#Whump auction

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 1

Hero stirred to the sound of muffled voices. They tried to open their eyes, but there was a weight over them preventing them from doing so. They tried to move something, but that also proved futile as something thick and unyielding kept their limbs pressed tightly together. Some kind of cloth had been stuffed in their mouth, and judging by the sticky feeling on the lower half of their face, had been sealed shut with tape.

Hero wriggled in their restraints. They couldn’t stretch out much; padded, soft walls from all sides kept them tucked in a fetal position. How were they going to get out of this? They couldn’t see, speak, or move. They summoned their power, but any ice crystals that they formed couldn’t penetrate the uncomfortably tight material that encased them.

How did they even end up in this situation? The last thing they remembered was… oh. The fight with Villain. They never exactly played fair, but they really took that to another level when they hit Hero from behind with some kind of knockout dart.

“And now, what you’ve all come here for!” a muffled voice- Villain’s- rang out.

The voices became clearer as cool air wafted into the tight space. Villain must have opened the lid to the box they were in. Gasps and noises of awe sounded out from all around them.

Hero glared under the blindfold. They were ready for a fight. They were just about to try and sit up when there was a jab in their shoulder. Their body sank into the padded floor against their will, and Hero let out a very muffled cry.

“The city’s beloved human blizzard, Hero!” Villain announced, “you couldn’t hope for a better living weapon. With some training, you’ll be able to freeze out any adversary with one command! Let’s start the bidding at, say, five hundred dollars?”

“Five hundred dollars!”

Hero stiffened in shock. Was Villain really doing this!? They tried to fight the drug, but it was quickly pulling them under.

“Five hundred, do I hear six hundred?”

“Six hundred!”

“Six hundred, do I hear seven hundred?”

“One thousand!”

This went on for some time, the numbers going farther up and Hero growing more drowsy.

“five hundred thousand.”

“Five hundred thousand from General in the back, do I hear six hundred thousand? Going once… going twice…”

“One million,” a voice said.

The crowd gasped.

“O-one million dollars,” Villain said, surprise in their voice, “Will you meet that, General?”

“Two million dollars.”

“Two million dollars, how about it, Mx…?”

“Supervillain,” the voice replied, “three million dollars.”

The crowd gasped again.

Hero was too tired to be properly afraid. Their fate was down to the military, or to the most feared leader of the largest criminal syndicate in the world. Somewhere in the back of their mind they wished one of those corrupt politicians had bought them instead.

“Three million dollars, General?”

“Four million dollars.”

“Eight million dollars,” Supervillain replied coolly.

“Eight million dollars. General? Going once…”

“Nine million dollars.”

“One hundred million dollars,” Supervillain said.

“O-one hundred million dollars!” Villain squeaked, “going once, going twice…General? No? Then sold! Please have your payment presented in cash to me by the end of the week. Congratulations, Supervillain.”

The lid of the box was closed, and Hero drifted off completely.

Part 2

#hero x villain #hero x supervillain #superhero whump #whump #hurt/comfort #writeblr #writing #creative writing #drugging #kidnapping #sold at an auction #auction #heroes and villains #series #snippet

[jordanstrophe]

Hallow Island, 2

[part 1] [Series Masterlist] [Part 3]

CW: Back-handed slap, gagged, bound, manhandled, controlling whumper, kidnapping/imprisoned, sliiight failed escape attempt if you squint

The strap around whumpees wrists and ankles were undone and they were tugged out of their airplane seat by an arm.

Immediately whumpee tried to rip the gag out of their mouth, but whumper took it as an opportunity to get their other arm.

"Easy! Easy now. I don't want to hurt you. Calm yourself." Whumper lulled. The words sickened whumpee to the core as they got one more burst of adrenaline and managed to rip an arm loose.

"HEY!" Whumper yelled, swiping to grab them but whumpee twisted free and bolted out the plane exit just as it opened.

The second their foot was out the door, they ran face first into two guards who seemed like they were waiting right there for them. They each grabbed an arm and pinned whumpee between them, neither budging their grip.

Whumper sniffed angrily and motioned for the guards to turn them around; before striking whumpee hard against the cheek. They whimpered as the side of their face hit the guards arm by force.

"I really tried being gentle with you... Try anything like that again and you'll lose that privilege." Whumper spat, grabbing whumpees face as they flinched.

"Nod if you understand." Whumper hissed.

Whumpees eyes flickered between defiance and fear, before giving a small angry nod. There was nothing they could do between the two guards aside from giving in.

"Splendid. Take them to the hollow. I want them clean and ready for tonight. And check their cheek before they go up for auction, I don't want to see a bruise. It's bad for business." Whumper fixed their sleeve and waved them off.

Whumpee felt weightless between the two guards. If they fought they got yanked so hard their feet went off the ground. The island was surrounded by a sandy beach, their toes left skid marks from where they struggled. They tried burying their heels but all they did was get sand in their shoes.

Despite it being an island, they could see massive glass buildings in the center beyond the palm trees. Up ahead there was a cave with a built in iron wall and door. Whumpee tried to plead with the guards, but all they could do was make sad muffled noises.

The guard on their left never looked at them once. The guard on their right occasionally glanced to make sure they weren't squeezing too tight, at least not enough to leave a mark.

Someone from the inside opened the door. The halls got dark quick and soon enough, whumpee was gently laid down in a cell where they sunk to the floor on their knees. That would be their chance to run if they had the energy; it took the plane nearly a day to get wherever they were and they spent the last energy in pitiful efforts.

"Someone will be by soon to look you over. Just try and get some rest, mmkay?" The last guard spoke, looking over their shoulder. Whumpee ripped the gag out of their mouth and shouted "PLEASE HELP ME!" Before the door slammed shut.

Whumpee let loose a broken cry they had been holding in since they shoved the gag in the first place. 

To be continued- [Series Masterlist]

@enigmawritesstuff

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump series #controlling whumper #possessive whumper #restraint whump #whump angst #gagged whumpee #kidnapped whumpee #imprisoned whumpee #slavery whump #auction whump #whumplr #whump writting #whump community #defiant whumpee #soft whumper #caring whumper #backhanded whump #failed escape attempt #tw slavery

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 22: Oliver's Auction

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, restraints, human auction

"There haven't been any vampires in the room for some time, sir," Oliver noted.

Miss Lily checked her fashionable wristwatch. "Oh, that's because the auction is about to start. But you won't be up until the end. We're to wait here until it's close to time."

"The auction's starting, sir?" said Oliver, with a lump in his throat and a knot in his stomach. At least while he was being presented to vampire after vampire, he felt as though he had a tiny bit of control of his fate. Now, it was out of his hands. Now, he was edging ever closer to being taken away to be a servant for a vampire -- or to live out the rest of his life mind wiped in an animal pen.

"You're thinking again, dear," said Miss Lily.

Oliver nodded vigorously.

"Would you like me to put you to sleep until the time comes?"

An easy decision. "Yes, please, by all means, sir, that would be very merci --"

When he woke up again, he was backstage, standing in the wings of an auditorium. In front of him, he could see a man kneeling on the ground, his hands cuffed behind him, his face expressionless. And the patter of the auctioneer was ringing in his ears...

"Two thousand, two thousand, do I hear twenty-five hundred? Twenty-five hundred, twenty-five hundred, I hear twenty-five hundred from the gentleman in the red hat, do I hear three thousand, three thousand, c'mon, gimme three thousand, lookit him, lookit the neck, do I hear three thousand -- three thousand, yes, to Miss Peacock Feathers, lovely hat miss, do I hear thirty five hundred..."

"Can I go back to sleep, sir?" he asked softly, his throat dry at the sight. He couldn't see the audience past the spotlight of the stage. All he could see was a poor, restrained man being auctioned like cattle. He thought he might faint. He thought he might be sick. Miss Lily was ignoring him, holding onto his leash and looking all business.

"Do I hear four thousand, do I hear four thousand? Going once, going twice, sold to the main in the red hat!" The hit of the gavel was as loud as a bomb going off.

"And now, the merchandise you've all been waiting for!" said the announcer. "The last lot of the evening, so dig real deep into your pockets for this one. Triple-A graded blood, finest we've had in this house for a long while, submissive in nature, takes well to thrall, expertly trained by our very own lovely Miss Lily -- Lot Seven, Oliver Pines!"

"Stand up straight. Walk in pace with me. Look docile. Don't say anything. Make me money," said Miss Lily, and she was striding onto the stage, and Oliver, unable to do anything but obey, walked after her in perfect pace, even though his knees felt like they would give out at any moment. The lights in his eyes blinded him as Miss Lily took him center stage. He still couldn't see anyone. Couldn't see who was there. Who was interested. Who was not.

"This is the kind of choice thrall you don't see every day, folks, so we're going to start the bidding at nine thousand big ones. He's worth every penny -- nine thousand, do I hear nine thousand --"

For a moment, Oliver couldn't decide what would be worse, being bid on or not being bid on --

"Nine thousand from our lovely lawyer extraordinaire. Do I hear ninety-five hundred, ninety-five hundred..."

Lawyer -- that was Miss Ruth -- and the bids began to fly. Ninety-five hundred from the woman in the pink dress, ten thousand from the woman in a pinstripe suit, and --

"I hear ten thousand five hundred from Lord Jameson! Do I hear eleven thousand?"

Cold fear ran through Oliver's veins. Lord Jameson had bid on him. Lord Jameson had bid over ten thousand dollars on him. Lord Jameson had bid ten thousand dollars for the chance to turn him into a mute, illiterate blood bag.

He found it hard to focus, numbers swimming in his head. Miss Ruth bid again. Lord Jameson bid again. Description he didn't recognize. Stranger. Miss Ruth. Stranger. Lord Jameson. Lady Jessica.

None of these descriptions sounded like Lord Alexander at all.

"And I hear fifteen thousand from Lord Jameson. Fifteen thousand five hundred, do I hear fifteen thousand five hundred, c'mon it's only money, lookit this thrall, you can smell his blood from here, do I hear fifteen thousand five hundred --"

Someone bid. Someone bid. Someone bid, please. Someone, anyone but Lord Jameson, please -- it doesn't have to be Lord Alexander -- it can be Miss Ruth or anybody --

"Going once -- and is that sixteen thousand? Sixteen thousand from Lord Alexander."

He could have collapsed in relief on the spot. He tried to see Lord Alexander in the crowd, but he was still blinded by the lights and woozy from terror.

"Seventeen thousand from Lord Jameson!"

Lord Jameson was still bidding. He was bidding seventeen thousand dollars just to drink his blood.

He could feel Miss Lily discreetly grabbing the back of his dress, trying to keep him upright, correctly concerned that he might faint at any moment.

"Eighteen thousand from Lord Alexander! Nineteen thousand from Lord Jameson! Do I hear twenty -- twenty thousand from Lord Alexander!"

"You're insane!" The sound of a chair being violently turned over accompanied the yell. "You'd pay twenty thousand for a stinking thrall?"

"You're welcome to stop bidding." That was unmistakably Lord Alexander's voice.

"Twenty thousand is a goddamned joke! I could buy three faefolk for that price!"

"Then buy three faefolk," said Lord Alexander.

"Fine!" yelled Lord Jameson. "Take your lousy thrall and enjoy him while you can."

The auctioneer, who had paused for this bit of juicy drama, resumed. "So we have twenty thousand from Lord Alexander, the highest price ever paid for a human thrall in this venue. Do I hear twenty-one thousand? Twenty-one thousand? Going once, going twice, sold to Lord Alexander!"

The gavel sealed Oliver's fate.

He now belonged to Lord Alexander.

Miss Lily caught him as he finally did faint.

Part 21 >> Masterlist >> Part 23

Thanks for reading this story about a man whose life has been forever altered.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade-blog @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #vampire #mind control #vampire whumper #captivity #vampire auction #rare bookseller #oliver #lily #jameson #alexander

[unforgivenn]

WOLLEMI WHUMP EVENT DAY 3 - THREAT

Caleb's first day as Dominic's pet!! YAYYYYYY!!

CW: False hope hehe, beating mention, Pet whump, Young whumpee, Choking, *deep breath* Intimate and creepy whumper(He's bipolar af too), Kidnapping mention, captivity, fear, psychological distress, Threatening :)

Caleb slowly blinked his eyes awake, expecting to see his small but cozy room around him as the cool aroma of the newly planted saplings would fill the apartment. Although to his demise, he was met with the walls of a dingy room. Probably the basement he thought. His eyes widened as reality hit him. The walk back home, the van, the beatings, the auction.. and then the sight of a mysterious man looking down at him. Caleb pulled at his hair as he couldn't really process what was happening. He gasped heavily, his breath hitching.

T-This is a dream right? I just need to wake up then everything's going to alright.. M-My roommates are going to laugh at me a-any second now and tease me a-about how i panicked over a nightmare right? I-I just need to wait.. Any time now...

As stupid as it sounded, he couldn't accept it. He just.. couldn't. Caleb got up from the mattress turning over to walk towards the door. Just as his hand would reach the door, he fell down with a groan, lifting his head to see the chain around his ankle. He then felt a gloomy presence over him as he took the risk to slowly look up at the figure, his breath catching up in his throat. The man just gave him a smile in response.

"You've finally woken up huh? I was starting to wonder if the drugs I gave you were too strong." Caleb looked at him in horror scuttering back until he felt the wall against him. "No need to be scared kitten.. Well as long as you behave that is" The man gave him a kind smile.. almost too kind.

"Y-You son of a bitch- You motherfucker- Y-You think you can get away with this? T-The police are probably on your trails right no-" He was cut off with his captor tching. "Hope... It's a child's play y'know. Well, you see in this world.. The rich, they get what they want and well.." He continued his voice dripping with fake sympathy and sadness.

"People like you have to suffer because of it. And as much as I hate to say it it's very easy to buy the police with money.. Noone would even bother if a college student disappeared. You would've ran away from home for all they could say!" He said it so casually that one would think they were talking about tea. Caleb glared at him. He wanted nothing more than to just plunge a knife through the man's heart and get out of here.

The man's hand snaked around Caleb's hand suddenly pushing him to the wall. The grip tightened as his airways were cut off. Caleb struggled, lifting his head trying to breathe. The man leaned in close as his breath hitched his new pet's ears. "And well.. I could do things to you and your family too to make sure you don't cause any funny business hm..? Because if you so much as think of defying me again.. Remember this." He hissed, voice completely different to the friendly one before.

"I know everything about you. Your family, your loved ones—they're all within my reach. Cross me, and their blood will stain your hands." Caleb gave a small nod, tears trickling down his cheeks. The smile found the man's face again as he dropped him to the ground ignoring how he spluttered and coughed.

"Well then! We haven't had a proper introduction yet, have we? My name's Dominic! What about you, kitty?"

#whump #whumpblr #whump scenario #my writing #whump community #whump prompt #my whump prompts #whumper #whumpee #wollemi whump event #wollemi day 3 #threat #choking #human trafficking #auction #pet whump #pet whumpee #intimate whumper #whump event #whump writing #writing prompt #writing event #Dominic #Caleb #my oc's #day 3 #I'm actually on track guys! #more of my coffee induced writing<3 #i thought it was going to short af #but turned out decent

[epiclamer]

CHEWING, CHEWING, ALL DAY LONG.

Part 2

(No reposts but reblogs appreciated <3)

The Auction

Villain settled themselves in their seat, shuffling a bit against the plush, expensive, padding of the chair. Adjusting themselves comfortably as they watched other guests pile into the large auction room. Everyone was dressed nicely, expensively. Which made perfect sense considering they were all seated in a large, royal-looking, ballroom that belonged to the one and only Supervillain.

The auction was held annually, each year in a new lair to avoid being caught by the heroes. Villain always went, they didn’t participate, even if they were sitting on quite a large bank account. They never found a hero interesting enough to bid on. After all, the only things being sold here were living, breathing, beings. Heroes.

Everyone from lowdown thieves to master-criminals would come to try and sell their captives, some would keep them for themselves, but often, if a hero was caught they’d be sold and forgotten. Villain had never really engaged in this sport, but they enjoyed watching the bickering over frightened do-gooders.

It was sickening and twisted, but that just made it all the more fun.

Villain was pulled from their thoughts as the host themselves grabbed a chair and sat beside them at their table. Supervillain grinned at Villain, holding out their hand and Villain shook it firmly, leaning forward to converse with their guest.

“Villain! Glad to see you here!” Supervillain exclaimed, waggling their eyebrows as they brought a fancy champagne glass to their lips.

“Oh come on, when have I ever not gone?” Villain laughed, despite the rank difference between the pair, they had always been close and able to talk and joke freely with each other. Villain treasured that. Supervillain was more than just an asset, they were a great friend.

“Maybe it would be different since I’m hosting it this year, I don’t know?” Supervillain fiddle with their fingers on their lap, letting their gaze wander about the consistently growing crowd. “Maybe you don’t want to see your pal make a fool of themselves up on the stage tonight…”

Ah, Supervillain was nervous. Very nervous. Villain reached out, taking Supervillains free hand in theirs and cupping it gently. “Hey, you got this. No sweat. Everything is going to be okay, and at the end of the day I’m going to be right here for you, okay?”

Supervillain let out a deep breath, relaxing completely under Villains words, looking up at them with glossy eyes—which were sporting obvious bags underneath—and lifted the smallest smile to their lips. “Thank you.” They murmured, Villain smiled back, giving the others hand a tight squeeze before letting go.

“Now get out there and kick some ass.” Supervillain sat up straight, reinstating their facade of confidence and unbotheredness. Shooting Villain a thumbs up before getting up out of their seat and heading for the large stage.

Villain leaned back in their seat, pleased with their efforts to help their friend—who looked much more relaxed now—as the show commenced and Supervillain began their introductions.

It was the same old, same old. The introductions stay the same every year, introduce yourself, how many candidates (aka heroes up for sale) and explain how the auction works. Villain had heard it all a million times.

“Now! To finally start the show, let’s introduce our first candidate! Starting at the sale of 5000 dollars we have the one and only… Hero!”

The curtains pulled back, revealing Villains nemesis, their greatest enemy, Hero. Their hands were cuffed behind their back, chains wrapped around their legs a little too tightly and there were countless bruises littering what little Villain could see of their body. Their eyes weren’t focusing, they were cowering from the light, nothing at all like their previous bravado. They were shaking, tear streaks lined their cheeks and they were gagged.

Everything in Villains vision went blindingly white. Hero was here. Hero, their biggest pain in the ass, was here. Hero, the one Villain had fought with, laughed with, flirted with, joked with, and the one who went missing many months ago. They had asked around, begged for answers on their missing hero. Nothing. They had even asked Supervillain and Supervillain had lied straight to their face.

“Caught them back a few months ago-“ Eight months ago. “They had no manners at the start-“ All of Hero’s courage. “But I trained them well so don’t worry-“ Beat them into submission. “They need a new home now-“ Selling them. “Someone who isn’t afraid to punish their pets-“ Someone to torture Hero. “Someone who can train them out of their defiance-“ Someone to use them. “Someone who can make Hero into their perfect, obedient, plaything… Any takers?” Plaything.

Supervillains eyes flicked over to where Villain was sitting in the front row, giving them a wink before they went back to the audience.

Rage coursed through Villains veins. Suddenly, their best friend had become their biggest enemy. They were going to kill Supervillain. They were going to wipe that smug look off their face and they were going to get their Hero back.

Villain didn’t hesitate another second, snatching their auction paddle off the table and shooting it up in the air. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only one with the same idea. Two other hands came up along with theirs and they realized that if Villain ever wanted to see Hero again, they would have to fight for them.

#UGH #I LOVE THE AUCTION TROPE #omg #epic posting twice????? in the span of two days???? #no way #impossible #hero x villain #villain #villain x hero #hero #drabbles #fantasy #imagines #oneshots #scenarios #hero whump #hero whumpee #supervillain whumper #villain caretaker #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #auction #hero and villain #villain and hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #supervillain

[whumpy-daydreams]

Auction pt 2

Masterlist

Previous Next

CW: sold at auction, manhandled

“And for our last item - a truly unique specimen.” The auctioneer paused to let anticipation increase among the audience. “A contortionist!”

And with that Olive was yanked on stage. Bright lights hit her and she squeezed her eyes shut, blinking as they adjusted. While she couldn’t see the audience well, there were around 100 men and women elegantly dressed, and there were a few whistles as she was pulled to the centre.

“She isn’t trained, but I’m a week or two with any of you would sort that out nicely. Perfect for anyone wanting an exotic decoration for your home - or to expand your activities elsewhere.” There were a few chuckles and Olive felt sick at the implication. She tugged a little at the hand still gripping her arm and it tightened.

“Let’s start the bidding at £50,000. Do I have £50,000?” The price went up quickly, paddles rising and falling like waves until only a few bidders were left. “250,000; 300,000; 320,000; 350,000-”

“500,000” Someone called out, and a few people tutted.

“Very well sir, any raises on £500,000? 550,000? Anyone else for £550,000? Sold!”

A price on her life. Olive felt numb. Her legs were sluggish as she was dragged back off stage and to a new location. But when she saw the line of prisoners waiting for the people who had bought them, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was going, but it turned out it didn’t matter. An arm wrapped around her waist and hoisted her into the air kicking and screaming. It was easy for them to cuff her hands behind her back and secure her to the wall along with the others, and when she tugged against the chains they didn’t budge.

Slowly people were brought in to see what they’d bought up close. Most went quietly, although a few fought. The quiet boy next to her even knelt before the woman who had bought him. And then there was only one other person left.

“You’re the contortionist huh?” She recognised the voice - it was the man who had talked to her earlier, the one who fought. Olive nodded. “Don’t happen to be an escape artist as well?”

“Looking back, that might have been a more useful skill,” she said, chuckling grimly.

“I’m Leon by the way.”

“Olive.”

“I’d shake your hand but…” 

Leon turned around as two men in suits entered. One was the auctioneer, a short man with hair tied back in a ponytail, but the other was tall, with a perfectly tailored three piece suit complete with a red tie.

“These are your purchases; do you have restraints or shall I supply you with some - on the house of course,” the auctioneer said.

“That’s generous of you but I have made my own arrangements. The contortionist, do you think she will need restraining?”

“Better safe than sorry, she did make a run for it.”

“Very well. David?” Another man Olive hadn’t noticed stepped forward. “Secure this one and bring him home in the van.”

The man, David, was careful to avoid Leon’s legs as he handcuffed him and dragged him away, meanwhile the suited man stepped closer to Olive and undid the shackles around her wrists. As he took her by the arm she pushed him away but he was quick to grab her again and his fingers gripped her face.

“I will give you a choice: you can behave and sit in the car, or you can try something like that again and go in the car boot instead. What’s it going to be?” It was an easy decision and when he let go of her she didn’t run. “Good girl.”

#mortiawrites #whump #whumpee #whump writing #olive whump #auction

[quietly-by-myself]

Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 21

Masterlist

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for always having enthusiasm and helping me improve my writing.

CW: slavery whump, conditioned whumpee, captivity whump, creepy whumper, dehumanization, deconditioning, auction, references to assault/STIs, presumed dead, sinking ships, relationship discussion (non-romantic), references to past whump, fainting, panic

===

Fear paralyzed every muscle in Sacha’s body as the man behind him pushed him forward. Sacha’s knees were still locked from having been locked in a human-sized cage for days, alone, with only one silent man coming to feed him twice a day. He felt stiff and old as he was pushed somewhere he didn’t know. 

“Move faster! We’re on a time limit here, kid.”

The men rarely spoke to Sacha, in fact. Sometimes, when he spoke to them, they would slap him in the face and tell him that he was just goods to be sold. Sacha didn’t really understand what they meant until he was dragged into the cage he’d somehow learned to call home. The cage had made it all crystal clear. He was property. He was to be sold. He was a slave.

It struck Sacha only as the blinding lights of the shadowed room hit him that today was his auction day.

The grip on his hands that were tied behind him tightened. The crowd was maybe one hundred people, all wearing the most expensive-looking clothes that Sacha had ever seen. Sacha wasn’t from a rich town. Quite the opposite, in fact. Seeing a room full of rich people was jarring.

They all looked so regal, so normal. It was a crowd that Sacha would’ve pictured at an opera, not at an auction of people.

“Here’s our next pick of the night,” the auctioneer announced to the crowd. 

Sacha looked the auctioneer up and down, examining his clothes, his brown hair, his pale skin, all in hopes that he would someday be able to tell a police officer what his auctioneer had looked like.

“He isn’t broken in yet. Despite his size, he’s very strong and still has fight in him. Negative for all STIs and has no health problems to speak of. However, the highlight of it all is that he’s from a small fishing village up North. His boat was wiped out in a storm and he���s been presumed dead. No training to speak of.”

The crowd let out some impressed, polite noises while Sacha froze. As his whole body went rigid, he heard the laugh of the man behind him. 

How could his family think he was dead? Surely that wasn’t true. How did they even know that a storm had wiped out his boat? Had someone else died and they assumed that because he was missing, Sacha was also dead?

Dread filled Sacha’s stomach, making him nauseous. 

If it was true, nobody was looking for him. He was doomed. He’d never be rescued.

“We’ll start the bidding at $250,000.”

Sacha didn’t want to hear the numbers. He tried to shut his brain down to keep it from panicking. He didn’t want to be there. However, that kill switch in his mind was gone. Each number streamed in his ear. Each person that wanted to buy him bidding against each other. 

Sacha felt absolutely sick.

“$750,000!”

“One million!” came a much deeper, more sinister voice that ran chills down Sacha’s spine.

One million dollars. For his life.

Sacha had to fight to stay conscious.

In fact, he found himself fading. The man behind him said something, but Sacha didn’t catch it. Time was speeding up and slowing down.

“Two million!” by that horrible voice was the last thing that Sacha heard before he went tumbling to the ground.

—

Cyril didn’t know how to bring up Sacha’s habit without scaring him off. It made Cyril flinch every time that Sacha called him “master.” He knew that Sacha was probably beaten into calling whoever held the most direct power over his life “master.” After all, it was probably true that Cyril could do whatever he pleased with Sacha and never face the consequences of his actions.

Sacha’s whole situation deeply bothered Cyril, but he knew one thing for certain: their relationship wasn’t a slave-master one. If anything, Cyril considered Sacha a friend or some sort of adopted family member - the little brother he’d always wanted to have.

Cyril knew Sacha didn’t see it that way. However, the longer he chose to ignore the “problem,” the more normal it would be to Sacha. He needed Sacha, for his sake and Sacha’s, to understand that Cyril wasn’t his master. He didn’t need to be afraid of him.

The question was how to say that all without scaring the poor boy off? Sacha would see it as a total rejection in all likelihood. 

It wouldn’t be easy, but it needed to be done.

Cyril waited until one of Sacha’s “good days” to bring it up. Amber was curled up in Sacha’s lap and Sacha was hand-feeding her some leftover fish.

“Sacha, I, um…” Cyril immediately lost his nerve as Sacha looked at him with so much attention, looking so… content.

Cyril took a deep breath. “You don’t have to call me ‘master.’ That-that’s not what we are. That’s not what you are to me.”

Sacha looked at him with utterly heartbreaking confusion.

“What… what do you mean?”

The tears in Sacha’s eyes startled Cyril.

“You aren’t my slave, Sacha. You’re a person. You’re my friend. You aren’t my slave. I don’t own your life.”

“I-I don’t want to be someone else’s slave.”

Cyril froze. “I am not selling you.”

He didn’t expect his voice to come out in a growl that startled Sacha. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I never meant to imply that. I never meant to imply that you weren’t my owner.”

Cyril took a deep breath. The whole situation was unnerving him more than the thoughts of having to have the conservation were.

“Sacha, listen to me.”

Sacha perked up, a soldier coming to attention.

“You’re not a slave. You’re a human being. Human beings are not to be sold. That’s just downright wrong.” Cyril took another deep breath, steeling his nerves. “Just call me Cyril. Don’t call me ‘master.’ I care a lot about you, Sacha. You aren’t going anywhere. And I’m certainly not selling you away, okay? So just, call me Cyril. Not master. Okay?”

He waited for confirmation from Sacha, but found none.

The silence was deafening. Cyril could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He didn’t know whether or not to push Sacha. He didn’t want to scare Sacha more than he already had, but he couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“You don’t want to be called Master?”

Cyril shook his head, relieved. “No, just Cyril.”

Sacha nodded.

They went silent again.

“He-” Sacha started, but quickly stopped.

Cyril’s heart skipped a beat as he waited for Sacha to start talking again. 

“He told me that if I was going to talk, I might as well be respectful to him.”

“Respect is earned, Sacha. That man did nothing to earn your respect. He was awful to you. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Sacha hesitated. Cyril could see from the look on his face that the concept was novel to him.

“You don’t have to respect whoever kept you before, Sacha. We don’t have to respect people who hurt us. If ever he hurt you because he felt disrespected, know that he more than earned that disrespect.”

Sacha was quiet for a while. Again, Cyril didn’t push.

Then, Sacha spoke. “He did hurt me. When I wouldn’t call him Master. Then for calling him Master. He liked me quiet.”

Cyril’s heart shattered, but not for the first time. In a solemn, but gentle voice, he tried to repeat what he’d said. 

“That isn’t how people earn respect, Sacha. They earn your respect by doing things so that you trust them. They earn it by being kind. They don’t earn it by beating and assaulting you. That isn’t right. Okay? It’s okay to not respect whoever kept you before. None of that was normal. That isn’t how most people are. Respect is a two-way street and he certainly didn’t show you any.”

Sacha again looked perplexed. “A-are you sure? Not that I’m questioning your wisdom. I’m just- it’ll be- you know, hard.”

Cyril threw his hands up a bit in the air with a little shrug. “Of course it will be.”

“I-I’m sorry! It was stupid of me to ask.” Sacha huttled a bit in that way he always did when he panicked. He was protecting his stomach and face. Cyril wondered how often he’d been hit there.

“I didn’t mean to be condescending, Sacha.” Cyril, admittedly, was getting a little frustrated. However, he put aside his frustration. As he’d said multiple times before, it wasn’t about him, it was about Sacha. “Sacha, it’ll always be difficult. He did a lot of things to you. I’m sure you have a lot of complex emotions about what happened. It’s okay to feel conflicted and unsure. It’ll be hard to undo all that conditioning.” 

Cyril moved closer to Sacha. “Can I hug you?”

Sacha nodded. Cyril pulled him into a tight hug and rocked him a bit, even if Sacha wasn’t crying.

“You’ve worked so hard already. You’ve come so far, Sacha. You talk. You help. You have someone you care about. The way you care for Amber warms my heart every day.” He pulled Sacha a little closer. “Never forget how much progress you’ve made. None of it has been easy, but you’ve survived this far. You can survive and come back better on the other side of all this. I’m sure of it.”

Sacha was quiet for a very, very long time. So long, in fact, that Cyril thought he would go quiet for the rest of the day. Well, perhaps not thought - worried.

However, Sacha defied that thought.

“You- do you really think so?”

“I don’t say things that I don’t believe.”

Sacha let out a heavy breath, like he’d been holding in his breath for years and finally felt he could breathe.

“As long as we’re alive, there’s hope. You’re alive and here with me, Sacha. You’ll be okay.”

Again, the two of them went quiet in their embrace. Amber was standing off to the side by the fireplace.

After a long time of that peaceful silence, Sacha whispered, “Thank you, Cyril.”

Cyril smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “You’re welcome, Sacha.”

===

Tags: @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @flowersarefreetherapy, @octopus-reactivated, @quietshae, @whump-blog, @inkkswhumpandstuff, @whumpycries

#shadow by my fireplace #whump #whump writing #cw are above #whumpblr #conditioned whumpee #silent whumpee #slavery whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #whump fic #whump community #recovery whump #cyril #sacha #captivity whump #auction whump #presumed dead

[hallowgravesadopts]

**MLP XMAS ADOPTS AUCTION**

*only taking money (usd) via paypal, cashapp, or venmo*

**SB:** $5

**MI:** $2

**AB:** $15

x= closed

-= pending

1|2|x

4|5

link to the th page

#adopt #adoptables #character adopt #open adopts #auction #ota #mlp #mlp adopt #whump prompt #mlp fim #mlp art #mlp fandom #auction adopt #auction adoptable #pony adopt #pony #pony adoptable #mlp adoptable

[wolfeyedwitch]

🙃 & ☺️ for Bailey?

Auction of Evil, Part 3

🙃 - Someone to share their suffering with

☺️ - Soft words of reassurance

Whumptober alt 3: Dazed and Confused

Have some Bailey and Zera bonding after being sold off in the auction of evil!

CW: miscommunications, discussion of using them as leverage for the other, Bailey's crappy headspace. I think that's it? Let me know if I missed anything, or if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Masterlist

---

Zera’s head felt like a malfunctioning computer that someone was attempting percussive maintenance on: nothing worked, and everything hurt. The space behind their eyes throbbed, the hurt so big it seemed like it would push the orbs out of socket at any moment. 

They closed their eyes and managed a weak groan. 

“Wha…” They stopped, swallowed past the cotton-dry feeling in their mouth, and tried again. “Wha’ hap’nd?” they managed to slur out on this attempt. 

Poppet stared at them, eyes filled with guilt and concern. “Don’t try to sit up, it’s just gonna make your headache worse,” they said. “Hang on, let me…” 

They grabbed something by their side, then carefully scooted closer. 

“Sorry, I know I’m probably the last person you want helping you,” they said softly. “But you need water, and right now you’d probably just spill it on your own.”

Zera hummed a little ‘it’s fine’ kind of noise, hoping that the point got across. 

Poppet seemed to interpret the noise differently than Zera intended, because they sounded even more guilt-stricken when they spoke again. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Poppet said. “I know. Villain, hero, nemeses. You have no reason to trust me. But I’m not trying to make this worse, I promise. I’m trying to help.”

Zera looked at them in confusion. The way they had to crane their head made Poppet appear upside-down in their field of vision. The thin skin beneath Poppet’s big blue eyes was stained a dark purple from lack of sleep, trauma, or both. 

“Yeah,” they croaked out. “I believe you. ‘S fine.”

Poppet’s expression bloomed into something vulnerable, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. It might have been disbelief, or incredulity, or maybe something like hope. Zera was in no state to interpret it.

The moment passed, and the villain looked down and away. “You need water,” they said. “Is it okay if I prop you up against my leg to make it easier?”

Zera rasped out a yeah, not willing to risk another nonverbal miscommunication.

Poppet gently maneuvered them so their head was propped against Poppet’s thigh. Then they lifted a cup of water to Zera’s lips, helping the hero take tiny sips at a time. 

The water was lukewarm and tasted metallic. Zera was too thirsty to care. Slowly, their mouth stopped feeling like they tried to swallow a bag of cotton balls, and the ache in their head shrank enough to allow other thoughts to trickle in. 

“Thanks,” Zera said. 

Poppet shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the least I can do.”

Zera didn’t know what to make of this. Poppet’s reactions, as well as the auction itself, didn’t make sense. They were missing something, some critical center piece of this puzzle that would make it all fit together properly. 

For now, they didn’t even know enough to ask the right questions. Figuring out that particular mystery would have to wait.

“What happened?” they asked.

Poppet flinched. The movement was small, but Zera still noticed. Another puzzle piece to add to the pile. 

“You, um,” Poppet started, then paused to bite their cheek. Finally they continued, “You were scoping out the auction, I’m guessing? And Viper found you, drugged you, brought you to the stage.”

“I remember that much,” Zera said wryly. “Slipknot said…” 

Ugh, what was it? It was fuzzy, like the thoughts you have when trying to fall asleep. They frowned. 

“They threw you in as a bonus lot, basically,” Poppet said quietly. 

“Ugh,” Zera said with feeling. “Who bought us?”

Poppet bit their cheek again. 

Zera twisted so they were facing their cellmate, rather than looking up at them. They couldn’t be sure they were reading the expression correctly upside down. But now that they were seeing it right-side up? Poppet looked… guilty. 

“Poppet,” Zera said, trying their best to channel Elijah’s don’t-argue-with-me tone. “Who bought us?”

The villain’s expression collapsed in on itself. “I don’t know,” they admitted, tone barely above a whisper.

“You don’t know?!” Zera repeated incredulously. “How can you not know! Were you not paying attention to who was going to buy you!?” 

This time, Poppet’s flinch was far less subtle. “I’m sorry,” they said. They sounded like they wanted to beg for mercy but knew it wouldn’t come. 

Zera groaned and rubbed weakly at their eyes. Getting worked up wasn’t getting them answers; all it was doing was making their headache come back. 

“No, I- ugh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” Zera said. “I just… Can you help me understand? Please? It didn’t seem like they were planning to take you off-stage, so I’m just… confused.”

There was a long pause.

“You weren’t breathing,” Poppet said, like they were confessing a sin.

“What?”

“You… After they got you on-stage, after you passed out. I think you must have reacted badly? To Viper’s drugs? You stopped breathing. You were turning blue,” Poppet said.

Zera winced at the thought. They knew, from Maeve and their own studies, that breathing issues were a potential complication of sedation. They’d just never thought about that in terms of Viper’s poisons.

“Okay…” they said slowly, thinking it through. “But I don’t understand how that connects.”

Poppet looked like they were holding back tears at this point. They took a deep breath before speaking again. “I told Slipknot about it, but they didn’t, wouldn’t, do anything. They were, um. Not happy, that I interrupted them.”

Their fingers went to their throat. It made Zera notice something they hadn’t before: a slim metal band encircling the villain’s neck. 

Was that a shock collar?

“They didn’t do anything, but…” Poppet sniffed hard. “They let me.”

“Let you what?” Zera asked, unsure that they really wanted to know the answer.

“Help you,” Poppet answered, sounding like they were admitting a crime rather than saying how they’d potentially saved Zera’s life. “I don’t know who bought us because I wasn’t paying attention to the bidders. I was paying more attention to making sure you got oxygen.”

Zera stared, incredulous, at Poppet for a long, tense moment. That was… Why was Poppet talking like this was a horrible mistake they’d made? Like Zera would be furious for it? They’d saved Zera’s life!

“Thank you,” they said, trying to put all their feelings into the simple words. 

Poppet shook their head hard enough to give Zera a vicarious headache. “You don’t get it,” they said, angry and miserable in equal measure. “This isn’t— I fucked up, okay? That’s the whole reason I’m in this mess in the first place! This is my punishment, and now I’ve gone and dragged you into it too!”

Zera put a hand on their arm. “Woah, calm down. What do you mean?”

“I—” They cut off abruptly and looked away, biting their cheek hard. “I wasn’t fighting you hard enough. That’s why Slipknot organized the auction.”

Zera smiled. “I knew it. I’m good, but not that good.”

Poppet’s eyes flicked back to Zera, and they gave a little smile too. “You are good.” The smile disappeared as they continued. “But now? I really fucked up, Foxfire.”

“How?” 

“I let an entire audience of villains know that I care about you,” they confessed. “That I care if you get hurt, if you live or die. That’s… This isn’t a good thing. Whoever bought us? They were already gonna do whatever it took to get me to do their dirty work. I just handed them another tool.”

They looked pointedly at Zera’s neck. Zera raised a hand to find another collar there, presumably the same as the one Poppet was wearing. 

“Shock collar?” they asked. 

Poppet nodded miserably. “You may have already been in this mess, but my actions dragged you down a lot deeper.” They paused to sniff again. “You should port out of here. First chance you get? Run, and don’t look back.

“But,” Zera said, thinking about how Poppet insinuated their captors would hurt Zera to motivate them, “wouldn’t they hurt you if I did?”

They shrugged and looked away. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve already fucked up my own life; don’t let me fuck yours up, too.”

Nope. No, that was absolutely not going to work. Zera couldn’t let that stand.

They gently squeezed Poppet’s arm. “Hey. Look at me?”

Reluctantly, Poppet did.

“Thanks,” Zera said with a smile. “Firstly? Thank you, for saving my life. Whatever consequences come from that? Those are not your fault. That blame is squarely on anyone who would use someone’s decency against them. Caring about someone isn’t a fuck-up. And I’m a little biased here, but I’m really fucking grateful that you were brave enough to do that.”

“Do what?” Poppet asked quietly.

“Stand up to your mentor like that,” Zera replied. “It sounds like they’re, uh, not the easiest person to say no to.”

Poppet gave a laugh that was two-thirds sob. “No, they’re really, really not.”

Zera gave a wry smile. “Yeah. And as for me porting out if I get a chance? Not just no, but hell no.”

“What?” 

“I’m not going to just leave you here to deal with the consequences of that!” Zera laughed incredulously. “That’d be a seriously dick move!”

Poppet frowned and shook their head. “But I—”

“Nope,” Zera cut them off. “No saying it doesn’t matter. It does. You matter, Poppet.”

Their eyes went all misty at that. Shit. How long had it been since someone had shown them even a scrap of kindness?

“I… I’m not sure I believe you,” they said hoarsely. “But. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zera said, managing a weak grin. “Besides. My team will find us before too long. We just have to keep from dying of boredom until then.”

They knew damn well they’d have other things to worry about besides boredom, but the point of this was to make Poppet feel better, not worse.

Poppet nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. Your team will get you.”

“Get us,” Zera corrected. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”

“Right.” Poppet looked down, avoiding Zera’s gaze. “When they get us… I know you’re heroes, and that you— that there are things you do, with villains you capture. I understand that. I’m not trying to get out of that. Just… can you make it fast?”

Zera nodded. After-mission debriefs were always tough. Combine that with the interrogation that Poppet had coming, and Zera definitely understood the desire to get it over with quickly.

“Of course, yeah. I’ll make sure it’s as painless as possible.”

Poppet sighed in relief, suddenly looking very, very tired. “Thank you.”

---

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump @heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

#with bloody outstretched hands #auction of evil au #auction of evil #whumptober 2022 #altprompt 3 #dazed and confused #OC #bailey the villain #bailey aka poppet #zera the hero #zera aka foxfire #miscommunication #misunderstanding #misunderstandings #so many misunderstandings #bailey's crappy headspace #past drugging #hero villain whump #hero whumpee #villain whumpee #supervillain whumper #mutual caretaking

[jordanstrophe]

Hallow Island, The Inspector

[Masterlist]

CW: Defiant, Imprisoned, manhandled, controlling whumpers, auction mentioned

Whumpee restlessly hammered their fists on the cell door. They knew it was useless, but if it annoyed anyone beyond the doors, then so be it.

Stress kept their heart on a constant adrenaline high; it was the only thing keeping them from collapsing. They touched their cheekbone and felt swelling; the backhand from earlier must have left a bruise.

The door rattled as whumpee jumped to their feet. The two guards from earlier came in, accompanied by one more.

" .... This is it? This is all they got?" The Inspector scoffed, stepping in with the guards. "They're going to do an entire auction with one person? Gracious what a waste of all our time. Hold them, please." They snapped a glove over their hand.

"Wait! I don't have anything of value, if you're looking for money you've got the wrong person," Whumpee argued, sinking to their knees to avoid the guards, who each grabbed a wrist and pulled them to stand straight.

"Oh we know that, dear. Luck for us we're not after anything you have." The guards dragged whumpee within a foot of the Inspector; whumpee shrunk their neck and clenched their teeth in response.

"You see the thing of value is you." They grinned, reaching for whumpee's face as they flinched and buried their face in the guards shoulder on their right. The guard seemed to be taken aback a bit. They tried to gently nudge their face but whumpee wouldn't budge.

"Come now, just let me have them." The Inspector hissed, shoving the guard back until they could grab whumpee's jawline. "Stand straight, look at me, sweet thing." They cooed. Whumpee's gaze was pure death as they glared at the Inspector. Tears in their eyes were wiped by a thumb across their cheekbone. The bruise was apparent as they winced.

"Is that.... A bruise?" The Inspector squinted. There was silence for a moment as they pressed their thumb hard into whumpee's cheekbone-

-"OW! Stop it!" Whumpee barked, freeing their face and burying it back onto the guards shoulder, who looked completely flustered and didn't know what to do.

"What idiot did that? Who hit them?! Was it you?!" They accused the guard on the left.

"It was whumper. They tried to run right off the plane." They shrugged.

"The imbecile! We have one living thing up for auction tonight and it's flawed!" The inspector cried, rummaging through their bag. "It's fine, I can fix this. It's my job." They muttered.

"Just let me go and no one will know! You already said I wasn't worth your time." Whumpee tried to plead.

"What? When did I say that?" The inspector raised their head. "Your range of buyers will go mad no matter what we throw on stage. And since you're... Well, it, we could look at a bidding war. I heard the last batch off the plane didn't last long." They shrugged.

Dread poured into whumpees body at their last words. Their spine felt cold, their heart couldn't beat much faster as it fluttered uncomfortably. Whumpee gritted their teeth and struggled for air; tears freely flowed down their cheeks.

"But I'm not... I-I'm not worth anything." They quietly muttered. The inspector raised their head and whumpee felt the guard on their right clutch their arm a little softer.

"Oh, darling." They tsked, cupping whumpee's cheek.

"After tonight, you will see exactly how much you're worth." They smiled. 

Taglisting @enigmawritesstuff​  @frog-hat-fa-ggot​ @gala1981 @wishiwaskidnapped​   @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat  @octopus-reactivated

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump writing #kidnap whump #kidnapped whumpee #imprisoned whump #captive whumpee #manhandled whump #creepy whumper #whumplr #whump angst #defiant whumpee #manhandles whump #auction whump #soft whumper #caring whumper #exhausted whumpee #panic attack whump

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 11 - "Masters and Slaves" (JJBA Vampire Hunter AU)

Today's @whumptober fic is the first part of a 2-parter (2nd part will be posted on the 27th)

This fic is from my Pt5 Vampire Hunter AU set between Monsters and Fallen Saints and Something Wicked so you don't have to be caught up in the series to read this one.

Buckle up, guys, we have a ton of angst and dhampir lore in this one.

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Captivity, 'no one will find you' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Giorno

~~~~~~~

(Excerpt)

Giorno woke to a sharp pain in his wrist. He flinched, eyes fluttering open as he tried to pull away from whatever had a hold of him.

But he could only go so far before something tugged on his burning wrists and he realized his hands were bound in silver manacles, the chain between them linked around the bars of a cage.

A baton slammed against the bars, startling him and making his head ache. "Easy, half-blood. You're not going anywhere now."

"Where am I?" Giorno demanded, glancing down and seeing a bleeding cut on his wrist. "Who the hell are you?"

He was ignored as his captor straightened up and handed over a cup of Giorno's blood to another man standing to one side. "Is this enough?"

"That's fine. If you would?"

The guard grunted and pulled off his glove, making a small cut across his palm. The other man dripped some of Giorno's blood onto it and the man hissed before he chuckled. "Well, would you look at that."

"Indeed. It is a rare find to have a dhampir with healing powers. He will fetch a very good price."

Giorno pushed himself to his knees and gripped the bars, shaking them furiously. "I am a registered Hunter under Capitano Polpo and Bruno Bucciarati. You have no right to sell me," he spat.

The man who had inspected his blood turned to him with disdain. He was dressed in an expensive suit and Giorno suspected he was likely the head of this operation. "Dhampirs have no rights unless they belong to a master. Without documented proof that Polpo or any of his Hunters own you, it is not illegal to sell you to a new master."

Giorno gritted his teeth, feeling his fangs lengthen in fury. As disgusting as it was, he knew that there was truth to the man's words. He had been so careful for years to hide his true nature for this very reason—had barely escaped his parents before they had decided to sell him off for money. Still, he was sure that Polpo would have enough sway to get him out of this situation, if only he could get in contact with Bucciarati.

"Please at least let me send a message to my boss," Giorno tried. "He'll tell you—"

The guard slammed his baton down on the cage bars again as Giorno barely got his fingers out of the way in time.

"That's enough out of you, fang!" he snarled.

The head man glared at Giorno for a moment before he turned to leave. "Get him ready with the other goods. A muzzle might be a good idea."

Giorno gritted his teeth in helpless frustration. "When the Hunters find out what you're doing—Agh!"

A burning spray flew across his face and Giorno barely shut his eyes in time, realizing the man had thrown holy water over him."

"That's enough out of you, blood-sucker! Milano! Come help me get this freak ready for tonight."

Giorno struggled as they opened his cage, but with his hands still manacled to the bars on the door, he was forced to shuffle forward out of the cage. He shifted and kicked out at his captors, but they grabbed hold of him and forced him to the ground, one of the men sitting on him to hold him down.

"Watch your fingers," he grunted to his companion as the man got the muzzle ready.

Giorno glowered up at him, and hissed. He snapped at the man's hand, but the guard grabbed a fistful of his hair, wrenching his head back painfully before shoving the muzzle over his mouth. It was the kind that had a plate inside that forced its way between Giorno's teeth, pressing uncomfortably against his tongue as the leather contraption covered the lower half of his face.

It was secured tightly behind his head, the straps digging in painfully.

Giorno glowered up at the two men as they released him and locked him back into the cage.

"Sleep tight, little blood-sucker. You're gonna meet your new master tonight."

Giorno didn't like the sound of that, and simply prayed that Bucciarati and the others might know where to find him, because, if not, then he was going to be in deep trouble.

~~~

Read the full story here:

Ao3 FF.net

~~~

Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about commissions, find my info on My Carrd

#whumptober2023 #no.11 #captivity #no one will find you #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfiction #vampire/dhampir lore #dehumanisation tw #muzzles #supernatural auctions #dhampir giorno giovanna #giorno giovanna whump #jjba part 5 #vampire hunter au #giorno giovanna has a bad time

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller: Auction House Worldbuilding

Since we're heading into the auction proper, I thought I'd write up some information about how the auction house and thralls in general work in this universe. Nothing here is required reading for simply following the story.

The auction house is only just one wing of a mansion in the countryside owned by a fairly ancient vampire. It contains the prison cells, various rooms used for processing thralls (such as the shower room and the office Lily uses), kitchens for cooking human food, and the storage needed by the cleaning and maintenance staff. Upstairs there are some more preparation rooms, the display rooms used to show off the merchandise to prospective buyers before the auction proper. The auction itself is set up on a stage in the mansion's ballroom, with room for a few hundred vampires. The more posh among the auction staff, including Lily and Cecily, stay in richly appointed quarters in the upper floors.

This particular auction is a high-end one aimed at the wealthy and powerful of vampire society. It's staffed by a combination of travelers who go from auction to auction plying their trade and locals.

For a high-end auction, the main considerations when picking thralls to capture include:

Age. The vast majority of thralls sold are between the ages of 16 - 40. Taking children as thralls is considered extremely distasteful. Humans who are too old are seen as a greater health risk. Besides that, many vampires choose to keep particularly choice thralls for decades, and an older thrall means less years of enjoyment.

Isolation. The auction house doesn't want to have to deal with hunters or other meddling humans, and no vampire wants an angry family to come and burn his house down for kidnapping someone important to them. This is why the humans taken for these auctions are socially isolated ones. While the vampires will take people with jobs or acquaintances, they avoid people with close families, spouses and children who might seek out revenge. 

Health. This is extremely important to vampires. The blood of healthy humans tastes better and is more nutritious. Healthy humans are also less likely to experience complications from having their blood taken with frequency. While relatively uncommon, vampires can also catch contagious diseases from humans. For all of these reasons and more, vampires have a strong preference for humans who are physically healthy and well fed, and one of the benefits of buying from an auction house is to have some vetting.

Mental illnesses are largely exempt from this consideration, as all humans will have their minds molded regardless. Addiction to drugs or alcohol also makes a human undesirable. As this story takes place in the 1920s, modern conceptions of what is healthy or normal may not apply.

For this reason, the auction house generally avoids capturing humans in extreme poverty or homelessness, as at the very least many of them suffer from malnutrition. Desperate vampires in the lower rungs of vampire society have fewer qualms about it, though. 

Blood quality. This is more of an art than a science. Blood is graded by an expert before the auction. Some factors that influence the quality of a human's blood include general health, nutrition, favorite foods, and especially the presence of magic in a human's family tree. Any supernatural creatures in the human's distant past will improve their blood substantially. Of course, blood grades are just an expert's judgement, and vampires have differing preferences.

Obedience. The human's overall level of obedience, even before conditioning, will often influence what sort of thrall the human can be conditioned into, which then affects price.

There are other, more nebulous factors. Physical beauty can affect a vampire's choices. Among vampires who like to treat their thralls as companions, personality and interests are important. Some vampires prefer thralls with certain skills to serve the household, such as chores, maintenance, and guard duties.

Which brings us to the different classes of thralls. There are not hard-and-fast lines between these categories, but these are some of the terms vampires use:

Bloodbags: Derogatory term for a human who is unconscious, a vegetable, medically braindead, etc. It's strongly frowned upon to keep these. The quality of blood is considered poor, the human requires assistance with the most basic functions, and in polite vampire society, it's considered the ethical thing to do to mercy kill a human that ends up in such a state. When vampires keep bloodbags, it's behind closed doors.

Erased: Also derisively called cattle. These are humans who have had their personalities and memories entirely erased, and have been rendered mindlessly obedient to vampires. They are capable of understanding and following vampires' orders, although higher intelligence may be significantly suppressed. In general, they are still capable of the basic functions needed to keep themselves alive (hygiene, rudimentary cooking, keeping their own quarters clean, etc.) which makes them a "convenient" choice. This is the preferred sort of thrall for vampires who believe humans have no rights, and those who do not like humans at all and only require them for a meal. 

Pets: Pets are also rendered mindlessly obedient to vampires and routinely have their memories erased, but a little more of their personality is allowed to remain. The conditioning process leaves pets permanently glassy-eyed and docile. This class of thrall is what you would expect from their name -- treated as though they are house pets. Pets are also capable of the basics of taking care of themselves and may do simple household chores, but generally spend most of their days in leisure activities, sleeping in their owners' chambers or doing little crafts and hobbies. Pets are favored by upper class vampires who enjoy dressing them up in fancy clothes and doting on them. 

Servants: Servants are the most lucid among these types of thralls. They're generally allowed to keep the bulk of their mind, including their memories, and are only conditioned enough to make them obedient and loyal. Servants will generally retain whatever capabilities and knowledge they had prior and so are not only capable of taking care of themselves and household chores, but a wide range of tasks. Servants are also capable of running errands and generally mingling in normal human society without raising questions. Some vampires, those particularly sentimental towards humans, treat their servants as companions. This is the preferred sort of thrall for vampires who are sympathetic to human rights (but not to the point of giving up thralls entirely.)

Wild: Some vampires capture humans and keep them completely unconditioned, generally imprisoned or chained. This is generally considered inhumane if not sadistic by polite vampire society.

Some vampires, especially poorer or younger ones, simply feed on humans they find without taking permanent thralls. This is considered risky behavior that leaves the vampire vulnerable to hunters, revenge seekers, and humans who fight back.

Free: It's rare, but some vampires have completely unconditioned humans who give their blood willingly. This is often in the context of a vampire/human romantic relationship, which many vampires consider eccentric at best and deviant at worst.

A respectable auction house like the one in this story deals in Erased, Pets, and Servants. Within each class, there is a lot of additional nuance to how they're trained and treated. The auction house offers additional conditioning to mold newly bought thralls to their owners' specific needs. Lily will be handling this a lot after the auction, and she'll get paid handsomely for it.

Vampires, especially powerful ones, have psychic connections to their thralls. This can be used for simple communication over distance, sharing of emotions, and limited sharing of memories. The vampire is "in charge" of the connection and can ignore or sever communication with the thrall if desired. The thrall has no choice about receiving communication from their master. A similar relationship exists between vampire and sire.

Servants and pets could be restored to more or less their full human minds if they're freed from vampires, although it takes time and patience to do so (and, understandably, they're all changed and traumatized by the experience). It's generally not considered possible to completely undo the conditioning of an Erased, who suffer from permanent memory loss and personality changes even if freed.

Vampire hunters have ways of helping free thralls of vampiric influence, but they're far from foolproof. Hunters will sometimes mercy kill thralls who they think cannot be restored. Death of a vampire's master will also remove some of the vampire's influence from their thralls' minds, but not all.

Tag list - please note if you'd like to be added

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #mind control #vampire #vampire whumper #captivity #vampire thralls #vampire auction #rare bookseller

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom Day 15

15. “Please.” 

| Blindfold | Pressure Points | Scream |

TW: MATURE CONTENT! slave auction, humans as products, threats of slaughter, threats of violence, threats of major character death, off-screen slaughter/death, psychological whump, naked character, description of slaughter

A/N: Based on my one-shot collection

~

"Sold to the beautiful lady in blue!"

The voice of the auctioneer reached his ears and Scotty's eyes opened wide. He shook his head in panic.

No, no, no! Anything but this! Please...

He still wasn't too sure about how he had ended up on this stage. His landing party had been kidnapped by slave traders and the Enterprise hadn't been able to find them.

His crewmates had been killed, trying to escape, so all he had been able to do was wait. Wait for his friends. Wait for someone to find and save him.

But no one had come.

And then this auction had started. Two people had bidden for him.

A man who wanted him to work under horrible conditions... and a woman who planned something even worse.

The lady was the owner of a restaurant and apparently she had a favor for exotic delicacies. And her next big success on the menu was supposed to be Scott.

A bright smile crossed the alien woman's face as she ordered two members of her staff onto the stage to grab the chains, attached to the Scotsman.

They made their way through the crowd, the buyer leading the small group, and Scotty tried his best to pull at the chains.

He had to break free! He had to get away!

His screams and whimpers were muffled by the gag in his mouth. No one seemed to care for his fear or panic though.

He heard some people asking the woman when first orders could be made. He saw their longing eyes on him so he closed his own eyes and tried his best to block out their voices.

He couldn't hear this. Or else he'd throw up which was a bad idea with a gag in his mouth.

The woman and her minions brought the engineer to a shuttle where he was thrown into a single cell.

While the men started the shuttle, the lady stayed with him. Her eyes shone brightly as she reached through the bars with her hand and once again ran her long fingers across his cheek. She had done so before to check his skin, claiming that it was soft and of great quality.

"I can't wait to try a piece of you myself," she said and Scotty backed away as far as he could. The cell wasn't too big.

His breathing was quick and he felt his heart racing horribly. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to have a heart attack so that he wouldn't have to meet this horrible fate consciously. He could only hope for it.

He closed his eyes once again, sending a silent pray to whoever would hear him.

'Help me. Please.'

++++++++

When the shuttle landed and they reached their point of destination, Scotty felt sick to his stomach.

The lady, who apparently was called Miss Farie, if he had heard the name right from the staff, led them out of the shuttle to a transporter. The back of the vehicle was big enough for five to ten persons, but apparently Scott had been the only purchase the woman had made that day.

"Take a look at this beautiful planet. It will be the last thing you see," one of the staff joked and Scotty couldn't help but follow the order.

He looked around. The planet really was gorgeous. There were lots of plants and flowers, but in the distance, Scott could make out a town.

He swallowed.

He'd die in that town, served to the inhabitants of this planet as delicacy.

Before he could say or do anything, a blindfold was wrapped around his head. He couldn't see anything through the dark piece of cloth.

Scotty winced and whimpered, when the door was closed and the vehicle started.

He was a lamb on the way to the slaughter. Nothing more.

++++++++

He could smell various scents when the backdoor of the transporter was opened again and he knew that they were near the restaurant.

Strong arms pulled him out of the car and he almost stumbled when they started to pull him along.

He wanted to cry, but there were no more tears left to do so. All hope was lost.

"Oh, fresh goods? That thing looks delicious," he heard a female voice and the voice of Miss Farie answered.

"I bought it in an auction just today. If you just wait a bit, I'm sure you can have one of the first pieces."

Scotty shuddered at the dialogue. He wasn't a piece of meat! He was a human being!

"Sounds great. I'll keep it in mind."

At the end of the conversation, the Scotsman was forced to move once again.

His feet got heavier with each step and he tried his best to stop walking, but the men were too strong. They simply dragged him along.

"Put it in the cell over there. We'll get it ready to be served right away," Miss Farie ordered and Scotty heard her heels on the ground as she stepped away.

He was put in a small cell once again, but this time he could hear noises around him.

There were more people. Other species waiting for their horrible end.

Doors were opened, followed by the sound of staff members dragging the others away.

Scotty was trembling. He didn't want this! He didn't want to die!

And suddenly there were voices. One belonged to Miss Farie, but the other?

Scotty knew it. It was just so familiar, but at first, he couldn't say whom it belonged to.

Only when Miss Farie said a name, the engineer's blood turned cold as ice.

"There it is, Mr. Singh. As you can see, it is in a good shape."

Mr. Singh. Scotty's heart skipped a beat.

Khan! The male voice belonged to Khan Noonien Singh. The augment who had killed Jim three years ago. The augment who had been put back to cryo-sleep after his trial. How could he be here?

So many questions filled Scotty's mind, however, he had other problems at the moment.

"It does look... delicious, I have to admit."

Fear mixed with anger. Of course Khan would use his chance to get revenge. Of course he'd have a piece of him - a fillet piece if possible.

"Why the blindfold?" Khan's voice sounded disgustingly interested. He was enjoying this a lot.

"Oh, I am a generous woman, Mr. Singh. I do not want my goods to see their demise. And... maybe I'm a bit selfish too, because I don't like to see that sad look in its eyes. A lady can only take so much."

"Of course."

Scotty tried to pull at his chains, but failed horribly. There was no way out.

"If you agree, I'd really like to see how the dish is prepared."

Khan had stepped closer to the cell; Scott could hear it. There was a malicious undertone in his voice. It sent shivers down the Scotsman's spine.

"Of course, Mr. Singh. Anything for Lady Freymis' partner. I wanted to wait a bit longer to change the menu, but if you insist... Remis, Harlock - come here."

Miss Farie's order was followed by steps. Two people joined their boss and Khan.

"Let's give Mr. Singh a tour, show him around."

The door to the cell was opened and Scotty was dragged out once again.

The more he tried to resist, the harder they pulled at him. He couldn't do anything, but follow them.

"First of all, we clean the goods. We use a special type of water which kills off any bacteria. On top of that, it makes the flesh juicier."

Scotty felt the staff members rip off his clothes. Blood rushed to his cheeks, once he was standing there, naked, freezing.

Only a moment later his body was wet. They showered him. From head to toe.

Tears mixed with water. Apparently they had found its way out again. Scotty cried and a soft wail escaped his mouth.

For weeks he had wished to take a hot shower, but not like this. Not to be slaughtered afterwards.

"I see. This way you make sure that the flesh isn't contaminated."

Scotty could hear the grin in Khan's voice. This was way too much fun for him.

"Yes, that's right. Next up, we anoint the body with a special mixture of oil and seasonings. This gives the meat a special taste."

The water stopped and Scott was dragged over to what felt like a cold operating table. They forced him to lie down on his stomach, chaining him to it somehow.

What followed next, was the most horrible massage he could imagine.

"We keep it alive for this step, because the mixture soaks in better this way," Miss Farie explained, running a hand across Scotty's bare back.

"After a few minutes, we end the procedure as quick and gentle as possible. We chop off the head. The most painless method."

Once again, Scotty shook his head.

"No... please..."

His words were muffled by the gag, but he still tried to get them out.

"So, this is it. The dish can be served any moment now."

He was no food! He was no piece of meat!

"Very interesting. Thank you for showing me, Miss Farie."

"It was my pleasure." The owner of the restaurant sounded quite pleased. She had had her fun with this tour.

"Now... I would like to buy this human."

"Of course, Mr. Singh. What piece would you like? Belly meat, ribs, loin?"

Khan's next words were the biggest yet most wonderful surprise to Scotty.

"No, you don't understand. I want to buy it. Alive."

A strange spark of hope glimmed in the engineer's heart once more. He didn't understand Khan's reasons, but that didn't matter at the moment. All he needed was to get out of this place.

However, the hope was soon enough destroyed by Miss Farie's insecure chuckle.

"Mr. Singh, please. I can't do that. This delicacy is worth a million. My customers will pay a lot for just a tiny bit of meat."

"I understand that, Miss Farie, however, I have a better offer to make."

Khan's voice sounded quite confident. Whatever that offer was, he seemed to be sure that Miss Farie wouldn't say no to it.

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"If you leave this beautiful tidbit to me," a hand ran through Scotty's hair and he shivered at the touch, "then I'll deliver you as many humans as you want. And... something even more exotic."

Scotty gasped in shock. He knew what Khan was talking about, what he was planning.

"What would be more exotic than a human?" Miss Farie didn't sound too convinced. But that changed once she heard Khan's answer.

"A Vulcan."

Scotty shook his head.

No! No! Not his crew! Not his family!

"A Vulcan?"

"All I need is this human and I'll make you the richest woman on this whole planet."

There was a long moment of silence. Scotty could feel the tension in the room.

But eventually, Miss Farie talked again.

"How can I trust you?"

"First of all, you know my partner. If you don't trust me, then she'll be very disappointed and we won't come back again. And secondly... I'll pay you an advance of 1,500,000."

Scotty's heart beat out of his chest. He didn't want to endanger his crew, but... he didn't want to end up on someone's plate either.

"All right. We have a deal, Mr. Singh."

Relief washed over the Scotsman when he heard Miss Farie's decision.

He would live!

"You won't regret your choice."

After asking to stow the purchase in Khan's car, the augment left the room. Scotty didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

His body stiffened at the fingers running down his back again and at the voice whispering next to his ear.

"It's really a pity. But I guess, today's your lucky day."

With that Miss Farie left, heels clacking on the floor.

"Get it dressed again. Our special on the menu will have to wait."

A door closed and Scotty knew that he was saved. Now he'd just have to survive Khan and stop his plan. 

++++++++

Two months later they found him. His crew managed to save him, not falling for any of Khan's traps. And even though Scotty was the happiest man in the whole universe, he'd never forget the horrors he'd been through.

#juneofdoom #june of doom #day 15 #whump #whump challenge #please #blindfold #star trek #fanficfion #montgomery scott #khan noonien singh #alien oc #read warnings #slave auction #humans as products #threats of slaughter #threats of violence #threats of major character death #off-screen slaughter/death #psychological whump #description of slaughter/process

[whumpy-daydreams]

The Auction Part 1

Masterlist

Previous Next

CW: captivity, manhandling

When Olive awoke she wasn’t in the car. She wasn’t in a fancy restaurant either. She was in a cage. 

Her mind was still fuzzy as she sat up, the world swimming. Outside the barred wall and door was a dimly lit corridor, providing just enough illumination to display the grimy walls and floors and mouldy ceilings. Not a cage, she thought, a cell.

“Hello?” She asked, carefully getting to her feet and stumbling to the cell door. “Is anyone there?!”

“They don’t like us talking.” A small voice answered her from close by.

“Who doesn’t? Where am I?”

“They won’t talk to you. He’s been trained.” A different voice from further to her right.

“Where are we?” Olive asked again, pressed against the bars attempting to look down the damp corridor.

“Where do you think? An auction. These are just the holding cells.”

“An auction? No - that can’t be right. Tatania was taking me to dinner.”

A harsh laugh. “Then she lied to you. Who is she, your mistress?”

“No - I work for her. But she wouldn’t do that. I mean she can be harsh but she wouldn’t sell me.” As she said the words she realised she was wrong. It was exactly the type of thing Madame Tatania would do. And the champagne… she’d drugged her. “Fuck.” 

The other captive laughed again, but it was cut short by the sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps coming towards them. Pleas began as another door opened. Olive couldn’t see what was happening, but by the sound she could guess someone was being taken somewhere - probably to the auction itself. 

From then people were removed regularly, every five minutes at a guess. The laughing man swore a lot when they came for him and there were sounds of fighting before he was dragged away. The boy next to her went silently, although Olive did hear him sobbing gently.

And then it was her turn.

Two men came to get her, both dressed in nondescript black clothing. As they opened the cell door Olive backed as far away as possible, which wasn’t far. It was only a couple of steps before one of them grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch me.” She shoved the hand off, surprised by the force of her own voice. But the guard just smiled.

“Are you gonna come nicely or do we have to carry you?”

“I want to leave.”

“Oh darlin’ do you really think you have a choice?” The next time they took her arm she didn’t fight back.

The auction was upstairs, held in a small theatre. As Olive was held in the wings, the boy who had told her to be quiet was led on stage. He shook slightly, face pale, and kept his head down as the bidding started. It was over quickly, and Olive felt her fear as he was led off stage.

“And for our last item - a truly unique specimen.” The auctioneer paused to let anticipation increase among the audience. “A contortionist!”

And with that Olive was yanked on stage.

#mortiawrites #whump #whumpee #defiant whumpee #captive whump #auction #olive whump

[off-brand-likes]

Recording

"Zeb," Kallus whispered into the large ear mashed against the Glimmer of Hope's main cabin floor beside him. "Zeb, wake up."

Zeb growled softly. Since he faced away from Kallus, Kallus couldn't see if Zeb had opened his eyes. "Bounty hunters are--"

Heavy footsteps approached, fast. Maybe one of the hunters who'd taken the ship had heard Kallus whispering, or they'd figured that their stun bolts would wear off about now. Kallus rolled onto his back, away from Zeb, a big, obvious move that drew the hunter’s eyes to him.

A human stomped in the cabin door and pressed her boot to Kallus’s throat, with a blaster angled to burn his face off if she pulled the trigger. His wheezing breaths were loud in the small cabin.

"Kal?" Zeb mumbled without stirring. He'd taken a lot more stun bolts than Kallus had.

"Get down here," the hunter shouted over her shoulder in Huttese. She stepped out of Kallus's stun-clumsy kicking range to level her blaster at Zeb. "Stay still or he dies."

"I understand," Kallus wheezed in Basic.

"On your face.” Kallus rolled over to lie stomach-down on the floor. “Hands behind your head." The hunter kept speaking in Huttese, which was fine, and as long as she was out of his reach with a blaster on Zeb, he’d do what she said.

“What’s going on?” Zeb whispered.

Before Kallus could answer, more footsteps announced the arrival of two more humans and a big Trandoshan. All three of them surrounded Kallus to put binders on, and then the human with the blaster shifted her aim to him while they bound Zeb.

“Ready to move them?” one of the humans asked, still in Huttese.

“Yeah. They know what we’re saying, so, watch it.”

Kallus wasn’t actually certain that Zeb spoke Huttese. He barely made it to his hands and knees before the hunters dragged them into the Glimmer’s common room and dropped them on their knees in front of the holotable. It was on and ready to record.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Zeb muttered. Kallus nodded. What were these hunters doing?

“Gags.” The hunter who’d stepped on Kallus earlier seemed to be the one giving the orders. He and Zeb exchanged worried looks as the hunters who weren’t holding guns on them approached with a cloth gag for Kallus and what looked disturbingly like a muzzle for Zeb.

“Wait,” Kallus said. “Who hired you? What are they pay—”

The leader didn’t interrupt her underlings gagging him before he’d finished offering her a better deal. She must be sure she already had one. And there weren’t many buyers who’d pay that much. Zeb was right. This looked bad.

“You two.” The hunter in charge paced around in front of Zeb and Kallus. “If you want to keep those hands, keep them behind your heads. Gags stay on, no blinking coded messages or anything, or you’ll regret it.”

She checked some readouts on the holoprojector that Kallus was at the wrong angle to see. “They’re all in, let’s go.”

The other three hunters moved to stand behind Zeb and Kallus with their weapons aimed at them the whole time Kallus could see them. Kallus would have to thoroughly distract all three of them to give Zeb an opening to take them out. Zeb looked a lot more alert now, but it wouldn’t hurt to give him more time to recover.

The bounty hunter in charge spun toward the holotable and hit the Record button. “Welcome, buyers,” she said in accented Basic. “Bringing you in now.”

Behind his gag, Zeb said something three syllables long, his tone a mixture of disgust and fury.

One by one, the holotable filled with people. Most he didn’t recognize, although he’d recognize ISB Agent Coomlin anywhere, and the nervous looking Mon Calamari wore a rebel captain’s rank badge, which wasn’t terribly encouraging. He was fairly sure he’d seen the Kitonak on a wanted poster for some deeply unpleasant crimes done for the Hutts. He was faintly proud that he and Zeb commanded such an audience.

“The targets on offer today are Alexsandr Kallus, former ISB, current rebel, and Garazeb Orrelios, part of the Phoenix Squadron. You got the ID confirmation we sent, or you wouldn’t be here. All buyers are muted for now,” she added while Coomlin silently said something about the Empire’s right to Kallus and Zeb, if Kallus was reading his lips correctly.

“You send us the bids, bids get displayed on the channel we specified. You want to make deals on the side, do it, but we’re only staying here fifty minutes. Whoever’s got the top bid by then gets whatever pieces of them they want.”

Zeb said something incredulous and two syllables long, probably repeating “pieces.”

The hunter ignored him. “Let’s start bidding at ten-thousand credits. That’s your buy-in to ask questions about them,” she added to the rebel Mon Calamari, who was also attempting to speak while muted.

A smaller and grainier holoprojector on the floor made a pinging noise. As the hunters refocused on it, Zeb rolled onto his back, grabbed one of the bounty hunters behind him with his feet, and flung him across the room.

Kallus went for the leader, but the stun bolt from her blaster caught him while he was still reaching for her. He landed hard but didn’t go all the way out. His nose bled onto the floor under his face as he fought to turn his head and watch the struggle behind him. The human hunter who Zeb had thrown across the room stayed on the floor a few steps away from Kallus, bleeding from the head.

The noise behind him quieted down. When the leader dragged Kallus back to his knees by his hair he managed to keep his balance. She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers and he expected her to put his hands back where she’d told him to keep them. Instead, she bent his trigger finger back, fast.

The wet-stick snap of it came with a vicious burst of pain. Kallus screamed into his gag. She drop his bound hands behind his head and stomped over where Zeb lay on his back on the floor. Instead of bending one of his fingers back, she stomped on his bound hands until something cracked. The muzzle didn’t do much to muffle his roar of pain.

As tempting as it was to lunge at her again, Kallus held himself on his knees. This wasn’t the chance he was waiting for. They could fix Zeb’s hands, if he survived long enough to get to a doctor.

“I’ll break something you care about more, next,” she told Zeb. She glanced between him and Kallus and grinned. “He doesn’t need all his teeth, does he? Think about that.” She turned back to the holotable, where the auction bidders watched mostly with amusement, although the rebel representative looked more nervous than ever.

“Right,” the lead bounty hunter said to the bidders. “Who’ll give us fifty thousand?”

#star wars #swr #yes him again shush #whump #No effort Whumptober #text #recording #no.6 #also some forced to watch! #broken fingers #on his knees #i forgot i don't actually have to get people OUT of the situations for whump #so nice #can't believe I'm keeping up with this challenge #not everything has to be good enough for ao3 #auctioned off