#whumpee being sold

[yet-another-heathen]

On conditioned whumpees...

Y'know, I think one of the things that people get wrong with conditioned whumpees is their rules. Specifically, when a whumpee was in long term captivity/training and they later get released or escape.

Most people write them as latching onto a caretaker or new whumper, and begging for new rules so they know they're doing something right. A new set of laws to live by, a new framework to behave to.

And that's... not really how conditioning works.

Conditioning means automatic reactions. Your body doing something that was trained into you without consulting your brain first.

There is no decision making. There is no choice. The trigger hits, and you are immediately performing the correct action regardless of anything else.

You're told to kneel? Your knees have already hit the ground. You're supposed to be standing in one part of the house when a certain noise is made? You've launched into movement before you even realize what you heard.

These rules are woven into the fabric of your body. And they are insurmountable. The conditioning overrides emotion, internal conflict, hesitation, beliefs, wants... everything.

Your whumpee may very well hate what is being done to them, and after the moment has passed they're cursing themself and their whumper. They're still a person on the inside. And that person is still very much alive. Most of the time, they will have some level of awareness that what's being done to them is wrong. They'll be angry. They'll be hurt. And they will hate that there is nothing they can do about it.

But the next time that trigger occurs, the response still hits them exactly the same.

So now take your whumpee out of that situation. They ran away, were rescued, were sold. They got out. Now they're with new people, a new caretaker, a new whumper. Or they're on their own and trying to make their own way in the world.

But those conditioned responses are still there.

There's no turning them off. You don't just replace them with new rules. They are in your every fibre. They have been built into the very framework of who you are.

The next time someone says the word "kneel", your knees are on the ground again. No matter where you are, or who you're with. The response happens before you can stop it. If they don't know why, everyone looks at you like you're insane. And you feel like you are.

Deconditioning is an agonizing process that takes more effort than I can even begin to describe to someone who's never experienced it.

Every time they hit that trigger, that response will still be there. Over, and over, and over, and over.

Breaking those rules down takes YEARS. And it is a constant effort that the whumpee has to choose to undergo every single time. Progress is measured milimeter by milimeter. You're told to kneel, and you kneel. You're told to kneel, and your mind catches up with the fact that you already did it— but a little sooner than it did before. Then a split second sooner. Then as you're doing it. Then you feel the impulse just before your knees hit the ground. Then you have a split-second of resistance before you go down. On and on and on and on, inching toward progress despite the fact that you're fighting with all your might. And that progress is anything but linear.

You don't just start obeying new rules. You don't latch on to your caretaker's new way of doing things and drop everything that you were conditioned to do before. These rules don't just get replaced.

Conditioning is not a belief system. It's a flinch response. Programmed deeper than the instincts you were born with.

You can be ordered not to obey the old command, and moments later when the trigger comes, you will anyway. Because in conditioning, the action comes before the choice.

These rules, these laws of your existence, come above everything else. And if your new whumper wants to replace them, they are going to have to beat the new rules into you so often and so severely that the pain becomes stronger than the old conditioning. At which point, the newly desired response will very, very slowly start to take over.

You're not swapping out new rules. You're layering new, worse conditioning on top of the old. And your brain will spend time stuck in that split-second between both responses before one finally grows stronger than the other. And even then, the change will not happen quickly.

That is what your conditioned whumpee is up against. That is what makes it such a horrible—HORRIBLE— and powerful tool.

[acer-whumpstuff]

Whumper is a therapist, and uses the therapy sessions to weed out potential whumpees they can kidnap, train/condition, and sell to other whumpers.

The conditioning starts during the therapy sessions, helping that angry whumpee channel through violence so they can become a living weapon.

The patient who feels like they’re not enough starts being told to have hookups and buy sexier clothes so they can become someone’s bedroom partner.

That patient who’s chronically stressed and burnt out is the easiest to condition, and gets sold as a pet fairly quickly.

Does anyone notice how all these missing people have the same therapist?

Do the whumpees ask to go back to their therapist? Do they continue to see their patients after they’re sold to help keep them conditioned?

How much is Whumper charging their patients? How much to they charge the other whumpers?

@demetercabingreen-thumb

[paingoes]

fantasy whump ideas ive been bouncing around in my head

+ whumpee who is being sold out as a mercenary for someone more powerful. compelled to go on dangerous missions on behalf of someone else, then pay the majority or ALL of their reward to their handler. does their adventuring party know they don’t want to be there?

+ royal whumpee being sent with an knight to guard them, unaware that their real knight was stopped on the way to meet them and an imposter has taken their place

+ hostage whumpee being carried away on horseback, forced to sit bound on whumper’s lap while they ride

+ dungeon with open roof. whumpee can see outside and is exposed to all the elements, but can’t leave

+ nature spirit being held hostage by an adventuring party, forced to guide them and manipulate the terrain as they wish. the other spirits see them as a traitor for guiding the party into forbidden territory

+ chaotic fairy whumpers. they’re not trying to hurt you, they’re just messing around. they think you’re cute with antlers growing out of you :)

+ starving whumpee being offered fairy food

+ classic: tied up and left as a sacrifice to a god or monster

[lindsay00000008]

More quiet whump :)

Inspired by this post by @defire

[CW: general abuse, whump in public, hiding abuse and injuries]

Keeping Whumpee in line.

Whumper doesn’t need to deal threats when they can simply deal consequences.

Shock collars are far too gaudy for a night out, not to mention conspicuous. Whumpee wears thick bands around their wrists instead, hidden beneath their sleeves, making their hands clench and shake whenever they’re activated.

The sharp pinch of a guiding hand on the sensitive skin of Whumpee’s ribs. A “friendly” hand on Whumpee’s shoulder, grinding collar bones and fraying nerves. The quick step of a heavy boot on the toe of a cloth shoe. Whumper leaves bruises where no one else will see.

Whumper with a painful magic touch. What looks like a gentle caress can come with the bite of thorns. It’s starting to hurt whether or not the magic is used. God forbid Whumpee flinches in front of Whumper’s friends, or their enemies…

A more severe punishment is sometimes required. But no need to be dramatic or cause a scene, just find a quiet place to get Whumpee back on track…

Whumpee is backhanded, the blow startling them to fall to their knees. Whumper’s expression never even changes. They just continue walking, expecting - demanding - Whumpee to keep up.

Whumpee has their knee kicked out from behind, making them drop, and their hair is gathered and pulled in an unrelenting grip. They gasp as their head is pulled back, their airways straining. Then, as quickly as it started, they’re released with a shove.

Whumper pulls Whumpee into a dark corner and wraps their hand around Whumpee’s throat. It’s jarring, yet the action itself is slow, tempered; every twitch of muscle fiber spelling out Whumper’s intention. Whumpee tries to apologize, but their breath emerges limp from the crushed airway. Just when their eyes burn and flash with dots and darkness - like a thousand cigarette stubbings - Whumper let’s go. They stare at Whumpee then, watching the heaving lungs and the shuffling, unsteady feet. Then - maybe the flash of a pleased smirk, too quick to tell - they turn away.

Actions speak louder than words, even in Whumper’s personal domain.

When Whumpee says anything other than what Whumper wants to hear, their head is forced under cold water. They’re sputtering and gasping for breath before the next shove, and Whumper gives them no hints as to how to end the torture. They can only guess wrong, and drown again.

Whumper likes the way their whumpee responds to the snap of their fingers. The sound, after alerting Whumpee to a mistake, used to be immediately followed by pain. A fist to the side of the head, a dose of magic poisoning the blood, an ear-splitting scream transposed into their thoughts. Now it’s followed by silence. Of course Whumpee still flinches, still cowers, still tries to right the wrongs. They know about the mental tally Whumper keeps. How Whumper likes the efficiency of this new tactic — how Whumper also likes that if they hold off on the impulse to punish Whumpee in the moment, they’ll have plenty of time to think of something better. Something a lot more fun.

Was gonna make this an even three but I’m tired lmao

Bonus

Whumpee is restrained and muzzled. They’re being spoken about, but not to, and they feel like an observer in their own torment. Are they being sold? Examined? Evaluated? Mocked? Even cooed or awed over, they’ll feel the shame of their silence and inability to participate. They can only glare… that is, if they can get away with it.

[echo-goes-mmm]

I love when Whumpers inspect their Whumpees

Grabbing their chin, tilting their head back and forth

Circling Whumpee like a predator stalking prey

Forcing them to strip so Whumper can see every inch

Running their hand along Whumpee's skin, up their spine, splaying their fingers over Whumpee's ribs

Whumpee doesn't know what they're looking for, if they're searching for anything at all

Maybe Whumper just wants to see Whumpee vulnerable, amusing themselves with the fear in Whumpee's eyes

Maybe Whumper really is searching for a flaw, ready to punish Whumpee after, but refusing to say what they did wrong

Maybe there's nothing wrong, they just want to pretend there is. Keep Whumpee on their toes. Sometimes they'll "pass" and sometimes they won't

Maybe Whumpee is being sold and doesn't know it. Whumper is inspecting their goods, calculating the price, what to offer, what to bid, etc

I love when Whumpers inspect their Whumpees

[defire]

Melee whump: bounty hunters, soldiers, assassins, living weapons...

(prisoner of war vibes)

Soldier whumpee is the best at their job because they can take so much punishment and still get up and finish the job, or at least escape

Regenerating whumpee who scouts out situations. Including things like minefields and "abandoned" areas where they might get blasted to pieces, but they'll live, so who cares?

Assassin whumpee gets captured by the enemy and then tortured until they agree to work for them

A neutral bounty hunter who is employed for their intelligence. Except then they get captured and forced to work for a rival group, and the first group that hired them thinks they sold out. Cue big beef.

Falling on the battlefield and surrounded by enemies. Shaking with panic as they try to play dead--the terror of being crushed underfoot by armored horses or run through to finish them off.

Whumpee getting lost and accidentally wandering across lines into enemy territory. Enemy assumes they're a spy.

Bonus if after interrogating them and failing to get evidence, they make whumpee work for them since he's clearly great at holding his tongue.

Living weapon chased by a whumper that's their ally/commanding officer and running to the enemy instead because THEY'RE LESS SCARY (i did this in Ghost of Seattle and it was so fun)

Whumpee, completely uninvolved and innocent, is related to an important gang member or military officer. The enemy captures and tortures them to hurt their relative.

[whumpandothercomfort]

I love the pet whump

Any ideas for someone who was publicly a pet of rich/famous whumper

There's a couple different possible setups... love imagining the logistics of a world with casual, accepted human/android/anthro/etc pets. Are celebrities bringing them leashed on the runway like purse dogs? Are they included in "no pet" signs outside establishments?

My first thought for this ask was Whumpee as the pet of a popular Youtuber/livestreamer. Like. Take every horrible thing that's ever proliferated from prank channels and "funny animal" channels.

Pranking my pet GONE WRONG!! (Pet becomes genuinely terrified and has a panic attack on camera)

Pet's been acting out.... Twitch chat gets to vote on how I punish them! On camera! 💕

Twitch chat votes to be nice to pet. Whumper makes them say thank you to the camera.

Whumper takes brand sponsorships from companies that make "training" (torture) tools for pets.

But they also make rewards like treats and nice pillows! So it's fine!

Humiliating videos of pet learning a new skill or trick. It's very cute and endearing how gently they're being condescended to.

A couple other Youtubers raise concerns that Whumper is mistreating pet; Whumper responds with videos of pet curled up asleep in their lap like, "Would a bad owner do THIS??"

Pet is eventually rescued by or sold to a rights advocacy group, but lives in constant fear of being recognized.

Pet has a really, really hard time believing in kindness for the sake of kindness. Whenever Caretaker is gentle with them, they start automatically looking around for a camera or a hidden trap.

[a-living-canvas]

Buttercup

"You sell…cookies?" 

Whumpee nodded. A genuine smile plastered on their face. Their arms carried a basket full of packages of cookies. Whumper pondered for a moment. They were not too fond of sweets, especially cookies. But, seeing the innocent look on Whumpee's face made their heart slightly tingly.

Whumper looked around the neighbourhood, making sure nobody saw their interaction before turning their attention back to Whumpee.

"Won't you come inside? We can discuss more about your sweet little cookies." Whumper's lips curled up slightly, eyes wandering all over Whumpee.

Whumpee hesitated, they suddenly felt uneasy by the request. "Um, I'm not really supposed to enter the customer's house." They explained, fingers gripping tightly on the basket holder. Whumper looked over at the packages inside the basket, noting not even half of the cookies had been sold yet. 

"How unfortunate, I might change my mind once we are inside. I might even buy all of your cookies, you know?"

Whumpee eyes widen in shock and excitement. Whumper chuckled at the sight, they were so desperate to get customers, huh?

"So, what do you say?" They raised an eyebrow at Whumpee. Whumpee thought for a few seconds before they nodded their head. Whumper grinned, they led Whumpee to the living room as they locked the door shut.

Whumpee sat on the couch. The basket on their hands now on the coffee table. They looked a little nervous, but it's okay, because Whumper liked the sight of their prey being nervous and scared. They took a seat across from Whumpee, waiting for them to talk.

Whumpee fidgeted with their fingers before explaining, "Um, so…I only sell two flavours here. Chocolate chip cookies with almond cream on it and Strawberry—"

"What is your name?" Whumper suddenly asked, interrupting Whumpee's train of thoughts. Whumpee blinked their eyes a few times.

"...what?"

"Your name, little one. What is it?" Whumper leaned back on the couch before crossing their legs. Whumpee felt intimidated by their cold gaze.

"My name is…Whumpee." 

Whumper hummed. "Are you sure you want to keep selling cookies for the rest of your life? It's not really worth it, you know?"

Whumpee got speechless for a moment at the sudden question. They have never been asked before, especially by their customers.

"I'm only helping my mom…" Whumpee said, not wanting to share any more information. Whumper watched them intently, they chuckled when Whumpee kept evading their gaze. 

"Aww, how kind. Helping your mommy, hm?" 

Whumper extended their hand to the basket, taking one of the packages inside. "Do you mind?" Whumper asked as they took one of the cookies and brought them to their lips. 

"Go ahead." Whumpee said. They watched as Whumper bit the cookie with their teeth while maintaining eye contact with them. Their eyes flickered for a second on Whumper's lips, as they licked off the crumbs so so slowly for Whumpee to watch.

"It's…delicious." Whumper commented, licking each of their fingers to clean it. Whumpee sighed in relief. 

"So, do you wanna buy it?" 

"Hm? Oh, no no no…the cookie is delicious, yes. But, that's not what I want." Whumper chuckled.

Whumpee shifted slightly in their seat, confused. "Then…what is it that you want?"

Whumper smiled at the question before they stood up and walked across the table to Whumpee. They leaned their body to them before whispering right into Whumpee's ear.

"You."

"...M-me?"

Whumper chuckled, "Yes, you. I want you, darling."

They wrapped their hands gently around Whumpee's as they looked straight into their eyes. Admiring those confused, vulnerable gaze. It was cute. 

"Would you let me…?" Whumper asked softly. Fingers trailing up until they reached Whumpee's neck, thumb brushing the side of their neck delicately. A smirk plastered on their face as they caught Whumpee's flushed face, what a delightful sight indeed.

"You are blushing, sweetheart…am I making you flustered?" 

Whumper asked. They chuckled softly as Whumpee remained silent. "I know how to make you blush even more." 

Whumper tightened their grasp around Whumpee's neck. Whumpee yelp at the sudden pressure, they grabbed Whumper's wrist as they were struggling to breathe. Their face turning to a darker shade of red, almost like the content inside their head were trying to burst through their skull.

"S…stop.." 

"Shh…just feel it, darling."

Whumper pushed their thumb against Whumpee's throat, resulting a gorgeous sound of pain escaping from their little friend. They leaned closer to Whumpee's ear, whispering with a malicious tone dripping on it,

"I bet you'll look so pretty tied up, with bruises and scars all over your body. I wonder what kind of sounds you will make when I carve your skin, when I make you mine…"

Whumper grinned sadistically at Whumpee's pitiful whimpers.

"Would you…like that?

Whumpee shook their head many times, tears streaming down their face from fear. "N-no! Please…please! Let me go!"

Whumper hummed, "Hmm…someone's eager to be mine." They said as they dragged Whumpee from their collar to the basement. Whumpee's thrashing and struggling in futile behind them.

"No! Please! Please!"

Whumper closed their eyes, smiling softly. "God, I love that sound."

They opened the door to the basement and threw Whumpee inside before they locked the door. Whumpee's crying and screaming were muffled as they were banging the door desperately. The basement was dark and cold, they couldn't even fathom how someone could live in here. 

Whumper made their way upstairs again before they sat on the couch. They beamed up at the sight of Whumpee's cookies in the basket. They took one of the packages, opened it, and put the cookie inside their mouth one by one in glee. Their evening was filled with the sweet cookies and adorable little sounds of Whumpee's misery from the basement.

~

Part 2

[ashdoeswhump]

Tws: noncon body mod, body horror, amputation, hospital setting

Whumpee with the ability to fully regrow any body part, and to adapt to any environment.

They're kept in a locked room in the hospital, a machine constantly drawing blood and spinal fluids to have on hand - when transfused into a patient, the blood perfectly changes to match their type so there's no resistance from the body.

When a new limb or organ is needed, the hospital staff take it from whumpee. Sure, being with their heart or a lung or even part of of their brain for a few hours will kill them, but they'll regrow it and be fine again afterwards.

Do they give whumpee pain medication or anaesthesia for every amputation, or does the mindset of "they'll regrow it, it doesn't matter" extend to "the pain will wear off, it doesn't matter"?

How did whumpee end up here? Were they sold out abandoned by their parents? Did they discover this ability themselves and decide they wanted to make a difference?

Are they even aware of what's going on? Or are they drugged into compliance, barely even aware of their own name?

Are the hospital staff aware of their presence and the state they're kept in, or is it just one whumper who harvests from whumpee and the rest live in willful ignorance?

So many delicious possibilities.

[mj-iza-writer]

Requested by @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud with inspiration by @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 . A current post they made about lab Whumpee being sold by Whumper after being told they were getting killed by Whumper. -MJ

"I've decided to grant you your request", Whumper started to talk before they even stood in front of Whumpee's cage, "you are taking up too much room. Room I need for a newer, better experiment. Enjoy your next few hours, they will be your last."

Whumpee stared wide-eyed at them until Whumper walked away... chuckling with amusement.

"This will be... okay. I-I asked for this, yes... so why am I scared at the thought of dying", Whumpee whispered to themself.

Whumpee brought their knees to their chest and buried their face.

They wept until a few guards came to grab them.

"May I... may I take my teddy?", Whumpee whispered as the guards opened their cage.

"That's fine", they stated gruffly.

Whumpee led the way to the lab. They tried to hide the fact that they were shaking. Their legs felt like jello. They felt the guard would have to carry them in a few minutes because of how weak they felt.

The lab door opened.

Whumpee gulped as it all came to them... this was their last time doing this. They relived every experiment they survived.

"Are you ready to be put to sleep? My little lab rat", Whumper smirked, "you've done your job well, but it is time."

Whumpee gulped, but nodded.

"May I have one more treat before you kill me?", Whumpee felt the guard bump against them to make them move forward.

"I suppose that could be arranged", Whumper nodded.

Whumpee was strapped down to the table before Whumper stuffed a treat into their mouth.

"Alright just a few more things to prepare and we will get started", Whumper walked away.

Whumpee strained to watch everyone while they chewed on the candy treat.

"Quite nosy little rat", a scientist studied them, "curious on how you'll die?"

"Sorry, I uhm. Was just nervous", Whumpee admitted.

"Alright we are ready to go", Whumper carries a syringe with a long needle to Whumpee and shows them.

"This will end everything", Whumper almost sings happily, "are you ready?"

Whumpee whimpers a little but nods.

"Aww so brave", Whumper grins.

Whumper pulls Whumpee's sleeve up, accidentally bumping Whumpee's teddy and knocking it to the floor.

"TEDDY", Whumpee yells as the needle enters their arm and empties under their skin.

Whumpee's eyes instantly begin to flutter open and close. In their blurred vision, they see their stuffy dance in front of their face before it rest on their chest.

Whumper watches for a few minutes until they are certain Whumpee is asleep.

"Prepare them. Their buyer will be here in an hour for them", Whumper wipes some hair from Whumpee's eyes, "I'm gonna miss my little rat, but I've finished with them. They deserve to have a nice retirement."

"That was evil to make them think they were dying though", another scientist commented.

"I had to get one more out of them", Whumper frowned, "trust me what I just did is about the best thing I could do for them. Carewhumper will give them a good life. Better than what I would give them for their retirement."

Whumpee knew they were unconscious... it was a weird feeling to them. As though they were floating in darkness, not really existing anywhere, but still alive.

"I-I'm alive?", Whumpee came to the realization, "I-I wonder what they're doing to me right now. A mean prank, but I suppose I shouldn't expect anything else from them. I hope they don't alter me to much."

Whumpee started to feel themself being pulled to wakefulness.

Whumpee blinked tiredly a few times as they became conscious.

"Oh are we coming to?", someone gently petted Whumpee's face.

"Mmm" Whumpee moaned.

"Come on dear", the person's voice coaxed, "I'm ready to meet you."

Whumpee finally squinted their eyes open, but quickly closed them.

"Oh, to bright", the voice chuckled.

Whumpee could tell the light was dimmed. They opened their eyes to watch someone sit down beside them.

"Wh-who are you?", Whumpee whispered.

"My name is Carewhumper. I'm your new master dear", they smirked.

"New master?", Whumpee was visibly uncomfortable, "but doc said they were killing me... I thought I was dying."

"Yes they had mentioned that. They wanted to poke a little fun at you before I received you. I purchased you from Whumper. They said they were retiring you from being a lab rat, and I offered to purchase you."

Whumpee listened quietly... they tried to understand what was being said, but everything felt fuzzy.

"I can see you are still confused, and it may be that strong drug you were given. Let's go over a little more of this information when you feel better. Just know that I own you now, and that's that."

Whumpee nodded.... knowing they had no idea who this person was and what they were capable of. Also knowing they had no way out.. this was their life now.

"How about you lay down and take a nap. We'll have dinner ready in a little while. Maybe by then you'll be thinking a little clearer", Carewhumper stood.

Whumpee looked over themself as the sheets were pulled up to cover them.

"Wait am I...how did I get cleaned?", Whumpee marveled. Whumper really didn't care how dirty Whumpee was. Whumpee was often given a damp towel after experiments to wipe off with. They hadn't had a bath in a while.

"I went ahead and bathed you while you were unconscious. You were quite filthy, and I didn't want to dirty your bed. I really didn't plan on you coming to me with so much filth. I would have better planned had I known", Carewhumper sighed, "I didn't take advantage of you. So don't concern yourself over that. I just needed to get the lab and experiment remnants off of you."

Whumpee studied how clean they were.

"I haven't had a bath in so long", Whumpee whispered.

"You can have as many baths as you like", Carewhumper smiled, "you will be my pampered pet, I'm sure you'll enjoy your new life. So long as you follow my rules."

Whumpee nodded then yawned.

Carewhumper chuckled, "as I said we will go over that stuff when you seem more awake. I'm glad you seem to accept your new position as a pet."

Whumpee nodded again, "I understand my place in this world. I am whatever my master asks of me. That's what doc trained me to be. You own me now so I will try my best."

"Excellent... that's all I need you to do", Carewhumper finished covering Whumpee up, "get some rest. I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

Whumpee settled for a few moments before jumping up.

"Teddy", they scrambled to search for the toy.

"Oh hey, okay okay.. settle down", Carewhumper held onto them gently.

Whumpee started to panic. They took quick shallow breaths.

"Teddy?", Whumpee squeaked.

"I believe you are asking about the stuffed animal, yes?", Carewhumper gently rubbed Whumpee's shoulder.

Whumpee quickly nodded.

"Whumper told me the importance of that item, but it was in a worser state than you wer...."

"You didn't throw them away?", Whumpee cut Carewhumper off, "please I-I need them."

"No no, but I did hand it to a maid for cleaning", Carewhumper smiled comfortingly, "they know the importance of the item and will return it as soon as its ready."

Whumpee tried to hide a quivering lip.

"It's alright, I will return them to you when they are nice and clean", Carewhumper repeated before standing up, "you may rest now, but I suppose you would like to look around your room. This entire space is for you. I'm sure you'll enjoy the extra room. Definitely more than your cage you lived in for so long. You can decide. I'll retrieve you for dinner."

Whumpee watched them leave the room and heard a lock clicking.

"So just a bigger sized cage, I suppose", Whumpee sighed, "we'll at least I can stand, and this bed is comfy."

Whumpee looked around again before getting up and looking around. There were too many new things to see.

"Ooh this is cool", Whumpee walked over to the window where a lounging seat was placed.

They carefully climbed up onto the furniture and looked out the window.

Whumpee almost laughed when they saw bars on the other side of the window.

"I can't even say how many levels I'm up... How would I even get down?", Whumpee looked at the window a little closer, "oh it opens."

Whumpee opened one of the latches without even thinking... they just wanted some air.

They fell to the floor when an alarm went off.

"Oh no", Whumpee looked up from the floor.

Moments later, guards rushed in, followed by Carewhumper.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I-I just wanted air", Whumpee covered their face in preparation for punishment.

Carewhumper knelt beside them while the guards secured the window.

"It's okay, you didn't know any better yet", Carewhumper patted their shoulder.

The guards turned to Carewhumper.

"What should we do to them?", one of them frowned at Whumpee.

"We are not doing anything to them. They don't know the rules... they probably just got excited to see the outside world. Can we actually take the alarms off this window for them... I'm sure some fresh air will feel good for them", Carewhumper smiled at Whumpee, "I was just coming to return this when I saw the guards unlocking the door. I was concerned."

Whumpee's eyes lit up when they saw Teddy.

"Thankyou", they squealed and took it excitedly, then hugged it close.

"We won't be able to take the alarms off of one. They either have to all come off, or stay on", one of the guards looked up from their phone, "the only other option is for them to get a hold of us to take off the alarms for them to open the windows. Which might be hard for them when they are under lockdown."

"I-I won't run away", Whumpee looked up at Carewhumper, "I'm a very good Whumpee, I promise."

Carewhumper smiled and cupped Whumpee's face lovingly.

"Okay well let's try it. Take the alarms off then", Carewhumper gently rubbed their thumb along Whumpee's cheek, "are you okay, it looks like you fell."

"I got scared and fell from the seat", Whumpee leaned into the touch, "I'm....hmm sorr..y."

Carewhumper chuckled, "I have a strong belief that you are severely touch starved. After dinner we can cuddle to fix that. Are you okay though?"

Whumpee zoned out and closed their eyes.

Carewhumper feared Whumpee may start drooling if this continued.

"My dear... are you going to sleep? My hand is not a pillow you know", Carewhumper chuckled again.

Whumpee looked up with puppy eyes, "sorry", Whumpee whispered, "it feels good", Whumpee cuddled their Teddy even closer, "Doc would never uh, pet me like that."

Carewhumper sighed, "I'm sure they didn't. Well let's go for dinner. It will give the guards time to figure out these alarms and reset the system."

"I'm sorry again. I didn't mean to cause any problems", Whumpee watched the guards walk past.

"It's alright", Carewhumper stood and helped Whumpee up, "no harm done. Accidents happen, especially when you don't know the rules."

Dinner was finished.

Now Carewhumper was sitting on a couch and watching Whumpee look around the room.

"So do you have any questions about the rules we went over during dinner?", Carewhumper leaned back.

"No Master, everything makes sense", Whumpee looked at them, "your rules are simpler to follow and your punishments are more lenient than what Doc had. I'm glad I won't be injected with any more unknown drugs if I don't chew my food twenty times before swallowing."

"Yes that one is a strange rule and punishment", Carewhumper agreed.

"Doc just wanted a reason to put more things in me to see what would happen. Plus the better I chewed the better my stool samples were", Whumpee looked down, "I'm thankful to be here."

"I'm glad to hear that", Carewhumper smiled, "so does my pet wish to cuddle?"

"Yes Master", Whumpee nodded as they walked over to Carewhumper, "please."

It wasn't long that Whumpee's face was cupped into one of Carewhumper's hands and they were almost asleep.

Carewhumper readjusted and helped Whumpee lay their head on Carewhumper's lap.

Whumpee happily let Carewhumper massage their scalp.

Whumpee nodded off a little after.

"Such a sweet little dear... and worth every dollar that I spent on you", Carewhumper smiled at the quiet snores their new pet made, "you will enjoy it here my dear. I promise."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @clevah-girlboss

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie

[cookies-and-coffee]

whump thought:

Being chained upside down! Suspended from the ceiling!

— a stress position (obviously)

— the flow of blood straight down to the head? Whumpee going in and out of consciousness because their body just shuts down due to the lack of circulation?

— Whumpee getting punished every time they pass out, and they have to stay conscious for a certain amount of time before they are allowed to be let down

— this position would make the Whumpee so fucking vulnerable, spread out and open to any wandering hands

— currently imagining that the chains around the ankles are too tight… long streaks of blood dripping down the calves, thighs, torso, chest, maybe even into the eyes?

— crimson staining the floor, and the black spots in Whumpee’s eyes prevent them from even seeing it

— the suspension could be for a multitude of reasons: Torture and/or interrogation??? Auctioning to be sold?? A sick form of art display? Punishment for disobedience? Simple entertainment??

— just imagine Whumpee swinging around, crying out for help to the people pushing and shoving their body like a funny chandelier that bleeds and begs

— a literal human punching bag

— also, if a person hangs too long upside down, they could literally die??

[snakebites-and-ink]

Augusnippets Day 1: Gaslighting/Hypnosis/Brainwashing

CW: Brainwashed whumpee, referenced captivity, slavery/trafficking, dehumanization, emotional whump

Caretaker had found Whumpee. 

They'd been co-captives before. For a while, they’d only had each other. Whumpee was always the more actively resistant of the two, struggling and spitting vitriol at their captors.

Yet Caretaker had been the one to make it out first. Their captors had always seemed to have more of an interest in Whumpee.

Whumpee was being sold now, advertised as a weapon of some sort. Caretaker’s heart ached for them at that. But they’d rounded up enough money and were going to get Whumpee out of there at last.

When Caretaker was closer, their gazes met. Whumpee’s eyes lit in recognition, but…not much else. Not hope, not fondness. Maybe they just didn’t dare get their hopes up.

Caretaker was as tense as they could be, but successfully bought Whumpee.

They kept up their role as a normal buyer as they left, and Whumpee seemed to play along. When they were far from prying eyes, Caretaker dropped the ruse. “I got you out, like I always promised I would. You can go, and be free now, at last!” Caretaker smiled.

“I don’t need freedom, sir,” Whumpee said, still acting as they had when they were sold. Suddenly Caretaker doubted they’d just been faking to get out.

Caretaker’s smile faded. “You always used to fight so hard. Don’t you want to go free?”

"The malfunction has been resolved. I won't resist anymore, sir."

Caretaker swallowed. They studied Whumpee searchingly, worried. “Do you really believe that? The whole ‘weapon’ thing?”

“Of course, sir. That’s what you bought me as, isn’t it?”

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

Hiii! Could you tell me some of your favorite mer whumpee tropes?

- @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

Oooh, this is really one of my favourite kind of whump ! Thank you very much x

I like when mer whumpee is hunted:

- For their scales/fins

Just like sharks; being caught in a net/trap, having body parts ripped off, and then either be thrown back into the sea damaged and maybe unable to survive alone, either be killed on the spot.

- To be sold as a pet/collection object

Marineland can be a great inspiration. Aquariums that are too small to allow whumpee to swim (leading to muscle deterioration and deformations), no place to hide (put on display), treated as a pet, boredom, vet visits...

- For food, eventually

Not my favourite, but can be fun if you're into that ! (Fancy restaurants, seeing what happened to the others...)

- For the sport

I've read an amazing post on this... Like in a catch and release reserve; tagged and chipped so they can never escape very far... The tourists can take pictures with them tangled in a net or dangling from a big hook...

On the comfort part, you have the caretaker, who could be:

- Working at the aquarium and finding out how unethical it is

- A fisherman finding an injured mer in his net

- A scuba diver/someone snorkeling (about this one, I really like the idea of sharks leading caretaker to an injured/unconscious whumpee)

- A random person walking on the shore

[jordanstrophe]

CW: Kidnapped for auction, sold to a gentle/controlling whumper, gagged, shackled, wounded. 

Whumpee’s wrists were shackled behind their back tethering them to the floor like a short leash. They were still gagged from being transported. No one bothered to take it off.

-And by transport, it was a kidnapping. Their abductors never used those kinds of words. They sickeningly simplified everything like casual business.

A bruise bloomed on the side of their face from where they had been struck unconscious. Blood trickled from their temple to the gag where it soaked it up. 

The door loudly opened as a giddy figure entered. “Oh wow, look at that bruise.” Whumper whistled. They dropped to a crouch in front of them as whumpee huffed and twisted their wounded-side away. 

“Aww, don’t be that way. I won’t hurt you.” As if to prove it, they gently petted whumpee’s hair. “I’m just here to take a look at what I’m buying.” They smiled. 

...  Buying?

Whumpee’s heart fluttered a few extra beats as they took a deep breath to calm themselves.  

“What a shame they did that to your face. I thought I specified that you weren't harmed.” They clicked behind their teeth. “-And what a pretty face. You’ll heal soon, don’t worry.” They grabbed whumpee’s jaw and tilted their head back to meet theirs. Whumpee whimpered a panic breath in pointless resistance. 

“No matter. I’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.” 

[3-2-whump]

It Started with a Gray Hair

<prev next>

After a couple months' worth of balancing two jobs, hardly getting any sleep, and running himself ragged, Khaled finally snaps.

Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for the feedback on this chapter, I've applied your advice and hope you like what I did with it!

TW/CW: emotional angst, emotional whump, defiant whumpee (?) (whumpee loses his last fuck to give), slave whump, captivity whump, alcohol, very briefly mentioned food whump (like it's barely there but I'll tag it anyways), intimate whumper, dub con, hate sex

Khaled noticed it when he was towel-drying his hair in front of the mirror after a shower. He accepted it wasn’t a trick of the light as he blew his hair dry in front of the mirror, and he finally confirmed it was exactly as he feared when he combed through his wild floof. Standing starkly contrasted against the black night of his hair was a single silvery strand, long and twisted and brittle amongst strong sable waves.

There was a sharp rap on the door, accompanied by his master’s complaints. Khaled ignored it, still horrified by the discovery of his first gray hair. It was less about vanity for him more than it was a visible sign of the passage of time, of how much time he’d spent living under this man’s thumb. His hands unscrewed the pomade jar on autopilot. He went through the motions of dipping fingertips into the sticky substance and running them through his hair, thoughts racing all the while. He managed to hide the silvery offender –the only one, as far as he knew, though where there was one, there were probably more, and what was that under his eyes? Lines?

“Sometime today, Khaled!” Thomas yelled through the bathroom door.

“Almost done, Master!” he shouted back as he rinsed the hair product off his hands. He hastily dried them and opened the door, subconsciously straightening out his shirt collar as he righted his posture.

“Everything alright?” It was funny, how he almost sounded concerned.

“Fine,” Khaled lied. As if he was going to complain to a forty-something year old man about his first gray hair.

“Well let’s go! We’re going to be late for the reservation I made!”

The restaurant they drove to overlooked a harbor boasting a panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean, plus or minus a few barges, with the city skyline largely forgotten behind the vast blue expanse. Regretfully, the outdoor seating was closed for the season, with it already being late fall, so the mob boss and his slave got a table indoors, right next to the wide windows above the balcony.

Whatever hope Khaled had of forgetting about the passage of time was quickly dashed by the first course. “We’ll take the antipasti plate, cured meats on the side, and your 2015 Merlot, two glasses, leave the bottle.”

Khaled cleared his throat, getting Thomas and the waitress’ attention. “Just one glass, please,” he corrected. “I’ll take a water.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Thomas asked. Khaled shook his head. “Best give him a glass anyway,” he whispered not too subtly. The waitress dutifully wrote down their order before leaving them to their complimentary bread basket.

“Ah, 2015,” the boss reminisced with a sigh. “The year my grandfather passed and I became the head of the Costa Family, what a tumultuous year!”

Yeah, 2015, the year I was kidnapped and sold halfway across the world to you, Khaled remembered. He tried to wash away the bitter memory with the water the waitress had given him, but the icy cold drink only numbed the sensation for a moment. He halfheartedly smeared some butter onto a piece of bread and picked at the marinated olives on their shared plate as his master kept reminiscing about how much time they had spent together.

“That was also the year I got you, wasn’t it?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you remember how small you were back then?” Thomas popped a salted almond into his mouth, chewing it only for a second before answering for him. “You were 5’1” and barely 90 lbs, a scrawny little thing. Then, with enough food and shelter and a stable environment-”

Khaled nearly choked on an ice cube.

“-you hit your growth spurt and made up for lost time!” The older man laughed, taking a hearty sip of his wine. “As soon as I bought you clothes that fit, you would need them replaced! You shot up like a weed over those first two years, and now look at you!”

Look at me now, Khaled bitterly echoed. His gaze flitted to the deep ruby liquid in his master’s wine glass, and then to the opaque green bottle set in the middle of their table. If he was going to make it through the rest of this dinner, he might change his mind about the merlot after all.

The man across from him helped himself to a slice of prosciutto from the side plate. “You’re a handsome young man, now twenty-two years old, 5’8”, 138 lbs. You’re built like a whippet, svelte and sexy in all the right places,” he crooned, throwing in a wink. “It has been nothing but a pleasure spending all these years with you.”

The bread on his tongue felt as dry as ashes in Khaled’s mouth. “I think I will take some of that wine, thanks,” he murmured. He leaned over the table to reach for the wine, but Thomas beat him to it.

Their hands touched on the neck of the wine bottle, two sources of warmth meeting on cold slender glass. Khaled shot his master a questioning look, only to receive a cryptically soft gaze in response. “Allow me.” Thomas took the bottle and effortlessly filled the spare wine glass. “Here you are,” he said, passing it to Khaled with a fond smile. Their hands met once again, the older man’s touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary on the neck of the wine glass as he stared into Khaled’s eyes. There was something softening the look in those steely-gray eyes, and it wasn’t just the candlelight ambiance. This look was warm and cozy, almost comforting like a fresh cup of tea; nothing like the fiery and lustful glances that promised Khaled equal measures of pleasure and pain. At least Khaled was used to the latter type of looks. The way Thomas looked at him now was almost as if –but no, Khaled thought, he’s just playing it up because we’re out in public.

“Aren’t you going to eat any more of this?” Thomas asked, waving down toward the sliced cheeses and grapes and nuts. Khaled hated how concerned his master sounded, making it sound like he cared.

“I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was,” he replied. He threw back the glass of wine and let the liquid pour down his throat, just to give his mouth anything to do other than talk to the man across from him.

“Oh, come on, Khaled, you know the dietary rules don’t apply on your birthday! At least eat something to absorb all that wine you’re inhaling?”

Brushing uncomfortably past the reminder that today was his birthday –the seventh birthday he had spent in slavery to his master, owner, and abuser –Khaled polished off the rest of his wine, instantly tipping his glass forward in a nonverbal request for more. “Why should you care?” he asked.

“Because maybe I care about you.” Thomas refilled his wine glass. He did that thing with his voice again, using the tone that sounded as if he were genuinely concerned. He was looking at him in that same soft and worrisome way as before. Khaled decided that he hated it. It made sense that the man would be concerned about his $150k asset, but anything vaguely resembling more than that was just …wrong.

He made a show of turning his head all about the restaurant, clocking how few patrons there actually were on a Monday night. “You can drop the act you know,” he murmured. “There is no one within five tables around ours, so you can cut the crap and just be yourself, Master.” The title left his tongue like a bitter epithet.

“Cut the –Khaled, what are you talking about?”

Oh, so he’s going to play dumb? Fine! You want to fuck with me, I’m the King of Dumb –wait, hold on. Khaled tipped back his second glass of wine, not stopping until the whole vessel was drained. Whether it was the insincere gestures of concern, or the accumulation of remarks about how much time had been stolen from him, or whatever the hell these soft and warm looks were, Khaled had decided he’d had enough. “I mean, stop being so goddamn nice to me, stop acting like we’re good friends or boyfriends or whatever lie you told these people when you made our reservations, and please, please, please, stop acting like you care about me beyond what I can do for you in bed!”

A few patrons turned their heads toward their table, since Khaled had raised his voice a little at that last statement. The mob boss glanced around with a flicker of nervousness in those gray eyes. “Khaled, baby, calm down,” he soothed quietly, opting to go for damage control.

Wrong choice of words, fucker! Khaled scoffed loudly, emboldened by the alcohol in his system. “You bought me, at fifteen years old, like an object, and you brought me into your empty, soulless home for what exactly? To leave me chained up and alone to slowly lose my mind for the first year I was imprisoned with you?” He slammed his empty wineglass against the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. “Nobody even treats their dog that badly!” he shouted.

“Khaled, keep your voice down, you’re drawing attention-”

The hypocrisy nearly made Khaled laugh. How dare you care about drawing attention onto us now, of all times! “And then,” Khaled continued, retelling his story as he raised his voice on purpose, “you took me to work with you and kept me on an extremely short leash, while the rest of the mafia treated me like the plague! Do you have any idea what they would say about me when you weren’t there? All the names they called me that I didn’t understand? Well, you made me understand, didn’t you?” His master reached out to hold his hand, but Khaled smacked it away, rising from the table to put even further distance between them. “Four years ago, this very night, the night of my eighteenth birthday, you made me understand, didn’t you?!”

“Khaled, shut up!” Thomas raised himself from the table, his livid eyes narrowed threateningly as he stared the young man down.

“You treated me like a whore –no, worse than a whore! You broke and violated my body nearly every night for years on end! You dolled me up and passed me around to your boys like a party favor until I was thrown away like garbage-” Khaled furiously blinked back the stinging sensation in his eyes “-back into your arms when they’d had their fill!”

A small squeak in their periphery interrupted their intense staring match. “U-um, excuse me, have you gentlemen decided on your entrees yet?” the waitress timidly interrupted. Both men fell silent as they realized the weight of a dozen stares were on their table, with both patrons and staff tensely watching them as they fought.

Thomas composed himself first. “No, thanks, I think we’re done here,” he answered gruffly. He reached into his coat pocket and fished out a few $100 bills. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered as he pressed the cash into the woman’s hands and strode purposefully towards the exit. Khaled himself muttered a quiet “sorry” before he followed his master out the restaurant, where they both picked up their argument where they had left off as soon as they reached the parking lot.

“What was that?” the mob boss shouted. “Fuck, boy, what is wrong with you tonight?!”

“What’s wrong with me?! I wasn’t the one who went out and bought a teenager to turn into their personal bed warmer!” Khaled screamed. “I wasn’t the one who stripped him of his clothes and wrapped him in silk and pimped him out to strangers he barely knew! I wasn’t the one who tore down everything he loved about himself-” Khaled’s voice broke on a wet sob he couldn’t suppress, “–everything that made him unique, to wring all the hopes and dreams from his broken body, just to build up whatever I wanted from his remains!” He raised an accusatory finger at the man he called his master. “That was you, you did that, that was all you!”

A brief grimace of an unnamed emotion flickered across his master’s face, disappearing before it could even be named. “You’re making it out to be way worse than it was!” he defended himself. He shook his head as he grabbed Khaled’s elbow and started steering him toward the car. “See if I ever let you drink again, fuck,” he muttered.

“Get off me!” Khaled yanked his elbow away from Thomas’ grip. He bit his trembling lip and swiped away the tears in his eyes. Any and all pretense of wanting to appear strong was abandoned as Khaled angrily wept.

“I could have loved you, you know!” He wrapped his arms around himself as his posture crumpled, squeezing himself in a hug as if he were desperately trying to hold his shattered pieces together for a little longer, if only so long as it took him to finish his damning indictment. “You wouldn’t know this, but I don’t have a father, at least not anymore,” he shuddered through ragged breaths, “but for a little bit, I thought I had you. If you had just been a little kinder, a little more understanding, if you had never touched me like that at all, I could have loved you like a father, and I think I was about to! But you didn’t love me, and I know you never did!”

“Hey, that is just not true!” Khaled heard the crunch of gravel under expensive leather shoes. A shadow cast over him as the mob boss leaned over the young man.

“Why didn’t you love me?!” Khaled glared up at him through his mess of tears. “What was it about me that justified pouring out all your wrath and your lust against me?! Why was it so hard to love me?! Am I unlovable, is that it?! Why-”

A rough hand grabbed him by his hair and tugged him forward. Khaled’s rant was smashed against a regrettably familiar pair of warm lips as Thomas brought him in for a kiss. Khaled clawed at the front of the man’s chest, fighting with a fervor he had not had since the early days to try and put the distance back between them. He groaned in protest against those smothering lips as his master maneuvered both their bodies and flipped Khaled back-first onto the hood of a car. Thomas broke the kiss and quickly covered Khaled’s mouth with his hand before the young man could say anything else. “You want me to love you?” he growled. “What does it look like I’ve been doing?!” Khaled thrashed against the hand on his mouth and the body pressing him down inch by inch into the chrome hood of the car. “I have been nothing but sweet with you for months now, but if that’s not what love looks like to you, I could always go back to what I had done before!”

The statement that would’ve struck terror and fear into him before now just made Khaled even more angry. He had finally freed one of his arms from where it had been pinned and scratched at his owner’s face. Thomas recoiled and let go of Khaled’s mouth on instinct to catch Khaled’s wrist in a punishingly tight grip. It wasn’t long before he had both of Khaled’s wrists pinned in one hand in front of him.

Khaled glared at him as he struggled against his master’s hold. “Touch me like that again, and I will scream,” he promised.

His master scowled, but ultimately released him and stepped away, allowing Khaled to peel himself off the hood of the car. They were still in a restaurant parking lot, after all. “At least wait until we’re in the car, you fucking savage!” he muttered.

They had just made it to the back of the boss’ Bentley when Thomas tried to grab Khaled in one hand and open the backseat door with another. Khaled dodged, and as Thomas reached for him to pull him into the car, he pushed into the man’s body and sent him falling backwards. His back met the seat of the backseat with a satisfying thud. Khaled wasted no time in climbing on top of him and closing the car door behind him.

“Cut this shit out!” the older man yelled, trying to sit himself up from where he fell.

“No!” Khaled pushed him down by the sternum. His master, in turn grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back to bare his neck. The sudden pull made Khaled gasp. The warm, moist pair of lips kissing at his Adam’s apple made him involuntarily groan. He blindly clawed at his master while his head was craned up to the car roof. The pair of lips against his throat murmured a breathy request against his skin. “Let’s do it, here, now.”

Once the hand in his hair let Khaled go to begin tearing off his shirt, Khaled snapped his head back to stare down at him. “I’ll ride,” he said. Thomas blinked up at him as his hands retreated from Khaled’s waistband. “I’ll ride,” he repeated, his tone assertive and acerbic. His fingers moved over the button and fly of his pants before his brain could keep up with what he had demanded. Thomas mirrored the motions as he undid his pants and quickly whipped out his hardening member. “You have taken so much from me, you can at least allow me this, Master.” He pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles, taking them off entirely before climbing on top of the dumbstruck man again.

Khaled straddled his master’s hips, splitting himself in half on his master’s cock as he gripped the front passenger seat and the back seat to steady himself. A pair of roughly calloused hands maintained an iron grip on his hips, but Khaled had set the speed on his own, pushing himself up and down the rigid shaft at a brutally masochistic pace. The familiar stinging burning sensation accompanied every movement as he pushed himself to his limits, but Khaled didn’t care. This was the most control he’d ever had –more like the most control he’d been allowed to have with his owner, and as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of him with every punishing thrust, the repugnant act finally began to feel good.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He did both.

“Fuck me!” Khaled looked below, into the eyes of the man he was riding. The mob boss was a mess, with his short blonde hair mussed up, top three shirt buttons undone, and outer suit coat long forgotten. “I don’t know what I did to get you so worked up, but I should do it again if it gets you this eager!”

“Shut up!”

One of the hands let go of Khaled’s hips to slap him across the cheek. “That is no way to talk to your Master!”

Undeterred, Khaled kept riding. After every abuse that he’d endured, there was no way a mere backhand was going to stop him. He felt himself smiling, a dark and twisted little upturn gracing his lips. “Oh, I know you missed this, you sick son of a fuck!” he gloated. “I figured those girls in the whorehouses could only satisfy you for so long! I am your perfect plaything, doing exactly what you have trained me to do!” His pace was becoming erratically frenzied as he sought release from the ever-mounting pleasure. Thomas bucked his hips into Khaled’s, trying to keep up with him as he squeezed the young man’s hips impossibly tight. That’s right, I can’t cum yet, not until he cums at least, I’ve got to get him to cum first, Khaled reminded himself.

“So, so tight –you’re gonna rip my dick off, Khaled!”

“What are you complaining for?! You wanted this!” he screamed. He was close, so close, he just had to hold out a little more-

A strangled mix between a roar and a moan erupted underneath him as a familiar pulse of hot seed injected deep within. Khaled didn’t take much longer to cum after that, spilling himself over imported cotton as he rode through the high of his climax. His grip on the front and back seats slackened, knees and thighs trembling with the effort to keep himself seated on the man’s cock. When Thomas finally let go of his hips to gently guide him down onto his chest –face first into the puddle of his own spend –Khaled went down limply without a fight. He rested his head against his master’s chest, picking up the sound of the older man’s heartbeat and the smell of cologne and sweat and sex radiating off his broad body.

“Holy fuck, Khaled.” Thomas’ voice rumbled in his ribcage as his fingers idly played with Khaled’s hair. “That was kinda hot-”

“Nope,” Khaled cut off, “stop talking. Please.” Fortunately, this time, he listened.

The mob boss and his slave fell into a contemplative silence as they lay against each other. The silence only broke by the fingers in Khaled’s hair, stopping as they twirled a single lock of hair. “Oh my god, is that a gray hair?” the man asked incredulously.

Khaled laughed/cried again.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Sampling #5

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: vampire whump, defiant whumpee, human auction house, captivity, manhandling, minor blood

The vampire’s grasp was unrelenting, but that was to be expected when Luke had done something as stupid as spit in his face. 

He could still taste the sticky glob of blood between his teeth, pooling from his split lip, a numbing, throbbing sensation having replaced the aching pain by now. The tip of his boots clipped against the edge of the stairs as he was unceromiously hoisted up, his eyes watering. 

Luke heard the clang of the door being pushed open, revealing a more modern interior as he was led — or better yet, dragged — down the corridor. It was buzzing with workers passing by, mostly vampires, but even then, Luke caught a glimpse of some of the blank faced humans working obediently. 

It sent a shiver down his spine. 

No one really paid attention to them, all except the occasional glance, no doubt due to Luke’s bloodied face and the way he was being manhandled down the corridor. Was it uncommon for humans to fight back? He didn’t think it was that, so much. They were merely glancing at him as if he was this wild, untamed dog with no manners. 

The vampire eventually came to a stop in front of a door, pushing Luke inside the room with a hard shove. He staggered, the grip on his hair having been released, a cry of relief coming from his sore scalp. The door was shut behind him, and even though Luke wanted to wrench his head around and send a deadly glare towards the creature, he was more taken aback by one sat on a comfortable looking couch in front of him. 

This vampire looked older, his lips pulled into a calming smile. 

The room was strange to Luke. He had grown up in a camp in the middle of the wilderness, making use of anything they could around them to live. There were things in here that he had never seen before - more namely, the light source of the room. There were no windows here, and yet, the place was not shrouded in darkness. 

Luke’s eyes wandered around in confusion. 

“Welcome,” the older vampire hummed kindly, gesturing to the space in front of him. “Please, take a seat.”

There was a table with rectangular sheets of paper and what seemed to be some sort of small kit of tools. Luke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, throwing a subtle glance over his shoulder. The previous creature had closed the door behind him, remaining in the room. He was looking at Luke with disdain etched into those hardened features.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older vampire lulled, drawing Luke’s attention back to him like a magnet. He swallowed uneasily at the pleasant aura the vampire was exuding. His voice was soothing and calm. Why? Wasn’t he here to be sold off? “I know this all might be a little new and confusing for you. Let me introduce myself: my name is Silvan. And you must be Luke.” 

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge of his name, uttered with such confidence. Silvan must have been quite an old vampire, considering the skin on his pale face was slightly weathered, and there were hundreds of years lingering in his eyes. He was wearing a tailored suit, black on dark raspberry sorbet, contrasted against his greying hair. 

Silvan’s eyes were intense, even when Luke wasn’t looking at them, and it was like they were stripping every personal detail from him with ease. His voice was like smooth velvet when he spoke, low, dulcet tones coming from his tongue.  

“You lived beyond the Collared Forest, am I correct?” 

The first vampire moved silently behind him, as if his feet didn’t even touch the ground. When Luke glanced at him again, he had retreated from the door, boxing him in. Unlike Silvan, this was a clear warning to sit down and do as he was told. 

Luke’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue. Against his better judgement, his legs managed to gain some of their strength back, and he begrudgingly circled around the plush couch, sitting opposite the older vampire. The material was incredibly soft, and Luke wondered what it was made from, how it was shaped in such a peculiar way, and if everything here was this comfortable. 

“Why do you care?” Luke gritted out, his narrowed eyes watching the older vampire like a hawk as he reached for some soft tissues out of a box, holding them out for him to take. He didn’t. 

“Ah, I’ll take that as a yes then, I suppose,” he mused, brow cocked in amusement. His pointed eyes flitted over to the other vampire with a hum. “His blood?” 

“He was misbehaving,” he sniffed codly, nose turned up. “He’s ill mannered and has a ridiculous temperment.” 

Luke was almost offended. They were talking about him as if he couldn’t hear them. 

“The scent will spread fast, Silas,” the older vampire sighed deeply, his head tilted and hands back in his lap. He didn’t look like he was even considering Luke’s blatant rudeness for ignoring the tissues handed to him. 

“So do rumours,” Silas spoke smoothly. “It won’t matter in the end.” 

Luke’s fingers twisted into his thighs. The older vampire’s gaze had almost softened for a brief moment when his eyes wandered back over to him, as if remembering that Luke was here and they had a job to do. Judging by the kit on the table and the way the other boy had informed him that humans were hoarded off for “sampling”, he figured this was exactly that. A sampling of his blood to determine if he was expensive produce, he didn’t doubt. 

“The process can be pleasant if you just behave,” Silvan smiled warmly, speaking to him as though he would be inclined to take him up on that advice. “You’re very important to us. We don’t want to have to hurt you to keep you in line.” 

He found that hilarious; vampires weren’t exactly a beacon of truth. The sticky blood on his face and the numbness of his lip was a reminder that they had no issue hurting their livestock if it meant keeping them in line. 

“Bullshit,” Luke hissed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Important? You’re selling us off like cattle.” 

“Cattle?” The older vampire mused. “You’re not cattle. We pride ourselves on taking care of our merchandise. We make sure you’re all healthy, fed well, given the proper care and attention when you need it.” 

“You sell us,” Luke breathed, his voice almost breathless from even having to utter such horrifying words. 

“What happens when you’re bought has nothing to do with us,” Silvan informed firmly, as if that justified the crowd of humans they had awaiting their horrible fate down below. “But here, Luke, you’re safe. If you don’t behave, then we, unfortuantly, have to take the necessary precautions to keep you in line.” 

Luke licked his lip. The flesh flared with a raging intensity for a brief moment, and he could map out the distinct tear. Almost to make a point. Silvan noticed it, but he didn’t comment, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Physical violence will, of course, be enforced if you don’t cooperate,” the older vampire hummed. “But as I’m sure you know, we have much better, and much tamer, methods. They can feel good.” 

He made sure he wasn’t looking at Silvan’s eyes. He felt himself shivering at the memories of Justinian’s compulsion, not wanting his own bodily autonomy to be stripped away from him like that so easily. 

“Feel good?” He echoed bitterly. 

“Of course,” Silvan smiled. “Some things can be quite euphoric. Compulsion can relax the mind and the body. Even a feeding, if handled properly, can feel good for you, too.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Many humans quite enjoy it,” the older vampire chuckled softly. “They offer themselves up willingly. That’s the price of cooperation in this place. As a human who grew up beyond the Collared Forest, I don’t expect you to understand fully just yet.” 

Luke’s chest bubbled with an irritated scoff. His leg was bouncing anxiously at a continuous pace. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He growled slowly, not missing the way Silvan gestured to Silas for a brief moment, who stepped around the table to collect the tissues the older vampire handed to him. Luke suddenly went tense on the couch when Silas turned to face him again. 

“You are somewhat of delicacy,” Silvan hummed, treading carefully as if he was pondering on the words as he said them. “It’s rare for there to be humans who lived so far from our territory here. You’ll cause quite a stir in the markets once word spreads around. Especially if the scent of your blood is anything to go off.” 

His fingers twitched, itching to reach for his necklace and squeeze it tight for any sort of stability. His heart began racing even faster than before, throwing him for a loop. His adrenaline surged as Silas stepped closer. 

“Am I supposed to appreciate that? That I’m good money for you?” He hissed coldly, leaning away from the vampire as prowled closer. “Stay away from me.” 

His demands were ignored. 

“You want to sample this blood?” Silas asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of Luke’s face. A hand closed around his forearm, yanking him back across the couch with a force that gave his shoulder an ache and his skull a wobble. 

“No,” Silvan hummed, rising from the seat himself, and leaning down to collect something sharp from the tool kit in front of him. “I’d like it fresh from the vein. But, please. Wipe his face - and let him struggle.” 

Maybe it was a cruel demonstration of how no matter how hard Luke fought against this, there was nothing he could do against them. No matter how many times he thrashed, ignored the throbbing pain from the tight holds, or retaliated with his own kicks and smacks, there was nothing he could do. 

Silas had him easily pinned down on his back, one single hand locking his wrists together above his head. The vampire’s knee crushed into his ribs, pressing down uncomfortably onto his lungs, careless of Luke’s comfort as he wiped the blood from his face. Luke’s legs kicked out, breathing heavily between clenched teeth, screaming muffled curses and insults against the hand clamped over his mouth, tissues soaking up any fresh blood from his wound. 

Silvan was hovering over him now, and Silas easily wrenched his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. Goosebumps exploded across the expanse of skin, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“It’ll sting only for a moment,” Silvan warned him calmly, the feeling of cold hands prodding against his neck making him squeal. He felt a sharp prick, his body seizing against his own will. The older vampire pressed something cold against the area, gave it a couple swipes, and then drew away. Silas’ disgruntled expression darkened for a second, letting Luke stew in the position for a moment, before finally letting go of him. 

He slapped a hand to his neck, sitting up so fast he’d almost gone dizzy. 

“What did you do?” He snapped, his voice still trembling from the hysterics he’d built himself up to. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. Silvan pinched the small, blood coated needle with his fingers, opting to ignore Luke for a moment. He swiped the needle swiftly against his tongue, giving himself a moment to taste the blood. Silvan then hummed, folded the needle between a white napkin, and placed it down on the table. 

“Interesting,” he merely commented, and Luke awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Though, I am not suprised. It’s guaranteed his blood will attract many well-off vampires.” 

Silas dumped the bloody tissues in the bin. He didn’t look pleased by the situation at all, his eyes darkened and his expression grim. He wasn’t fatigued by Luke’s struggle at all, having not even broken a sweat, it seemed, or put in hardly enough effort to even quicken his breathing compared to him, who was still trying to catch his breath. 

“He’s rabid,” Silas sneered. “Doesn’t matter how attractive his blood is. No one will take him with such an imputent temperament. None that could match the price, certainly.” 

Silvan took a seat once more, throwing one leg over the other languidly as he observed Luke with those gleaming eyes, as if calculating exactly what he had in store for him. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let any slither of fear pass over his face. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction if his fight caused them this much trouble. Luke wasn’t going to make himself easy to sell. 

“We have plenty of time to prepare before the auction,” Silvan informed, though he seemed to be talking to Luke as well. He refused to catch his eye. “We’ll give you an opportunity to settle into your circumstances, Luke. I understand this is difficult for you, but there is no denying the inevitable.” 

Bitter resentment, as well as this cold, crackling helplessness cut through him like a knife. His voice had almost lost its strength. “Fuck you…”  

Silvan only smiled warmly. 

“I’ll be sending you to Ileana, now,” he explained, his hands interlocked on his lap casually. “She will take care of everything from there. She’s be your handler, and believe me, our aim here is to take very good care of you. You’ll be provided quality food, clothes, and a room to stay.” 

Luke bristled. “Lucky me, huh?” 

Silas’ eyes narrowed an inch. “She will also be teaching you how to best accommodate your master, or mistress. It won’t be good for you to misbehave, Luke. We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your…” He gave him a subtle once over. “...unique upbringing, but push your luck, and we will, unfortunately, have to risk completely stripping your mind.” 

He remembered the humans he’d seen down the corridor. Lifeless eyes, blank faces, mindlessly following their orders. An empty shell to be used. A horrible shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, and he was sure Silvan caught on to the way his heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want that, do you, Luke?” 

“I don’t want any of this,” he croaked. 

“Well,” Silvan hummed, unsympathetic. “That is something you will have to come to terms with.” 

The older vampire suddenly straightened, glancing at a unique looking contraption on his wrist. Luke eyed it wearily. 

“We need to press on and sample the rest of the humans,” Silvan smiled, his gaze flickering over to Silas with a beaming smile. “Please take him to Ileana and bring me the next one.” 

Luke’s expression soured when Silas grasped his arm tightly, yanking him onto his feet. He gave a firm tug, but he wasn’t going to shake the vampire’s grip from him, not without a miracle. He could feel Silvan watching him go intently, his voice rising when he got to the door. 

“Good luck, Luke,” the older vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. His voice went right through him, making his stomach twist. “Have a pleasant stay.”

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