty, and set it off to the side.

“What are you doing to him?” Ali asked. Her voice wavered with worry as she watched her friend lie there- unmoving, suspended in the air.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that. Let’s get you two out of the way for the moment, shall we?”

Splice moved to the cart where he had collected a few extra collars. They were scattered about with the other supplies, but he managed to pick them out of the mess. The goal was to make more as time went on, for all future prisoners, but these other three he had rounded up would have to do, even if they may have been a little imperfect. 

He slipped one over his arm, grabbing the second in his hand. He pressed his thumb against a button and moved towards the girl.

“Hold still now- this will only pinch a little.”

“What are you- hey-” She cried out as the collar was locked around her throat, a sharp pinch in the back of her neck from the prongs. Almost instantly waves of pain shot up the back of her neck, exploding into her head. She groaned out- this was far worse than any migraine- and soon her vision began going spotty.

Her limbs felt heavy, and her knees began to buckle. 

Justin lashed out towards her as she started to fall. The clone struggled to hold him back, but as the other one laid Ali down by the wall it quickly came to restrain Justin as well.

“What did you do!” He cried. “What did you do to her!” He was seething with anger- thrashing about as a clone struck the back of his knees, tearing his arms behind him as he crashed to the ground. 

Justin watched with terror as she groaned and writhed on the floor- her hands clutching the sides of her head. His attention was quickly pulled away Splice approached him next with the second collar. 

“No- get that away from me!” 

Splice wrenched his head back with a fistful of his hair, exposing his neck and soon the collar was locked around his throat as well. He winced at the pain and nearly instantly began to feel slightly dizzy. 

“What is-” his fingers reached towards his throat. “What is this-” his breathing began to quicken.

“They’re power restricting, isn’t wonderful? Much easier than a surgical procedure, like we had to use last time” Splice explained. His clones came back and melded back into his form, as Justin collapsed on the ground- panting for breath.

“It’s different for each person. They’re beautifully made, but of course I’m a little biased, considering they are my creation.” He gestured towards the boy- his white hair drooping to the ground- his pale skin. “Andrew here simply became more easier to work with. For her, she’s probably having the worse migraine of her life, and you,” Splice knelt down in front of Justin- his face beginning to feel clammy as he tilted his chin up “-you will probably start feeling the affects of dehydration pretty soon. Your powers being water-based and all.”

Justin looked towards Ali once more. Herbody was shaking as her arms wrapped around her head. His limbs felt heavy as he dragged himself over to where she lay on the ground. His fingers fumbled uselessly over the edges of her collar- trying to find a clasp, an opening, or something.

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you.” Splice taunted.

“Take it off-” he pleaded- “it’s hurting her-”

“That won’t work- they’re encoded with my fingerprint. It’s the only way to remove them.”

Ali grumbled as he fussed with it some more- ignoring all the man’s direction.

“Take it off-” he demanded.

Splice shook his head, reaching for a small remote he kept in his pocket.

“Alright, well if you won’t listen to me-”

And then there was fire coursing through his veins. Justin flew back from Ali, his back crashing against the ground.

“Did I mention they have incapacitating abilities as well?”

The shocks coursed through his veins- spasming every muscle, tightening his lungs- and Justin screamed. Splice knelt near the boy as he thrashed against the ground, and waved the remote towards the girl.

“Next time- it’ll be her collar that goes off, understand?” 

Through his groans of pain Justin nodded, sweat pouring down his forehead as he spasmed. 

“Good. I suggest you listen from now on, yes?” 

Splice rose to his feet as he turned up the dial for the strength of the shocks, and Justin screamed once more.

Tag List: @imagination1reality0@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@thehopelessopus@burtlederp@whump-me-all-night-long@laves-here@yesthisiswhump@myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19@brutal-nemesis@lunaabsentee@morning-star-whump

Carrot Top 54- Compensation

Ugh, this chapter was so tricky to write. I wanted to use several different povs and stuff, but I think this works. So here is the next chapter! Part 53.Masterlist.

CW: a lot of pain, and descriptions of pain, restraints, talk about old injuries, lots of threats, electrocution (shock collar), knives, guns, choking, whips (some of this is threatened, some is used), a lot of blood, intimate/creepy whumper, multiple whumpees, (Splice is just an all-around dick, sorry.)

- - -

There was fire coursing through his veins.

It was no more than a dull warmth- an ache- that traveled up the back of his spine, and along each and every cut and mark that trailed it’s way around his body. His ankles were still throbbing- swollen and purple- but he couldn’t feel much pain. 

From his small amount of coherence, it didn’t seem like he could feel his hands or his feet. He hung limply in the chains around his wrists- each breath a labored effort as he tried to get his lungs to pump against the strain of his own body weight. 

Splice was speaking. 

He was retelling- and going over every injury- every single scar- and story and torture session- and moment of pain and humiliation. And his friends were listening to every second of it.

Micah, was listening to every second of it. 

Micah had already seen the lesson Splice had taught him. The conditioned responses that he answered without hesitation. The answers that he had come to believe. 

That he belonged to Splice. That he was nothing more than a tool, or a toy. To be used as the man saw it- all because he deserved it. Because he was nothing.

The man had taken him once. 

He had found his freedom- and for a moment- a brief period of time, Andrew believed he could maybe find happiness again. He could maybe get better- and recover. 

And then it was all stripped away once more. 

Except now his friends were here too. 

It wasn’t just his life he was sacrificing. It wasn’t just his body that was being tortured and beaten- it wasn’t just his mind that would be broken and shattered. 

So as he heard Micah crying- as he saw the man towering over him- a- a gun, pressed to the side of his face and the pleas and begs of mercy that came from his friend- Andrew knew he had to do something.

“Please!” He had cried. “Please don’t- don’t hurt him.” He had said he’d do anything. Sacrifice himself- give up what little he had left- as long as his friend remained safe. But it had worked.

Tears leaked from Andrew’s eyes as he held the gun in between his teeth- his lips closed around the cool metal- his jaw aching after a few moments from the strain. 

His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as fingers brushed over his body. He felt the man’s hand trail up the soft flesh of his stomach- fingering over the old stab wound as he explained what had happened. It trailed across the lines over his ribs that he had made with the knife- traveling up the line across his chest. The line that tore right down the middle- from where he had been carved open and patched back together from the inside out. 

Andrew’s breath hitched as his wrists were grabbed and his back was turned. 

He felt shame blush over his cheeks as the hands carded down his back. Trailing over every whip mark- every slash of the blade, every sign of a beating. 

And then Micah was screaming. 

Andrew couldn’t make out the words he was saying- but he could hear the pain, and the desperation in the other boy’s voice. 

As Micah cried and shouted- Andrew could feel the shame- and the humiliation blossoming over his skin. His stomach churned- his face flushing and a sweat dripping more fiercely from his skin. 

He knew the brand was sitting there- right in between his shoulders. It was all too painful of a reminder. It was a permanent reminder of who he belonged to. 

Andrew heard a few things in the events that followed. There was a small conversation between Splice and Micah, that he couldn’t quite make out- a whispered plea- and then pain shot through his jaw.

He heard a loud bang- a strangled scream- a low whine- and then something was shoved in his mouth once more.

He felt a stream of spit down his chin as the familiar leather of the muzzle wrapped around his face. It took a minute to realize the whine was him- his jaw was on fire. 

Another scream drew his attention away- and through his blurry tear-filled vision he saw spurts of blood on the floor- he could tell that was Justin on the ground- 

He quickly put the events together and his stomach jumped in his throat- but the muzzle wouldn’t let anything get anywhere. 

Splice could read Andrew’s thoughts through his eyes as he turned to look at the man. 

“Oh don’t be so upset- it’s just his shoulder.” Splice stated. “Now, like I said- is anyone going to keep me from doing what I want?” 

Andrew shook his head and the man turned towards Micah. 

He shook his head lightly- and then he turned to Justin. 

The boy was lying on his back, gripping his shoulder- trying not to writhe in pain as he grit his teeth. 

“What about you- hmm?” The man taunted- coming to stand over top of the where the boy lay. “Are you gonna stay down- where you belong?”

“You- you bastard-” Justin groaned out. “You shot me!” 

“Oh I’m well aware of that. But I won’t be tolerating anymore outbursts- or attempts at an attack- or anything similar, understand?” 

“Go to hell-” 

Splice shook his head- and placed his shoe on top of the wound- pressing down slightly.

Justin’s head slammed back into the floor with a crack and he gasped back a scream. 

“Get- get off-” he wheezed. “-just stop– aaggh!”

Splice dug the heel of his shoe further into the wound- blood pooling underneath the boy as his head arched back in a scream.

The chains above Andrew’s arms where he hung rattled as he thrashed about. He could barely see or understand what was happening- but he could hear the screams. 

“Stop it!” Micah yelled. 

Justin was thrashing about from the pain- his face going white- and he let out a strangled gasp when the man finally let off.   

“Alright- alright- I’ll let him bleed out naturally.” Splice held his hands in the air and Micah breathed a sigh of relief. 

Justin glanced to where Ali was curled up on the floor- she was slightly shaking- arms wrapped tight around her head but she hadn’t moved or muttered a sound. Justin somehow managed to pull himself closer- reaching out a shaking hand to brush against her shoulder before he collapsed. 

“Stop- please- for god’s sake-” Micah pleaded. “What do you want? What do you want from us?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The man laughed. “I want him. I have wonderful things planned, things that I already started to accomplish- when you all had to come in and interrupt. After all, I wasn’t expecting you all for at least another day.”

“What- what plan?” Micah mumbled. He needed to keep the man talking. The more that he talked- the less he could do to hurt anyone. 

“Well, the first part is getting you all out of the way. You know, crush his hope and all chances of rescue.“ He chuckled to himself. "It seems like I already have two down, and you’re the only one left.” Splice knelt down in front of the boy- tilting his chin up with the tip of his finger. “So, how would you like to be taken out, hmm?” 

Micah’s mind was racing. His heart lodged in his throat- his boyfri-best friend, was chained up- hanging by his arms in front of him. His only other help was unconscious or bleeding out.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a flash of movement from behind the man. He didn’t look at it for long- not wanting to give anything away but he could feel Mickie’s presence. At least she was still here.

For her sake he wished she was at least able to escape- to save herself.

Micah’s eyes met the man in front of him.

“A knife, perhaps?” He stated. “I could cut you up into little pieces- or- or carve lines in your skin and watch you bleed out.” A thin- bony hand wrapped around the boy’s neck- resting right above the collar. Micah’s eyes grew wide. “Or I could strangle the air out of you until there’s nothing left. Leaving you gasping and struggling until your heart stops. How’s that sound?” 

Micah’s mind was racing as the hand cinched tighter around his throat. He managed to focus on the man- and not the movement going on behind him. He had to keep his attention. 

Splice dropped him to the floor- leaving him gasping. Unable to prop himself up with his hands behind his back, he lay on the ground- chest heaving for air. 

“Or- or, and this one is my favorite. I could beat you.” Splice moved towards the cart and Micah held his breath- hoping Mickie would stay out of sight. The man picked up a small object and turned back towards the boy with the item poised in his hand. “How do you think you’d handle a whip, hmm?” He taunted. “How many hits before you begged for mercy, or for death?”

It cracked against the ground and Micah scrambled backwards with a soft yelp. 

“This can make even the strongest men wail. On his first beating, he took about twenty lashes. Most of them after that were only ten- or fifteen. But, he could barely make it through nine to the backs of his legs this last time.”

Micah tried to push away that visual. He could already see all of the scars.

“What- what other options are there?” Micah asked.

“Pardon?” 

“If you’re going to kill me, and I get a say in it- I’d like to know all my options.” Micah’s eyes darted back and forth between the man- the whip in his hand- and Mickie- who was inching closer towards Andrew. “I’m sure- I’m sure you can be a little more creative.”

Splice stepped back- almost as if he was offended. 

“Oh- I have many ways to make you beg for mercy- to make you wish for death.” He picked up the boy’s face in his hand, forcing Micah high on his knees. “Let’s start with the knife though, shall we? And then we can explore our options from there.”

Micah saw the glint of the pocketknife before it could meet his skin. Before he could protest or say anything about the other options- it still had flecks of dried blood along the base and the handle- and the man twirled it around so effortlessly in his fingers. 

“Well, it’s sure nice to have a clean slate. The challenge is where to start.” Splice taunted. He glanced at Andrew- a look of pain on his face- his eyes clenched shut- arms shaking. “You two sure make a cute couple, don’t you think?” 

“Excuse me?” Micah looked towards Andrew- his face tilted towards the ceiling- sweat dripping off his pale skin. 

“Quite a handsome pair. It’d be a shame if something ruined it, hmm?” 

“What do yo-” His voice lodged in his throat as one hand wrenched his head backwards by his hair. He gasped- eyes wide towards the ceiling. “Please- no, I-” 

His pleas were useless as he felt the tip of the blade against his skin. 

Splice was an expert with the knife. 

He knew where all the primary veins were. All the points that could make you bleed out in an instant- or lead to a slow and painful death.

As the knife slashed through Micah’s face, the man was careful to avoid his eye- instead starting at his temple and cutting down to his chin. 

The boy screamed- blood swarming into his vision and pooling into his mouth. He gasped and crashed to the floor as the man let him fall. 

“There we go-” The man taunted. “Now you’ll have some scars to match.”

Micah curled into himself- desperate to stem the bleeding or at least wipe it from his eyes but his hands were still restrained behind his back. He whimpered in frustration and pain- trying to pull himself back onto his knees.

“Why-” A small voice piped up. It was Justin- his voice breathy and weak through the pain. “-why do you feel the need to hurt everyone?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“What are you compensating for?” He had managed to prop himself up on an elbow- his good arm sustaining his weight as he glared up at the man- a bit of his pale hair falling into his eyes.

Splice stood for a moment, staring across the room to the wall behind the boy. He slowly wiped the blood off of his knife on the edge of his sleeve, and then a slight smirk came over his face.

“Why?” He tilted his head up. “Hmm? You ask why, or what I’m compensating for. Funny thing is, I could ask you all the same thing.

Why do you feel the need to constantly try to prove yourself? Knowing you’ll never be good enough for you father, his company, or his money?” The man stood in front of where Justin was- his body visibly shaking. He tilted his chin up with the tip of the knife. “How does it feel knowing that that’s all you’re good for? That they only keep you around for your money, hmm?”

“That- that’s not true- you don’t-”

“How do you know she hasn’t brainwashed you, hmm? That she isn’t controlling you just to get to your father’s funds?” 

“No- she wouldn’t-”

“Well of course, you wouldn’t know if you were being brainwashed, would you?” The man moved to stand over the girl’s limp body.

“Shut up- you don’t- you don’t know her-” Justin’s breathing was getting more ragged with every word. 

“Well, probably not like you do, but I know enough. I mean look at her, she’s useless. Didn’t even get a chance to put up a fight.” The man chuckled as Justin shook- trying desperately to use what little strength he had to fight back. “It’s pathetic really, she should be the most powerful, and here she is-” he nudged her in the side with the tip of his shoe. She lay still.

“Leave her alone!” The boy screamed. He lunged at the man- catching him by the ankles. The man stumbled a bit before Justin crashed back to the ground.

“Oh will you be quiet!” The man screamed. He kicked Justin hard in the side, sending him reeling. The boy shrieked as his shoulder crashed into the ground- blood leaking steadily from his wound. Splice sighed, and pushed a button on his little remote. 

Justin’s head slammed back into the ground- his eyes rolling backwards as he gasped for air. The shocks wreaked their havoc through his body until he was finally able to scream- letting out a heaving breath. But then they picked up once more. He kept the control on a steady rhythm- leaving Justin writhing in agony for a moment, and then finally letting him breathe for a few seconds before the electricity started up again.

Splice turned to look back at Micah with a chuckle- his eyes peeked out from underneath the blood- sweat, and hair that matted his face. “Honestly, the only person I can think of that’s more pathetic is his sister. After all, she’s got the same potential little Carrot Top over here does, and yet she didn’t even bother to come to his rescue. What, was she scared?”

“Don’t- don’t underestimate her-” Micah chuckled. 

“What, what is she going to do? I mean she practically cowered behind the rest of them the first time we met. Didn’t even try to help.”

“She’s stronger- than- than you think.”

Splice laughed shaking his head. He knelt in front of Micah and held out the remote- selecting the option for Micah’s collar. He hooked a finger underneath, holding the boy up as he winced- the small prongs digging further into the back of his neck.

“She may be strong, but are you?”

Micah screamed. His back arched and his wrists tugged on the chains tying them behind him. He fell backwards in the man’s grasp- held slightly above the ground by his throat.

“You- you bi-”

“Ah- ah- language now.” Splice cut him off with a hand over his  mouth- smearing the blood that had soaked his lips and chin. 

Micah cursed and screamed behind the man’s hand- his body spasming with the shocks. 

“Should I turn it up?” 

Micah shook his head furiously- he curled his legs in towards his chest as Splice dropped him onto his back.

“Good. Now be a good boy, or I’ll set off their collars as well.” Splice stood up and turned towards Andrew as he spoke. “As fun as that would be for little Andy, I don’t think-” 

Splice stopped- glancing at the ground where he had set the gun- and then up at Andrew. The boy’s face was even more pale- he looked nearly unconscious- but the chains he had been hanging from were lowered- his feet dragging against the floor. 

He turned around frantically, back to Micah- to Justin- who were both still writhing in pain- the shocks coursing through their bodies. 

“He’s right you know-” Mickie stated. Splice turned towards the sound. “You shouldn’t underestimate me.”

And then a loud bang exploded throughout the room.

- - -

Tag List: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus,@burtlederp,@whump-me-all-night-long@laves-here​@yesthisiswhump@myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19@brutal-nemesis​@lunaabsentee​ @morning-star-whump​​

Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 13: Time’s Up, Part 2

Tagging List:@i-can-even-burn-salad@peachy-panic@deluxewhump@arwenadreamer@whumpcereal@melancholy-in-the-morning@dont-touch-my-soup@whumpsday@keeper-of-all-the-random-things@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump@oddsconvert@melennui@susiequaz12@morning-star-whump@crystalquartzwhump@whump-and-other-things@mylifeisonthebookshelf@reflected-pain@hold-him-down (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

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 over the next several upcoming chapters. I couldn’t have done this without her.

WARNING: This chapter as well as SEVERAL subsequent chapters will contain explicit noncon. If you prefer not to read, I’ll totally understand. Heed the tags because this gets dark.

Masterlist

“You may choose not to enjoy yourself, but I plan to fully indulge myself tonight.  I’ve been waiting weeks to have you, and now that you’re finally here, in my bed, I don’t plan on holding back anymore,“ Volkov growled in Ben’s ear.

Ben squirmed and tried desperately to pull away as Volkov’s hand was around his cock again, stroking him with long, languid pulls and a twist of his wrist at the end.  Ben couldn’t help it; he hardened under Volkov’s touch. He moaned, tears soaking into the blindfold, and he felt cold metal being locked around the base of his cock.  He twisted and writhed, trying to get it off.  No, no, nonononono, this cannot be happening.  He didn’t want this!  He didn’t want any of it!

“That’s it, Malyshka.  Struggle and squirm.  That makes it far more interesting for me.”

Ben’s fear escalated and his heart was in his throat as restraints that felt just like the ones on his wrists and ankles were strapped tightly around his upper thighs and then another set just above his knees.  What the hell was Volkov doing?  

“Just a few more new toys for you before we get started, kitten.  You look so gorgeous already.”  

Ben screamed in abject terror as Vokov moved to straddle his chest, the older man’s weight oppressively heavy on top of him.  He roughly grabbed Ben’s hair, pulling his head back and then Ben’s cries were suddenly muffled by something being forced into his mouth.  

Ben panicked, expecting hot flesh, but he was taken aback by cool silicone. The object slid inside until it hit the back of his throat and Ben choked, gagging on the intrusion.  Ben understood suddenly that it was a stand in.  A stand in for Volkov’s fucking cock.  He couldn’t breathe.  Not because he couldn’t get air into his lungs, but because he was choking on pure fear and disgust.  In his terror soaked brain, Ben knew this was only for a matter of time.  Soon it would be the real thing.  Volkov was going to fuck his mouth.  

He squeezed his eyes shut.  Why?  Why was this happening?  Why was he doing this to him?  Why couldn’t he just hurt him?  Why this?  Why did it have to be this?  I don’t fucking want this!  The new gag twisted in his mouth and he realized with horror that it was locking in place, working in tandem with the ring forced behind his teeth.  He gagged and gagged over and over again, trying to push it out of his mouth, out of his throat. It didn’t move, of course. Volkov wanted him stuffed full.  

“Easy.  Easy, Little Benjamin.” Volkov was gently massaging his throat on either side of his windpipe.  “You can breathe, Malyshka.  Steady breaths, in and out through your nose.  You’re okay.  You’ll learn.  This is what you were made for, Malyshka.  You’re soft and need training.  You’re gonna be so good for me.”  

Made for this?  He… he wasn’t.  He was smart.  He was a twenty-two year old graduate student.  He finished high school at sixteen.  He was ready to propose to the girl of his dreams.  They were going to eventually start a family.  Made for this?  No. Never! No he wasn’t made for this.  He didn’t want this!  But some part of him was already accepting his fate.  He was trapped, naked and helpless.  This… whateverthiswas, was going to happen.  He couldn’t escape it.  

No. Ben wouldn’t be good. He wouldn’t! But somehow, even then, he knew that Volkov was right. He continued to gag helplessly, but he found he could breathe and so long as he kept his head still, the pressure at the back of his throat could be managed. He was already getting used to it. He was already learning to be good.  The thought sickened him, but he didn’t know how to fight it.  Volkov was so utterly in control of this whole situation - of his body.  

“Just one more little toy,” Volkov intoned.  Ben could hear the delight in his voice and could imagine the predatory gleam in his eyes.  He lay perfectly still as Volkov moved back down between his legs.  He wanted to believe that he lay still to keep from choking, and that was partially true, but really, deep down, he was utterly paralyzed with fear.  He could barely make his lungs work to pull in a breath.  His chest hardly moved at all.  Volkov’s hand returned to stroking Ben, making him whimper and shake with the effort to be still and not aggravate the gag.  

Volkov unlocked the left ankle restraint and moved Ben’s leg so that his ankle was pressed up against his thigh, securing the leather cuffs together.  He then repeated this with Ben’s other leg before sitting back and admiring the way he looked, tense, desperate, and splayed out in front of him.  

Alexsei returned to his gentle stroking of Ben’s member.  His other hand drifted lower and Ben sobbed in pure cold fear.  He knew what was coming.  Dread and hopelessness pooled and mingled in his stomach.  Volkov’s fingers were circling his hole, slickened with something cool, pressing ever harder.  Nonononononononono!!!! He tried to desperately clench against the mounting pressure, but Volkov was insistent and relentless.  

His whole body jerked as two fingers were pushed into him.  He couldn’t stop the terrified sobs that shook him to his core.  This shouldn’t be happening, it shouldn’t.  It can’t be.  It can’t.  Fuck this was his worst fucking nightmare.  He tried to pull away, but Volkov’s hand went with him.  He keened in frustration and shame.  

Volkov’s fingers moved deeper, then back out.  He pumped into him for several minutes, crooking his fingers and making Ben yelp with each small action.  Heat flared up and down Ben’s spine and scarlet humiliation crept up his neck and across his face as pleasure pooled in his belly.  

His cock was now painfully hard and twitching.  He made obscene noises every time Volkov’s palm circled the head of his member.  

Ben arched his back and whined when Volkov added a third finger.  

“Easy, Malyshka, I’m just making sure that you’re ready for me.”

Ben shook his head wildly, forgetting the gag for a moment before he gagged and choked once more.  What little noise he could make bordered on hysterical.  There was a strange buzzing sound that filled his ears and Ben thrashed and screamed as Volkov ran a vibrator up and down the underside of his cock, pressing it firmly just under the tip of his dick.  Ben squealed and squirmed trying to pull away, but Volkov followed every movement.  

Somehow, Ben did the unthinkable and yanked his knees together.  Volkov growled and hit the shock collar button again.  When the shocks subsided, Ben was boneless and exhausted; he had no resistance left. 

Volkov reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed the chain at the center of the frame.  He secured it to the leather straps just above Ben’s knee and then repeated it for the other side.  Ben could do nothing now to stop the abuse he was sure Volkov intended to visit upon him.  

When Ben heard the vibrator turn on again, he twisted to get him away, voice pleading for this to stop.  Volkov giggled and stroked the toy down Ben’s cock and over his balls, teasing each one and circling the sac a few times before pressing it against Ben’s hole.  Ben’s hips snapped up involuntarily and he cried with shame at his own actions.  He didn’t want to seek relief.  He didn’t want any of this.  Fuck!  He was so damn hard.  The sensations that Volkov was forcing on him were overwhelming.  Much like the whip, there was no escaping this.  His ability to struggle and move was gone.  His mouth was stuffed full, his sight was gone, leaving him with the sound of the vibrator and Volkov’s giggles of glee.  And of course, the constant stimulation of his most sensitive nerves.  

Ben suddenly understood what Volkov intended to do.  He shook his head and tried desperately to get him to stop, even as he tried desperately to swallow down his own pleasure.  God he couldn’t think.  He couldn’t fucking think.  There was just too much stimulation and Volkov wasn’t even really beginning yet.  His hips jerked again, and Ben groaned with arousal.  

Volkov was unrelenting in his desires.  Ben let out a high pitch scream as the toy was pushed inside of him.  Volkov wiggled the toy further inside of Ben until the boy’s cock was jumping, and he knew that it was pressed firmly against the young man’s prostate.  

Ben sobbed, shrieking and begging incoherently, toes curling, legs flexing, desperate to get any sort of relief.  He needed to stretch and he couldn’t.  He was trapped.  He needed to come.  But fuck!  No!  I don’t want to fucking come.  Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuckfuckfuckfuck!  God why wouldn’t he fucking stop?!

Volkov settled in next to him.  “Shh.  Shh… Just enjoy it, kitten.” His hand was back on Ben and it was too much.  Just too much.  Ben’s cries dissolved into hopeless sobs.  “You said you didn’t want to come, and I’m honoring that wish.”  

Ben groaned.  HIs whole body was covered in sweat, every muscle tense and tight.  And Ben couldn’t help rolling his hips into Volkov’s hand.  Something animalistic was taking over and his mind was shutting down, he could feel it.  But the damn ring around the base of his cock wouldn’t let him.  No matter what.  And Volkov’s pace was maddeningly slow.  Ben yanked savagely on the cuffs around his wrists, enough to draw blood, but there was no give or relief in the action, and the pain was only a minor distraction.  

“You’re so gorgeous like this.  I’m glad you said you didn’t want to come.  I was hoping that you would say that.  I like you helpless and needy under my fingers.”

Volkov’s hands were slow and steady, not enough to bring him over the edge, but enough to keep him teetering there.  “Would you like me to distract you?”

Fuck!  Yes!  Damn it!  Yes! Anything has to be better than this! Ben screamed in his head.  Outwardly he let out another sob and nodded his head frantically. 

Ben had no expectations as he sensed Volkov reaching for something else on the nightstand.  There was the light sound of a slight whistle and then a sharp smack.  Pain erupted across Ben’s chest and he screamed, back arching, body twisting.  Another smack from sharp leather to the same location and another scream.  

Volkov took his time between each stroke, bringing the riding crop down across Ben’s chest, abdomen, and thighs.  Volkov seemed to favor Ben’s nipples, lower abdomen, and his inner thighs, all extremely sensitive areas.  

Ben screamed and thrashed beneath him. He knew he couldn’t take much more, his skin stung and he could imagine the deep bruises that would soon purple his skin.  

Volkov paused his beating and settled in next to him, his hand caressed Ben’s cheek.  

“Shhh.  Shhh.  You scream so beautifully, even with your voice muffled.  That was lovely.”  He pressed a kiss into Ben’s neck, just above the collar.  Ben continued to grunt and moan with forced pleasure, pain, and discomfort.  The discordant jumble of feelings threatened to overwhelm his mind.  Volkov kissed and licked down the column of his neck, and across his collar bone.  His teeth nipped at Ben’s nipples causing Ben to hiss.  

Volkov returned to stroking and stimulating him manually.  It was maddening as he started a long, drawn out, cycle of molesting him and then whipping him with what Ben assumed was a riding crop?  He wasn;t sure, but he suspected.  He would bring him, sobbing, right to the edge, and then beat him as a way to calm down the sensations.  And always, he would soothe him after the beating with kisses and teeth nipping and leaving their own marks.  Ben hated that his body craved this as the part that he could deal with the easiest.  He didn’t want Volkov’s fucking lips and teeth marking him.  He didn’t want to be marked as someone’s.  And he knew that’s exactly what Volkov was doing.  

“Are you ready for me now?” Volkov growled into his ear after nibbling on the lobe.  

Ben whimpered and sobbed, nothing he could indicate would change what Volkov was going to do.  Volkov’s mouth was on his neck again, sucking and biting what he was certain would be visible bruises into his throat.  One of his hands was in his hair, the other was down between his legs again, tugging at the toy he’d pushed in earlier.  

Ben wanted to cry with relief when it was pulled out, but Volkov’s fingers were there again, thrusting in and out of him and curling inside.  Fuck! He hated that feeling of something inside of him, but why did it have to feel so good?  Why did there have to be a part of him that relished the waves of pleasure that would flood him every time Volkov’s fingers moved over that one spot inside of him?  It wasn’t fucking fair that his body could be played like a fucking fiddle and be so damn traitorous while his mind screamed at him.  

Volkov released Ben’s neck and sat with his knees against Ben’s legs.  He took something else off the shelf and Ben soon heard the sound of liquid being squelched into Volkov’s palms.  He could hear him slicking his own member and then slick fingers were being pushed into him again, twisting inside of him.  

The restraints at his knees were undone, but Ben was too terrified to try pulling his legs together again.  

Ben let out one final gasp and then clenched his teeth as hard as he could on the ring as Volkov lined himself up.  He would not scream.  Not this time.  He would not give that to Volkov.  Ben felt his pain settle into deep anger and resentment, like a switch had been flipped.  He stopped clenching and unclenching his fists and wrapped his hands around the chains and squeezed with everything he had.  He would focus all his pain and energy anywhere else except screaming.  

Volkov had taken so much from him.  Ben would keep this from him.  He might scream later.  But he would not scream for him in this first round.  Volkov the sadist would be left unsatisfied.  Sure, he’d get his rocks off inside of him, Ben had reconciled himself to that, but he would not give him the satisfaction of screaming.  He thought about this last week, spent drugged and unaware.  He thought about how he’d learned to be quiet.  He’d be fucking quiet alright.  He could hold off for however long this was going to take.  He could.  He would!

He bit down hard, body straining as Volkov thrust past the tight ring of muscle.  Tears sprang to his eyes anew, but Ben kept silent, only offering soft grunts as Volkov relentlessly fucked into him.  He could tell he was trying to get him to scream.  It fucking hurt more than any other experience, the deepest violation he’d ever known, but he would not give Volkov what he wanted in this moment.  It was the one tiny fraction of a victory he could give himself.  He controlled nothing in his life, but he could control this.  

“You fucking cunt!  Scream!  Scream or I’ll make you regret it!  Scream!  Scream damn it!” Volkov roared.  

Ben refused, he could feel his tears soaking into the blindfold.  Zoe once again popped into his mind’s eye and he didn’t force her back down.  He looked into her beautiful face and tried to pretend that he was sitting in the window seat with her, looking down into his mother’s garden.  And he could smell her lovely skin and feel her soft hair.  

His hands clenched the chains and he pretended that he was touching her.  He held onto it for as long as he could.  He knew the vision wouldn’t last, but it was better than reality - the reality where he was being fucked and brutalized by a madman.  The reality where he’d just lost his virginity–something he’d promised to Zoe, something he would never get back–to a violent unwanted act.  

Volkov fucked him, rhythm brutal and pounding.  Ben couldn’t hold the vision any longer as Zoe slipped from his grasp.  He wanted to cry so badly but he clamped down on it and focused his mind on the pain.  The pain from the bruises that had been sucked into his neck, the stinging pain from the beating Volkov had given him. The pain of his straining, and blessedly neglected cock.  God, he needed to come.  

Volkov’s pace grew erratic and Ben could sense he was near.  Almost over, just hang on.  He’s almost done, he whispered to himself over and over.  Sure enough, Volkov’s hips stuttered with a deep thrust into Ben, who let out a soft moan.  Volkov stayed in him, hips making small rutting movements as he milked himself inside of Ben.  

Ben could feel it.  He could feel the moment Volkov released and he wanted to vomit.  He was glad there was nothing in his stomach to come up.  He felt hot and sticky all over, and he felt Volkov’s semen seeping from inside. The squelching noise that now came with Volkov’s movements didn’t help the sick feeling that washed over him.  He was pretty sure he was bleeding, but he had no way of knowing how badly he’d been torn.  He panted and tried to focus on his breathing.  

Alexsei’s grip was iron tight on him, and Ben could practically sense the rage rolling off of him.  He pulled out roughly and Ben gasped at the sudden emptiness.  Volkov grabbed him by the arm and his knee and flipped him over.  

Volkov’s body was on him again, pressing him down into the mattress.  His hot breath was on his neck as he growled into Ben’s ear, “I bet you think you’re real fucking cute, don’t you.  Let’s see how cute you are when you’re covered in blood.”

Ben finally cried out as the toy was thrust back into his body and turned on.  He squirmed as the frequency of the vibration was turned up.  Volkov took the riding crop and rained down blows on Ben’s shoulders, back, buttocks, and thighs.  Ben let himself scream now, pulling and struggling under the abuse.  Blow after blow came down on his body and he took it all, knowing it was worth it.  He’d held on to something Volkov couldn’t take from him.  Sure, he was screaming now, but he clung to the one tiny victory he’d earned.  The first since he’d been taken, and maybe the last one he would ever have  

The riding crop struck with such force that it opened up the skin on his back and legs where the whip marks were still healing, letting Ben’s blood run down onto the sheets.  Ben’s anger began to fade and was replaced with deep exhaustion and agony.  His cries grew more and more quiet as he didn’t have the strength or the voice to scream anymore.  

Volkov stopped hitting him and turned him over onto his abused back.  Ben writhed and moaned as the fresh cuts came in contact with the sheets.  Volkov backhanded him across the face and his lip split open where it was stretched around the gag.  

“You don’t wanna scream for me, that’s fine.  Let’s see how you like having my cock down your throat instead of the gag.”

Ben paled.  He’d thought Volkov might do this, but doing so while he was angry?  Oh God, he wasn’t going to be able to breathe.  Ben imagined himself choking to death on Volkov’s dick.  

He twisted and tried to pull his head away as Alexsei grasped his hair and wrenched his head back.  With another twist, the silicone gag was yanked from his mouth.  

“Bet I can go deeper than that training gag, little kitten.”

Ben’s scream of terror was cut off by Volkov’s heated, heavy member shoved into his mouth.  Ben heaved at the taste.  He could taste the bitterness of Volkov’s seed, he could taste himself on Volkov, still thick and hot.  Fuck!  He heaved again and brought up bile, but there was nowhere for it to go except back down his throat.  He swallowed convulsively but nothing alleviated the most vile thing he’d been forced to endure.  

Ben struggled as his head was manipulated into just the right position and Volkov’s cock kept pressing in, deeper and deeper.  He couldn’t breathe.  I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!  Volkov bottomed out, balls pressing into Ben’s chin as he coughed and choked around the intrusion in his throat.  Volkov held him there while Ben jerked and twitched against him. The mad Russian’s fingers stroked Ben’s cheeks, running through the tears that had soaked through the blindfold and left his face damp.  Ben was forcibly reminded of Volkov telling him this was what he was made for.  This is how he was going to live his life for the foreseeable future.  Something to be fucked into and abused as Volkov saw fit.  He closed his eyes under the blindfold and let the tears seep further into the fabric.  

After an agonizing amount of time where Ben’s vision began to go gray around the edge, Vokov pulled back, just enough so that Ben could suck in a couple of breaths of air before plunging into him again.  Ben’s protesting throat and attempts to beg for relief served only to spur Aleksei on.  Round after punishing round of Volkov thrusting deeply into Ben’s throat and only pulling back enough so that he could take a couple of breaths and then thrusting in again.  

Ben’s eyes rolled back and he felt all the fight slipping from him.  When Volkov finally spilled into him, his cock was so deep that Ben had no choice but to compulsively swallow the salty, bitter discharge.  Volkov kept himself pressed deep inside of Ben’s throat until the boy slumped, no longer struggling, back onto the bed. 

May 30th “What are you doing?”

@themerrywhumpofmay

This one is BBU featuring the always horrible WRU. Be aware. Also, we always think of males working there, but I would bet they’re not above using the tactics found in this piece. Let me know what you think.

Car | Last resort | Alarm

Connor Lightfoot’s parents had said it a million times. He’d been warned.  Don’t go to bars alone.  Don’t accept drinks from people you don’t know.  Always have a buddy.  His parents were a part of the pet liberation movement.  They loathed the WRU.  Connor was raised to be wary of the Goliath corporation.  He’d heard all the horror stories.  He’d met pets that had been freed.  He’d heard their harrowing stories of what happened in training. 

He knew.  He knew to be careful. It’s why he preferred the bars on the Reservation. The WRU weren’t allowed to operate there, not legally at least.

Connor was two years into his college degree when his parents, being who they were, had to go into hiding from the WRU and the authorities.  Connor knew they couldn’t contact him and he couldn’t contact them.  But he also knew it wouldn’t be forever.  Just for now.  They said they’d be in touch but that it would be secret.  He’d accepted it. 

He understood how important their work was to them.  And he knew they loved him.  They had done what they did so that his world would be better.  They hadn’t wanted to go into hiding.  It had been a last resort to avoid prison or being collared themselves. 

Connor had gone on with his studies and pursuits.  They had nothing on him.  He wasn’t involved.  It had been over six months since he’d heard from them. Wherever they were, they were well hidden.

He and his buddies had gone to one of the Reservation bars for a break from their difficult courses.  Connor rubbed his temples.  His law classes were stressful and he just needed to unwind.  He would have danced with one of the two girls that were currently on the dance floor with his buddies, but they hadn’t asked him.  And he was so tired, that he was not even sure he’d have been that into it. 

The bar tender handed him a drink.  He looked up at the man and the bar tender motioned to the girl at the end of the bar. 

“Thanks, but no thanks.  I don’t take drinks from strangers,“ he said, waving and smiling at the woman.  His parents’ faces flashed before his eyes and all their warnings. 

The girl approached him and smiled.  “What are you doing, pretty boy, all by your lonesome over here?”  She smiled up at him through her batting eyelashes, looking him over, taking in his straight black hair, his black eyes and ruddy Native American complexion.  “You’re cute.”  She winked at him.  “Wanna, dance?”

Connor was taken a back.  She was cute too.  He let her lead him out to the dance floor, on the opposite side from his friends.  They spun and turned and twirled around the dance floor.  Where were his friends anyway?

She spun them over near the rear exit and slipped her arms up around his neck.  There was a sharp prick on the back of his neck where her hands rested. 

“Ouch.” 

“Oops, sorry.  I have a loose prong on my ring.  I really should get that looked at.  I need to find a good jeweler.  Do you know one?  My daddy always said he didn’t trust jewelers…”

She prattled on and the world seemed to tilt and grow hazy.  She tugged him toward the dark rear exit.  He stumbled after her.  And then there were others there.  Guys.  Big guys, all in black.  And he was falling against one of them.

“Look at the little rebel liberation spawn.  He’s going to be beautiful in a collar.  Wait until his parents find out.”

“Wha-?  No… No collar.  Won’t sign an’th’ng,” Connor slurred.  Alarm bells were going off in the back of his head, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about them. 

A white van pulled up and Connor was dragged, half stumbling to the van.  He should be scared.  This wasn’t right.  Wasn’t right.  Run Connor!  Run! he tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t.  He was shoved to the floor of the van and his wrists were pulled behind him.

“N’…” He tried to slur.  Thick plastic zip ties were fastened around his wrists and pulled tight.  Connor grunted from the pain.  They hauled him into the van and several other people got in.  Connor’s vision swirled as he sort of recognized the girl he’d been dancing with, and the two girls that had pulled his friends away from him to dance.  He blinked trying to focus. 

The zip ties were secured around his ankles and Connor whimpered.  There was something so very wrong happening.  Someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back.  Hands squeezed his jaw open and a bit was forced between his teeth before a thick canvas muzzle was fastened over his face. 

Connor moaned helplessly.  He felt the vehicle moving underneath him as they took a corner fast.  When had they even started moving?

He always got carsick when he rode in the back seat.  So, laying bound, gagged, and drugged halfway to fairyland didn’t seem to be helping.  His stomach revolted at the motion and the close proximity of the air from the muzzle.  Connor had to fight to keep from vomiting.  Some voice in the back of his head told him that would be bad, and he should avoid it at all costs. 

Still holding his hair, to keep his head up, Connor choked out a sob of terror as a black collar was fastened around his throat. 

They dropped his head to the floor, and someone kicked his ribs.  Connor groaned. 

“Exactly as you should be, liberation scum.”  He didn’t know who said it, it didn’t matter. 

Connor’s eyes rolled in his head as he turned his cheek to the floor of the van, the one cool surface he could find. 

Connor never fully passed out.  He couldn’t focus very well, couldn’t move, and couldn’t speak.  But he was awake.  He was awake for the hours long van ride to whatever facility they were taking him.  He was awake as they taunted him and his parents for their beliefs.  He was awake as he slowly began to really process what was happening.  He was awake as he realized that despite all the warnings, all the precautions, he’d still been snatched by the fucking WRU. 

He’d seen and heard enough to know what was coming.  He knew what they were going to do to him.  Would they erase him?  They weren’t supposed to, not anymore, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  They weren’t supposed to fucking kidnap people either. 

When the van pulled to a stop and he was dragged out, he was shoved to his knees in front of someone with a black handler’s uniform on.  The man took his picture and smiled at him. 

“Just wait until mommy and daddy find out.  It’ll bring their liberation asses out of hiding for sure.  And in the meantime…” he pulled out a small rectangular remote and pressed the button.

Connor’s back arch and he screamed as electricity rippled through his body.  He slumped to the floor after a few second, tremors still zinging through him as he glared up at the handler.

“You get a new career path.  You’re rather pretty, college boy, so I’m sure there will be plenty of buyers lined up once you’re trained.  Personally, I hope you resist at every stage so we can train every bit of defiance out of you.  Serve you and your bastard family right.”

He pressed the button again and this time didn’t stop.  Connor screamed his throat raw and eventually passed out from a lack of oxygen.  He hadn’t been able to pull in a breath. 

When he awoke, he was in his greatest nightmare.  The thing he’d spent years learning how to avoid and the thing he saw in his nightmares that would leave him lying awake in bed too scared to shut his eyes again for fear the horrible dream would start up again. 

He was stripped down to a pair of gray shorts, hands and feet chained to a bolt in the floor, still collared and muzzled, in a completely white room with blindingly bright white lights. 

darkthingshappen:

Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 13: Times Up, Part 1

Tagging List:@i-can-even-burn-salad@peachy-panic@deluxewhump@arwenadreamer@whumpcereal@melancholy-in-the-morning@dont-touch-my-soup@keeper-of-all-the-random-things@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump@oddsconvert@melennui@susiequaz12@morning-star-whump@crystalquartzwhump@whump-and-other-things@mylifeisonthebookshelf@reflected-pain@hold-him-down (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

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 over the next several upcoming chapters. I couldn’t have done this without her.

WARNING: This chapter as well as SEVERAL subsequent chapters will contain explicit noncon. If you prefer not to read, I’ll totally understand. Heed the tags because this gets dark.

Masterlist

Ben blinked his eyes open.  The sun was warm on his face, and he was sitting in one of his favorite spots, the window seat that faced west in his bedroom at his parent’s house.  

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Zoe’s voice was soft in his ear. Her touch was just as soft as her fingertips brushed the hair from his face.  Her palm cupped his cheek, and Ben leaned into her touch, letting his eyes flutter closed again. Soft lips brushed against his; fingers tangled in his hair.  

He pulled back slightly and looked into her deep green eyes.  “I missed you.”

“What do you mean you missed me?  I’ve been right here.”

“No… I…”  A shiver ran through Ben, but he shouldn’t be cold.  He glanced out the window to the back garden his mother had spent the last several years perfecting.  He could see bees and butterflies drifting lazily through the spring air.  

Suddenly, a sharp, hot line of pain arced across his back, and then another across his chest.  Ben gasped and looked down at himself.  A moment ago, he’d had on his favorite pair of soft flannel pajama pants and a clean white cotton t-shirt.  Now, his chest was bare.  His feet were bare.  Why?  Ben loved socks.  Soft white cotton socks were one of his favorite things.  He hated being barefoot.  

Zoe didn’t seem to notice. She curled up next to him, tucking him against her soft body.  He breathed in her scent, smelling roses and toothpaste as she tilted his head to hers, and for a moment, he forgot everything else.  

“I love you,” he whispered just before their lips met again.  

“Love you too, Benny.”  

Ben sighed into her as their lips and tongues moved in symphony.  

Everything seemed perfect until Zoe pulled back; there was blood on her face, on her shirt.

“Benny?  You’re bleeding.”

Benny glanced down to see blood welling up from the gashes across his chest.  Sharp, hot pain and stinging cold flooded him, and he jerked awake.  

*!*!*!*!*

Ben’s drugged state began to slowly lift.  There was a beeping sound, but he wasn’t in the hospital.  There was no mattress underneath him, no blanket covering him.  He was on his back, something cold and hard beneath him.  And he couldn’t really move.  

Like so many times before, the memories of where he was and why he was in so much pain came flooding back over him.  Sometimes, he hated waking up, but the last few times– really, he didn’t know how long it had been–were hazy.  Like, the events of the last few days were out of reach.  

He remembered the whipping.  God, did he remember being whipped.  But, other than that, he could only sort of remember being strapped to the force feeding chair. There might have been cold water on him.  A shower maybe?  He’d been naked again.  He hated being naked.  

Ben tried to open his eyes.  His vision was blurry.  

“There you are.” Ben tensed, but the voice wasn’t Volkov’s. “Open up, let me see you,” Andrei prompted gently.  

Ben blinked a few times, and the room spun slowly around him.  He was on his back, splayed out on the table that he’d been strapped to so many times before.  

He finally focused enough to bring Andrei’s face into view.

“Hey, better?”

Ben didn’t answer.  What did that mean anyway?  He noticed an IV going into his left arm.  

“Wha-?”

“Volkov wanted the drugs out of your system before tonight.”

“To…night?”

“It’s been a week.”

“I don’t… A week?  No.  It’s only been a few days since he let Dmitri whip me.”

Andrei shook his head sadly.  “You’ve been out of it, strung out on drugs and…” Andrei lowered his voice, “pain killers,” his voice returned to his normal level, “for a week now.”

Ben took a moment to process what Andrei was telling him.  Then it hit him like a thunderclap.  All Volkov’s promises and threats of the last week.  His eyes went wide and the color drained from his face.  His stomach flipped.  

Keep reading

Morning reblog since I posted sooooo late. Heed the tags, here there be noncon.

Oh fuck! Theres a shock collar scene in Stranger Things Season Four!

All the Whumperflies. Wow!

the-girl-belongs-to-her:

Conditioning idea

Imagine wearing smart shock collar with conditioning feature.

Let’s say, you open an app, put on your headphones and it starts shows you spirals, while narrating mantras in your ears and giving you instructions. You can’t put your eyes off either - the camera reads your look direction.

You may not distract - the collar will hit you.

You may not disobey - the collar will hit you.

It says put your tongue out - and you do it.

It says repeat mantra aloud - and you do it.

Your brain slowly melts, thoughts disappear. But you don’t distract. World around you doesn’t exist.

You turn on, but the voice doesn’t command you to touch.

And without command you just melt inside.

You follow the spiral on the screen.

You listen to the words the voice says.

You drool on your shirt.

You repeat your mantras.

You are empty.

You obey.

You are in bliss.

violentlyhedonistic:

The fun thing about a spoiled captive is how easy it makes fucking with them. Oh? I’m the monster? You have blankets that would’ve cost you a months salary, all your favorite books and snacks (I watched through your window to make sure ♡!), lots of room to place in, and I’ve never laid a hand on you. I didn’t even beat you when you tried to hurt me, even though it made me so sad to see you angry at the person who loved you most. The collar doesn’t count, silly! It’s not my fault you tried to take if off, I told you it would shock you if you did. You should be grateful to me. I took you from a stressful job and a chaotic world and put you in a safe place. If you just start cooperating, I might let you on walks. We could have picnics and you could wear flowers in your hair and never worry about getting lost when mr. tracking chip is in your collar!

But if you insist that I’m the bad guy, I’ll show you what a monster is.

Pet for a Day

You told your partner that you wanted to be a pet for a day. “No thoughts, no responsibilities, no job. Just sleeping and eating and getting pet and loved on all day.”

You didn’t really mean it. You certainly didn’t expect it to actually happen.

So when you try to stretch as you wake up the next morning, only to find your legs bound, your first thought is alarm. Your eyes snap open, darting around.

But you’re in your own bed, with your partner cuddling you. “Good morning, my beloved pet~” they murmur in your ear, and you start to calm down a little.

You wiggle around, finding out that your ankles are bound to your thighs, meaning you can’t straighten your legs, but you can move them independently of each other. Thick knee pads scrape against the sheets.

There’s something around your neck, but when you go to feel it, you find that your hands are cased in thick mitts.

“It’s a shock collar,” your partner explains, showing you a remote. “Don’t worry. I won’t turn it up high unless I need to. It’s just to remind you, in case you break any of the rules.”

“What are the rules?” you ask, and promptly flinch as the collar shocks you. It was startling, but it didn’t really hurt. Just a little buzz.

“No talking,” your partner says, sounding more amused than angry. “Pets don’t talk. Just act like a good little pet.”