#oc torture asks

[writinggremlin]

Ask Games

Currently open ask games and their answers. Please feel free to drop some into my askbox!! I want others to interact with me, and I'd absolutely love to answer these!! Just be sure to put the ask game title somewhere in there too so that I know which game you're picking from. (N/A means that nobody's sent an ask from that game. Completed and closed games will say "Completed and Closed")

Last updated: 1/15/25 (changed to a tag system for convenience)

Get To Know Me! (N/A) All answers so far

Writeblr Emoji Ask Game (4/16) All answers so far

OC Introduction Game (1/16) Feel free to ask for multiple at once. You can find the reply for a specific character by checking out their introduction, found in my OC Info post. If it's empty, or there's no link, then that means I haven't received an ask for them yet. Feel free to send one in!! All answers so far

93 OC Questions All OCs available for asking. All answers so far Mist (3/93)

Oddly Specific OC Questions (N/A) All OCs available for asking. All answers so far

Who's Most Likely OC Game (N/A) All answers so far

Torture An OC All answers so far OCs available, and their progress: Mist (N/A) Ember (N/A) Kage (5/10) Echo (N/A) Jinx (N/A) Onyx (N/A) Runa (N/A) Sebastien (N/A) (Whumper) Lily (N/A) (Whumper) Alternos (N/A)

Whumpee, Whumper, and Caretaker Asks (N/A) All answers so far

Video Game Whump Prompts All OCs available for asking. All answers so far Cafe Pals (2/16) (Jacky, Sunni, Mars)

Duo OC asks (N/A) All OCs available for asking. All answers so far

[writinggremlin]

Hey! Hi! If anyone wants to, I would love to get some of these asks! I don't really talk about my ocs much on here (although I'd really like to change that), so here's some of my characters for people to choose from:

Mist Ember Kage (Answered: 1, 2, 3, 5, and 7) (What's left to ask: 4, 6, 8, 9, 10) Echo Jinx Onyx Runa Sebastien And you know what, I think it'll be fun if I include my two main whumpers in here as well: Lily Alternos

Last updated: 1/15/25

TORTURE AN OC ASK GAME

Send a number (or numbers) and an OC and I will answer them! (Feel free to reblog!)

How do you kidnap/capture your OC?

Are they defiant? Scared? Stoic?

What kind of torture methods would you use against them?

Do they have any phobias or fears? If so, how would you use them against your OC in torture?

What do they do if you torture a loved one in front of them?

How long would it take to break them?

Do they have a team? If so, supposed they were caught too. Do they protect their team from any torture or no?

Do they try to escape? Or do they wait for rescue?

How do they do while recovering after rescue/escape?

Do they return to their normal selves after the torture?

[ask-the-pioneer]

"The duality of Anon"

[hazard-c-horror]

I think Mimic just gave Mo another reason to kill/torment them in the video today (Eclipse Exorcises his Son)

Yeah… but unfortunately like I said, Mo and Hazard don’t interact with the EaPs universe.

And Hazard doesn’t show him what’s going on. But if he did see, Hazard would have to hold Modrolith down so he didn’t interfere

[yanoverload]

"please... no...." beau's voice was shaking almost as much as his body as he coward away from the farm hand. he could see behind the man's shoulder you were standing there. beau quickly scrambled under the man's grasp towards you, eyes wet as he desperately clawed for you.

you looked down at him and he started to smile before he noticed the slightly annoyed look in your eye. why.... why were you looking at him like that?

"hel-help...? me....?"

you crouched down in front of him, a fake reassuring smile on your lips. "i'm helping you."

you let out a little sigh as you looked at the stump where his leg had been. "i know this hurts. i know it hurts so much..."

you grabbed his face and pulled him to look deep into your eyes. he felt so sick but your touch on his chin felt so comforting, he couldn't help but lean into it. you gently brushed some of his hair back before petting behind his ear.

"i don't want you to run away..."

"i won't!"

"you did. when are you going to decide im the enemy too? when are you going to decide that you don't want to be my pretty cow?"

"i won't -i wo-"

you pull his ear taught, watching his eyes get teary and dizzy as you put in your farm's ear tag.

"please please please-"

his words became background noise as you gesture your farm hands to drag him back to the table. he starts to cry and scream and thrash. more farm hands come and hold him still while another administers a tranquilizer. his body quickly gets too heavy to fight and his eyes start to close... but he can still hear your voice.

"this time secure him like i told you to. i don't want anymore bodies and certainly don't want my prize bleeding out everywhere."

"yes sir, I'm sorry."

"i changed my mind about the arms. i want it above the elbow. and-"

what horrors await him when he wakes up

I almost felt bad, but then I saw how scrumptious it was written and forgot about it.

Besides, he ripped his sister apart with only his hands.

Hypocrite much?

THANK U FOR THE MEAL!!!

[cry-ptidd]

Yoooo I got a Laura question for you - if Laura could be cured of her lycanthropy, would she go for it or nah??

Ooh that's a tough one.

Ultimately, she wouldn't.

She might be go through a harsh dilemma, since she sees her lycanthropy as the curse it is, transmitted to her without her consent, but in the end she'd refuse.

She's way too far gone now. She can't go back to human society, nor could she ever see herself as one again even if she was cured. The beast she is is her identity now, and she's basically forgotten a lot of what she was like as a human (aside from the fact that she was naive). She's also a very self-aware creature, so she couldn't just brush off her sins and accept salvation. She punishes herself a lot, unofficially.

In the end, I think she'd actually be too afraid to turn human again.

(^ ~1750)

[whump-queen]

Silver

tags: forced intox, manhandling, "servant" whump but lets be honest he's basically a pet

-----------

Seven could smell the sharp sting of tequilia on Wes’ breath before he even saw the bottle.  

“Open up, servant.” Wes smiled and leaned in, forcing the stench further into Seven’s face, making him nearly gag at what he knew was coming. God he could already taste it. 

Seven tried to pull away, but a heavy hand found the back of his neck and harshly gripped his hair, holding him fast while the other hand messily shoved the bottle of silver upward and forced it past Seven’s lips. 

Seven knew not to struggle. He how to close his nose without plugging it by now. He’d hold his breath. He’d hold his—fuck. It burned in his empty stomach instantly. 

Considering all the occasions Wes had forced his servant to drink, Seven should’ve been an expert at this. But experience didn’t mean his nights went without mishap, and just because he knew how to drink it down for a few sips, it didn’t mean Wes would let up this time, forcing him to take gulp after excruciating fiery gulp until his mind was screaming for oxygen and for the poison to stop. Just stop. 

He could feel hot tears running down his face. He needed to breathe. It took everything in him to swallow and not fucking wretch as soon as Wes yanked the bottle away. Oxygen hit his lungs and he gasped for breath until he felt lightheaded.

“Can’t waste it all on a fucking servant,” Wes sneered, releasing his fingers from Seven’s hair, roughly tousling it instead. The force of his hand made the room spin and Seven could already feel it hitting him. Burning away deep his stomach and making his face feel hot and tingly. 

Wes turned away and Seven instantly grasped the wall, taking a few agonizing deep breaths, just trying so hard not to throw up. 

He’d done that before. On a night much like this one, and Wes had made him clean it all up while still nearly blacked out, promising that the next time, he’d clean it with his tongue. 

So Seven braced himself against the wall and tried to focus on his breath. He inhaled. God fuck. He exhaled. Fuck. He was going to gag.

Water.

He needed water.

This was going to be a long night. 

.

read next

series masterlist

[ask-flicker]

mod: behold the first batch of photos with flicker trying on clothes. :D

Stay tuned for the next batch :3v

... *sigh* you know, I wouldn't have agreed to this, if I knew this would've happened

I thought you liked the clotes :3

YOU KNOW FULL WELL I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE CLOTHES

-u-;; dw, there might be a cure

[undertale-flower-war]

“…I think I need to be alone for a while. I’ll catch up! (Catch up)”

Flowey Asks the Flowers part 2: Neodyne!

Drawn by Febby

[writinggremlin]

1, 2, 3, 5, and 7 for Kage? 👀

-- @whumperofworlds

From the Tourture An OC ask game!

Oh, words can not describe how happy I am that not only did you send me an ask, but you chose my favorite lil guy to whump. Kage has become my main character over the years, and I really don't know how he did that lmfao. There's just something about angsty, broody, grungy guys I guess lmfao.

Anygay, thank you so much for sending in an ask! Onto the questions! (OUGH these are good ones!)

Cw: Kidnapping, Recapture, Drowning, General Torture, quick blood mention.

1: How do you kidnap/capture your OC?

That depends, because Kage already has history with someone. Lily to be exact-- or August, as he knows her. In the event of her kidnapping him (again), it would go over surprisingly smoothly, with an uncharacteristic lack of struggle and resistance from him.

What would likely happen is that one day, while he's alone, Lily would show up at the penthouse he lives in, and knowing that he doesn't remember what she's done to him, she would ask if he wants to take a walk while they catch up. While they take the elevator down, Lily will make her move, restraining Kage's arms behind his back, and using the jacket he usually wears to cover up her work. She'd threaten tell him not to act out, to which he'd comply, as he starts getting a weird uncanny feeling about all of this. Once he's in the car, he'd get blindfolded, and off they'll go! (And then some of his memories will resurface and trigger a panic attack! :D!)

2: Are they defiant? Scared? Stoic?

It depends on who's doing the torturing, for the most part. But, assuming it's Lily, Kage would be mostly confused and scared. He'd try to hide this by acting stoic and maybe even a little defiant on occasion, but it wouldn't take much to put him back in his place if need be. Thankfully, to his benefit, Lily doesn't mind a little bit of pushback. In fact, she quite enjoys it.

If it were somebody else, he'd be more bold in his defiance. Verbally berating his captor(s), spitting on them, attempting to land a blow on them, constant attempts to escape, all the way down to things as simple as a smug look after a session. Of course, this is all still done to mask his fear. How long that mask will last, and how effective it is, is another question for another day.

3: What kind of torture methods would you use against them?

Pin him to the wall in an empty room, and start filling it with water. Grab a handful of his hair, and dunk him into a tub of water. Shove him down, and don't let him back up until he's limp.

I've also had a scenario where he's trapped in a room that gradually gets colder and colder over time. He thinks it's just normal isolation at first, until he notices that it's "a little chilly in here". And it doesn't stop; it just keeps getting colder and colder until there is frost lining the walls, and he is nothing but a pathetic, shivering little ball on the ground.

Sickness is also a super fun one with him. Just letting him get worse and worse. Toying with his life; letting him go to the brink of death, only to bring him back just enough to regain awareness, and then let him get worse all over again. (Lily fucked him up so badly with this one that he now avidly denies being sick whenever he's experiencing even the slightest symptoms of anything. He "doesn't get sick". Haha, whoosies!)

5: What do they do if you torture a loved one in front of them?

So I'm going to assume that this is a scenario where he's restrained and can't get to the person who's hurting his loved ones, while the torture is happening right in front of him. If that's the case, he's going guard dog feral. Especially if the loved one in question is Echo or his fiance. I'm talking shouting and screaming incoherent obscenities until he's spitting out blood, thrashing against restraints with reckless abandon and likely hurting himself in the process, growing, hissing, biting, pure, unbridled rage.

Once they are both out, their tormentor will have a target on their back. Kage will make it his sole mission to hunt them down and enact revenge. An eye for an eye. It's only fair.

7: Do they have a team? If so, supposed they were caught too. Do they protect their team from any torture or no?

Kage does have a support network of close friends who he is pretty loyal to, and cares about a lot. If any of them were to get captured alongside him, whether it be somebody close like Damien or Echo, or a friend like Sebastien or Mist, or even somebody who he doesn't seem to care for (or has very valid reasons not to care for them) like Onyx or even Ember, he would agree to take the blow for them if it meant their safety.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound + daero

Prompt from the Augusnippets @augusnippets challenge!

Path of Comfort: day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound

Could loosely be read as a follow-up to this, with the same caretakers

Content Warnings: demon whump, aftermath of captivity, aftermath of torture, trauma, nightmares, comfort, rescue, recovery, pain medicine

----

A week later and it still doesn't feel real.

The two humans tell Daero that he is safe and sound. That there will continue to be food and water, that their hands won't strike him. Their touches are soft, their voices quiet. They smell like citrus and cinnamon.

But still Daero flinches when either one enters the room. He still expects to wake in that damp dungeon, chained, beaten and starved.

Nightmares plague him, disrupting his much needed rest. On the worst nights, like tonight, his cries wake the humans and they are quickly by his side.

He is just awake enough to hear and feel them. One soothes him with kind words while wiping his tears away. The other holds a spoonful of pain medicine to his lips until he drinks. Then they sit on either side of him and wait.

In the moments just before falling asleep, when the medicine kicks in and he melts into the cushions, Daero feels something like peace.

[casteliacityramen]

|| Previous Plot Post | Pinned Post ||

[boytumms]

You know that wax fruit that sits in bowls on tables? What if Fig found some wax grapes and gorged on them thinking they were real. But hours later he's still stuffed too full cause his body just can't digest them.

They wouldn’t taste very good, but maybe the wax is scented so he just thinks it’s some weird bad tasting kind of fruit. He probably wouldn’t end up eating very much of it, but it would be enough wax to clog up his stomach. Whatever he eats after can’t get past the blockage and just sits in his tummy, making him sick and bloated with gas and undigested food.

His tummy can’t process the wax, so there’s nothing he can do to get it out, his only hope would be to find a human that might be able to fix it. Either by deeply massaging his belly and painfully squeezing the wax chunks through his gut, or heating his poor tummy over a candle to melt it down enough for everything to pass through

[oros-ash3s]

24 and 25 for alllll the guys you mentioned hehehe >:3

Atlas ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

What makes them relaxed?

જ⁀➴ As an Elite, Atlas is never truly relaxed. During his short time under the Spider’s control, he had no sense of bodily autonomy or control. He was extremely defiant at first, leaving him inside the White Room for very long periods of time, and with each session his mind slowly cracked. By the time he was sent out on field missions with the rest, he was broken down by the torture, and had no concept of who he was. He was extremely confused and terrified during this time, unable to keep any memories for more than a couple days, and it led to him acting more like a caged animal than a human, desperately trying to escape his captors, even if it means dying in the process.

What makes them nervous?

જ⁀➴ I already answered this one right here ^^

Eilian ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

What makes them relaxed?

જ⁀➴ 524A79X26’s life doesn’t provide him much comfort or relaxation, but he likes the quiet. Days after he’s completed his kills, where he’s allowed to sleep for as long as he wants, and simply stay inside his cell, surrounded by the darkness. It’s somewhat soothing to him.

What makes them nervous?

જ⁀➴ Most things, to be honest. Despite being trained to be a ruthless killer, 524A79X26 is very timid and scared of his surroundings, only completing his missions out of fear of obeying orders. What scares him the most though, is the White Room. He’s gone inside it enough, experienced the pain and torture and mind-numbing drugs, that it is the most terrifying thing to him. It represents everything bad about the Spider, who he’s so desperate to please.

Signe ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

What makes them relaxed?

જ⁀➴ The scent of blood. Their power involves the act of spilling blood, and so the smell has become almost like a comfort to them. It’s a reminder that they’re strong, that they have the power, that they’re doing something right. The constant rewards and treats after using their power or hurting someone else have just solidified this mindset inside their fractured mind.

What makes them nervous?

જ⁀➴ Being alone. 476I88X21 is desperate to please the Spider, more so than the others, and will do anything for some time with her alone, even if that means going into the White Room. They thrive off attention, and when they’re stuck inside their cell, alone and forced to be quiet, it makes them increasingly panicked.

Maira ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

What makes them relaxed?

જ⁀➴ Like 524, 937L48X74 feels most calm when she’s alone and surrounded by darkness. This excerpt from my Atlas and Eilian blorb describes it perfectly:

“But to the inhabitants of the rows and rows of slim, barren gray cells, the silence was their solace. It brought a strange sense of peace, with no foes to fight, no orders to follow, no punishments to endure. The stark quiet, the darkness, the pure emptiness, it was all like a pressure off their shoulders; a relief.”

What makes them nervous?

જ⁀➴ 937L48X74, out of all the Elites, is the most nervous on missions. She has an intense fear of the outside world, and feels extremely panicked whenever she has to leave the comfort of the base, where she has the protection of the Spider. On missions she fights in a desperate, flighty way, completing her orders as quick and efficiently as she can manage.

Knox ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

What makes them relaxed?

જ⁀➴ 643O39X52 is the most violent and disobedient out of all the Elites. He is aggressive and doesn’t listen to rules often, and constantly fights back against the handlers. The fighting seems to give him some sort of purpose, and when directed at Eden’s enemies, dulls the resentment and anger for a moment, but nothing inside the base truly calms him. It isn’t until after he’s left the White Room, too high on drugs to function, that he is relaxed.

What makes them nervous?

જ⁀➴ Many things inside the base are frightening to him, although his tough exterior doesn’t allow it to show often, but the doctors scare him the most. He associates them with the White Room, a punishment he endures often, and a place that symbolizes his complete loss of control. Even when the doctors are trying to patch him up after missions he’s highly combative and agitated.

Ira ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

What makes them relaxed?

જ⁀➴ Ira lives off of praise. Despite her harsh living conditions, the physical abuse, and the torture, if she has the Spider and Cato smiling down at her at the end of the day, giving her a nod of approval, she’s more than satisfied. It’s the one thing that makes it all worth it, allows her to fully rest by lights out.

What makes them nervous?

જ⁀➴ Being in the presence of any of the Eden leaders. Ira is terrified of disappointing them, terrified of the consequences, and being in the presence of so many of their superiors is the one thing that leaves them completely on edge. They are so scared of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, and it seems like each of their meetings with the leaders always ends in disaster — which also means punishment. They never feel worse than when Cato is standing over them, telling them how they failed her.

tysm for the ask @seastarblue!! it was rlly fun writing about these guys ^^

[sir-fenris]

can I give Cyrus a cookie,,,, and also a glass of warm milk,,,, and a blanket (I want them to be happy)

Thank you for the ask <33 I'm sorry for the wait!

You guys are really spoiling Cyrus...

-

(Curse of Withering)

Cyrus wakes up from a weird dream of stone walls and flowers. His head was aching badly... he had been crying in his sleep again.

He's confused about seeing food by his head once again. At this point, Cyrus was concerned that it was somehow poisoned or something. He knows he didn't do anything to earn so many happy things.

But the smell of the cookies were so good, and it had been so long since he was given anything to drink that was not water. And... a blanket?

Cyrus didn't dwell further on why he was given this.

He should just be grateful, it's easier this way.

"Thank you," he whisper to the empty room like last time. This time, no shock was delivered because of his speech and he lets out a relieved exhale.

He wraps himself on the blanket first, shivering at how warm it is. It almost drives him to sleep again. But he just leans against the wall and starts eating.

It tastes so, so good. Tears pricked his eyes again.

"Thank you, thank you," Cyrus repeats. To whoever keeps giving him happy things.

-

Taglist: @whump-till-ya-jump @floral-comet-whump @paingoes @bonbonbobomb @inhurtandincomfort @half-duck

-

[unforgivenn]

Yes the feverrrr! Be a shame if he were tortured in the main au where he's already begging and broken... with this added on

I am so sorry this was literally lost in my drafts but well here it issss

MASTERLIST

CW: torture, physical abuse, extreme suffering, degradation, cruel whumper, violence, knives

The body that had once been so full of arrogant poise and nobility now lay crumpled upon the stone floor, a weak remnant of himself. The fever had taken him days ago, a fire in his veins voraciously consuming him from the inside out. His breathing was shallow and labored, and every breath he took sounded like a death rattle in the cold silent room. Sweat drenched his skin, plastering his hair to his forehead, and his limbs twitched uncontrollably, as if fighting a battle even in his broken state.

He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t supposed to be weak. He wasn’t supposed to beg.

Yet here he was. Reduced to nothing.

The door creaked open with a slight metallic groan, and the sound reverberated off the gray, barren walls of the room. Andrey's eyes flew open, and his lips let out a small gasp as the fevered haze momentarily cleared. His heart hammered in his chest, but his body was too weak to move. He knew what was coming. It had become routine by now-the torture, the breaking, the fucking agony.

But something was different this time.

The figure entering the room carried nothing usual in the way of punishment tools-no whips, no chains to clank together. Rather, in the poor light, there was a single glint of metal, and Andrey's bloodshot eyes traced its progress with a dawning fear.

The figure dropped to its knees beside him, its shadow pouring over him. "You've begged already, haven't you?" The voice was quiet, almost gentle, with the scarier blade of something else underneath. "I wonder if you have anything left, Andrey."

Andrey tried to speak, tried to plead, tried to say anything that would spare him the fresh wave of pain he knew was coming. But his throat was parched dry, his voice hoarse from days of screaming, from pleading for mercy. A pathetic croak was all that escaped.

The man laughed, a sound which made Andrey's skin run cold. "Nothing to say? No more of your noble arrogance?" He leaned in closer, his hot breath dancing across Andrey's fevered skin. "Don't worry. You can scream all you want today."

It came down slow, tauntingly, and the point of the blade danced across Andrey's fevered skin, cold-so cold it seared like fire. Andrey whimpered; his body arched to pull away instinctively, and there was nowhere to go. He was trapped. Helpless. "You deserve this, you know," the voice whispered, almost gentle. "After everything you've done. after everything you thought you could get away with."

It was a shallow cut, merely a thin line drawn across Andrey's chest. But the pain-oh, the pain that was so sharp, visceral, it tore a ragged scream from his throat. His body bucked. The fever pulsed through him, intermingling with the pain until he could not tell where one ended and the other began.

"That's it," the person cooed, staring with sick satisfaction. "Scream. Scream for me."

The second slash, deeper this time, cut across his side. Blood flowed freely now, warm and sticky, oozing onto the cold stone beneath him. The sharp tang of it filled the air, mingling with the smell of sweat and sickness. Andrey's vision blurred; black spots danced at the edges, but he fought to stay conscious. He had no choice.

"Does it hurt?" The voice was mocking, playful even. The knife pressed harder, dragging across Andrey’s skin, carving patterns into him like he was nothing more than a canvas for their cruelty. "I want to hear you beg again, Andrey. I want to hear you really beg."

Andrey gasped and choked on his own saliva, fighting for speech. His voice came out as a broken whisper, "Please. s-stop.."

But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

The blade bit deep into his arm, in a twisting motion that made the flesh separate, and Andrey's scream reverberated off the walls, raw and animal-like. His body convulsed with the effect, nerves lit with a torment that was impossible to bear. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood and sweat, and his heart throbbed so hard in his chest, as if it might burst at any instant.

"Good," they murmured, almost sweetly. "But we’re not done sweetie."

The knife withdrew, dripping with his blood, and before Andrey could even catch his breath, the person reached into their pocket and pulled out a small, coarse packet. Andrey’s heart stopped when he realized what it was.

Salt.

"No..." The word came out as a broken sob, but it did nothing to stop them.

They started sprinkling salt over open wounds, their movements very slow and deliberate, watching with sadistic delight as Andrey's body reacted violently. His back arched off the ground, a scream so raw and desperate tore from his throat that it seemed to shake the very air in the room. The salt was burning like fire, like a thousand needles piercing every nerve in his body. His skin felt like it had melted, dissolved away under the constant sting.   He clawed at the ground, his fingers scrabbling against stone in a useless bid to be gone from the pain, but there was no respite. There was only agony.

"Stop!" he sobbed, pride in pieces, will broken. "Please, God, stop!"

Andrey's body shook now, wracked between the fever searing through him and the unimaginable agony of salt burning his open wounds. The metallic scent of blood mixed in with the acrid sting of pungent sweat and raw, biting salt. His skin felt as though it had been flayed alive; each granule of salt digging into his exposed nerves sent his agony spiraling higher with each second passing.

His once-proud figure-the nobleman who always looked down on others from his high pedestal-had been reduced to nothing more than a quivering mass of pain and desperation. He would have rather died than be reduced to this state-but death was far too kind.

“Beg harder,” the voice urged again, sounding almost bored. "Do you really think a pathetic 'please' is going to save you? You’re nobility, right? Let’s hear the noble way of groveling."

Andrey's face was streaked with tears, his chest heaving, his body racking with shallow, ragged breaths as he fought for oxygen. His mouth opened and closed in spastic attempts to form words which searing pain had ripped from his grasp, leaving him helpless at the mercy of his tormentor. The concrete floor beneath him was wet with his blood, slick with fever sweat coating his skin.

“I... I’m sorry...” he croaked, barely more than a whisper, his throat too raw from screaming. The words were poison on his tongue, his pride screaming even louder than the pain in his body. But the pain won. It always won. “Please, I—I'll do anything. Just... just stop..."

A twisted smile curled on the lips of his tormentor as they crouched down beside him again, leaning in close enough that Andrey could feel their breath on his ear. “Anything, huh? Interesting. We’ll see about that.”

The knife returned, tracing lazily across Andrey's shaking chest, his skin crawling from the cold touch of the metal. His breathing hitched and he tensed instinctively, but too weak to offer any real resistance, his body too far gone, strength sapped by fever and agony. His mind fought desperately to hold on to reality, but it was slipping, slipping into that dark, cold void where nothing was there but suffering.

The blade hovered above his chest once more, and he steeled himself for the sharp sting. But it didn't come. Instead, there was a pause—a deliberate, menacing pause that made Andrey's heart race with dread.

Then, a sudden, burning sensation.

The knife hadn't sliced into his flesh. No. It pressed down, slowly, deliberately, and twisted.

Andrey's scream tore through the air, raw and feral, his skin opened to the knife-but not to cut, rather to grind into the wound with the cruel twist of fate itself. His vision blurred and he could feel himself slipping further and further away, lost in darkness, black dots swam in and out of focus.

"Shh, shh." the voice crooned softly, mockingly, as if comforting a crying child. "We've only just begun."

The knife pulled out, and Andrey gasped for air, his chest heaving, his body going into spasm from the brutality of the torture. But the reprieve was not to last. His torturer clutched his hair and tugged his head backward so he had to gaze into the frigid, calculating eyes.

Do you know why this is happening to you?" they asked, low and menacing. "Do you really think you are some untouchable noble, so far above everybody else? Look at you now." Spittle flew with the words, venom in their tone that cut deeper than any blade. "You're nothing. You're less than nothing. A broken, pathetic animal.

Andrey's lips quivered while his body convulsed in great sobs that he could not restrain. He was past the thought of dignity, pride. All he felt was this overwhelming need for it to end, the pain to stop.

"Please.. Please..." The word was letting out in broken gasps, his voice hoarse, nearly gone. He wasn't even sure anymore what he was begging for-mercy, death, an end to the suffering. Anything. Anything to make it stop.

But mercy wasn't coming.

And then the wave of pain came: swift, vicious, and strong-the freight train that was his tormentor pressed the salt deeper into his wounds, rubbing it in as if savoring every scream, every tear that fell from Andrey's eyes.

"Do you feel that?" they hissed, voice dripping with sadistic glee. "That's what it feels like to be beneath someone. You think you're special? Think you're better than everyone else? You're nothing without your title."

Andrey's body bucked and heaved, the salt burning on and on, every nerve in his body alight with agony. His hands clawed at the stone floor, nails scraping against it until they cracked and bled, but he couldn't get away. He couldn't do anything but scream, and scream, and scream, until his voice was nothing more than a rasp, until his mind teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.

And the tormentor got up, retreated a few steps, and contemplated his work with almost the pride of an artist who has just completed a canvas. Andrey lay on the ground, semi-conscious, his body shuddering irrepressibly with the torturing pain. His skin was red, raw, bleeding, and full of the burning sting of salt.

"Good. You're learning." Their voice boomed in the room as they moved toward the door, leaving Andrey to his torture.

But just before they did, they turned around, their voice smooth and almost gentle.

"Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow."

The door slammed shut. Andrey wanted to beg, plead for some sort of mercy, but his voice was gone. There was only pain. And cold.

It was hours later, when his body finally succumbed to the cold, that it had numbed over. Even then, however, the fever still managed to burn, quietly reminding him that no matter how much he suffered, there was more in store.

Because in the end, that's all he deserved.

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