little-a-misery

[little-a-misery]

I half dreamt up this random whumpy idea last night-

So, a whumpee with a collar that ticks off every time whumpee says a word. Whumpee only gets a limited number of words a day before the collar will start to shock them when they speak.

They save their words carefully because they know what whumper likes to hear throughout the day. All the pleases and thank yous and yes sirs are tallied up in their mind.

Points if whumper makes them waste all their words within the first hour of the morning because they aren't begging quite 'right' for the pain to stop and then forces all the words they like to hear out of them for the rest of the day anyway. punishes them for not saying thank you later even though they were out of words.

[little-a-misery]

For Luke and Leo: “Is one of them keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would they react if the secret was revealed?”

from this ask game

Are one of you keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would you react if the secret was revealed?

“I don’t think we ‘keep secrets’ necessarily,” Luke says carefully. “We uhh… we both sometimes withhold some details about different periods of our lives. I think it’s entirely done out of some, maybe misguided, bid to protect each other. 

“For the first couple years, Leo wouldn’t say anything about one of his contracts, and was very selective with what he told me about the others. I think there are a lot of parts of that period of his life that he tried to shield me from, and I think there are a couple of very specific parts that he kept to himself as a defense mechanism. I don’t like to speak for him, but I think at that time, he may have been worried that if he put these really personal memories and feelings and thoughts out there, even just to me, that he was somehow putting them at risk. That if he shared them, with anyone, some of these really important memories and experiences could be leveraged against him… or maybe taken from him. And so, early on, I think there was at least one thing I would consider a ‘secret’, but it wasn’t like he was trying to hide those pieces of himself for any reason other than to preserve them.

“When I found out, when he decided to tell me, I was… as I usually am when pieces of his past form together into a more cohesive thing, both happy and sad. About the things he lost, about the things he would never have.

“In the same vein, I don’t actively keep any secrets from him, but I try to spare him some of the finer details of some of the things I went through when I was detained.”

[little-a-misery]

[little-a-misery]

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[little-a-misery]

The Hard Way

A part of Professional//Victim, now posting a new chapter each Sunday. Masterlist Prev

Caius teaches Tommy to ignore his baser instincts.

This chapter branches directly off of Dinner For One here, and I've included the excerpt referring to it in italics as an intro.

Content warnings in tags.

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“You’re making dinner tonight. I’ll be here the whole time. And you get any clever ideas about doing something else with that knife…”

Caius pulled the remote control to Tommy's shock collar from his pocket, wagging it in front of his face. 

He lightly circled the button with the pad of his thumb teasingly before pushing it once briefly. 

Tommy seized, the shock from his collar driving a muffled groan from him as he dropped to his knees, shuddering. The knife clattered to the floor as his hands instinctively jumped to his collar. 

Caius watched for it with hungry eyes, the way his fingers curled around the collar. He clutched at his throat around the leather, wheezing in distress. 

Two weeks ago, it was different. Maybe even one week ago. Tommy would rip at the collar, tearing at it with his nails until the nail beds bled. They’d become fewer and further in between since Caius had collared him, but he still had fits of trying to rip it off. The stitched leather didn’t budge, and Caius had ensured the lock was secure. Tommy would struggle with it until he exhausted himself. 

Caius had spent a long afternoon taking Tommy to task with his whip and his belt. Tommy could cry all he wanted, but the training worked. Now, even as he twitched on the ground, his hands went to the collar but did not pull. He did not dare struggle against it, his lesson learned, and the worst he could do was paw uselessly at the choker without any real malice. Caius practically purred watching him. When Tommy started to catch his breath, Caius cupped his chin in one hand and tilted his head up. 

“Careful with the knife, babe. Wash it off now and make me dinner.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t fight it, now.”

Tommy was shirtless, on his knees, his face pink under the leather muzzle. His hands were bound together in front of him, his feet bound by the ankles. His eyes were enormous and pleading as he looked up at Caius.

Caius squeezed the remote in his hand, watching Tommy writhe on the floor again as the current connected. As soon as it stopped, Tommy raised his bound hands to yank frantically at the collar, desperate to free himself from it. 

Caius grabbed him by the hair and slammed him down. He pulled him into position on his knees again. They’d been doing this for some time now, shocking him again and again, and the stupid boy just wasn’t getting it. 

“Uhnn, uhnn!” Tommy protested, knowing what was coming next. His brain felt fried, his thoughts distant and fuzzy. The pain drowned out everything but his instincts, but Caius was intent on breaking his self preservation. 

“Lean forwards, head down. You want to know what happens when you don’t fucking listen?!”

Caius was beyond composure. He was furious, but a live wire of excitement burned inside of him, and his hands trembled with it. Maybe Tommy was the one being shocked, but for Caius, the feeling was electric. He undid his belt hastily. At the sound of the soft metal clinks his belt buckle made, Tommy started to whimper in earnest. He started to rock back and forth as the panic really started to set in. He knew the pain was coming, and it loomed over him in the shape of Caius and the strap in his hand. 

He felt an urgent desperation, so deep and absolute he thought the force of the feeling could have moved heaven and earth. Should have moved heaven and earth…but it could not stop what was coming.

Caius hesitated for just a moment. He loved the feeling just before he hit, that heart-pounding moment of anticipation The belt was light and didn’t cut like the cane did. It let him work his energy out with less risk of serious damage. it felt so fucking good to hit him hard, as hard as he could over and over again, until his arm was too sore and weak to continue. Then Tommy would be ready to try the collar again. Then Caius would be ready with the whip. 

Tommy moaned in fear, trying to curl away from him, until his chest was pressed to the floor. The leather mask cushioned his chin as it came to rest on the hardwood. He hated how anxious he felt even before it started, often reduced to tears even before the first strike. 

Caius didn’t like the sound of the swing of the belt as much as he loved the tune of the cane. He also preferred the weight of the cane, the weight he could feel in his hand, the tiny kick back on impact, as all the force transferred into the flesh. The belt wasn’t as heavy, but it made an immensely satisfying –crack– he liked. 

He took a nice, long swing through the air, over extending his arm a little to really feel the impact in his joints. It made him sore in the most delicious way. The first hit made Tommy gasp, but the impact hadn’t quite hit right. Caius lashed him harder, and it landed with that wonderful snap. Tommy gritted his teeth, flinching violently away. As he worked him over, each slash left a broad pink stripe across his back. Caius’s aim was good enough to paint his back with the belt, meticulously laying overlapping stripes in layers. 

At first Tommy was just letting out little grunts and groans, the first few hits more startling than painful. But as baby pink turned to rose turned to red, Tommy’s cries turned more urgent, until he shrieked with every strike. It felt good to Caius to hit him, to know the power he held over the man on the floor. Tommy could not stop him no matter how bad he wanted to. He could scream and he could beg, but only Caius decided when he would be done. With the muzzle on, the best Tommy could do was cry in muffled protests. He could whip him into a raw, shivering, blistered beast at his feet. It felt better than fucking. 

Tommy pressed his forehead against the floor, even though it bumped his head every time he flinched from a blow. He rocked his head side to side, trying to relieve some of the burning on his back with the distraction of the pressure building in his head.

When Caius finally relented, Tommy was moaning on the floor, his full weight crushing his bound hands underneath him. Caius put his belt back on, wincing slightly, and rolled his shoulder to try to work out the soreness. He’d overdone it, as per usual, but he wasn't going to stop. He’d just let Tommy fry for a couple minutes, wait for him to panic and attempt to escape the collar, and he’d be able to manage a few more hits with the cane. 

Caius let him pant for air, limited greatly by the leather covering him up to the eyes. Once Tommy’s wheezing started to calm, Caius began to count. 

“15, 14, 13, 12, 11…” Tommy let out a distressed noise as Caius cooly counted down. His voice was low and quiet, almost hypnotic. 

“3, 2, 1…” He paused for the effect before mashing his thumb down on the shock collar’s remote.

Tommy made an unpleasant gurgle, seizing in agony as his limbs knocked against the wooden floor. 

Shit. I meant to start counting…how long has it been? 5 seconds? 10 seconds? I don’t think it’s been longer than that…Well, fuck, by now it certainly has–

He took his finger off the button a few long seconds too late. Whether the shock was too much for him or he had slammed his head too hard in his fit, Tommy was unconscious. 

Caius sighed, and stepped away to take a painkiller. 

He was back by the time Tommy woke up a few minutes later, screaming himself out of his sleep. He lifted his hands to his muzzle, trying to pry it off with his fingers. When he made no progress there, he went for his collar, wrenching at the lock. 

Another quick jolt shocked Tommy back into inaction. Caius ripped the hair at the crown of his head, wrenching him back up on his knees and shoving his head back down.

“Present.”

Tommy had been very resistant to commands, but now he only cowered in place. It wasn’t perfect form, but it would do for a start. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you fucking stupid? Do you want me to beat you? Is that it?? I should make you fucking beg for me to punish you.”

Tommy panted harshly behind his mask, keening piteously to Caius’s questions. 

Please, please make it stop, please, God, anything, please don’t let him whip me, it hurts so fucking much, help me, help–

Tommy and Caius heard the whistle of the cane through the air at the same time. Caius’s heart pounded with excitement. Tommy’s seized with dread. 

He screamed as the sharp whip cracked down on him, splitting the skin beneath it in hot blisters. He buckled fully to the floor and struggled, trying to drag himself forwards, away from the reach of the whip. He didn’t know why he bothered, Caius caught the chain between his ankles with ease and dragged him back. He skinned his knees on the worn carpet beneath him, trying to struggle out of his punishing reach. Cauis pulled Tommy’s hair into a ponytail, held it tightly in one hand and stood to his side, holding him there. It left his dominant hand free for the whip, while Tommy was held upright where he wanted him. He brought it down across his shoulders, and Tommy shrieked. Caius had to yank back violently on his hair to keep him in place. 

Caius did not count his lashes. He’d hit him as many times as he felt like, and he could count the strokes later, when he packed them full of wound powder. 

Tommy sobbed as the pain continued to worsen, every time he thought it couldn’t get worse. He sobbed so hard it sent him into coughing jags, but Caius was unrelenting. An intense feeling struck him, that maybe this would all be bearable if he could just take the mask off. This was not the first beating Caius had given him by a long shot, but now he thought back on them fondly, just because he wasn’t gagged and suffocating. His mouth felt so dry, and his head ached from the pressure of the tubing stuffed inside of him. 

At night, he had already started dreaming about food, and woke up with the mask glued to his face with drool. He knew it was there to break him down, but he realized with a gut-wrenching horror that it was working. It was a constant reminder of his subservience, and a constant reminder that he was trapped. He was trying to be good – he really, really was, but his rabbit heart told him to struggle, struggle and survive. 

Caius dropped Tommy, letting him crumple to the floor. He put a firm boot between Tommy’s feet, snaring Tommy’s ankle chain and anchoring with his weight. He would not be allowed to crawl away from his punishment. 

Caius had learned a new language since he had muzzled Tommy. There were a few things that Tommy could almost say, and Caius had gotten good at interpreting his little sounds. No became a ragged “Mohhh” from deep in his throat. Pleeeease became “pleefff!”.

Tommy babbled incoherently as the punishment continued, and the cane left razor sharp ruby slices across his shoulders, arcing down his back. When he started to look more red than tan or pink, Tommy ground his face against the floor in another desperate bid for relief. The thick leather helped shield him from breaking his nose again, but it still hurt. It was the only thing he could think of to try to anchor himself there, to keep him from being swept up in the pain and overwhelmed by the feeling.

By the time Caius finally started to slow down – his shoulder aching fiercely as the whip became heavier and heavier in his grasp–Tommy was done in. He drooled and groveled on the floor, crying in sobs and grunts to the blows.

“Aye-ifth, aye-ifth, aye-ifth, aye-ifth!” he begged, his voice slightly resonant inside the leather snout.

Caius, Caius, Caius, Caius! Caius recognized his name in the mantra. He said it again and again, like he was praying. 

Caius stopped, panting for breath himself. Once he’d caught it somewhat, he kneeled beside Tommy, prone on the floor. He was reduced to a shivering mess of blood and pain. 

He took the remote back, thinking for a moment before pressing the button. Tommy arched off the floor with a gutteral groan of pain. When Caius let up, Tommy did not struggle. His shoulders slumped as he gave in, resigned to Caius’s will. Caius stroked the hair from the side of his face that wasn’t mashed into the floor. 

“Now, tell me…what did we learn?”

~

______________________________________________________________

Professional//Victim masterlist

Special thanks to @sunshiline-writes and @knivestothroats for idea and editing help!

Taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@thembology @2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

[little-a-misery]

@whumpgifathon | Day 9: “Field Medicine”

Peter Parker/Spider-Man in Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)

[little-a-misery]

“Please don’t make me do this.”

-The whumpee being forced to do something they don’t want to

Or

-The whumper blaming the whumpee for what they very much want to do anyways

Or

-The caretaker having to do something unpleasant to take care of the whumpee…or something they “have” to do…

[little-a-misery]

Yesyesyes all of these!!! Some more favorites:

Falling to their knees out of despair, shock, or exhaustion

Chained or tied so they can't kneel all the way either up or down and are stuck in a stress position

Kneeling over the toilet, nauseous from pain or illness

Whumpee tries to stand but ends up kneeling because of injury to the feet/ankles/legs

Caretaker kneeling to be less threatening to a cowering whumpee

Kneeling on rice as punishment

Caught and threatened at gunpoint, "get on your knees hands on your head"

Kneeling to plead for mercy

Kneeling, a versatile trope

Kneeling in submission

Whumpee kneeling because they were hit and fell down

Being forced to kneel with a hand gripping their hair

Kneeling with arms bound behind their back

Being forced to kneel for an extended period of time

The humiliation of kneeling beside whumper during meetings or everyday work

Whumpee kneeling to show they are ready to receive orders

Kneeling, eyes coloured with both apprehension and anticipation

Whumpee trembling with fear as they kneel, not knowing what to expect this time

Touch-starved whumpee kneeling beside whumper on the off-chance that whumper might run a hand through their hair

Kneeling with their arms trussed up above their head or shackled to the floor

Kneeling and looking up at whumper with a defiant glare

Kneeling with downcast, fearful eyes

Whumpee preemptively kneeling to receive punishment when they know they’ve done something bad

After being freed, whumpee instinctively kneeling for caretaker

Kneeling for caretaker becoming a source of comfort for whumpee since they trust caretaker enough to relinquish control

Whumpee being recaptured and immediately kneeling in front of whumper

Whumpee kneeling whenever someone gets mad at them or raises their voice

[little-a-misery]

ty for the answer! like Lincoln and co I am committed to hanging on for however long it takes for this stubborn angry traumatized guy to get comforted!!!!

helppp I am. desperate. for River to be able to let his guard down or find comfort for even a second. the pain he must have bottled up inside won’t somebody HELP HIM oh wait they are trying and can’t get through. hahfiejfbskjdnf this keyboard smash inspired by your most recent ask game response as well as the River triage chapter

i too want to get to a spot where river can feel at ease and supported and loved and safe buttttt as of this moment i have embarked on this 'write the story in chronological order' journey that is a motherfucker for getting river to that point, because it's a little bit far out there.

trust i will not leave him hanging in misery for eternity, belleview will be as much river's story as felix's, and lets be real i'll probably give up the chronological thing soon enough and can jump right into cold-sweat nightmares and 'you're okays' and soup and berries :)

[little-a-misery]

Me, after reading a specific piece of Whump I've been craving before bed:

[little-a-misery]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 7: HELPLESSNESS, NUMBNESS, BLINDNESS

Part of Do No Harm.

Tag List: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Electrical shocks, breath restriction, collars, mild claustrophobia (kinda?), restraints, BBU-adjacent, slavery

Handler Smith is the one to fit the thick band around his throat again, because of course he is. Jaime can’t imagine him handing over the privilege to anyone else. 

He sits as still as he can throughout the process, knowing how futile and ultimately dangerous his resistance would be. The easy way or the hard way, are the options Smith always gave him for each new task. In this case, the “easy way” means getting to keep his hands folded obediently behind him instead of bound there with cold steel. It means getting to keep his lips pressed together instead of forced apart with hard rubber. His compliance is met with small mercies and relative comforts, which are the absolute most he can bring himself to hope for in a place like this. 

These are the things he buys with the pieces of himself he sells away. He doesn’t want to risk losing any of them so early in the process. Not when he knows just how bad things can get. 

Keep reading

[little-a-misery]

girls don’t want to see pictures of cute boys girls want to see pictures of cute boys before and after they fall into the clutches of a highly unethical human experimentation lab 

[little-a-misery]

A scene from an original fic by Ryoko21 ao3!

[little-a-misery]

Another character from Ryoko21’s original story on ao3 💙

[little-a-misery]

Levels

Professional//Victim

masterlist: x Prev: x Next:

taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter @whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery @thembology @2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds @morning-star-whump

Please read content warnings in the tags.

LEVELS

Tommy woke up to his door shutting hard behind Caius, who re-locked it behind him before pocketing the keys. 

Tommy startled at the sound, and clutched his sheet to his chest for a moment, trying to calm himself. 

Caius wasn’t holding any food or medications. That wasn’t a good sign. He had that serious look on his face, the one where he pretended he didn’t enjoy his pain. Damnit. 

“You’re in trouble.”

Tommy’s stomach dropped. He started to sit up against his pillow, but hissed with the pain his movement inspired. He sank back down and pulled the sheet up over his nose.

“Why?”

Caius sighed, disappointment clear on his face.

(Fucking prick.)

“You can’t try to talk to me when you’re with a client, Tommy. You know that.”

(Oh.)

It all came back to him then. Lisa’s hair framing a face his mind had already blurred. Mark’s hands on him - no. Stop it. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Stop. Stop the thoughts.

Tommy turned from him and stared at the ceiling. He hated that his eyes prickled, threatening tears. Was it not enough?  Was living like this not a punishment on its own? He felt like he couldn’t go any lower than how he felt after last night. 

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said, and his broken voice sounded sincere. He was sorry he ever tried. He was sorry he still thought there was hope. His apology was just a weak attempt to shield whatever was left of himself. 

“No meds for a week.”

He shot up in bed at that, grimacing at the pain. 

“A week?!”

“Could be longer,” Caius offered with a raised eyebrow. Tommy sucked in a breath and became silent. 

“Antibiotics?”

“You’ll get those. Nothing for the pain.”

“But- but,” He scrambled for some defense.

“Pain - pain management is an important part of the healing process, you’ll delay my recovery and it’ll be that much longer before I can - before I can go with another client.”

It was technically true. A plea to Caius’s logic was his only possible bargaining chip.

Caius pretended to chew it over for a moment. This logistic hadn’t slipped his mind, and he had already made peace with it. He stepped back to the door and unlocked it once more.

“I can wait.”

He didn’t give Tommy a chance to reply. The door locked behind him, and Tommy slumped back to his mattress. Helpless tears finally spilled from his eyes and he wanted to scream and scream. 

He hadn’t even had a chance to take inventory of the damage yet. His ass felt like he’d been sitting on hot coals, it still radiated heat like a particularly brutal sunburn. His wrists and ankles felt swollen and sore to the slightest touch. Trying to move his hands only made the muscles spasm, and they were too weak to lend him his usual control. 

A whole week without painkillers. He’d taken them away before, but never that long. It meant he could count on sleepless nights up with the agony. Even though he rarely broke rules anymore, his punishments got worse, not better. 

He wanted to scream and curse Caius, but “throwing a tantrum” would only land him a harsher sentence. He rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow and punched the mattress until he was exhausted and hurt enough to slump back down to rest. 

He clenched his eyes closed, begging his body for sleep again. One week without drugs would last an eternity.

—

He’d made it through four days. For four days, Caius made him take daily walks to keep his body from seizing with pain. The rest of the time, he laid as still as he could and wallowed. He wanted to be left alone, but Caius suddenly had all the time in the world for him. 

“Go,” Caius instructed, gesturing to the basement steps. Standing at the bottom, Tommy could not imagine making his way up them, just as he had every other day. He didn’t want his sentence lengthened, but he swallowed hard at the prospect of another arduous journey up.

Caius’s hands found his shoulders and he guided him to the first stair, his touch agitating the wounds on Tommy’s shoulders. 

“Could you - I could follow you? I just - need a minute.”

“You can do it. One step at a time.”

He was already trembling on his feet. His ankles pulsed with a dull, merciless pain. His legs hurt, his ass hurt, his thighs were still sore to the point of weakness. 

“I don’t think I can do this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, can we just - I can walk a few times around the basement maybe? I-”

He was cut off by a hard shove between his shoulders, sending him sprawling onto the stairs. 

“If you can’t walk, then you can crawl.” 

Caius moved up onto the stairs, and leaned down to grip a generous handful of the prone boy’s hair. He started to ascend the stairs, dragging Tommy close behind by his hair. Tommy had to start scrambling up the steps on his hands and knees to try to keep up. His hands fluttered around Caius’s grip, wanting to wrench his fingers open, but he didn’t dare. The cement was cold and gritty under his palms and his knees, but he dragged himself up each step, desperate to end the pain. At the top he was released, and he crumpled to the floor, breathless with the strain. 

Caius let him lay there for a few minutes until he bored, moving again and beckoning to Tommy to follow. Tommy pulled himself onto trembling legs, leaning heavily against the wall. Caius coaxed him forwards, taking him a different path than they usually took for these walks. 

Tommy grit his teeth and walked.

He was so focused on trying to stabilize that he didn’t realize where they were heading until he was led to the bottom of the upstairs stairwell. The stairs there were carpeted and clean, with an elegant banister slithering up the side. When Caius directed him to take the stairs, he balked.

Looking into Caius’s face was like trying to read a mask, but Tommy searched for a clue if this was some kind of sick test. He had never been to the upper floor. He assumed that’s where the others lived, or worked, or whatever they did with most of their time. 

Caius waved him on, one eyebrow quirked expectantly. 

“Caius…I don’t think I’m allowed up there…” 

(What fresh hell is this? A trick? He played those sometimes…)

“I’m telling you to go up, so you aren’t allowed to go anywhere else.”

Tommy held his hands to his chest, squeezing them to console himself. The stairs looked endless, curving to the side and out of sight after an already arduous stretch.

“Please Caius, I’m trying, I am, but the stairs, I really don’t think-”

He was interrupted by the sharp snap of Caius’s fingers in front of his face, followed by a sharp finger pointing up the stairs. 

“Three more days.”

Tommy gasped, his hand rising to touch Caius’s arm for just a moment before he remembered himself. He didn’t know what he was trying to do, he just - wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to hold onto him. He had nothing more to comfort himself than the very source of his misery. 

Judging by the murderous glare Caius was giving him, he was out of time.

When Caius got in this kind of mood, Tommy knew to shut up and put his head down. In the moment it took to register consciously, he was already stepping up the stairs, his hands reaching out to the carpeted stairs ahead of him tentatively. His back felt agonizingly stiff, but being able to support himself more comfortably on all fours helped a little. 

(Ignore the pain. Put it in the back of your mind. Move. Just keep moving.)

He made it to the top and froze, unsure of what to do. Caius was only a step behind him, and his fingers hooked the back of his collar. He guided him by the back of the neck over to a tall white door. There was a skylight above them casting soft, bright light down, and Tommy’s eyes watered with the change from his dim basement room. Tommy pushed himself onto his feet and stood uncertainly in the hallway. Caius quickly moved to corner him up against the door, and Tommy blindly grabbed for the handle, finding it locked. Caius was too close, so suddenly, and Tommy could smell him, could feel his breath on his face. The warmth of his body pressing him against the cool wood, reaching beside his hip to unlock the door and turn the handle.

He released his grip on the collar with a grin.

Tommy stumbled backwards as the door gave way, sprawling on the floor in a defeated heap. He groaned and covered his face with his arms, trying to shield his face. Some days, Caius just wanted his pain. It was starting to look like one of those days. 

Caius padded in behind him and closed the door. From between his fingers where he laid on his side, all Tommy could see were his feet. 

He shivered there, for a moment, anticipating the blows. (At least the carpet is soft.)

(Fuck. Really, really soft.)

He forgot how nice a good carpet felt. The one in his “bedroom” was old and ground into a thin mat over the cement. The carpet beneath him was a clean cream color with padding beneath him, making it cushier than his mattress. 

Moments passed and there was no strike. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up until he was sat against the side of an enormous bed, a rich blue comforter spilling over the side. He looked blearily up at Caius, who crouched before him. He pinched his chin and turned his face from one side to the other, looking at his eyes. 

(Why am I in your bedroom?)

He didn’t say anything. He’d already switched gears, resigned to whatever Caius fancied doing to him today. The new environment and the big bed put him ill at ease though, and he felt nauseous. His brain was in low power mode, trying to forget what was happening as soon as it did. He wanted to walk far away from his mind and stay somewhere where the carpet was always so soft and clean.

His eyes accidentally connected with Caius’s for a moment. He always forgot what he looked like somehow, and it was so hard to look him in the face. The clear rim of his glass, the chestnut strands that cradled his face. Those dark brown eyes. 

He looked like the devil to Tommy.

“Stay.” 

He nodded numbly, grateful when Caius turned away and broke eye contact. For some reason, he couldn’t make himself look away first.

Caius pulled a long chain lead from the top drawer of his nightstand. Tommy leaned his head back and submitted his throat to him, accepting the lead locking onto his collar with nothing more than a nervous swallow.

(Better than being dragged by my hair…I think.)

When Caius rose, he pulled the leash, and Tommy struggled to his feet. He was afraid to support himself on the comforter, the fabric too fine for his calloused touch. 

Caius coaxed him onto the bed with a tug of the chain. The moment Tommy made contact with the bed he whimpered, his muscles turning to jelly in fear of retribution. But Caius joined him on the bed and sat up against his pillows, winding the chain around his fist to gather Tommy closer. He reluctantly crawled to him, the nausea growing stronger.

(Don’t do this. Don’t open that door.)

Caius settled him on his side though, and drew his head down to his lap. One hand curled possessively in his hair again. Tommy braced himself, but his fingers gently combed through, soothing and untangling the strands. Lately, he could get whiplash with how fast Caius’s moods came and went. Shocking, blinding cruelty would be followed with unnerving gentleness

. A book was fetched from his nightstand and rested open on his cheek, one wing of the hardcover supported balanced on his face. 

“Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that…”

The bed was cushy, and sank in generously at his touch. It unnerved him, a gnawing feeling plaguing him that the mattress might sink like quicksand beneath him. In spite of himself, he began to relax to the soothing cadence of Caius’s voice, slowly relinquishing the tension coiled in his body. With his face covered, he didn’t have to focus on making his expression acceptable to his unpredictable host. The fingers in his hair didn’t pull or punish, and their rhythmic caresses started to lull him to sleep.

Caius smelled…he smelled like sandalwood. He smelled clean. He smelled warm. He felt warm, his legs beneath him radiating a comforting warmth. 

Tommy’s heart suddenly ached fiercely. Desperate to soothe it, he nuzzled into the warm body beside him. Caius paused as it upset his book, but he let Tommy cuddle closer without correction.

 It had just started to overwhelm him, this odd moment of domesticity. He’d been alone for so long, and the gentle touches were few and far between. He just wanted to embrace the feeling while he had it, before it could slip through his fingers. He’d spent so long just trying to numb the world out, it felt so good to be here and pretend he wasn’t prey in the arms of a predator. 

Caius held him, and it felt good.

“I never used to be able to keep a relationship.”

Tommy tilted his head to look at Caius. Their eyes met, and Caius looked into his face so fully and honestly that it paralyzed him.

“It wasn’t a problem getting them, but they never stayed. They wanted me until they saw all of me and then they left.”

Silence hung between them. Tommy was wordless at the sudden admission. 

“I guess my longest relationship is you, huh?”

A chill ran down Tommy’s spine. Caius’s hand touched his cheek and he stared at it, enraptured by the contact with his ward. There was something wrong in that look. He didn’t look at him like a lover, but like a doll. Like a muse. 

Tommy shrank away from his touch, but Caius’s hand caught him and pushed his head down to his lap. Suddenly his touch didn’t feel so warm and so gentle. The ache came back to Tommy’s chest, as the warm feeling drained from his face.

(You can’t always play pretend.)

“You know I used to do insurance? That’s how I met Rory. We just clicked, he was the only good thing about the job. One day he tells me that his tech whiz friend has got this start-up….that was Michelle. But he wanted us to relocate to Quebec. Can you imagine living in Quebec? Working for some french freaks?”

Tommy wondered if they would have taken him at all. If some boy up north was spared being in his place because of a sliver of francophobia. 

“Once he moved here, it all kinda fell into place.”

Tommy missed the other story.

“You know, I never let my licenses lapse. I’ve renewed them three times. I just kept thinking, this is too good to be true. Something’s going to happen and I’ll be back at a desk.”

His position no longer felt comfortable, and Caius’s hand was fully pushing down on his head, seemingly without noticing. He could feel his heart start to pound.

“I think I’ll let them go this year. All in, I guess.”

Anger burned suddenly on the back of Tommy’s neck. 

(Are you committed now? Finally into it? I’ve been in it all along. You took away my choice and locked me in a basement and let people torture me for money. You took my life away…but now you finally want to take the reins and invest? I hope Hell exists just so there’s a place for people like you.)

“Hey. I know you hurt. I know it’s been really hard to get through the last few days. How would you like to make a deal?”

Tommy turned his head at that. He was weak for Caius’s deals. He could never manage to turn them down, no matter how many times he paid for it. But sometimes it wasn’t so bad, so he always fell for the bait.

He stared at Caius’s chest, unable to meet his eyes again.

“That’s what I thought you might say,” Caius said with a smile, to Tommy’s obviously piqued attention. 

“You take another punishment now, and I’ll count it for the rest of the week.”

(Oh, no.)

(He had to take it, right? What’s a little more pain in the short term? He could just get his drugs right after, right?)

(No, don’t get ahead of yourself. At least ask.)

“What punishment?” he murmured. 

“You’ll get the cane,” Caius answered. He said it in that humiliating way, as if he was explaining something in a caring voice.

He mulled it over briefly. Canings were fucking agony, but it might be worth it to cut his time short.

(Fine.)

“Okay.” It came out in a whisper. 

As soon as he said it, it started to really sink in. He was suddenly stunned in disbelief that this was happening, As Caius moved him to the side and slipped off of the bed, making his way to his closet. When Caius returned, holding a long, thin whip of a stick. He suddenly remembered sobbing underneath it the last time Caius took him to task. He couldn’t even remember what he had done. Sometimes he didn;t have to do anything at all. 

Caius directed him on the bed like a trainer handling his dog, putting him in the same position his last clients had whipped him in. His face down on Caius’s soft sheets, his chest pressed to the mattress. On his knees, and Caius reached between his legs to take his hands. He pulled his hands through and coaxed him to grip his ankles, holding himself in that humiliating position. 

Caius’s hands brushed over his ass before slipping his fingers into his waistband and tugging them down. 

Tommy whimpered as he was exposed, the fabric feeling like sandpaper as it slipped over the raw skin there. 

“Wait, Caius, wait, I take it back, I don’t want to do this.” It came out in rush as the panic properly started to set in, realizing how bad this was going to hurt. He was already covered in wounds, the bruises fully ripened, the skin starting to itch and crack. He let go of his ankles and tried to pull his hands back before Caius could stop him.

He didn’t succeed, and Caius’s hands on his wrists gripped like claws. 

“No, that’s not how this works. You took the deal.” Already having anticipated this, Caius grabbed a roll of tape he had secreted onto the bed.

“You’ll keep your hands right there if you want to be forgiven the rest of the week. Otherwise, you’ll get both.”

Tommy held onto his ankles as hard as he could, until his hands hurt as much as his feet. He felt like a great weight was coming down on him as Caius wound the tape around his fists, mummifying him there as he bound the limbs together.

Tommy was already crying when Caius finished wrapping him. He felt a hand on his hip, a curious thumb tugging at the edges of his pain. Getting a good look at him in this state. He told himself he had only imagined it as soon as he heard the soft click of the phone camera behind him. 

“Caius please, please Caius, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me anymore,” He begged, but there was no answer to his prayers. 

He heard the soft whistle through the air before Caius struck him. It lit up a long slash of pain on his backside, and he panted under the blooming pain. Whip. Whip. Criss-crossing over and over on the backs of his thighs, down nearly to the backs of his knees and up to the swell of his ass. The blows were quick and merciful, reducing him to a sobbing mess of trembling flesh. It burned so bad and he pulled frantically on his bindings, trying to escape the steady battering. Caius started to hit harder, or maybe it just hurt more and more, or maybe both. Sometimes Caius just needed to work something out tanning his hide, and the pain was horrific. 

(His own, personal whipping boy.)

The soft mattress beneath him felt like less of a comfort as his face sank in, and he struggled to catch a breath as he wailed into the sheets. At least his knees didn’t hurt. The give of the cushion underneath him let him rock very slightly back and forth, the best he could do to ease the desperate need to move away. 

The steady hits sped up and plateaued, finally slowing and stopping. It could have been a hundred strikes. It could have been five, but it took centuries until he was satisfied. He was sweating frantically, and the salt stung his welted skin. 

“There we go, that got us there.” Tommy felt like a quivering slab of raw meat on a platter before him. Caius left for a while, letting Tommy cool off and finish his crying jag. When he returned, he had a pot of ointment in his hands. He worked the thick salve into his skin slowly, working an agonizing massage across the bloody strokes. Tommy whimpered and whined with the pain, but the intimate touch stirred unwanted tingles of pleasure in him. He pressed his thighs together firmly, but he couldn’t keep it up with how weak his legs felt.

Finally Caius was done molesting him and cut away the tape holding him in place. Tommy rolled over onto his side and dry sobbed until Caius decided to put him back. Mercifully, Caius helped ease him down the stairs, and took him over his shoulder to carry him the last few yards to his room.

Tommy laid on his bed and shivered. His bed wasn’t more comfortable, but it was familiar. His whole body pulsed with pain. Caius tethered him and Tommy struggled to keep his eyes open, he was so tired after the whole ordeal, though he doubted he would be able to sleep.

(Wait. The meds.)

“Can I please have my medicine now?” The idea of getting some relief from the pain made his teary-eyed all over again.

“Yes, after the three extra days you earned.”

(No)

(No)

(No.)

“Caius!” he moaned, but then his breath caught in his throat.

“I’ll be back after tea,” Caius promised as he locked the door behind him, leaving Tommy to burn in his bed. 

[little-a-misery]

Whump Aesthetic: Screams

- One short, hoarse yelp of pain as something jostles their worst injury

- Muffled cries of pleading panic as the gag is forced between their teeth

- Shrill, cracking wails torn out of them as the torture goes on too long for them to hold out

- A howl of agony so deep from their stomach that it rocks their whole body forward

- Trying to scream, but the pain is so immense that no sound can break free

[little-a-misery]

Joseph Quinn as Eric A Quiet Place: Day One (2024) dir. Michael Sarnoski