#i want it so bad my fucking gums are bleeding and my nails are bent backwards

[runaway-horses]

being trans in florida is one of the hardest things i've ever done. and i did not choose to do it.

[haro-whumps]

Will we ever get a flashback to Mistress Bethany in the group whumpees universe? I’m asking because the idea of Bethany punishing the family for being too close to each other came to mind and now I’m invested in it

CW: Violent homophobia, homophobic slurs, slavery, soap in mouth, threat of vomiting, caning, crying

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth​ @theycomeinthrees​ @redwingedwhump​ @whimperwoods​ @inpainandsuffering​ @whole-and-apart-and-between​ @whump-whump-whump-it-up​ @whumpingupastorm​ @newandfiguringitout​ @lonesome--hunter​ @looptheloup​ @icannotweave​  @deluxewhump​ @whumping-every-day​ @yeet-me-out-a-window​ @what-a-whumpy-world​ @burtlederp​ @constellationwhump​ @swordkallya​ @finder-of-rings​ @fairybean101​ @adventuresofacreesty​ @arlennil​

Masterlist

“What is going on in here?!”

Nyla and Sasha jumped, standing up straight so their foreheads no longer touched, their hands releasing each other’s.

“I was assisting Sasha in putting away the groceries, ma’am,” Nyla said smoothly, her smile fixed in place and hands clasped in front of her to hide their trembling. Sasha was face down on the kitchen floor, tears already welling and trying to bite them down.

“Since when does putting groceries away involve kissing!?” Mistress Bethany spat, approaching the two with loud, resounding raps of her cane against the kitchen tile. She looked furious.

Nyla attempted to placate her. “Ma’am, we weren’t. We were only touching foreheads t–”

Mistress Bethany backhanded her, knocking her head to the side, a thin slice on Nyla’s cheek–thanks to Mistress’s nails–welling red next to Nyla’s ever-present smile. “Are you lesbians?” she spat, “Are you whores gay, is that it? You’re bringing that filth into my house? My house?”

“No ma’am–”

“You shut your whore mouth!” Mistress grabbed Nyla by the hair and dragged her to the sink, her cane landing just between Sasha’s fingers and thumb as they passed her. Sasha flinched, but didn’t dare move. “You bring that gay shit in here you be prepared to clean it out!” Mistress grabbed the bottle of dish soap and slammed Nyla’s face into the divider between the sink halves, making her choke on a strangled scream. 

Mistress shoved her fingers into Nyla’s mouth, slicing open her lip in two places, and squirted dish soap directly in. Nyla gagged, her hands scrabbling along the lip of the sink.

“Lesbian!” Mistress shouted, moving her fingers in Nyla’s mouth, working the soap into a lather that stung at her cuts. She gagged again, body lurching.

“Slut! If you can use your mouth for sin without vomiting you better not vomit now, you little beast! You despicable little bitch, you go in heat and just go around kissing anybody don’t you? Pervert! Freak! You crime against nature!”

If Mistress’s fingers moved any further back than they already were, Nyla would have no choice in vomiting or not. She let herself be yanked and jerked around, leaning into the way her Mistress’s fingers moved, trying to lessen the intensity of what was happening. Breathing was hard; even though her mouth was open she knew she would just start choking and coughing if she tried, and that would do no good. But she was scared enough that breathing through her nose was far from second nature. More cuts were opened as Mistress shouted insults at her, her nails catching on Nyla’s cheeks and gums which immediately stung. She was crying, dripping tears snot drool and soap all over her face, which only made the breathing harder.

“Mis-tress, please,” Sasha begged, unable to stand listening to this, unable to bear Nyla being reduced to this. She was scared, so her stutter pressed against her worse, but she wanted to be brave. “We weren’t k-kissing!” she got out, knowing as soon as she did that her stutter would be added to the punishment that was coming.

Mistress released Nyla’s face with a sharp yank, Nyla lifting up on tiptoes as her head was effectively thrown into the sink. Mistress turned on the faucet over her hair, and she felt guilty relief mix with her horror, at the knowledge that now Sasha had made herself the target. 

“Speak clearly you stupid slut!” Mistress shouted, bringing her cane down on Sasha’s back. Sasha yelped, high and scared, and couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. Nyla tried to wash her mouth out, reddish-pink suds spilling out of her mouth and circling the drain. She needed to think of something to calm their Mistress down, protect Sasha, she had to, but first she had to get this awful shit out of her mouth.

She shouldn’t think like that. That was dangerous. If she thought it, she might eventually say it. Be good.

Sasha’s yelps turned to screams as Mistress brought the cane down on her, over and over. “You wanna lie to me? Whore? You bring that filthy sin into my house and then you lie to me about it!? I saw your fucking faces, faggot! You dirty fucking lesbos! I won’t have queers bring their filth into my house!”

“We’re not!” Sasha screamed, mercifully pushing past her stutter, but only barely. She blubbered on the floor, arms crossed over her neck and skull. 

“Liar!”

Nyla sobbed, helpless, bent over the sink. There was nothing to be done but wait it out. She willed Sasha to be silent, to not make it any worse for herself. Nyla could’ve handled the soap in her mouth. She could’ve. She didn’t want Sasha to be caned.

It was a mercy that it happened to early in the morning. Mistress was still tired, and had used most of her energy on getting up and ready for the day. Punishments were always worse midday and in the evenings. She tired quickly of screaming and yanking and caning and screaming, warning them that if she ever caught them acting “like that” again it would be much worse. Nyla didn’t doubt her.

She staggered as she helped Sasha down to their room, needing to get her dress off to look at her back and make sure none of her injuries were too terrible. Sasha was crying the whole way down, and the other three met them in the hallway, having heard their approach. Greyson and Evan helped the two into the room, Greyson bracing most of Sasha’s weight, Evan thumbing gently at the blood under Nyla’s lip.

“What happened?” Lilah asked, scared, pouring hydrogen peroxide into a cup and cutting it with water. Nyla took the cup with a quiet thanks and rinsed her mouth out, the taste repulsive but hardly as bad as the soap had been.

“W-we we-weren’t k-ki-*hic*-kissing,” Sasha insisted, still crying where she crumpled.

“Mistress thought we were. I had to wash my mouth out with soap and Sasha was caned briefly,” Nyla stated, cleaning off the scratch on her cheek and the bump forming on her head, “We were touching foreheads and holding hands, laughing at a joke.”

“Probably just couldn’t stand that there were people happy in this hellhole,” Evan grumbled, kneeling in front of Sasha and holding her hands as Greyson slowly slid her dress down her arms and surveyed the damage.

“It’s n-not so b-bad,” Sasha said, sniffling loudly. Greyson nodded.

“It isn’t,” he agreed, and just as gently brought her dress back up, but left her bra undone. “The clasp broke and dug into your skin, but that’s the worst of it,” he explained. “Didn’t even break the skin.”

Lilah sat on the carpet next to Sasha, bumping their shoulders as Greyson zipped her up, and Sasha managed a weak smile for her. Evan went to Nyla and held out his hand.

It was a defiance.

She took it. She let him pull her in, let him bend down and press first their noses together, then their foreheads, carefully missing the bump. Mistress would skin them if she saw them acting like this so close on the heels of what had just happened, but Mistress left their little basement bedroom alone. It was the only place that she wouldn’t just wander purposelessly into, and was therefore the only room that the five of them could consider “mostly safe.” Nyla sighed, squeezing Evan’s hand, then, deliberately, kissed his cheek.

“Sasha, go check on the bread. It’s probably done now. Might be burnt, so move quickly. Greyson, be careful during breakfast.” She pressed a kiss to Lilah’s hairline. “You and Evan stay out of trouble, yeah?” she said, and Lilah smiled back.

“I’m always in trouble,” Evan complained, making a big show of stretching his arms above his head and clasping them behind his neck.

“Go clean up the kitchen,” she ordered with a light whack to his rear, making him chuckle.

Greyson caught her before she left the room, the other three before her, Lilah helping Sasha along and Evan trying ardently to distract her, cheer her up. Nyla paused, looked to Greyson, who was observing her very closely from behind his glasses. He didn’t emote (hardly ever did), but she got the gist of it.

She leaned her face into his shoulder and breathed, a moment, letting him rub his hand up and down her spine. It was an indulgence–she couldn’t afford to be idle long, couldn’t let herself be comforted to the point where it affected her tasks, but she could spare a moment. Just one moment.

“Thanks,” she said, lifting her head. She bore another moment of his scrutiny, and he nodded, clapping her on the shoulder.

She got back to work.