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whumpr · 6 months

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Remember Me

She looked up to the ceiling before she could see the electrodes, but she still closed her eyes as he applied them.

Contains: Electrocution, Lady Whump, Silent Whumper, Masked Whumper, Torture, Captivity --

A bruising grip beneath her jaw kept her facing forward as the restraints were tightened around her head. Kris stared down her reflection in the guard’s mirrored mask, gloved fingers threatened bruises along her jaw and cheeks, blood had started to dry in her hairline, but she stared through her own eyes to the unseen gaze of the guard underneath. His hand moved to adjust the restraints clasped around her head. She followed a flash of ink to the hem of his sleeve; a small tattoo of a teddy bear peeked out from beneath his uniform. “The one with the little teddy.” She said, lip curled into a sneer. “I know about you. Marcello calls you ‘Bear.’” The guard finished securing her to the chair, turning away to roughly pull his sleeve over his tattoo as he made his way back across the room. “A sick sadist, he says.” She continued, “A monster, high on power. Is that true? Because I am looking at you now and I don’t think it’s true.” The guard crossed back across the room to her. He knelt to pull at the restraints at her ankles, then her calves, wrists, biceps. Making sure each was secure and tightening the ones she might have room to move in. “A sick sadist, yes.” She said, “But power?” She grunted as he forced her head back into the chair’s wooden headrest to fasten her tighter in place. Her head was forced into a subtle backwards tilt, and her voice strained with the angle of her neck.

“See, I notice your uniform. The–The colors on your helmet. Yours are blue. Barely visible. If you ranked higher you’d have gold. Wouldn’t you? Have you not earned a color that lets you be seen?” The guard knelt in front of her again. A fabric bag in front of him that she knew all too well. He unzipped it slowly–the sound made her breath catch in her throat. “But, blue, gold, gray, that doesn’t matter. Does it? If you had any power to be high on you wouldn’t be one of Lawton’s little faceless lackeys.” The chill of alcohol swabs on her skin set her nerves on edge. She looked down to watch the guard take off one leather glove and replace it with medical latex. He gathered the conductive gel onto two fingers. Her stomach roiled as he applied it to her arms, down her calves. He didn’t look at her, he didn’t even pause at her taunts. She looked up to the ceiling before she could see the electrodes, but she still closed her eyes as he applied them. “You haven’t even earned a uniform that fits you.” She whispered, her eyes screwed shut. “Or do you just fold the sleeves back to show off your little bear?” A latex gloved hand, slick with conductive gel, fixed itself beneath her chin. Her eyes snapped open as the guard’s fingers tightened against her jaw.

The mask reflected her wide eyes back to her, tears she hadn’t been aware of brimming in her eyes already. She set her jaw, hands gripping the arms of the wood chair beneath her. She watched as ice replaced the fear in her reflection’s eyes, even as she failed to blink her tears away.

“Bastard.” She whispered.

The guard secured the leather gag between her teeth.

He stepped away from her, snatching a small black remote from the metal table just behind him. The way he walked was smooth, confident, with a casual sway in his shoulders. He crossed the small room and pivoted on his heel to face Kris again as he leaned back against the wall.

He raised his right hand–the one with the remote–and let his sleeve fall enough to show the tattoo again. He tapped the bear with his left hand, then slowly raised those two fingers to tap his mask at the temples.

Remember me. He seemed to say.

He passed the remote into his left hand and flipped the switch.

#whump #my writing #Kris #Bear #torture whump #electrocution whump #Chaos Team #lady whump #masked whumper

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bloodshottears · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 10: Poor Unfortunate Souls

Whumper interrogating whumpee is fed up with whumpee's refusal to confess. Cue whipping, then throwing whumpee into a salt bath and waterboarding them, then tasing them. Salt gets into the wounds and acts as a conductor for the electricity. All highly effective and rarely lethal if done correctly.

#whump community #whump #whumpblr #whump prompt #whumptober2022 #whumpee #whump ideas #interrogation whump #chemical whump #intimate whumper #waterboarding whump #whipping whump #electricity whump #electrocution whump #torture whump #defiant whumpee #infection whump

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whump-or-whatever · 1 year

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Rb with why you prefer the one you chose! I’m curious

#whump #whump polls #whump community #idk if someone has already done this #cutting whump #stabbing whump #burning whump #electrocution whump #blunt force trauma whump #drugging whump #whipping whump #exposure whump #psychological whump #exhaustion whump

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rizzoto-whump · 11 months

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@juneofdoom alt. prompt - “It didn't have to be this way,”

"It didn't have to be this way if you stayed with me, Whumpee."

#whump #whump prompt #whump art #restrained #electrocution whump #bruises #torture #chained #captivity whump #hurt no comfort #crying whumpee #injury #nosebleed #juneofdoom #sadistic whumper

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bestwhumptropes · 22 days

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Thoughts on ptsd symptoms for a whumpee who was often electrocuted (via VERY strong taser)?

ooh okay!! i had to do a little research but an electric shock can cause a lot of long-term damage: physical, neurological, and psychological. to focus on the PTSD element, here's what i found from some case studies.

-Irritability, frustration, anger, and physically aggressive behaviour have been described after electrical injury in persons without preinjury mood or personality disorders.

-they might experience all the common symptoms of PTSD including mood changes, flashbacks, nightmares and insomnia, behavioral changes, etc.

-i couldn't find anything about what potential flashback triggers might be, but i can imagine it might include things like being cornered, situations in which another party might have a weapon, lingering physical pains like neuropathy, loud sounds, burns, and any other things that might remind the person of the specific circumstances of their injury.

thanks for asking me things and i hope this was helpful in some way!

#whump #please correct me if any of this is incorrect #it's just what i could find researching #electrocution whump #ptsd whump #emotional whump #torture whump #i'm adding the whump tag to all of these so that they don't show up in any like. actual searches of people seeking ptsd support #but lmk if that's not the right way to do this!#tw electrocution #tw ptsd

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3-2-whump · 24 days

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Wow Birthday Event Day Four:

Electrocution

I’ve never drawn this specific torture circumstance before, so if the poses are off or the expression is bad, go lightly, I am still learning 🙇🏻‍♀️

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day four #electrocution #electrocution whump #shock collar whump #tw slight nudity #bound whumpee #having a bad time #my oc art #sketch

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auroragehenna · 6 months

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No matter how much you squirm you won‘t get out ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Failed Escape

AI-less Whumptober

Day 20 Dehumanisation, Master and Servant kinda,

TW/CW: Failed escape, electrocution, intimte/creepy-whumper, angel/demon whump, pet whump, petnames, quick mild gore warning, a bit of enviromental whump? Somehow??, more magic whump, light wing whump, Word count: 1'326

Harmonia had waited until the house had finally gotten quiet. She was incredibly battered after today’s torture but she had to bring up the strength for this. Since today’s torture had finally ended and she was dragged back to her quarters she had been pacing her room. Changing potions and places in unequal sequences. Harmonia suspected that she was being watched and she had to make sure she wouldn’t attract attention when she would get up eventually. She had to get out of this hellhole. She just had to. Out of here. Probably out of Gehenna. And then…somewhere. She didn’t know where and she didn’t have time to think about it any further now. Her next change was about to happen, and that one would be it. She got up from in front of the fire and walked over to the door. She leaned her back against the door and slowly slid down into a crouching sit. From there she knotted her hands into each other and tried as inconspicuously as possible to get the magic gem she stole out from under her skin. Where she shoved it in a few days ago through a cut Electra had given her. Harmonia tried her best to suppress any sounds of pain as she was forced to re-open the barely healed cut with her nails. She had to keep quiet. There! It was bloody and greasy, but it would still work. Slowly she shoved the gem towards the door and when they touched, she heard the most beautiful sound. The soft click of the lock. Carefully, she got up, ripped a part of her clothing, and make-shift-bandaged her arm with it. If she failed, Electra’s anger about the ruined clothing would be the least of her problems, she thought. Slowly she got up and squeezed herself through the door. No guards. That was weird. And concerning. Then again, the demoness had quite the ego. Wouldn’t it be like her to be so sure of herself? Doesn’t matter, she didn’t have time for this. Harmonia would have preferred to fly; she would have preferred to be as fast as possible. But she couldn’t risk the airflow alarming somebody and she had to stay low-key. So she conquered meter and meter. Hallway after hallway in this labyrinth. Always looking over her shoulder. Neck, eyes, and ears straining to pick something up. Heart racing. Finally, after what felt like eons she arrived at a backdoor that led outside. She pressed the gem at the door, praying even though it was useless down here. Blessedly the door opened and she walked outside onto wet grass. Quietly she hushed through the door and closed it behind her. Finally, she could spread her wings. They have been itching to move. She slowly flew a few meters straight into the air, keeping close to the house wall. Before she could go, she needed to make sure there weren’t any guards outside either. But even as she reached the pointy end of the roof, there was nobody in sight. There was a thunderstorm, but she was assuming that was always the case here with Electra being a lightning demon and all. Harmonia turned around and flew towards one of the edges of the mansion. The one where there were a lot of trees and bushes. The only test left was now the barriers. She had memorized and inquired how many and at what point the barriers were. As she reached the first one and fortunately passed though it started to rain. Maybe she could really do this. Through the second barrier, stronger rain now. She avoided the tree crowns, getting more and more reckless in the need to escape. She was soaked as she reached the third barrier and pressed the gem against it. It gave and then everything exploded in white.

Wet. Wet and constant. That was what Harmonia felt as soon as she was able to feel anything again. Anything aside from pain. She turned her head and something stung faintly in her cheek. Grass. She was laying on grass. “Get up! You weren’t even unconscious, so get. Up!”, Electra ordered her angel with a voice colder than a glacier and with a far more dangerous edge.

Groaning Harmonia got up on all fours only to be kicked in the side by Electra’s boot and end up on her stomach again and push herself back up on her knees. Truthfully damage control was useless at this point but she couldn’t help clinging to the hope that it would help at least a tiny bit. She only now noticed that her wings felt like they were on fire and as she turned her head a micro-bit she knew why. Countless feathers were black and scorched. Her beautiful wings. That and the realisation that she failed was enough to make tears well up in her eyes.

“I am not even going to waste my breath on you too much. You know what you’ve done. You will face the consequences for it tomorrow. Follow me, you won’t be going back to your quarters tonight, obviously, your loyalties are not sufficiently adapted yet.”

“This can’t be happening. I was so close”, Harmonia whispered to herself.

Electra who had already started walking back towards the house stopped in her tracks. She didn’t turn around but her cold expression suddenly started to melt a bit until it broke into a grin. She chuckled. “Do you really believe that?”

Harmonia looked up to her silhouette through the hazeof tears in her eyes.

“You really believe that was all you? Oh, my stupid, stupid doll. Never make the mistake of underestimating me again. All of it, from the gemstones to you stealing one, over the unguarded perimeter, all of it, was a set-up. A test if you want. And you failed. And in the morning you will pay the consequences for your actions. Now! Move!”

Harmonia got up on shaky legs and winced when her burned feathers shuffled. She didn’t want to make the demoness even more mad so she hurried behind her. They really didn’t go the way to her own quarters. Electra led her up the stairs. No word was spoken but there was a tension in the air around them and Harmonia was sure it wasn’t just her imagination. Who knew with that woman. Finally, they halted in front of a big double door. Carved into the wood were the outlines of jewels and lightning flashes and much more.

A maid waiting outside the door opened it and let the two of them in. It was a big room kept in low lighting, with a grand bed, many windows and another cheminee.

Electra ordered Harmonia to wait and walked to the bed. Once there she crouched down and pulled out a heavy chain from underneath the bed. On the end of the chain, there was a thin metal collar. She ordered Harmonia to come and kneel next to her.

Harmonia did as she was told and Electra closed the collar around her throat and connected the short chain to the bedpost next to her head. Then she walked to a cupboard and pulled out a rope. With that, she walked back to Harmonia and ordered her to stretch out her legs. After she had bound them together she spoke again: “You will sleep here for the next time. Until I feel you’ve learned your lesson. And a word of advice, you don’t want to disturb me. Now, sleep.”

Again Harmonia did as she was told, what choice does she really have? She turned around with her bound legs and laid down on her stomach, her head resting on her arms to prevent the collar and chain from digging into her. From the exhaustion and the pain, she fell asleep pretty fast, she could just hope, that she could bear whatever was going to happen tomorrow…

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @whumpasaurus101, @ailesswhumptober

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bltzgore · 9 months

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Answers, starring: Zip, Hendrickson, and Trix

Tw: electrocution, afib, torture, superpowers/superhumans, blood, language

So remember me ranting about electrocution whump? I wrote a thing.

Hendrickson walked over once he was restrained, getting a grip in Zip's hair and pull until their eyes met. "You think you're strong don't you? Think you can make me look bad by treating this whole situation like a joke?" He was clearly getting frustrated.

Zip tugged his lips into a sneer, pressing back a wince when it tugged on where they split, then narrowed his eyes to match. "I mean, I think my actions speak for themselves."

"Well, we'll see how long you can keep smirking this time." He turned away, letting Zip's head drop, "Trix, get in here!"

A tallish, lean looking, woman strolled in. She had fire red hair and eyes that glinted like iron. She didn't seem rattled by Hendrickson's yelling unlike his underlings. Zip began to feel uneasy as he felt her eyes on him. Like she was marking points on his body for attack or further investigation.

She hadn't come up during any of the mission briefings. Was she some sort of hired help? She walked around behind him. He tried not to but couldn't keep his gaze from following her.

She placed her hands on his back, and he fought a shiver. He didn't like this. He didn't know where it was going, but the cool, almost metallic cold of her hands and his sheer powerlessness to stop her touching him caused the first real fear since he'd been captured. His muscles tried to twitch, his body ordering him away from her despite his chained wrists. His breath quickened as fear began to drink away his cocky attitude. Zip forced his attention back to Hendrickson as he started talking.

"You know the base codes, and you're going to give them to us."

"Yeah, sure," but his retort was dry, he wasn't focused on Hendrickson this time.

Hendrickson nodded to Trix, and before Zip could glance, his muscles were forced tense and twitching as electricity wired its way from one of Trix's hands through his back to the other. He had been caught off guard. He hadn't been able to scream before his body had left his control. As the shocks stopped, he started breathing again, trying to keep them even and unhurried.

"The codes, or you know what happens next."

"Go fuck yourself." Zip answered, keeping up the shadow of his easy going attitude.

There was the nod, and the electricity shot through him again. He had been ready for it or trying to be. He locked his jaw, trying to take it, a deep growl like groan ripped up through his throat. His back started to arch as the volts increased, and then it stopped. He fell almost limp, but the chains kept him upright and with some sense of dignity, for that he was somehow thankful.

"Do you value your life?" Hendrickson asked darkly.

Zip's mouth felt tingly, but he pressed past it. "Sorta, but I guess I value fucking you over more." He could see the rage boiling in Hendrickson's eyes. That made him feel pretty good. It almost overcame the desire to shrink down in terror as he felt Trix's hands shift a little lower, fingers brushing painfully over burnt skin.

"I've been taking it easy on you because I need you alive, but remember, I know you're not human. I think you can take a little more than a regular person." Then he looked past Zip. "Have your fun, but you're done once you shock his heart out of rhythm."

He didn't have a chance to get another word in, Hendrickson turned away, and his muscles seized up. Trix started to bombard him with electricity.

She wasn't much of a talker. He had tried to strike up some form of conversation. Some form of control, he realized with mild disgust. Was he that scared of her? He couldn't even see her, maybe that's why it was worse. He couldn't see her planning, couldn't tell if his jabs landed, or even tell when another burst would start. No rhythm, no hints, a shock could show up any second. It made him jittery.

Now that she wasn't being used to make an immidate point, she held the shocks longer. Instead of keeping them consistent, she would draw the voltage up and down like a fucked up bo on a fucked up violin.

His muscles twitched and tore, like someone had threaded a wire through them and was pulling, and yanking, and shaking it. Sparks danced through his nerves and into his vision, causing it to slip away completely. This happened a few times, but it was never for very long, never for as long as he would have hoped.

It was three rounds in when Zip finally screamed. He had been trying to keep himself together, but as the intensity had raised again above what he thought he could live through, his voice tore free. He had screamed long and hard the first and second times. It was around the fourth or fifth when his voice gave out. It was twelve rounds in when Trix finally stopped, which meant she must have met Hendrickson's criteria.

It was chest pain and breathing difficulties mostly. Something he hardly even noticed when in conjunction with the energy demon clawing up his back. He just heard her swear then felt another jolt. He was too exhausted to do anything other than hang there and take it. But this charge was different. It had purpose, racing in and resetting his heart.

Trix finally took her hands off his back and walked around front, joining Hendrickson, who had returned some time in the past few minutes. If Zip had enough strength left, he would have worried about what it meant that he didn't notice that.

Zip was in ruins, his muscles shuttered and twitched of their own accord. His weight was all on his wrists, and he couldn't see straight. His back felt like it was smoking, but the burning was so deep he wasn't sure it was even real.

Blood was trickling down somewhere in his throat or mouth. It was almost choking him, maybe a burst blood vessel, or maybe the bleeding of his split lip had been renewed. Nausea crept up on him like a bear, and he had to rally every still functioning brain cell towards keeping it from getting the better of him.

"You got quite the demonstration. You've got the next ten hours to decide if this is how you want to die-" but Hendrickson's ultimatum was cut short. Something that sounded just short of a town riot, far off down the hall, then suddenly not so far off, and it was that moment that Hendrickson regretted not closing the door...

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump drabble #electrocution #electrocution whump #torture #bltz writes #tw language #Zip the Ripper

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

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Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Comments/commentary/feedback is always welcome! Thank you again for your support!

CW: slavery whump, electrocution, stress position, whipping, intimate/creepy whumper, silent whumpee, conditioned whumpee, voice whump, psychological abuse, discussion of consent for care/caretaking, scars, whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper, flashbacks/PTSD, self-blame, dislocated shoulder, references to branding

===

Sacha’s arms were brought above his head, pulling, pulling his weight above him until his arms were going to fall out of their sockets.His feet were just barely dangling above the ground. It was enough to make him want to scream in pain.

However, screaming was exactly what had landed him in that position.

A loud snap came from one of his shoulders. Pain exploded, like a small bomb had forced it out of place, spreading painful shrapnel in its place. Sacha let out a small whimper.

“What did I say, Sacha?”

Master was behind him.

Sacha shrank, pulling on his dislocated shoulder. He got the instinct to run at first, but it was quickly replaced with a paralyzing sort of fear. Sacha watched Master like a deer in the headlights as Master circled him like a vulture.

Master chuckled and tilted Sacha’s chin, admiring the bruises on his jaw and the hickies on his neck.

“You’re going to look so beautiful when I’m done with you.”

In his hand was a barbed whip. Sacha didn’t recognize it at first. Master typically used the cane, not a whip.

“Now, if you’re quiet, you might get some food tonight. Alright? Doesn’t that sound good?” Master had a wicked smile on his face as he moved around to Sacha’s back.

Sacha wanted to plead. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. Something. He wanted to do something. Yet, all he could do was look on in fear. What choice did he have?

Sacha felt the pain of his flesh being torn open before he heard the crack of the whip. He couldn’t help himself - he screamed.

“What the fuck did I say about making noise, you piece of shit?”

Master circled around and grabbed Sacha’s jaw with bruising force. Sacha shrank back from Master’s touch, which only earned him another slap to the face, before the iron grip returned, stronger than before.

“I should gag you, but you have to learn to be silent.”

Master let go of Sacha and grabbed the remote out of his pocket. The electric shocks started. Sacha was helpless against them, thrashing, wrenching his dislocated shoulder further out of place. Tears quickly formed in his eyes.

Master slapped him again once the shocks were done. “I hope you remember your place.”

Sacha nodded frantically, but all it did was earn him another slap.

“You’re a slave. You don’t have opinions. You don’t respond. You’re to be quiet and obedient. I don’t give a shit about what you think. If I cared, I wouldn’t have bought you now, would I?”

Sacha forced himself to hold back sobs. He hated himself. He hated his situation. He hated that he couldn’t follow such simple orders.

I’m so stupid.

The whip was quick to crack on his back again. As it tore up his flesh, he remained perfectly silent, pliant, just as he was told. This was what he deserved, after all, for what he’d done.

What had he done, again?

—

In truth, Cyril didn’t buy just the materials for the bed when he was in town. He kept a small box in his closet of other things he’d bought for Shadow but wasn’t sure about. He wanted to respect Shadow. He didn’t want Shadow to feel infantilized by his care.

The line between respectful care and infantilizing seemed thin, even if Cyril knew he was doing the right thing. Maybe he was just anxious. Maybe the situation reminded him just enough of before to trigger his post-traumatic stress. Cyril didn’t know what had him so anxious, when care used to come so naturally, but he figured that it was an important line to be aware of.

One of the items in the box was a large bottle of scar cream. The pharmacist had certainly given him an odd look when he’d asked for an extra large bottle of it. Cyril would’ve normally cared an awful lot about the look, but he brushed it off. Shadow was more important than their gossip, wasn’t he?

Cyril didn’t know how to approach the topic with Shadow. The man didn’t really communicate with him. However, he saw the self-conscious way that Shadow always tried to cover his scars. Scar cream didn’t seem like such a bad idea. It might not get rid of the scars entirely, but it could help to reduce the angry look of them.

Part of Cyril felt that he was making the decision for Shadow. Shadow wouldn’t say no to anything. How could he know what Shadow wanted?

Cyril decided that if Shadow seemed happy about the scar cream, he would help the man apply it to the worst of his scars.

However, building the courage to ask was a different task. Cyril spent many hours in his garden thinking about how to ask Shadow without putting pressure if he didn’t want it. Eventually, Cyril decided to rip the bandaid off and deal with whatever happened. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t predict how Shadow would react.

“Shadow?”

Shadow snapped to attention from his place beside the fireplace. Cyril hated how Shadow always looked like he was hit when he paid attention to what he had to say.

“I- um.” Cyril wiped some of the sweat off of his forehead. “I bought scar cream for you in town. I don’t want to make that decision for you, but you cover your scars a lot and I thought that maybe reducing the look of them would help you.” Cyril swallowed a bit. “I know this cream. It’s really good stuff. It’ll definitely make them less noticeable, if that’s something you want.”

Shadow visually perked up, before he went back to the crumpled, sad mess in blankets on the floor. Cyril was beginning to realize that Shadow wasn’t just conditioned not to talk, but also to not show any emotions. The thought made him sick.

However, that perk was one of the biggest he’d seen from Shadow. He took that as Shadow genuinely wanting his scars to be reduced. Regardless, the scar cream wouldn’t do anything to him.

“I’ll go get it, okay? We can put it on after I shower.”

Again, Shadow was mostly motionless. However, as he turned to his bedroom to go shower, Cyril swore he might’ve seen a semblance of a smile on Shadow’s face.

—

The cream was cool against Sacha’s skin. It wasn’t slimy, just pleasantly cool, like a balm. Sacha felt himself relaxing a bit with his shirt off as Cyril applied the cream. Master had never done such a thing for him.

This… probably won’t be as bad.

I can bear this. I can bear whatever he does if I can be taken care of after.

Sacha felt some guilt at feeling that his Master had been bad to him. After all, he was a slave, there for another’s pleasure. How he was treated was of little consequence. He’d been an awful slave for Master.

However, with Cyril, he might’ve gotten something right. That gave Sacha hope, hope that he wouldn’t screw it all up like he had with Master. He knew he still deserved to pay in blood for the kindness Cyril showed him, but this kindness was so much more kind than the kindness Master had given him.

Everything changed when Cyril’s hand brushed over a particular scar on his hip bone.

Suddenly, Sacha was right back there with Master, back when he was a disobedient, bad slave.

Master was rubbing a bit of balm over his fresh brand. Sacha let out small curses each time Master hit a particularly deep part of the burn.

Master had been lenient then - not that Sacha didn’t pay for it later in blood. However, that night, right after his brand, he’d been allowed to speak.

“Shhh, shhh. I know. I know it hurts. I’m sorry that I had to do this. It’s for your own good, Sacha, baby.”

“Fuck you, Emery!”

“Be careful, Sacha. Just because I’m allowing you to talk right now doesn’t mean that you can squander my kindness.”

The memory brought tears to Sacha’s eyes. How could he have been so foolish back then? He knew he’d pay for it all later. Why hadn’t he just stayed silent? It was so much easier than talking, anyway.

Sacha hated his past self. He hadn’t understood his purpose, his place in the world. Regret filled him each time he looked back at the Sacha that shouted and cried and sang and talked.

What would Cyril do about the brand? Surely, he couldn’t stand another man’s mark on his slave. Sacha felt a panic attack forming in his chest. God, Cyril was going to cut it right out of him, wasn’t he? He was going to pay for allowing himself to be marked. He was going to pay for being allowed to relax. He was going to pay for the kindness, the bed, and the hot chocolate.

A big, heavy weight fell on his shoulders and covered and warmed his exposed back. Sacha felt Cyril’s arms around him, pulling him into a warm hug.

Sacha soon realized that the blanket covering him was heavy and navy blue. Cyril was hugging him and rocking him a bit.

“It’s okay, Shadow.”

Sacha looked up at him. He’d looked pathetic again, hadn’t he? He had stopped his new Master from carrying out another punishment.

Tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t hold back his sobs, but at least he could make them silent.

“Shhh, Shadow, you’re safe here.”

Sacha refused to believe it. He would never be safe. Safety wasn’t for slaves like him.

“It’s okay to cry. You were whimpering a lot.”

Sacha looked up at him, fear overwhelming him. Another panic attack formed in his chest. He’d made noise. He’d made noise. He wasn’t quiet. He was going to be punished.

“It’s okay, Shadow. I don’t mind you… whimpering. I do mind. I don’t like seeing you in pain. But I would never hurt you for that.”

Sacha knew they were all lies to get him to trust. Trust, only so his trust could be broken later. That was how people like Cyril liked their slaves, right? Trusting, then untrusting, then trusting again.

“Listen… none of this is a trick. You’re here to heal. I’ll say it as many times as I need to. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to make noise. Okay?”

Sacha was overwhelmed with the urge to obey.

Right. He wants me to be happy sometimes.

Will it hurt more when he betrays me?

Sacha melted in Cyril’s arms, under the weight of the blanket that was taking away his worries and calming his panic.

I should enjoy this while it lasts.

Sacha let out a few more broken sobs, allowing Cyril to hug him tighter. Yes, he would enjoy the comfort while it lasted. It was better than pain, after all.

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Tags (always open!): @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#shadow by my fireplace #whump writing #whump #whumpblr #conditioned whumpee #cw are above #silent whumpee #slavery whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whump fic #whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper #whump community #electrocution whump #branding whump #stress position

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