#whump writer
May 7th “Relax”
Okay, this one is a doozy and I’ve held onto it so that I could get to the cannon noncon first. It’s short, the noncon is only like two paragraphs and not detailed. (If you’ve been following cannon, that’s what I mean by detailed.) Heed the tags though for other Volkov horribleness.
This is my last Merry Whump of May post. I did them all! \o/ \o/ \o/ \o/
Comfort | Branded | Trembling
Ben was sobbing and trembling with absolute terror. He knew what was coming. Volkov had tattooed him repeatedly during his first captivity. Apparently, it was a Russian thing, that’s what Volkov had told him. Ben had been having regular appointments to have the tattoos removed since he’d been rescued. And now, stripped down to his underwear, bent over face down on a table, wrists tied together underneath the table, legs bound to the lower end of the legs, he knew there would be no removing this.
Volkov had been furious when he’d seen the faded and disappearing tattoos when he’d taken Ben’s shirt off on the plane. Ben’s ribs were still bruised from the beating he’d taken as a result.
Ben glances helplessly to where Jake was bound on his knees, with his arms pulled up nearly vertical behind him and secured to a hook in the pillar. There was blood still on Jake’s face and burns on his chest and abdomen from the electric baton they’d used on him. His mouth was stretched around a black rubber ball as he screamed for his brother, screamed for them not to hurt him, screamed for them to hurt him instead.
Their eyes locked and they were both terrified for each other. Ben had a ball in his mouth as well and he couldn’t do the one thing he wanted to do which was to reassure his brother that it was going to be okay. Was it? a little scared voice asked inside his head.
Volkov stroked his hair and Ben sucked in a gasp of air through his nose.
“You tried to erase who you belong to, didn’t you?”
Ben whimpered and shook his head.
“You’re mine. Always. You will always be mine. And I’m going to make sure you remember that this time, Malyshka.”
Ben dissolved into sobs again. Dmitri approached and handed Volkov the glowing white metal. Ben squealed in terror and doubled his struggles, forgetting temporarily that he was trying so hard to be strong for his brother, to not make it worse for him. Volkov leaned over and kissed Ben’s spine, licking the spot between his shoulder blades where his mark would reside.
Volkov straightened up and then he brought the branding iron close to Ben’s skin, letting him feel the heat, dragging out the terror on the boy’s face before pressing it into his skin. Ben’s scream rose to a shriek of absolute agony.
Jake screamed from where he knelt, barely even able to keep his head raised due to the strain on his shoulders from his stress position. He would not look away though. He wouldn’t leave his brother alone in this. If all he could do was bear witness to what Volkov was doing to him then he would do it.
It seemed like an eternity before Volkov pulled the brand away from Ben’s skin, leaving a stinking burned smell in the air and literal smoke rising up from the horrific mark on Ben’s flesh. Ben’s body continued to quake and twitch while he screamed through the pain, eyes squeezed tight shut.
Jake didn’t think it could get any worse. But then Volkov did the unthinkable and tore off Ben’s boxers. Ben screamed and thrashed, eye’s shooting open and his panicked gaze meeting Jake’s. Jake held his gaze while Volkov prepared himself.
Both brothers cried out when Volkov thrust roughly into Ben. Jake watched powerless as Ben was brutally used. Thankfully, Volkov didn’t last long, too aroused by what he’d just done. He collapsed onto Ben’s back, hips still jerking as he finished himself inside of his captive.
Ben lay utterly exhausted and in extreme pain. Volkov pulled out of him and ran his fingers over the fresh brand on Ben’s back.
“So beautiful, so fucking perfect, Malyshka.”
Ben’s eyes slipped closed and all he could do was breathe. He was so tired. He felt his restraints being loosened and then he was pulled off the table. He let himself be dragged away, unable to even open his eyes and process where he was being taken. He sank to the ground where he was dropped and passed out.
*!*!*!*!*
Jake was finally released from the stress position he’d been held in for hours. They’d taken another hour after taking Ben away to beat and shock him. He was exhausted and in pain, but he forgot all that when they dumped him in a stone room with Ben.
They dragged him to a wall and chained his wrists and ankles to make sure he couldn’t get away from the wall, but the chains were long enough that he could slip down to the floor. He reached out and could just barely reach Ben, who was only chained by his wrists.
He pulled on the chains, arms screaming with pain and dragged his brother’s limp body towards him. He checked his pulse. Thank God, he’s still breathing. He pulled Ben to his bare chest and cradled his little brother against him.
He was careful not to touch the fresh circular brand on the back of his shoulders. The stylized letter V filling the middle of it. Jake’s eyes flooded with tears as he took in the injuries up close. He didn’t care how weak his body felt, he was going to hold on to Ben as long as he could. He rocked him in his arms like he did when they were children. He remembered being a precocious eight-year-old and having to sit very still when his mama put the tiny bundle of new baby in his arms.
He’d promised he’d protect him, that he’d be a good big brother. His tears dripped down into Ben’s head as he kissed his hair. Chalk it up to one more fucking failure in his life.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”
*!*!*!*!*
When Ben awoke, he was resting against a warm surface. It was soft, but it moved. Ben felt himself raising and lowering slightly, but every now and then it shook. He could hear crying. Someone had an arm around him and for a split second he thought it was Volkov. But why would Volkov be crying? He wouldn’t.
Ben blinked his eyes open. The room was dark, the warm surface beneath him moved slightly and Ben could hear chains rattle with the movement.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Oh God am I sorry. Please be okay. Please. Please. Please.”
Jake. Ben moved his arms slowly, weakly, and wrapped them around his brother. He felt his brother kiss the top of his head like he used to do when Ben was very small. He winced as the movement pulled at the fresh brand at the center of his shoulder blades. Volkov was such a fucking bastard.
“No’ your faul’, Jake,” Ben whispered. “Ne’er your faul’,” he slurred, jaw still aching from the gag.
Jake let out a small sob.
“I… I love you, Jake.”
“Love you too, baby brother.”
Ben stayed pillowed on his brother’s chest, arms wrapped around each other for a long time. Neither of them spoke; what was there to say? They cried off and on, sometimes together, sometimes just one or the other, but neither of them broke contact. They needed each other. The truth was, any second here with Volkov could either be their last with the other, or their last moment alive.
Both of them fell into a distraught slumber brought on by utter exhaustion, breath hitching even as they slept.
May 27th “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”
Also, thanks to @whumpcereal for this idea. I was struggling with this prompt. LOL!
Mask | Nightmare | Pliers
Ben stared up at the terrifying mask. Ben was fastened to an inclined table and stripped down to his boxers, this was the stuff of his nightmares. Was this a nightmare? And the face on the mask… Ben shuddered at the twisted, carved form of a corpse face looking down on him.
“Now little Benjamin, let’s find out what you’re made of, shall we?”
Ben strained helplessly as his mouth was forced open – open so wide he could feel his jaw ache and click. Ben’s eyes widened in terror as a pair of pliers descended towards his open mouth. They clamped around one of his teeth and started to tug. Ben’s eyes watered and he wanted to scream, but no sound came from his mouth.
Ben jerked awake in the dark. The sound of the chains rattling set his teeth on edge and reminded him where he was – that and the fact that he was warm. The only time he was warm was when he was in his bed. He was curled up as much as the chains on his wrists and ankles would allow, Volkov spooned around him, limbs tangled with his own. Ben hated that he reveled in the warmth.
Volkov knew exactly what he was doing when he’d chained him to that cross outside. He’d brought him back here to his bed and wrapped him in blankets. He’d explained that the only way he got a blanket, or a pillow, was when he was with him. When Ben chose to be with him.
He’d made him ask - made him beg. Ben had sworn he wouldn’t at first, but he was so cold in his cage and it was always so warm in Volkov’s bed. It was the one reprieve to the disgusting things that happened to him here, to the things he made Ben do here.
“Malyshka? Did you have a bad dream, my little kitten?” Volkov’s voice was thick with sleep, his Russian accent gruffer as a result.
“N-no, I’m, I’m, I’m sorry I woke you, you, sir,” Ben said quietly. He could feel Volkov’s erection pressing against his back and god, he hoped that the mad Russian would just go back to sleep.
“No, tell me, my darling. You can tell me anything,” Volkov’s voice was soft and questioning. Ben knew not to trust it.
“I-it’s fine. Go back to sleep. It was, was n-nothing.”
“Tell me, Malyshka.”
Ben could hear the command in Volkov’s voice. He huffed out a breath and slowly, reluctantly, recounted what he could of the terrifying dream. As if anyone needed to tell him who the man in the mask was. It was either Volkov or Dmitri, the two men who had hurt him the most over the last few months. Maybe Ilya as well.
“Let me see… my Babushka used to interpret dreams.” He was thoughtful for a moment. Ben hoped desperately that he’d fallen back asleep, but of course, no such luck. “Maybe this man in the mask represents that you do not know who you can trust. Perhaps you are worried about who might be hiding, lurking behind a mask to hurt you. Like your brother, kitten, he was behind a mask all along, wasn’t he?”
Don’t fucking talk about Jake! Ben wanted to scream. His brother made some mistakes, he wasn’t a monster, not like the man who had Ben chained in his bed.
Ben nodded his head obediently. Perhaps if he just went along, they could go back to sleep.
Volkov continued with his farcical dream interpretation. “Losing your teeth could be kin to you losing control. And we certainly both know you have none of that around here, do you my little scholar?”
“N-no, sir,” Ben said, barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard as Volkov’s hand drifted from his hip and down around to cup him between his legs.
Volkov stroked Ben with one hand while he turns the boy’s face with his other towards him. His mouth was on Ben’s, tongue demanding and receiving entry. Ben knew not to fight it. Maybe Volkov would be quick. Volkov pulled away.
“The only interest I’d have in taking your teeth would be if you forgot yourself while you’re performing for me. We have found some great uses for that tongue of yours, haven’t we?”
Ben closed his eyes in the dark of the room. “Y-y-yes… Yes, sir.”
“Now, forcing your mouth open…” Volkov reached behind him to the bedside table for the conveniently located ring gag. “I think we can arrange that. Open up, little scholar.”
May 28th “I’d rather not”
Faked death | Iron | Ditch
Whumpee trembled next to whumper, blood oozing from the gash whumper had carved into their hands, which were bound behind their back. They watched the body of the unknown and unfortunate homeless man burn to ashes in the ditch in front of them next to their wrecked car.
“Now comes the hard part, my darling, but it’s necessary for us to stay together and remain unbothered,” Whumper crooned lovingly into their ear.
What more could they want? They’d already forced the blood from their hands so it could be sprinkled all around the fire.
Whumper took out a pair of plant cutters and grabbed whumpee’s bound wrists. They twisted their arms until whumpee was bent nearly double with the strained position.
Whumpee let out an unearthly scream as the blades clamped around their pinky finger and contracted. There was no pulling or fighting, they couldn’t from the position that Whumper held them. They screamed and screamed hysterically as Whumper cut both pinky fingers from their hands. They collapsed to the ground as pure agony radiated up their arms. Their hands throbbed, permanently mutilated forever. Their remaining fingers trembled violently as they tried to process what whumper had just done.
Whumpee watched as his fingers were tossed to the edge of the fire where they would be burned, but easily identifiable and therefore most likely to be tested for viable fingerprints or DNA.
Whumper grabbed whumpee by the iron collar around their neck.
“There, it’s done my lovely. Now we shant ever be disturbed. I have a lovely home ready for us to go to. It’s on an island. It’ll just be the two of us. Forever. Isn’t that wonderful?”
They dragged whumpee toward the waiting vehicle.
“I know that was unpleasant, but it was a necessary sacrifice, don’t you agree?”
Whumpee could feel the blood pulsing from the missing digits and they grew faint, knees buckling.
Whumper caught them delicately in their arms. “Oh you poor thing. You must be exhausted. Faking your own death is hard work, isn’t it? Come. Let’s get those wounds cauterized. I rather not have you bleeding out on me. I left the cigarette lighter on in the car for just that purpose. It’s why I chose this old relic. And then we’ll be at the air strip and on my private plane in no time. We can finally relax. No one will be looking for us.”
Whumpee finally fainted when the glowing hot metal of the cigarette lighter was pressed against the wound where their pinky used to be.
May 31st “…Sir?”
Middle of nowhere | Freezing | Lighter
Jake lay strapped to the table where Ben usually was. Ben was off with Volkov suffering through whatever Volkov did to him. Jake knew, but his attention was focused on the pugilistic face of Dmitri, staring down at him. Volkov had left the underling in charge of him, and Jake knew it was going to be a rough night.
“Alcohol is funny thing,” Dmitri said in his stupidly thick accent. “It doesn’t freeze solid, and will still burn.”
What the hell does that mean? Jake wondered. He would have asked just to be a smart mouth, but his smart mouth was trapped behind a muzzle. Volkov liked Jake muzzled. They used that one a lot. They treated Jake like a dog. Ben had to kneel and be hand fed, Jake was chained to the floor on all fours and fed from a dog bowl.
Dmitri took a cotton ball and doused it in Vodka. Ice. Cold. Vodka.
Jake was stretched out on his back to the point that he couldn’t move. Dmitri set the freezing little ball of cotton on Jake’s thigh and then dipped another one into the glass of vodka. He repeated this until there were three balls of soaked cotton on each of his thighs.
“Don’t move, Jakey. If they fall off, I pin them to your skin.” Dmitri shrugged. “I may do that anyway. For fun. Watch you squirm.” Dmitri’s devilish grin split his face.
If Jake ever got the chance, he’d murder the son of a bitch. Well, if he could do it and it not result in Ben getting punished. Volkov was adept at keeping them in check by punishing the other if they stepped out of line.
Dmitri set more frozen little blobs of soaked cotton on his body – across his chest, his ribs, the center of his stomach, his belly button. He sat back and looked Jake over, seeming satisfied with his work.
Dmitri took out a lighter with a flourish and lit a cigarette. He pulled in a lungful and then blew the smoke over Jake’s face.
Stupid idiot, I’m muzzled, you dumb fuck. It filters out your smoke. Bastard. Jake smirked under the muzzle. Dmitri may be a sick fuck, but no one could accuse him of being bright.
Suddenly he flicked the lighter to life and lit the cotton ball just above Jake’s knee. Jake screamed as the flame swiftly engulfed the alcohol-soaked ball, burning the skin beneath as the fire consumed it. He thrashed as much as the chains would allow, dislodging several cotton balls.
Dmitri tsked and pulled out a set of straight pins. “Looks like I’ll be pinning them in place after all.”
Jake cried and struggled as Dmitri pinned the cotton balls to his skin. When they were all in back in place. He started lighting them, one by one. Jake screamed and screamed. The flame burned out fairly quickly, but in its place, it left angry red blisters that covered his chest, abdomen, and legs.
The door opened and Volkov walked in on the torture session. He looked down at Jake and smiled.
“That is lovely Dmitri.” He reached out and poked one of the burns over Jake’s left nipple.
Jake moaned and tried to twist away.
“I bet Benjamin would look good with a few of these.”
“Where is little Benjamin?”
“I left him with some of his favorite toys. I’ve got a few hours before I need to go back and check on him. So, I thought I’d see how your experiment was going. This is excellent.”
Dmitri smiled as he basked in the Pahkan’s praise.
“Watch this.” He took the cotton balls and stuffed them between each of Jake’s toes.
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.
“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?”
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.
May 29th “Don’t make me”
Sorry, I got behind on these so I’ll post a couple a day for the next two or three days. Oops.
Collared | Cane | Flinching
Ben flinched as the mask over his eyes was removed. He trembled at the sight before him. Jake was stripped down to his boxer briefs and stretched out vertically in an X shape. There was a bar between his wrists and one between his ankles. His brother had a bit between his teeth, and it looked like his collar was fastened to tight. Ben can hear a sort of wheezing coming from him, like he’s straining to breathe. He was blindfolded too.
Ben hadn’t been allowed to see his brother for the last several days. Volkov said that Jake had been naughty and needed to be punished. From the looks of it, he had certainly been punished. There were electrical burns and bruises and countless cuts and scrapes that covered his brother’s back, arms and legs, as well as roughly one inch circular burns that littered his body. What the fuck had caused those?
Ben trembled as he looked at him. What had he done to deserve this? It reminded him of when Volkov had punished him for not coming out of his cage fast enough. Tears slipped down his cheek as he looked him over. Jake was clearly exhausted. His head hung low against his chest, he didn’t look up or acknowledge Ben’s presence. Ben looked at Volkov who had a sadistic grin on his face. God I hate you, Ben thought viciously.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ve been through punishment, Benjamin. You understand. So, you’ll be teaching today’s lesson to your brother.”
“W-what?”
“You’ll be administering his punishment.”
“I don’t… what are you… what do you mean?”
Dmitri stepped towards him and that’s when Ben saw the cane in his hands.
“N-n-no! No, you… you can’t make me do th-that. No.”
“You’ll administer the cane to Jake’s body where instructed, or I’ll let Dmitri do with an added bonus.”
Ben looked at Volkov, eyes questioning him.
“Refuse to carry out your brother’s punishment and I make you watch as Dmitri get’s to use your brother in whatever way he wants as often as he wants until I’m ready to take you back to our bed.”
Ben swallowed hard. He couldn’t hurt his brother. Not like this. Dmitri put the cane in his hands.
“Please, can… can I please talk to him?”
“Punishment first. Do it and I’ll let you two share a cell tonight.”
Ben saw his brother’s shoulder’s shake slightly. He could tell Jake was in pain.
“Consider it payback for all you have suffered because of him.”
“It’s not like that. I mean… I don’t think like that.”
“Really? You’ve never had a moment where you wished it had been him, and not you?”
Ben drops his eyes from Volkov’s, knowing that he’ll see the truth of his thoughts there. He remembers a harsh conversation where he’d nearly shouted the same thing at Jake at home in their kitchen after he’d been rescued.
“I thought so. Now do it! Or give Dmitri back the cane and watch him utterly ruin your pathetic brother.”
It really was best if he did it. But god, he knew how much it hurt. He didn’t want to hurt him. Even if Jake was to blame, Ben truly didn’t want him hurt. But the only way to save Jake, in this instance, was to hurt him. Would Jake forgive him? He looked at Jake, he couldn’t see his face, but despite his trembling, it looked like he was nodding his head yes. Was he trying to tell Ben it was okay?
Ben held the cane in a tremulous grip. “O-okay,” he agreed in a very small voice. “But, sir, please, c-can I talk to him? It’s been days. Please.”
“You can talk after.”
Ben swallowed and nodded. Volkov would not be negotiated with. He glanced over to see a video camera ready to record the beating. He looked back at Volkov who once again had a cruel, smug smile on his face.
Ben pulled in a deep steadying breath. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do this. He approached his brother. The wheezing got louder the closer he got. “Please,” he said, turning back to Volkov, “could you at least loosen his collar so he can breathe? I can hear him struggling from here.”
Volkov assented and Dmitri unlocked the padlock and loosened the collar, then locked the tiny padlock back into place. Ben was relieved to see a fraction of the tension in his brother’s body loosen.
Ben stood behind Jake, just off to his left. He raised the cane, but it felt thick, heavy and unwieldy in his grasp, despite its apparent suppleness.
“I-I’m sorry,” Ben whispered, and he hoped it was loud enough that his brother could hear him.
The cry that Ben let out as he swung the cane at Jake’s back was nearly as loud as Jake’s when the rod touched his back.
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.
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.
Morning reblog since I posted sooooo late. Heed the tags, here there be noncon.
So, as promised, I made a poll of all the non-Brother’s Keeper stories from the Merry Whump of May for you all to vote on. You are voting for which three you would like for me to possibly continue. You can vote once a day and I will leave the poll open for the next two weeks.
Also, if you would be interested in co-writing any of these OR taking one and running with it on your own, then let me know. :-)
I tried to link to the stories in the vote button, but that was a no-go, so, you can find my Masterlist here if you can’t remember what each story is about.
Brother’s Keeper Masterlist
Content Warnings: clearly marked in chapter tags. HEED THE TAGS. This fic will contain noncon in some chapters and elements of noncon or threatened noncon throughout.
Chapter 1: Acquisition For Repayment
Chapter 2: A Lesson in Regret
Chapter 3: Getting Off on the Wrong Foot
Chapter 4: For Your Viewing Pleasure
Chapter 5: Welcome Home
Chapter 6: Breakfast of Champions
Chapter 7: Watch and Learn
Chapter 8: Aftermath
Chapter 9: (Part 1) Anticipation
Chapter 9: (Part 2) Action
Chapter 10: A Step Out of Line
Chapter 11: The Skin You Live In
Chapter 12: Game Changer
Chapter 13: Times Up, Part 1
Chapter 13: Time’s Up, Part 2
Extras that may or may not end up in cannon – if they end up in cannon, they’ll be part of a larger chapter in chronological order.
Don’t Mind Me (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 3rd)
Shoulder’s Back, Eyes on Me (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 4th) (Appears in cannon)
May I Cut In (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 5th)
Who Died and Left You in Charge? (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 6th)
Relax (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 7th)
They’re Not Here (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 10th)
Lock the Door (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 11th)
How Squeamish Are You? (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 12th)
When Did You Get So Brave? (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022- May 15th)
Let’s Go Back Inside (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 17th)
It’s Getting Late (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 18th)
Are You Cold? (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 21st)
Please (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 23rd) (fluff)
Do You Need a Break (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 24th)
A Little Louder (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 25th)
I’m Sorry, I’m So Sorry (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 27th)
Don’t Make Me (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 29th)
…Sir? (Part of the Merry Whump of May 2022 - May 31st)
Other Merry Whump of May Entries that are not Bother’s Keeper Related (Be sure to heed all the tags for each entry):
May 1st: Don’t Hold Your Breath
May 2nd: Beg to Differ
May 8th: Does That Hurt
May 9th: You Can Cry, It’s Okay
May 13th: Wait Right Here
May 14th: You Don’t Wanna Do That
May 16th: You’re Scared, Aren’t You
May 19th: I’m All You Need
May 20th: Don’t Leave Me Here
May 22nd: Get in!
May 26th: I Don’t Know What You Mean
May 28th: I’d Rather Not
May 30th: What Are You Doing?
Updated Masterlist with ALL THIRTY-ONE Merry Whump of May prompts completed!!!!! \o/\o/\o/\o/
It’s almost evenly split between future Brother’s Keeper drabbles and whumpee/whumper type stories with one named character drabble.
This was sooooooo fun. I’m looking forward to doing something like this soon. It’s the summer and I wanna write!
Play Pretend Masterlist
Obsessive/Intimate/Yandere Whumper, Kidnapping, Captivity
Shattered #2
Taglist:@octopus-reactivated@whatwasmyprevioususername@ramadiiiisme@darkthingshappen (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed )
CW: Vampire Whumper, Vampire Caretaker, Pet/Bloodbag Whumpee, Captivity, Restraints, Muzzled, Vegetative State/Disassociation, Use of hypnosis/mind control, Starvation (brief mention of weight), Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Mentions of death, Selling of human, Illness/infection, Implied previous abuse…*I feel like I’ve missed some, please let me know if I need to add some*
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“You understand… this is an ‘end of life’ sale? That’s why the price on the advertisement was substantially low”, Vince cautioned with a quizzing brow, leading August through the long, winding corridors of his manor. “I very much doubt the boy will live to see the light of next week. I advise that this be a temporary blood bag till you find something a bit more ‘permanent’”. Biting his tongue, needle-sharp fangs sinking into the edges of the muscular organ, August suppresses the repulsed quips and curses he wishes he could hurl in Vince’s direction. The way in which he spoke of the boy as merely food and nothing more, it sickened him to his stomach.
Was it not that the boy’s heart still beats vehemently within his chest? Hopes and desires nesting in his soul that he may now never fulfill, affection that would go unshared, goodbyes never to be uttered? This was not a matter as simple as some food going off; did Vince really not comprehend the complexities of humanity? Or was it more so that he chose not to understand, lacking the necessary compassion and empathy to care? A slight suspicion indicated it would be the latter reasoning. The boy’s suffering will not end with him upon his death, as brutal as that truth was. It will only trigger a ripple of despair amongst those who care for and miss him, and that’s why August swore to himself and will later swear to Declan if given the chance, that he will one day reunite with his family again.
“I understand. I wish to proceed with the sale.” August bluntly retorted. Keep it professional, no letting tangled emotions get the better of you. See the boy, pay Vince, take him home. Done.
Vince hums in approval, a toothy smile growing on his face. When they finally approach the brass-bound, hefty door locking away the basement, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it imprisoned an unimaginable monster, maybe even the devil himself - instead of a measly human with a melted mind. Dozens of varying locks bolted down the entire length of the door; chains, bolts, key locks. By the time the first couple were done, the rest of them were completely redundant. Overkill. August crosses his arms across his chest, tapping his feet impatiently on the floor with a vexed huff, awaiting for Vince to go through the hassle of opening every single one. When he does, he forcefully shoves the door open, causing an almighty metallic bang to ring through the house. Outstretching his arm inside the dark abyss of the room, gesturing for August to enter first.
“After you…”, Vince grins at him, waving his hand to usher August through the doorway,
Descending into the basement, the icy hush of air instantly wraps itself around August’s body - an involuntary shiver coursing down his spine, goosebumps prickling along his arms. If August; a cold-blooded creature, is bothered by the extreme chill, he dreads to imagine how the human must be coping with it. Rusty squeaks of the metal stairs sound with each cautious step down, and then the boy comes into view. Crimson eyes widening at the sight laying before him.
Declan is crumpled onto callused, bruised knees, head bowed down towards the floor with sopping wet hair leaking water droplets off the end of his curls. The boy is violently shivering, the freezing temperature and his soaked, dripping wet skin and clothes being the culprit. Though August imagines that Declan is entirely oblivious of just how much his body is rocking and trembling on the ground, fatigued muscles involuntarily straining from the physical stress.
“I did you the favour of getting him all spritzed and cleaned up”, Vince chirps, striding towards the boy and hooking his fingers underneath his chin to snap his head up and aimed towards August - his body just limply rolls in whichever direction it’s forced towards, not an ounce of stiffness. Half-lidded, glassy eyes just wearily blink at him, completely out of it and truthfully not comprehending a single word spoken in his vicinity. But now the boy’s face is lifted, August notices the thick leather muzzle buckled around his head and swallowing the lower half of his face. Scrawny arms stretched impossibly tight behind his back, wrists and upper arms bound with lengths of scratchy rope forcing his chest to puff outwards.
“He absolutely stank; reeked of sweat and piss and well… god knows what else. But don’t worry, that service is all free of charge-”
“You said he was broken? That he was living in a comatose state?” August queried, beaming a look of perplexion towards the other vampire that was now working at flicking wet strands of hair out of the human’s expressionless face.
“That he is, indeed” Vince let out a chesty sigh, plucking his hand away and allowing the boy’s head to plummet back down onto his chest. “It’s a shame, really-”
“So then why is he muzzled and tied?” August interjected, the disgust in his voice unintentionally evident.
“Ah! That…” Vince trailed off, back and stroking a finger across the muzzle, tracing along the boy’s prominent jawline to zero reaction. “Some other prospective buyers expressed… concerns. Believed him to be faking, trying his luck at a little escape. Wouldn’t hear a word of it when I ensured the boy can’t string a sentence let alone devise an elaborate escape plan. Just a precaution, to give you peace of mind-”. August’s stomach churned, observing the demeaning way Vince’s fingers swept across Declan’s paling complexion, floating over angry scars and old, healing wounds that were seemingly painted across his entire body.
“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary.”
“Want to inspect the goods before you buy? Maybe a little taste sample?” Vince roughly forces the boy’s head to the side, shoved into his own shoulder; exposing the sore, wounded throat with two perfect puncture marks.
Infection. August immediately homes in on the sore, inflamed skin circling the two fang incisions, and can almost see the sickly heat radiating from it. Poorly scabbed over wounds, weeping and raw. It’s definitely infected.
“No. I’m satisfied with what I’ve seen. I’ll take him”. To leave the poor thing to suffer another day in that state was nothing short of barbaric and cruel, and to sit idly back and allow another vampire to swoop in and buy him first, was complicit in what would be the boy’s murder.
“Perfect!” Vince’s face lights up, clapping his hands together with anticipation, “I don’t do returns. No refunds. I believe I’ve been pretty transparent; the boy is dying. Will die. There’s no dragging him back in three days time when he’s finally kicked the bucket-”
“Understood.” August chucks the envelope of cash into Vince’s hands, a smug grin emerging as he flicks his finger through all the notes, stepping away with satisfaction from the bowing pet.
“All yours.”
August bends to his knees, lowering to Declan’s level, refusing to insinuate any derranged hierarchy of power by towering above, looking down on him. The human’s pupils were mere pin prick dots almost lost in the murky brown eyes, glaring blankly back at the vampire’s deep ruby one’s. And though his body racked with trembles from the cold, when August gently places the back of his hand against the boy’s pale forehead, he’s warm to the touch. Blistering hot and sweating in fact; August hisses and withdraws his hand, his worries of infection further confirmed. He begins scooping the boy into his arms, he doesn’t expect him and will not make him stumble to the car, doubting his abused body could handle the exertion. Even if Declan wasn’t incredibly light, reduced to skin and bones - August was more than strong enough to carry him without so much as busting a sweat.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that!” Vince scoffs, “Walk with your new master, pet!” he bellows the order over August’s shoulder. Declan instantly obeys much to August’s horror; attempting to wobble to his feet, stumbling off balance and looking like he was experiencing an earthquake with how much every muscle was plagued with pained tremors.
“NO! Sleep!” August shouts the alarmed command to override Vince’s, watching with regretful eyes as Declan’s body crashes harshly back to the ground, eyes rolling back into his head and eyelids fluttering shut. Vince shoots a questioning look at August, glancing down at the unconscious boy and flickering his attention back up to the peculiar buyer. August really resented the idea of using persuasion on the boy, he had no intentions of everdoing it but Vince forced his hand. It was safer, kinder and merciful in the long run to force him unconscious… he’d avoid using persuasion at all cost in future.
August unclips the muzzle from Declan’s mouth, carefully removing the bit pressing down on his tongue, the saliva drooling out with its removal and tossing the repulsive device across to the other side of the room.
“You can keep that vile thing!”, August growls, the mask finally slipping and his true emotions leaking out. He wordlessly scoops Declans limp body into a bridal carry, the boy’s legs dangling to the side and freely swinging through the air with each step. This buyer absolutely befuddled Vince; acting so high and mighty, ‘holier than thou’ type bullshit. He silently judges the man, his cowardly gentleness with the pet.
“Pleasure doing business with you-” August grits between his teeth, making a point of barging past Vince with the boy cradled in his arms, and seeing himself out.
Carefully, he shuffles Declan into the car, laying stretched on his side across the leather back seats. Fiddly fingers working at the tight knotted ropes brutally restraining the poor thing. A sense of relief washing over when the binds are pulled away, limbs falling to his sides, but a pang of guilt ensues when he spots the raw, bruised skin that had been concealed underneath. August unwinds the seatbelts from their holsters and clinks both sets around Declan’s sleeping body. For a moment, he just sits with him and watches the weak, tired breaths shudder from his lips - the troubled rise and fall of his chest. Circling soothing rubs on his back that he is well aware have no effect on him, it won’t calm any nerves because there are no nerves to calm. Just hollow. But August is determined to fix that, certain he can breathe life back into the boy and nurse him to health.
It may not work. Not oblivious to the fact that a rough journey lay ahead. Maybe it will all be fruitless and fighting for a lost cause. But he can at least try, right?
He can only try.
-
Shattered Masterlist
Vampire Whumper, Vampire Caretaker, Pet/Bloodbag Whumpee
Years of being kept held captive, under the vampires brutal persusasion has finally broken Declan, shattered his mind. Not living but not quite dead, paralysed in a comatose-like state. Vince decides his once delicious bloodbag has finally reached its end, selling it during it’s final few days. When August sees the advert for the dying human, he knows what he must do. Taking on the responsibility of nursing Declan back to health - though he is woefully unprepared for just how deep and severe the damage is and the hardships that will arise whilst tackling it.
Shattered #2 - Sold
Taglist:@octopus-reactivated@whatwasmyprevioususername@ramadiiiisme@darkthingshappen@whumpsday@thecyrulik@t0rture-me@redwhump@the-non-binary-cowboy@snowstuffscuff@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump@wolfeyedwitch@interdimensional-chaos@no-terms-and-conditions-apply@whump-blog@leyswhumpdump@not-a-space-alien (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed )
CW: Vampire Whumper, Vampire Caretaker, Pet/Bloodbag Whumpee, Captivity, Restraints, Muzzled, Vegetative State/Disassociation, Use of hypnosis/mind control, Starvation (brief mention of weight), Creepy/Intimate Whumper, Mentions of death, Selling of human, Illness/infection, Implied previous abuse…*I feel like I’ve missed some, please let me know if I need to add some*
-
“You understand… this is an ‘end of life’ sale? That’s why the price on the advertisement was substantially low”, Vince cautioned with a quizzing brow, leading August through the long, winding corridors of his manor. “I very much doubt the boy will live to see the light of next week. I advise that this be a temporary blood bag till you find something a bit more ‘permanent’”. Biting his tongue, needle-sharp fangs sinking into the edges of the muscular organ, August suppresses the repulsed quips and curses he wishes he could hurl in Vince’s direction. The way in which he spoke of the boy as merely food and nothing more, it sickened him to his stomach.
Was it not that the boy’s heart still beats vehemently within his chest? Hopes and desires nesting in his soul that he may now never fulfill, affection that would go unshared, goodbyes never to be uttered? This was not a matter as simple as some food going off; did Vince really not comprehend the complexities of humanity? Or was it more so that he chose not to understand, lacking the necessary compassion and empathy to care? A slight suspicion indicated it would be the latter reasoning. The boy’s suffering will not end with him upon his death, as brutal as that truth was. It will only trigger a ripple of despair amongst those who care for and miss him, and that’s why August swore to himself and will later swear to Declan if given the chance, that he will one day reunite with his family again.
“I understand. I wish to proceed with the sale.” August bluntly retorted. Keep it professional, no letting tangled emotions get the better of you. See the boy, pay Vince, take him home. Done.
Vince hums in approval, a toothy smile growing on his face. When they finally approach the brass-bound, hefty door locking away the basement, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it imprisoned an unimaginable monster, maybe even the devil himself - instead of a measly human with a melted mind. Dozens of varying locks bolted down the entire length of the door; chains, bolts, key locks. By the time the first couple were done, the rest of them were completely redundant. Overkill. August crosses his arms across his chest, tapping his feet impatiently on the floor with a vexed huff, awaiting for Vince to go through the hassle of opening every single one. When he does, he forcefully shoves the door open, causing an almighty metallic bang to ring through the house. Outstretching his arm inside the dark abyss of the room, gesturing for August to enter first.
“After you…”, Vince grins at him, waving his hand to usher August through the doorway,
Descending into the basement, the icy hush of air instantly wraps itself around August’s body - an involuntary shiver coursing down his spine, goosebumps prickling along his arms. If August; a cold-blooded creature, is bothered by the extreme chill, he dreads to imagine how the human must be coping with it. Rusty squeaks of the metal stairs sound with each cautious step down, and then the boy comes into view. Crimson eyes widening at the sight laying before him.
Declan is crumpled onto callused, bruised knees, head bowed down towards the floor with sopping wet hair leaking water droplets off the end of his curls. The boy is violently shivering, the freezing temperature and his soaked, dripping wet skin and clothes being the culprit. Though August imagines that Declan is entirely oblivious of just how much his body is rocking and trembling on the ground, fatigued muscles involuntarily straining from the physical stress.
“I did you the favour of getting him all spritzed and cleaned up”, Vince chirps, striding towards the boy and hooking his fingers underneath his chin to snap his head up and aimed towards August - his body just limply rolls in whichever direction it’s forced towards, not an ounce of stiffness. Half-lidded, glassy eyes just wearily blink at him, completely out of it and truthfully not comprehending a single word spoken in his vicinity. But now the boy’s face is lifted, August notices the thick leather muzzle buckled around his head and swallowing the lower half of his face. Scrawny arms stretched impossibly tight behind his back, wrists and upper arms bound with lengths of scratchy rope forcing his chest to puff outwards.
“He absolutely stank; reeked of sweat and piss and well… god knows what else. But don’t worry, that service is all free of charge-”
“You said he was broken? That he was living in a comatose state?” August queried, beaming a look of perplexion towards the other vampire that was now working at flicking wet strands of hair out of the human’s expressionless face.
“That he is, indeed” Vince let out a chesty sigh, plucking his hand away and allowing the boy’s head to plummet back down onto his chest. “It’s a shame, really-”
“So then why is he muzzled and tied?” August interjected, the disgust in his voice unintentionally evident.
“Ah! That…” Vince trailed off, back and stroking a finger across the muzzle, tracing along the boy’s prominent jawline to zero reaction. “Some other prospective buyers expressed… concerns. Believed him to be faking, trying his luck at a little escape. Wouldn’t hear a word of it when I ensured the boy can’t string a sentence let alone devise an elaborate escape plan. Just a precaution, to give you peace of mind-”. August’s stomach churned, observing the demeaning way Vince’s fingers swept across Declan’s paling complexion, floating over angry scars and old, healing wounds that were seemingly painted across his entire body.
“Thank you, but that’s unnecessary.”
“Want to inspect the goods before you buy? Maybe a little taste sample?” Vince roughly forces the boy’s head to the side, shoved into his own shoulder; exposing the sore, wounded throat with two perfect puncture marks.
Infection. August immediately homes in on the sore, inflamed skin circling the two fang incisions, and can almost see the sickly heat radiating from it. Poorly scabbed over wounds, weeping and raw. It’s definitely infected.
“No. I’m satisfied with what I’ve seen. I’ll take him”. To leave the poor thing to suffer another day in that state was nothing short of barbaric and cruel, and to sit idly back and allow another vampire to swoop in and buy him first, was complicit in what would be the boy’s murder.
“Perfect!” Vince’s face lights up, clapping his hands together with anticipation, “I don’t do returns. No refunds. I believe I’ve been pretty transparent; the boy is dying. Will die. There’s no dragging him back in three days time when he’s finally kicked the bucket-”
“Understood.” August chucks the envelope of cash into Vince’s hands, a smug grin emerging as he flicks his finger through all the notes, stepping away with satisfaction from the bowing pet.
“All yours.”
August bends to his knees, lowering to Declan’s level, refusing to insinuate any derranged hierarchy of power by towering above, looking down on him. The human’s pupils were mere pin prick dots almost lost in the murky brown eyes, glaring blankly back at the vampire’s deep ruby one’s. And though his body racked with trembles from the cold, when August gently places the back of his hand against the boy’s pale forehead, he’s warm to the touch. Blistering hot and sweating in fact; August hisses and withdraws his hand, his worries of infection further confirmed. He begins scooping the boy into his arms, he doesn’t expect him and will not make him stumble to the car, doubting his abused body could handle the exertion. Even if Declan wasn’t incredibly light, reduced to skin and bones - August was more than strong enough to carry him without so much as busting a sweat.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that!” Vince scoffs, “Walk with your new master, pet!” he bellows the order over August’s shoulder. Declan instantly obeys much to August’s horror; attempting to wobble to his feet, stumbling off balance and looking like he was experiencing an earthquake with how much every muscle was plagued with pained tremors.
“NO! Sleep!” August shouts the alarmed command to override Vince’s, watching with regretful eyes as Declan’s body crashes harshly back to the ground, eyes rolling back into his head and eyelids fluttering shut. Vince shoots a questioning look at August, glancing down at the unconscious boy and flickering his attention back up to the peculiar buyer. August really resented the idea of using persuasion on the boy, he had no intentions of everdoing it but Vince forced his hand. It was safer, kinder and merciful in the long run to force him unconscious… he’d avoid using persuasion at all cost in future.
August unclips the muzzle from Declan’s mouth, carefully removing the bit pressing down on his tongue, the saliva drooling out with its removal and tossing the repulsive device across to the other side of the room.
“You can keep that vile thing!”, August growls, the mask finally slipping and his true emotions leaking out. He wordlessly scoops Declans limp body into a bridal carry, the boy’s legs dangling to the side and freely swinging through the air with each step. This buyer absolutely befuddled Vince; acting so high and mighty, ‘holier than thou’ type bullshit. He silently judges the man, his cowardly gentleness with the pet.
“Pleasure doing business with you-” August grits between his teeth, making a point of barging past Vince with the boy cradled in his arms, and seeing himself out.
Carefully, he shuffles Declan into the car, laying stretched on his side across the leather back seats. Fiddly fingers working at the tight knotted ropes brutally restraining the poor thing. A sense of relief washing over when the binds are pulled away, limbs falling to his sides, but a pang of guilt ensues when he spots the raw, bruised skin that had been concealed underneath. August unwinds the seatbelts from their holsters and clinks both sets around Declan’s sleeping body. For a moment, he just sits with him and watches the weak, tired breaths shudder from his lips - the troubled rise and fall of his chest. Circling soothing rubs on his back that he is well aware have no effect on him, it won’t calm any nerves because there are no nerves to calm. Just hollow. But August is determined to fix that, certain he can breathe life back into the boy and nurse him to health.
It may not work. Not oblivious to the fact that a rough journey lay ahead. Maybe it will all be fruitless and fighting for a lost cause. But he can at least try, right?
He can only try.
-
hello! fellow whump writer here - been living in the shadows for a few years, shy bc u are all so cool ;-; i hope to finally contribute to this community!
Welcome to the whump community!
Here’s a little drabble about being scared of the dark, but it sorta goes another direction that I wasn’t expecting when I first set out to write this? So y'know, that’s fun. Includes my OCs!! There’s some phobia of the dark in this! No spoilers, but uh, yeah- Enjoy :D
Everything was too much.
No one was here. It was night. Darius was safe in his room.
Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the door. So much so that his eyes had begun to water. The horrible, shifting darkness that slipped through the crack in the door was unbearable. It was creeping towards him. It was coming for him.
Though he was already sitting in the dark, the darkness beyond the door was different. It clearly wasn’t, but.. something in his mind was screaming at them to run. Far away. Jump out the window and hide in the bushes out there. Anywhere would be safer than here.
He felt silly for feeling that way. He was a grown man and a Knight, wasn’t he?
The urge to pull his blanket over his head, squeeze his eyes shut and try to forget that it was there until the sun appeared again was overwhelming.
He slowly began to do just that, but then he heard it. A creak-crack of sorts. He thought it was the floor at first, but that had never creaked before. It was new, after all.
Then Darius realised it was the wall just outside of his room. The thin walls felt like they would break when he even slightly leant on them, but the noise he had heard sounded like someone slumping against it for support. It sounded like the wall almost gave out.
“Hello?”
No. No, why had he called out? If there was something there it would know that he was here. Though it probably already knew, right? That’s why it was coming.
“..Darius?”
His mind overrided all fear in that moment. The man in that hallway was so much more important than his silly phobia. It was almost like it had never existed.
“Marcellus! Oh gods, wait just a moment! I’m on my way!”
Darius tripped out of bed, pulling on trousers and dashing out into the hallway. When his eyes laid upon Marcellus, he was overwhelmed with emotion beyond possible description.
He just sort of stood there, breathing urgent as he tried to figure out what to do.
Marcellus was bleeding. He could see that. So, the first thing he decided to do was to help him into his room and to sit him down on the bed.
Opening his bedside drawer, he pulled out a box of matches and lit one. Lifting it to the lamp on the wall, light flooded the room. It was only then that he realised just how badly his enemy was bleeding.
Sucking in air through his teeth, a strange feeling welled up within him. A burning pressure that made him want to tear apart whoever did this.
“I am not trained in medical care, Marcellus. But I do know someone.”
He hurried to the phone in the hallway, dialling the number quickly.
“Hello, Zach? I need your help. Come to my house. It’s urgent.”
Rude Awakening
cw: death mentions, threat of death / bone breaking / myiasis
He wakes as if drenched in ice-cold water.
His body lurches forward, leaving his mind behind for just a moment before it races to catch up with his bodily reaction to revival. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are wet, yet no sound escapes his mouth as his body fights to express its shock.
‘Welcome back.’ Alethea’s voice is monotone, almost bored, and she watches him with icelike eyes, monitoring his reaction to the reawakening. 'Any luck?’ If she’s at all concerned by his flushed skin or the trembling of his entire body, she doesn’t show it.
'No.’ His jaw clenches suddenly, and he’s struck with a sudden burst of insolence. 'There never is, and there never will be, because-’
Her knife is pressed to his throat once more, still sticky with his blood, and he swallows against it, falling silent once again. Alethea doesn’t speak yet, only pressing the edge of the knife slightly further as her cold eyes meet his.
'You should be very careful with what you say to me.’ Her breath is cold on his skin, still slightly blue-tinged and numb. 'I will not hesitate to kill you again, break every single bone in your corpse, and let it rot until it is more maggot than human.’ The knife twists slightly, and a small run of blood pools in his collarbone. 'Then I’ll bring you back, but only to keep you just alive enough to feel the pain. You will be a broken shell of a man, and you will wish that I granted you the mercy of being able to writhe in your agony.’
The silence stretches between them, only punctuated by the grinding breaths forcing their way through his chest. She doesn’t blink, even as he twists under her blade, looks for a way to peel himself from the stone table he finds himself pressed against, tries to still the quivering of his jaw.
'No,’ he finally says, barely more than a whisper. 'No luck yet.’ The blade leaves his throat, and he exhales a shaky sigh as Alethea’s black boots leave his field of vision.
'Better.’ She watches him bring his knees to his chest, pulling his body together in an attempt to do the same for his mind. The reawakening takes a toll on the mind; it always will, but she contemplates the effects of repeated awakenings on the consciousness for a moment. Seeing him wrap shaking arms around a paper-delicate torso, she wonders to herself if he will survive the next awakening.
The irony is not lost on her; dying in a revival is nothing short of comic, but she is aware that his mind is fragile now, and that what comes back the next time may not be him at all.
If that happens, she can always find a new subject.
It does intrigue her to ponder if others would react so well to dancing so close to the touch of death. If she were to have to find another subject, would they crumble in the first reawakening? She doesn’t know, and doesn’t care to find out yet: he is still of use to her, and she doesn’t need to consider what will happen when he isn’t until the situation arises.
She leaves the room to return to her piles of notes, and hears Servius let out a shuddering sigh as the door closes.
the constant tension between my desire to write the most visceral, graphic body horror and my lack of confidence in my own abilities <3
send me the name of one of my ocs and i will provide a song or piece that i associate them with and why !!
british whump writers please interact <3
i love my mutuals but they’re never online <\3 so if you write whump and you’re in the uk or a similar timezone ily already
