#slave whump
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.
“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”.
Oh friends, things get rough for Circe from here on out but I really enjoy writing fight and combat scenes. Hang onto your hats! This is also an introduction to Segar and Icarek, who are some assholes who are going to show up a lot more.
This is part 4 of the Circe story. You can find the start back here on my masterpost.
CW: slavery, slave whump, female whumpee, minor whump, combat violence (with swords), electricity whump (I’m not sure how to tag this, it’s a shock net instead of a collar)
The girl stood at the side of the room, hands tucked behind her back. Ka’hairal had brought three of his school friends back with him that evening and had requested that they be served refreshments. She kept an eye carefully on the glasses, making sure that they were never empty. And she listened.
“So when do you think you will be given your ship, Ka’hairal?”, the one furthest from her asked. He was slightly smaller than the others but had an erudite look to him. “Your brother got his when he was around your age, right?”
I think this is the right place to start the story. This is Circe’s story. It follows the backstory of my character in a Mass Effect ttrpg and her enslavement to a Batarian family as a child. This chuck should serve as a good introduction to some of the characters and the story, I hope.
Let’s get into this!
CW: sci-fi space typical violence, slavery mentions, escaped slave
The sounds of a firefight ricocheted through the corridor as the girl slipped along silently. The Batarian ship had been stalking a freighter for the past while but as they moved into strike, the freighter started to fire back, revealing cannons that hadn’t shown up on the initial scans. The Batarians had attempted to lock their ships together in order to board but whoever was on the freighter had been ready for a fight.
When they fought, she was supposed to be locked in the engine room, where her sleeping pallet lay among the machinery. However, for the first time in her life, someone had forgotten to lock the door. She hadn’t believed it at first, thinking maybe it was a trap or a test but the noise of a firefight raged on in the background.
She was going to die if she stayed here. Not today, not this year even but with Segar in charge of her, her odds became slimmer and slimmer. He’d throw her in some fighting pit or just get… get too angry one day.
Oh friends, things get rough for Circe from here on out but I really enjoy writing fight and combat scenes. Hang onto your hats! This is also an introduction to Segar and Icarek, who are some assholes who are going to show up a lot more.
This is part 4 of the Circe story. You can find the start back here on my masterpost.
CW: slavery, slave whump, female whumpee, minor whump, combat violence (with swords), electricity whump (I’m not sure how to tag this, it’s a shock net instead of a collar)
The girl stood at the side of the room, hands tucked behind her back. Ka’hairal had brought three of his school friends back with him that evening and had requested that they be served refreshments. She kept an eye carefully on the glasses, making sure that they were never empty. And she listened.
“So when do you think you will be given your ship, Ka’hairal?”, the one furthest from her asked. He was slightly smaller than the others but had an erudite look to him. “Your brother got his when he was around your age, right?”
Ka’hairal sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I wish but my father has decided I have to continue schooling,” he moaned. “My brothers and him are already out fighting and two have been lost, honourable deaths. I’m tired of them treating me like a child though, I’m ready to fight.”
One of the boys leaned over to clasp Ka’hairal on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. I have been listening in on my father’s meetings. Soon, the humans and the Alliance will get what they deserve.” The group chuckled and moved on, changing topics to making fun of the way one of their teachers spoke.
The girl noticed the third boy looking over at her once or twice. She was used to this look by now. It was an appraisal, something the Batarians were good at doing quickly, assessing the value of the slaves around them. The conversation eventually slowed and the girl ducked around the group, refilling each of their glasses. When she reached the third boy, as she was about to turn away, he grabbed her wrist. She froze.
“Hey Ka’hairal, is this the one you were telling us about?”, he asked with leering eyes, “the one who your father allows to fight?” His hand tightened on her wrist, crushing the bones slightly. The girl was silent, looking at the ground.
Ka’hairal sat up a little straighter. “She is. My father has permitted her to become my training partner, so that I may better understand how humans fight.” He paused for a second. “She fights like a human.” They all let out a bark of laughter at that and the boy released her wrist, allowing her to move back to her position by the wall. Out of sight. Safe.
Until the furthest one, the small one, spoke up again. “I would like to fight her. I’ve never fought a human before. I think it would be an interesting experience.” The other two nodded and joined in.
“Yeah! I want to see what it’s like!”
“Come on, Ka’hairal!”
The girl felt her stomach drop. These Batarians and their fucking pride.
“Sure, why not?” Ka’hairal said with a laugh in his voice. Like he got to show off a new toy that the others coveted.
Fuck.
Ka’hairal always beat her in fights, though half of the reason behind that was because she couldn’t hit him back. And there was no way she could beat these three. Even if she could based on her abilities, it would likely shame them to be beaten by her and that would be worse. So she would have to lose.
The girl was starting to learn that she didn’t like losing.
The four of them stood up and Ka’hairal turned to look at her. “Go get the practice swords and ready the training arena. We will be down soon.” The girl bowed and left the room, dreading what lay ahead.
The girl had set up the training area by the time the four boys made it down. There was a selection of training weapons as well as some dummies that she had set up in hopes that they might take a swing at them instead of her.
It didn’t look like her distraction had worked though and Ka’hairal beckoned her over to select her training sword. She went for her favourite. It was slightly smaller than the others but the balance better suited her frame. He directed her to go stand in the middle and as always, she did as told. Her palms sweat slightly and she tried to wipe them off on her pants. The sand was hot beneath her feet.
She itched to run. But that wasn’t an option.
The erudite one was up first, since it had been his idea. He stepped up and, sensing that the girl was not going to make the first move, attacked. The girl sidestepped and parried, never pressing the offensive. It seemed that at first the boy was just testing her defenses but now he started in earnest, his strikes growing heavier and heavier. He was stronger than he seemed and it wasn’t before long that he slammed the hilt into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and forcing her onto the ground.
“Yeah! Go Icarek!” the other boys called from the sidelines as the girl coughed on the ground, forcing herself up to all fours and then to standing. They clapped him on the back as he rejoined them and the girl spat blood out. She had bitten down on her tongue on impact and the taste of iron filled her mouth.
The next one stepped up, the one who had boasted about his father, and again, the boys cheered. He didn’t spend any time testing the girl’s defense and went straight to it, raining down blows as hard and as fast as possible.
It frustrated the girl. His defenses were wide open and he didn’t protect his core but she couldn’t take advantage of that. Instead, she simply defended the blows until she couldn’t anymore.
This time, it was a leg sweep that took her out and she tumbled back onto the ground, landing roughly on her side. The boy moved the tip of his sword to her throat and pressed a little.
The girl could hear the cheering and the laughing on the sideline as he pressed harder. The tips of the swords were dull but the pressure was painful and by the time he walked back to the sidelines laughing, her eyes had filled with tears. Rasping a deep breath, she pushed herself up her feet.
She rocked her neck side to side, stretching it out. Being knocked down was nothing new. She slid a foot backwards, readying a defensive position.
“Come on, Segar! Show them how it’s done!” Ka’hairal called out from the side. The boy who had crushed her wrist earlier stood up with a wicked grin.
He stalked towards the center lazily. They both stood still for a moment before Segar lunged at her. The girl swiftly knocked his blade away. The blows rained down, slamming into her.
The girl was forced backwards as the onslaught continued until her back was pressed up against the arena wall. Her eyes glanced down as her heels scraped again the wall.
In a second, he had disarmed her and reached for her throat, lifting her up off the ground. Her hands struggled to find purchase on his arms as she was lifted up against the wall. The group of boys were laughing. They were cheering and whistling and she couldn’t breath. She couldn’t breath. She couldn’t fucking breath and her vision was starting to go and she needed to do something now!
“AHH! Fuck! Kra’tash fucking kicked me!” Segar cried out as he staggered backwards, clutching his gut. The girl fell to the ground for the third time, coughing and struggling to breath.She leaned her back against the wall in an attempt to get to her feet.
The other boys had rushed over to surround their injured comrade, checking him over. It was clear that nothing but his pride had been hurt. But his pride wasn’t nothing.
The girl started to make her way towards the exit, leaning on the wall. Her vision swam in front of her as she turned to look behind her. Panic filled her as the loud one detached from the group and storm in her direction.
She tried to curl over but he grabbed her by her hair. The girl let out a cry as he started to drag her back to them, throwing her on the ground in front of them. “Well, Ka’hairal,” he huffed, arms crossed, “what do you do with them here?”. He pressed a heavily booted foot onto her back, leaning heavily.
Ka’hairal shrugged, looking down with distain. “I don’t want to replace her, so we can’t tell my father or he’ll get rid of her. I don’t really care but she’s useful.” He said with a shrug before taking a moment to think. Appraising.
“I want her to stay that way.” He concluded, giving a nod with his chin. The weight of the boot lifted every so slightly and the girl drew a shallow breath.
Segar stood up to his full height. “I have an idea. Let’s fight again. Except this time, we can use real weapons.” The boys looked around at each other with glee.
“We can’t give her a real one though,” interrupted Ka’hairal, “that’s also against Father’s rules-”
“- So?” interrupted Icarek, “Give her the practice ones. She brought this upon herself.” Ka’hairal clapped him on the back with a grin and stepped back. The pressure left the girl’s back and she was able to push herself up, grimacing.
She couldn’t see a way out of this one. If she just gave up, they would be disappointed and make it worse for her. If she ran, then they would enjoy it too much and might get carried away. Best to stand her ground, for however long that might be.
The girl noticed that they had formed a ring around her. They were all of age to carry their longswords with them. Ka’hairal kicked her practice sword over to her and she knelt to grab it, her body already sore.
She didn’t pause for a moment as she reached for it and started to sprint to the other side of the arena, where she had set up the dummies. She slipped by Icarek, who hadn’t been prepared for the sudden movement, and pivoted to see the boys running towards her, grins on their faces. Segar lunged for her and she kicked a dummy into him, knocking him backwards momentarily. She ducked as a slash from Ka’hairal that decapitated the other dummy next to her.
The girl twisted around in time to parry a blow from Icarek and to slam his sword into the ground. She stepped on the blade, forcing it to the ground, then let loose a horrible scream.
The biggest boy, the one who had grabbed her by the hair, had his sword bloodied. The pain that spread across her back was so intense that it blinded her momentarily. The vision of the blood dripping off the sword seared itself into the back of her eyes.
Her arms spasmed and she barely managed to dodge another lunge from Segar without dropping the sword. Ka’hairal kicked her knees from behind and she fell to her knees, hands still clenched around her practice sword.
Looking up wildly, all her mind could register was Icarek’s blade swinging for her throat. Her training was not perfect, she panicked and tried to duck the blow. A burning hot pain exploded across her face. She cried out, sword slipping out of her hand to tumble to the ground. Her hand reached for her face, coming away soaked with blood.
And then everything was pain. She had forgotten Ka’hairal’s submission net until it had knotted itself around her, restricting any movement. The electricity caused her muscles to spasm, forcing blood out of her back and onto the ground. Her face twitched and seized, agony arching through every exposed nerve. Looking up, she saw the four Batarian faces smiling down at her.
It was too much. She needed to scream but she was already screaming. Blood pumped down her face and pooled on the dirt beneath her head, soaking her cheek and hair.
All she could smell was blood and ozone. Maybe hair burning.
It was getting hard to breath. And she was so weak. And so cold.
The blood felt warm against her face as her eyes flickered closed.
Mercifully, the world went dark.
This is a crossover fanfic between my boy Galo and @whumping-every-day ’s character Mutt (and Trev, sort of)
–
Galo wasn’t entirely sure of the series of events that had led him here. Auntie Maggie’s step-son from her first marriage had a friend who had a slave and the friend and his sister had gotten pulled away on an emergency and needed someone to watch after the slave while they were gone, and their usual dog sitter wasn’t “emotionally suitable.”
Galo’s cousin (was that the right word? They only barely counted as relatives) had moved away but had given the friend, Trev, Galo’s phone number and, admittedly, he was only a few hours’ drive away. Nyla could take care of them all for an evening, but the other guy, “Mutt,” was not so stable as all that, and Galo liked long car rides.
He liked having someone to commiserate with, too, for all that Trev and he seemed to operate on fundamentally different wavelengths. Someone who got the “holy shit walking on eggshells” thing. Also the “ah, I have a surprisingly evil dead relative” thing. Being that Trev was from across state lines, and that his state apparently had different safety constraints and standards of living for slaves, Trev had it worse than Galo. Sorry for that guy.
Well sorry for Mutt first and foremost. Absolutely sorry for Mutt FIRST and foremost.
I’m screaming about this, oh my gosh, the boys!!!! Galo is so good at this now, oml Also, ‘Kitten’ to disorient and distract? Perfection. Iconic. 1000/10 would recommend. This is so soft and I’m having emotions about it xDD @haro-whumpsThank you so much, this little crossover made my day :3
ALSO Imma tag the Trev/Pasha/Mutt Gang, bc everyone should see this! :3
@whumpersworld @comfortforthepain@burtlederp @deluxewhump@walkingchemicalfire@robinsdoghouseofwhump@maybeawhumpblog@my-whumpy-little-heart@fairybean101@whump-em@whimpers-and-whumpers @castielamigos-whump-side-blog@whimperwoods@whale-whumps@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight@rosesareviolentlyread@readytobakebread @lave-e@whumpthisway@cursedandtired@sola-whumping
I meant to reblog this one so you would see my reaction too xP… but ily for creating Trev and Pasha and Mutt too!
Songbird Series: Melody’s Downfall
Honestly, I don’t recommend reading this chapter at all unless you’re not phased by gore/surgery/horrible pain in general
CONTENT WARNING: humiliation, hair pulling, cuts, crying, begging, mention of death, mention of being burned alive, mention of being beaten to death, heavy torture; slit Achilles’ tendons, vocal cords removal surgery, teeth removal surgery (all while being awake and conscious)
Melody’s Downfall
Melody loved being on the stage. All eyes on it and the feeling of pride when Master told it it had done well. But today, something was different.
It didn’t really know what happened, it didn’t understand what went wrong, it just knew it was done for when it fell on the ground and missed its note.
In that moment, everything had gone completely silent. It was too shocked to move, still on the ground with an open mouth, eyes closed and its brain trying to process what had happened.
Then, the fear kicked in. It had never been as panicked as it was in that moment, that moment when it realized what was going to happen to it.
It was frozen in fear and heard footsteps approach it from behind.
It felt like a trapped mouse being approached by a giant monster.
A hand grabbed it by the hair and lifted it up to its knees.
“Stay.” Master obeyed in a terrifying tone before he left the stage again.
Then, the crowd started booing and throwing things at it.
Horrified tears streamed down its face as it stayed there, kneeling and protecting its face with its arms as bottles and glasses flew around it.
It felt scared and humiliated. It couldn’t believe it had failed. It had worked on this number for so long, how did it mess up? What went wrong?
It didn’t understand, it didn’t understand!
It curled up on itself as it cried and as broken glass cut on its skin, the audience booing echoing in its head over and over again.
It stayed there for what felt like hours, until it felt a hand grab it by its hair again.
When its head got forced back up, it saw the empty theatre, lights off and silence floating in the air.
“Do you know how much you just cost me?” Master snarled. “You’ll regret this for the rest of your miserable, useless life.”
It cried and clawed at its hand, begging for mercy as he dragged it away.
•
It had been strapped down to a metal table and Master was there with a surgeon, both of them circling it while talking.
Its ears had been plugged and it was gagged, unable to hear nor make a sound. It couldn’t move its body either; the surgeon had inserted a catheter in its wrist with a drug that immobilized it.
All it could do was silently cry and watch the two men’s lips move as it laid there, naked and helpless.
It watched as Master Williams walked towards its feet, a large knife in hand, and tried begging and squirming, but its body didn’t react. It only managed to make small squeals through its gag as fear submerged its brain.
Then, a horrible sharp pain went through its tendons.
A screech escaped its lips, drowned in complete agony.
Master had just slit its Achilles’ tendons.
Master had just slit its fucking Achilles’ tendons.
Master. The Master it trusted and loved, just ruined its body. Just put it through the worst pain imaginable because of a mistake. It had thought he would simply kill it, not torture it, not destroy it, not ruin it.
And yet here it was, screaming and crying as it helplessly bled and suffered.
And this was only the beginning.
It saw the surgeon change the drug and slowly lost its ability to make a sound.
The gag was then removed from its mouth and replaced with something holding its mouth and throat open.
It became even more terrified.
It felt metal rods slide down its throat and something rip inside.
Its eyes widened in pain and horror as it understood what was happening.
Its vocal chords were being ripped out.
The pain was even worse than its tendons and the fear even more intense.
It could’ve learned to live without dancing, but without singing?
It would rather die. It would rather be burned alive or beaten to death.
And it still wasn’t the end of its punishment.
•
It thought this was it. It thought the punishment ended yesterday.
But as soon as it woke up strapped to a metal chair down in the same place it had been twenty four hours earlier, it knew it had been wrong.
Same drug keeping it immobilized, though it didn’t need the one to keep it silent too.
It didn’t have its vocal cords anymore, after all.
It didn’t even have the strength to cry or panic. Nothing could ever be as worse as what they had done to it the day before. Its soul was already dead.
It looked with lifeless eyes the surgeon approach it with pliers as a metal gag kept its mouth open.
It knew what was going to happen. It knew and yet it only felt anxious, not afraid. It was too exhausted to truly care about its fate anymore.
Nothing mattered. Not since its ability to perform has been taken away from it.
It felt the plier on one of its teeth, and that’s when its instinct finally kicked in. But it still didn’t cry.
It felt its teeth get pulled down, then back up, the plier slowly crushing its teeth and the nerves inside, the disgusting taste of blood in its mouth.
It was completely agonizing, but it wasn’t afraid.
It just felt like it was dying all over again.
Songbird Series:Sick
This chapter is literally just my worst fears and anxieties. So yeah, Skye isn’t having a good time
CONTENT WARNING: dehumanization, conditioned, mention of removed vocal chords, mention of ripped out teeth, mention of slit Achilles’ tendons, reference to heavy torture (blood, bruises, injuries, shaved head, mutilated body), fear, anxiety, throwing up, panic attack, slight mention of suicide
Sick
Skye had been allowed to sleep for at least ten hours since it had performed the day before. It was eternally thankful to have such a merciful Master.
When it woke up, its entire body was sore and hurting.
A displeased groan escaped its lips as it opened its eyes.
It sat up and stretched its arms and neck before stepping out of the bed to stretch the rest of its body.
It stepped to its wardrobe and chose simple yet elegant clothes to change into.
It wore a white sweater crop top with matching mini shorts and then tied its hair loosely behind its back.
It put on a face mask and did its vocal warmups for the ten minutes it had to keep it on.
It hummed a few tunes while doing its simple makeup for the day, painting its eyelids with a bit of white and blue and putting on a pinkish beige on its lips. It added some blush and mascara and got back up from its vanity.
It sprayed on some perfume and put on simple blue socks before heading out of its room.
It walked the rough the corridors of the manor, heading towards the living room, knowing that’s where Master Williams would be.
It arrived in the living room and Master was exactly where it had anticipated him to be; sitting in a red sofa while looking at the fireplace, a glass of wine in hand.
It was behind him and he hadn’t seen it yet, so it walked towards him shyly to see if there was anything it needed to do today.
Once at his side, it glanced down and its eyes met Mud.
It felt its heart twist in its chest as it looked at it.
Mud was another pet of Master’s, but it didn’t have the same status as Skye. Skye had a lot of freedom and privileges, thanks to its talents, but Mud wasn’t as lucky. It couldn’t sing nor dance, or at least it couldn’t anymore. It used to be the same as Skye, until it failed. As a punishment for humiliating Master, it had its vocal chords removed and teeth ripped out. It also had its Achilles’ tendons slit so it couldn’t walk on its two legs anymore. Now, it’s only purpose was to be a punching bag for Master, or just a simple piece of furniture, like a footrest or a side table. If Skye recalled well, its name used to be Melody, until it messed up.
It had trouble keeping its eyes off of it; its shaved head and rash skin, the big scar in the middle of its face, the multiple bruises and untreated wounds all over its flesh, its pleading and tearful eyes and trembling body as Master laid his feet on its back.
“What is it, doll?” Master asked, pulling it out of its thoughts.
“I-I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do for you today.”
He sipped on his glass of wine. “No. You’re free to do as you please. You did very well yesterday, you deserve a break.” He smiled at it and brought his attention back to the fire.
“Thank you, Master.”
It bowed its head and glanced back at Mud before leaving the room.
It wished it could help it, but it was terrified of what Master would do to it if it did. So it did nothing and left, heart sinking to its stomach.
It was terrified of ending up like Mud and couldn’t even begin to imagine the constant agony it must be in. Just the sheer thought of being unable to perform scared it, especially Master’s way to ensure it.
Skye hurried to the kitchen, passing through the big corridors covered in doors and framed pictures of it during its performances.
It grabbed an apple and a glass of lukewarm water, and ate even though it wasn’t feeling hungry anymore.
Swallowing was physically difficult; its stomach was in a knot and it felt sick. It couldn’t stop putting itself in Mud’s place. It knew neither it nor Mud had any access to dangerous objects to ensure them not committing suicide, but it still thought it would have found a way. In its place, Skye would’ve done anything to put an end to its life. But maybe Mud was stronger than it.
It forced another bite down despite feeling like it might throw up, and took a sip of water to help it.
It managed to finish the apple, but still felt sick.
It got up and walked towards the front door to take some fresh air.
As it walked, it felt less and less its legs and started trembling.
It tried running to the bathroom, knowing what this meant, but it didn’t make it.
It fell to the floor and threw up as it started crying.
It breathed heavily and hunched over its sick, too weak to get back up and clean it.
It stayed there for god knows how long, unable to move or form any thoughts, until Master’s maid found it.
“Oh, Skye..!” She hurried over. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“S-Sorry…” it mumbled as tears streamed down its face.
“Come, I’ll clean this up later.”
She helped it get back up on its feet and helped it walk to the closest bathroom.
She made it sit near the toilet and gave it a warm blanket.
“There you go.” She stroked its back softly. “I’ll go get you some water, okay? Stay here.”
Even if it wanted to, it couldn’t move. Its body was too exhausted and mind too overwhelmed.
It was also terrified that throwing up ruined its vocal chords and that it wouldn’t be able to sing anymore.
It tried doing a few notes, but its voice was hoarse and scratchy.
Terrified, it started crying frantically and mumbling incoherently.
When Lucie came back, she put the glass on the ground and held it tightly in her arms, hushing it and whispering nice words.
Skye couldn’t stop crying, it was so scared, so terrified. Its voice was ruined and Master would destroy it for becoming useless.
It felt sick again at the thought of becoming like Mud and braced itself as it felt something come up again, but it’s stomach now empty, only air came out.
It hurt and burned and it cried even more.
It felt a glass of water on the tip of its lips and instinctively drank through its sobs and sniffling.
The water helped with the pain, but not with the fear.
Lucie caressed it gently and kept on holding it tightly, doing her best to reassure it, until it passed out in her arms.
She brought it back to its room and installed it in its bed with a bucket next to it.
She sat on a chair and looked over it for the rest of the day.
Introducing Mud from the Songbird Series
Mud used to be the same as Skye until it messed up and Master Williams made sure it wouldn’t be able to perform ever again.
Melody (Mud before its mistake):
Mud (after its mistake):
Songbird Series: Perfect Performance
Fist chapter of Skye’s story! Here’s their outfit, makeup and pose!
CONTENT WARNING: exhaustion, groping, noncon touching, manhandling, mention of human trafficking, dehumanization, slave whump, captivity whump, pet whump
Perfect Performance
Skye knew if it missed that performance, its life was ruined. It had to be perfect. Master always had greedy and exigent guests, but those were at the top of the list. If it missed one single note or one fraction of a movement, it would be done for.
Its makeup felt heavy and uncomfortable on its face and its dress was so long and kept getting in the way, but it didn’t show one sign of weakness or discomfort.
It kept on going, concentrating on its voice more than anything.
All eyes were on it, the spotlight made it shine and there wasn’t place for mistakes.
Its mouth was wide open, belting the final note, as it hung upside down from the giant metal ring attached to the ceiling.
It had to fake a vibrato, its voice wasn’t relaxed enough for it to come in naturally, but none of the people watching it were experts in music and they wouldn’t know the difference.
The final note finished in unison with the symphony and soon people started clapping.
It breathed heavily, still hanging upside down, and forced a smile as tears of exhaustion streamed down its face.
At least the audience seemed satisfied. It glanced at its Master and he was smiling.
It had succeeded.
The lights turned off as the applause died out and it was finally allowed to get down.
The metal ring lowered to the floor and it stepped down and sighed.
Its hair was sticking to its face and its whole body was wet in sweat. It couldn’t wait to take a shower and change and finally eat and sleep.
But this wasn’t the end of the night yet.
It went backstage and grabbed a towel to wipe away most of its sweat and also to rearrange its makeup and hair.
It didn’t have much time; Master wasn’t a patient man, so it hurried up and sprayed perfume on itself and downed a glass of lukewarm water.
It walked in the corridors and went to meet its Master in the audience.
“This was a wonderful performance, Skye. I’m very proud of you. Now, go, the guests want to see you.”
His approval meant the world to it and it felt an enormous weight fall off its shoulders.
It nodded and walked towards the multiple tables occupied by Master Williams’ friends.
It got called by multiple people and started with the closest table.
The men at the table started groping it and complimenting its performance.
It mumbled a few ‘thank you’ while holding back tears, too tired to handle the bright lights and attention.
But it knew better than pull away and misbehave.
So it sat on a man’s lap when he pulled it towards himself and answered the many questions that were thrown at it.
“Are you sure you’re not for sale? I’d love to have a little bird like you at home.”
“I am immensely sorry, Sir, you’d have to talk to my Master about this, but the last I’ve been made aware, I haven’t been put on the market.”
“That’s a shame. I would’ve paid a handsome price for you.”
It smiled as innocently as it could and apologized again.
“You must be hard to maintain, huh?” One laughed as he passed his hand in its hair.
“Well, I do my best to not burden my Master with any of my needs, but I do require more care than an ordinary pet because of my performances. If I am not healthy, I cannot perform.” It explained politely.
It kept on moving from table to table, letting itself be manhandled and groped while answering questions and putting on a fake and innocent smile.
It was used to all of this at this point, but it couldn’t stop itself from thinking about a nice warm meal and a good night’s sleep instead of focusing on the people around it.
“Hey.” A snap in front of its face.
It blinked and shook its head.
“I-I’m sorry, Sir, I must’ve zoned out…” it apologized as it brought its attention back to its entourage.
“You’re not as perfect as you lead people to believe, huh?” Someone mocked.
“I- of course I’m not perfect, Sir…!”
“Clearly.”
It apologized again and went to the next table.
It couldn’t wait for this night to end.
Songbird Series Masterpost
Content Warning: groping, noncon touching, display whump, performance whump, exhaustion
Summary:
Skye, an ex Broadway star now captured by a cruel Master, is forced to entertain people with its talents and goes through horrid punishments if not perfect.
Story:
Characters:
Main characters and their moodboards
Skye
Art:
