#branded whumpee

[myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19]

Part Of The Gang

I haven't posted in forever but I missed Tumblr. I also had to take this piece somewhere. Nothing else to say but missed the whump community.

@irathgo @smellofsnoww Keir is not happy.

********************

Keir had finished another one of Jeremy's stupid errands. Breaking into a warehouse was the not the most ridiculous things he had ever asked but its up there.

He said it was important, whatever it is, he just wants it done already.

He pulled his coat up, it looked cloudy outside, could rain. Good the rain's noise could cover for him.

Just as he got into the warehouse through, the lights were turned on. Aimed at him and only him. Keir shielded his eyes from the light.

"happy you made it." A voice behind the light said.

Keir didn't give a reaction to Jeremy's surprise entrance. Another game he figured.

There were more people in the room, he could feel it.

"Finally introducing me?" Keir asked, his tone and expression blank as always.

Jeremy hummed, "you could say that." He replied. Keir could hear the happiness in his tone.

"got anything on you?" Jeremy asked.

Keir put his hands up to show he wasn't armed. He can't try anything here if he wanted to. They'd probably kill him in an instance.

Despite this two men walked up behind Keir, search probably, he thought.

What he didn't expect was the sharp pain he would feel at the back of his head. Then everything went black and he fell to the ground .

****

When he woke up he was in a chair, restrained to it. Jeremy is always playing on his nerves one way or the other but this was different.

He realized he was in a large cage and he was locked down in a chair. Medieval style with his feet and hands as well as the chair locked in place. But everyone else could see him.

Keir tried but of course he couldn't get free from the restraints holding him.

"Look, this is going to hurt." Jeremy said, the cocky smile ever so present. "but it's going to be good."

He wanted to answer the man but realized he couldn't. They gagged him with a piece of cloth in his mouth and tape to keep it in place. Keir could only look at him with fury in his eyes.

Jeremy walked around him, admiring his new member. "I had high hopes for you kid.'' Jeremy said, circling Keir.

It was visible this was a public thing, so many members were here. An initiation.

"And you surpassed them all." Jeremy commended him but honestly this whole thing made Keir sick.

He had to run every errand that this fucked up asshole sent him on. Jeremy still held everyone's life above Keir's head. He knew Keir would never risk the lives of the people around him.

With the gag on, all Keir could do was glare at Jeremy and all the others.

"After everything you've done, I think you deserve to be a part of my family." Jeremy said, motioning to the people around.

There was a sense of ceremony as the people gathered around. The more Keir looked, the more he realized that everyone wasn't wearing their shirts.

The room wasn't well lit but he could swear he was seeing something around them. Something on their chest. He squinted trying to make out what it was. It was circular with a strange pattern in it. He moved his head closer to make it out some more, it didn't look like a tattoo…no it was….

Keir's eyes grew wide when he realized what that was. A brand, they were branded, that's what this whole thing is about.

He began to move around the chair, trying to get his hands and legs free.

"Welcome." Jeremy's loud voice announced.

Two men came and stood beside Keir, holding the chair and him in place.

He demanded they let him go but his demands were muffled by the gag in his mouth.

Jeremy continued as always, a person came closer wheeling what looked like a furnace that had long metal bars sticking out.

Keir's eyes turned to horror when he saw that. He turned to Jeremy, only to see him being handed thick gloves by some other guys.

Keir tried again to get away, but they held him down.

Jeremy proceeded with his business, picking out a white hot branding iron. It had a pattern that Keir had seen on Jeremy a few times.

He gave a nod to the two people holding him and they ripped Keir's shirt away.

At some point when Jeremy was merely a foot away Keir stopped struggling, it was futile,but they didn't let go. Trying to ready himself for the inevitable pain, he wasn't getting out of this.

The branding iron was still so hot that some of it seemed to melt away, dripping to the wet floor. Fizzling out but not before a fight.

That would be put on him and he couldn't do anything about it. It was all too real finally when Jeremy was standing right in front of him. Branding iron in hand and proud grin on his face.

"You're now part of my family." Jeremy told him, Keir looked up at him with cold fury that Jeremy just seemed to eat it up. He looked….proud.

Without warning the white hot iron was dug into Keir's bare chest. He screamed but the sound was mostly caught by the gag.

His struggles were stopped by the men holding him. All he could do was endure the smell of his burning flesh and the pain that came from the heat.

The people around were cheering the new addition but all that was drowned by the explosive burning sensation. Jeremy dug deep and he began trying to shake away some more just wanting it to stop. He begged at some point.

It felt like it went on forever but at some point, Jeremy pulled the iron away and placed it in a bucket of water brought beside him.

The men from before let go of Keir, the young man's head fell to his chest. He felt exhausted, all this just took the energy out of him. He breathed heavily through his nose until someone removed the gag and he breathed through his mouth.

"Almost done," Jeremy said and Keir struggled to look up.

"F…uck…y…ou…" Keir huffed, still unable to even lift his head.

Jeremy chuckled, "just hold on." He put the gag back in Keir's mouth.

Someone came later with a plate, there was powder on it. Jeremy put some on his hand, covering only his fingers.

Keir's mind was fogged up with all of this, sweat dripping from his forehead, wetting his hair.

That's why he couldn't see as Jeremy began to rub the powder along the fresh wound.

"This is to make sure it's visible." He said as he applied the powder gently. Every spread made the pain worse and Keir just wanted it to stop.

Keir began to scream again, trying to move his shoulder away but Jeremy held him with one hand until it had gone full circle and inside the pattern.

All this continued despite Keir's pleas for it to stop. At some point they got quieter, Keir feeling more and more fogged up. His mind shutting down.

By the time Jeremy was done Keir's cries were merely mumbles and barely whispers.

Jeremy removed the gag and lifted the boy's head, feeling proud of Keir. He raised Keir's head by his chin. Keir's eyes were glassy and empty. Unable to focus on Jeremy until they closed.

That's when he lost consciousness. Jeremy smiled as usual. They began to take Keir out of his restraints. Now the next couple of days would be rough, but he knows Keir can handle it.

****

James wasn't expecting such a weird call that day but everything connected to the kid is weird. But this is worse. He took his coat, noticing how rainy it was just minutes before.

They say they found the kid, but he was passed out somewhere in an alley. He always has people around and they know to look out for Keir.

He rushed over, taking his car with him until he stopped at the place Keir was supposed to be.

They didn't touch the kid yet, something was keeping them from doing it apparently.

"Where is he?" James asked immediately as he stepped out of his car.

The guy that called him sighed, "this way." He said and began leading James to his nephew. They all knew who Keir was and they saw him as family just as James did.

James kept following, the guy stopped a few feet from where Keir was propped up against a wall.

The kid looked about alright, he wasn't bleeding, he didn't look beat up and he was alive from what he could see. But that doesn't explain why he was unconscious.

James stepped closer, he knelt down. Before he could even check for a pulse, he saw it. That's why his men were hesitant to get close. That bastard branded the kid and made him a part of his gang. Everyone must have been scared just in case he was dead.

James cursed, but proceeded and checked for a pulse, thankfully he found it. He has no time to think about gang laws right now. Keir would be fine, he probably just passed out from the initiation.

He lifted Keir off the cold floor, the kid was shivering. Well he was soaked right now. They just had to leave him in the cold rain. Fucking pricks.

He got to the car and his friend earlier at least helped him open the door.

James took off his jacket and immediately wrapped it around the kid. They didn't even give him a shirt at least

James hurried upstairs when he reached the loft. He dried and clothed the kid as quickly as he could. He could feel his temperature rising the more he helped him get dry.

Before he could dress Keir however he had to take care of that nasty brand. He couldn't get rid of it, it's too late for that now. He made the hard decision to just treat it so the kid wouldn't get a terrible infection. It's the only way he could make this go smoother.

He started with the painful process of cleaning and dressing the burn. Keir moaned and whimpered as he did it. Trying to get away from pain, James held him down without much effort.

"Yeah I'm almost done." James told him. The kid probably couldn't hear him anyway. But he finished dressing it and put something warm around the kid.

He placed a cold pack over his forehead and wrapped him up to try and get that fever to reduce. Already did all the other necessary things, like antibiotics and pain meds. Just had to wait to see how he takes it.

This won't be easy

#branding #branded whumpee #knocked out #passing out from pain #gang initiation #Keir #Jeremy #James #OC #my writing #whump community #whump #caretaker #defiant whumpee #whumpee #tied down #restrained

[whumpwillow]

Idea I've been thinking about

Whumper takes whumpee to use as blackmail for caretaker. Everytime caretaker is late or messes up, whumpee gets burned. When caretaker eventually rescues them, there horrified to discover whumpee has been branded.

oh noooo :) that's :) so :) unfortunate :)

#willow answers #answered asks #whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump tropes #whump trope #whump ideas #whump idea #whump inspiration #whump scenario #whump scenarios #branding tw #branded whumpee #branding my beloved #kidnapping tw

[linecrosser]

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi suggested "possessive whumper"

my instant thought was "marking/branding as property", so here we are!

#whump art #whump #branding #posessive whumper #captive whumpee #whumpers henchmen assisting #mutilation #tw mutilation #slave whumpee

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumper loved leaving permanent marks on the whumpee, but they wanted to make sure they were pleasing to look at. The whumper would take hours to carve intricate patterns onto the whumpee’s skin, their cries of agony only adding to the enjoyment. Sometimes, the whumper would brand the whumpee as well, it was easier, but just as painful.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #scars #branding #whumper

[letitbehurt]

There are just—so many uses for the words, “Hold them down.”

#Whumper having their henchmen pin Whumpee to whatever surface #a MUST HAVE for scenes involving a brand of some sort #I just wrote a scene in a WIP where a Whumper cut off someone’s hand for touching Whumpee and he used these words #it’s the shit #THE shit #whump

[whumpstuff1]

Magic whumper who brands their whumpee with a mark that never stops burning.

Or

A mark that the whumper can control to hurt the whumpee as punishment.

#whump #whumpee #whump scenario #whumper #magic whump #sadistic whumper #whump prompt #whump branding #magic whumper #whump punishment

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

June of Doom day 15

 “please” (blindfold/pressure point/scream)

Content warning: branding

"Say my name, and I'll let you go."

"I told you dammit, I don't–augh!" Another brand was pressed into Whumper's skin, burning another scar into their flesh.

Whumper struggled against their bindings, trying fruitlessly to slip from the ropes binding them to the chair or remove the blindfold from their eyes. Their exposed flesh was governed in angry, bright burns, the marks of hot metal having been pressed into their skin. Their skin was damp with sweat.

"That's not a good answer. Try again."

"Shit–" Whumper swore, shaking. "W-whumpee? Are you Whumpee, is that why you're doing this?!"

The iron was pressed against Whumper's cheek, sizzling against the tears that had begun dripping down their face. Whumper screamed.

"Please!" Whumper's words came out as a sob. They flailed in their seat, trying desperately to escape the agony. They gave a pained gasp when it was finally removed, ducking their head and letting out a pitiful whine. 

Caretaker carefully returned the iron to the fireplace, keeping a close eye on Whumper’s shaking form. Whumper didn’t know who they were. Not their name, their face, their voice, or even that they existed. They had no way of knowing. 

Caretaker smiled. "Wrong. Try again,"

#I love morally questionable caretakers #caretaker #whumper #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #june of doom #branding #june of doom day 15 #my stuff

[lumpofwhump]

Whumper found themself rooted in place, now face to face with the furious Caretaker broken free of their restraints. They were wielding Whumper’s favorite branding iron, heated up and ready to go.

“One thousand, three hundred and fifty eight,” Caretaker said in an icy monotone as they approached. Their many injuries didn’t slow them down in the least, instead making them if anything more terrifying.

“W-what?” Whumper asked with a thin, anxious laugh. “What’s that supposed —”

“That’s the number of times you hurt Whumpee,” Caretaker answered. “They were only one kind of lucky in all this.”

Behind them, Whumpee shifted uncomfortably in the two blankets draped over their gaunt frame.

Whumper looked equally unnerved. “How?”

“They had it spread out over seven years. You?” Caretaker abruptly thrust Whumper’s favorite branding iron forward, stopping it a mere inch from Whumper’s throat. “You’ll have to take it all in one go.”

“C-Caretaker, please…!” Whumpee interjected, eyes wide and horrified.

Not lowering their weapon in the slightest, Caretaker spared them a glance. “You don’t have to stay and watch,” they said to Whumpee in a voice as gentle as their tone had been harsh in speaking to Whumper. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Whumpee fled the room immediately without another word of protest. Meanwhile, Whumper gulped as Caretaker turned to them with cold fury in their eyes and started forward.

“Just be glad I’m not going to include my own injuries here,” Caretaker told them. “Then again, I don’t get the sense you’ll survive long enough for that to be an issue.”

With that, they jerked the branding iron ever so slightly to the left and pressed it against the skin of Whumper’s shoulder. Just as Whumper had done to Whumpee that first night of their captivity. Whumper let out the first scream of many.

#revenge whump #branding #protective caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #whumperee #escape #rescue #whump drabble

[cold1dead1eyes]

brand your whumpees <3 burn emblems, sigils, symbols onto your whumpee, make sure everyone knows who they belong to. brand them with cattle irons, poker sticks, any hot metal your whumper can get their hands on. brand your whumpees on their bellies, their back, their arms, their legs, their chest.

BRAND! YOUR! WHUMPEES!

#whump #whump writing #whump prompt #whump scenario #pet whumpee #possessive whumper #branding #lol im very passionate about this #can you tell #vince rambles

[echoingalaxies]

Whump drabbles, 9/100: interrogation.

“At the risk of sounding repetitive,” Whumper held the glowing branding iron centimeters from Whumpee’s cheek. “Where. Are. They?”

Whumpee gazed into Whumper’s eyes, unmoving. Whumper’s expression darkened with every passing, silent second.

“Fine,” they snarled, bringing the iron down and pressing it hard under Whumpee’s collarbone, marking the boy’s body for the fifth time. Whumpee screamed, writhing in Whumper’s grip as the iron scorched their flesh. “I can go on the whole night.”

Involuntary tears streaked Whumpee’s face, but despite that, they managed a laugh. “Not quite the sleepover activities I’m used to.”

Whumper scowled, digging the iron deeper.

#100x100 whump drabbles #torture whump #branding whump #burns #captivity whump #defiant whumpee #sadistic whumper #whump drabble #whump drabbles #whump prompts #whump ideas #whump scenarios #whump tropes #whump #whumpblr

[whump3000]

#whump #whump thoughts #whump poll #branding #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #whump writing #whump blog

[whumpy-wyrms]

WOAHHHH NEW OC STORY IDEA ALL A SUDDEN

okay so vampire guy works at a morgue and feeds from the dead bodies but it’s never Enough. it keeps him under control but he does needs fresh blood once in a while. anyway this human guy dies, was brought to the morgue, and the vampire guy drains him of all his blood (as he does to every corpse) but this human died recently and his blood was fresher and tastier than the others. vampire leaves the dead human in one of those corpse shelves for the night (vampire guy lives in the morgue somewhere) and the next morning BOOM. the human guy is awake and alive and healthy as if nothing happened. immortality moment!! woah

and the vampire guy is like SWEET!!! new infinite food source of fresh delicious human blood!! now he doesn’t have to feed from those gross corpses anymore or go hunting and risk being killed by pesky vampire hunters.

but vampire guy still has to work at the morgue. that’s his whole business. that’s his home and how he needs to make money to buy food for his new human bloodbag (guy can survive without food but his blood tastes better when he’s not starving).

and it’s strange for the vampire guy sometimes. he’s always spending time around dead humans and this is the first time he’s gotten close to an actual live human before. and even though he’s keeping him captive, he still likes making conversation sometimes. it gets lonely being an immortal vampire who’s hasn’t had a close relationship in decades, and who’s instinct it is to suck the blood out of every human he meets. and since immortal human guy is trapped there and has nothing to do, he might as well talk to him. he’s lonely too and now just found out he’s immortal. he doesn’t wanna be alone forever

but obviously he hates being fed from by a vampire and desperately wants to escape. vampire guy kills him a bunch of times just because he Can. sometimes he drains him of all his blood when he’s extra hungry, sometimes he just kills him for disobeying or trying to escape to teach him a lesson. sometimes he kills him for fun, for the thrill of the hunt. dying is PAINFUL as fuck to the human. he hates dying even though he always comes back fully healed.

sometimes the human wants more things to keep him occupied so he’s not bored all day trapped in the basement of a morgue (or maybe he’s kept locked in a corpse shelf during the day, extremely claustrophobic and dark, with no way out, trapped next to a bunch of human corpses. who knows). but the vampire doesn’t wanna waste his hard-earned cash on buying his human silly unnecessary things just because he’s bored.

so sometimes he lets the human help him work. vampire guy owns the morgue and has no other employees, and only works at night to avoid sunlight, so human wouldn’t be able to call for help anyway. human guy hates being around dead bodies but it gives him something to do and he technically gets paid for it in a way. now vampire guy gets things done twice as fast and has more money and free time too. he buys his human the stuff he wants, like books or puzzles, and they sometimes play games together.

human was a nobody. he probably died from some freak accident and was brought to the morgue by the hospital. he didn’t have a family or any loved ones that claimed his body or set up his funeral. nobody came looking for his body to bury or cremate because Nobody cared that he was gone. and that just makes things a whole lot sadder because even if he does somehow escape the vampire, where’s he gonna go? he’s legally dead. Everyone thinks he’s dead. he’s supposed to be dead. there wouldn’t be anywhere to go or anyone to go to because he obviously can’t tell people he’s immortal, that would just cause more questions, and surely being experimented on by scientists would be worse than whatever he’s going through right now, right?

so human guy has to accept his life now, as an immortal bloodbag for a vampire who works at a morgue. his life is filled with blood and death, but there’s nothing he can do about it. maybe vampire guy eventually gains sympathy for him, and starts to feel bad for his pathetic excuse of a life. maybe they eventually become friends. or maybe the human stabs a wooden stake through the vampire’s heart. who knows

anyway these guys have existed in my head for nearly an hour and they don’t even have names but i am going insane over this holy shit???? RAUHHHH i’ve gotta make picrews dude i gotta draw them. new blorbos. new brainrot. i prommy i’ll still get tllr chapter 13 out today or tomorrow but WOAHH look at these new little guys they’re so silly

#AHHHHH i love vampires and immortals and morgues #3 in 1? YES #if anyone has name recommendations feel free to tell me #i’m most definitely gonna write something about these guys #probably not a long lore driven series like tllr but Something #maybe i will also make an au where the human is taken by Anton and experimented on because Anton wants to learn more about his immortality #there’s just so many possibilities with this concept and i love it i love these silly guyssss #brand new blorbos were born today. happy birthday #wyrms says stuff #no idea what this series will be called either so idk what to tag this as yet #i need name ideas!! ahhhhh #vampires #death #murder #death mention #vampire whumper #immortal whumpee #silas oc #aspen oc

[pyrepostings]

Thinking about an during an interrogation, whumpee is branded with a symbol they actually identify with positively. No matter the shape, it burns all the same, and "something something, got to be able to identify all of you."

When they escape/are rescued, that mark turns into a mark of shame. They got caught. They were weak. If they just told them what they wanted to know their skin wouldn't be marred so permanently.

family crest, name of a loved one now passed, anything that whumpee holds near and dear to their heart is now forever tainted, because they let it happen.

#PyrePrompts #Whumpee #defiant whumpee #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump #whump community #whump prompts #whump ideas #whump tropes #Interrogation #branding

[honeycollectswhump]

Nothing but Art

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, burns (branding)

A sense of foreboding washes over Ashtray before he can even process what is happening, as his Mistress rips open the door to the room he is kept in, grabs him by his golden collar and drags him through the halls.

Even though he can barely breathe, gasping for air with every intake, he keeps his eyes low on the ground where they belong. It most definitely looks ungraceful, the way he can’t even properly get his legs under him to crawl along with his Mistress’ relentless pace. Instead, he is pulled along like a disobedient dog, and that thought alone makes him try twice as hard to keep up.

The entire time, his Mistress’ is hissing words Ashtray can’t even begin to comprehend, her usually angel-like tone seeps into his bones like poison and makes him shake. Still, he knows –he hopes– she hasn’t called him a Bad Boy yet, so maybe, maybe he still has a chance to make this right. 

Suddenly, there is a jerk and Ashtray’s head collides with the ground. The whole world spins and lurches and for a moment, all he can smell is smoke, yet the familiarity doesn’t bring him any comfort. Desperately, he tries to get his arms under his body to push himself up as quickly as possible. He needs to please her, he needs to be good, and he needs to do it right now. 

Ashtray gets into position, kneeling, eyes on the ground, humble, submissive, and hers. 

Part of him wants to grovel, to offer himself up in the name of his eternal obedience or to read her thoughts and act accordingly. If he could change himself to be an even better Ashtray for her, he would, without hesitation, no matter the price. It is his duty as her Ashtray and beyond that, it is what his soul strives for.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the fireplace, with flames dancing in it. His beautiful Mistress is standing right in front of it, wearing a stunning dress, adorned with gems, red like Ashtray’s blood, a sight which she enjoys occasionally.

In her hands, she is gripping a strange metal rod. There should be a word for it in his mind, yet nothing but a grave emptiness comes up. 

His Mistress silently stares down into the fire as if she could get it to burst and devour everything in her path with her gaze alone. Ashtray scrambles to come up with a reason, with anything that might have caused this. But then again he wasn’t made to think, he was made to obey.

He can only hope that he didn’t cause her displeasure and that maybe, he can be useful for her now, in any way she desires, hope that he can make her happy again. There is a chance this might not be a Punishment, considering she hasn’t even used Ashtray today. 

But when his Mistress’ gaze falls on him, it is cold, devoid of any of the adoration it usually holds for her Ashtray.

“Back.” she seethes. 

Despite the underlying, prickling fear that still hasn’t left him, Ashtray beams at the familiar word and the chance to make himself useful, even though he can’t yet see a cigarette. He will be used and he will be Good.

Ashtray complies immediately –of course. At this point, it is barely a conscious thought, his body just moves on its own, the way it is supposed to. Ashtray straightens and turns around, pulling off the loose shirt he is wearing with all of the gratefulness he can muster. Each movement is exceptionally trained, from the way his thin fingers grasp the fabric of the shirt, to the way his muscles work when his back is bared. 

It’s how he was designed, ingrained into his very being to make the perfect product for his Mistress.

Ashtray does his best, as he always does for his Mistress, but it’s not enough. She doesn’t even look at him for more than a moment, doesn’t stop to appreciate the display she spent so much money on. 

With every second, Ashtray’s hope of doing something right, of earning her mercy dwindles and instead leaves him with the harrowing knowledge that he is failing at the single purpose of his life. 

But no matter his already insignificant feelings, no matter the fear that this is a Punishment, he has to behave. Obedience is his first and second nature. It doesn’t depend on rewards or Punishment or any of his Mistress’ graces. It just is. 

A good Ashtray is used but not noticed; a good Ashtray is still and silent. A good Ashtray doesn’t move even though he knows his Mistress is holding the metal rod into the fire. A good Ashtray doesn’t twitch in anticipation when his Mistress lays a hand on his bare shoulder to bend him over slightly for easier access. 

A good Ashtray doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even think when burning hot metal touches his skin for the first time, when his Mistress presses the edge into his skin and drags it down in a straight line and the fire follows–

He is a good Ashtray. He is a good Ashtray. He is a good Ashtray. He is a good Ashtray.

Really, this shouldn’t be too different from the cigarettes he was made for. But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot find the same comfort in the sizzling burning. It might not be a Punishment, his Mistress’ effort and care are too great for that, but it’s too close to one, with the cold glint in his Mistress’ eyes and her cutting voice.

Even now, one of her hands rests on his shoulder, maybe to keep him perfectly still, even though Ashtray would never move away from her, no matter if it's affection or a Punishment. With the other, she carves a design into Ashtray’s back, which is already full of perfect, round scars.

Mistress’ nails dig into his skin. Ashtray finds joy in whatever makes his Mistress happy, but somehow he thinks this isn’t an act of pleasure, not how it is supposed to be. Nevertheless, he wishes using him this way pleases her. 

There’s only a brief pause, in which his Mistress lifts the burning rod from his back and he dares to hope it may be over. But then it starts all over again.

This time, his Mistress takes her sweet time, tracing a circle on his back with precision, and Ashtray tries to cling to the underlying message that he has become her art piece. He still fulfils a purpose and that is more than he could ever wish for.

Yet, it is nearly impossible to form thoughts beyond the pain and the sizzling smell of his own burning flesh. Ashtray wonders if his Mistress smells it too, if it disgusts her or if she doesn’t care.

By the third time she lifts and brings down the fire again, Ashtray is barely here or there, stuck in his own body and trying to stop it from twitching or shivering. His back is burning, but his limbs feel deathly cold, and beads of sweat cover his forehead. 

His Mistress is drawing something, making her Ashtray into her canvas, each stroke filled with intention. He isn’t made for this but maybe it will make him pretty nonetheless. If he is pretty, he is worth more and that is half of his function. 

He is a good Ashtray, he is a great Ashtray, and he is burning.

Just as abruptly, his Mistress stops, or at least Ashtray thinks she does. Still, the fire lingers, eating itself down to his bones.

She stands up, leaving her Ashtray kneeling on the ground; The sound of her heels echoing through the hall. Only when the door closes behind her does Ashtray allow himself to gasp for air, shivering and trembling with exhaustion and pain.

Eventually, one of his Mistress’ servants comes to collect him. They know not to speak with him, it has no use, even though they sometimes try. He never understands them. Now, Ashtray can’t even muster up the strength to listen to the servant's hushed voice, as they pull him up and examine his back. 

He isn’t being used. No one but his Mistress and those with her explicit permission are allowed to use him. So –for once– it’s okay when he disappears into his own body for a while and into the numbness in which his consciousness is already being pulled.

Ashtray is nothing if not obedient. Ashtray is nothing.

And for a while, everything is muffled…

Halls, halls, then The Room. Alone then not. Bandages, but no cream. He must not have been good enough art then.

The disappointment that should be intertwined with that thought barely registers in Ashtray’s mind. He’s Art, he’s Ashtray and he is Nothing…

Eventually, as the pain dulls and melts into the background, Ashtray comes back. It is a relief to be a part of his own body again, to be conscious not only of pain but of his emotions. 

He checks his body but the bandages have already been taken off. Some part of him is thankful for the mindfulness of the servants, keeping his Mistress’ objects clean for her use.

The other part of him starts to feel curious about his Mistress’ artwork, the design she needed her Ashtray to portray for the rest of his existence. 

There is a mirror in The Room, where all of the precious objects are kept, to make sure they are presentable. Now, far removed from any person’s view, Ashtray dares to use it for his own little purpose.

He stretches, uncaring about how it pulls on the new burns, to get a good look. It must be beautiful if it was hand-drawn by his Mistress, and that alone is worth all of the pain. But to his dismay, the only thing he can see are letters. Three of them. 

Even though he recognises the letters, the word is another one of those mysteries that are unsolvable for mere objects like him, or maybe just him, and not for the first time does Ashtray wish he could understand. 

Nevertheless, he knows the word must be special if his Mistress deemed him worthy of it.

T.O.Y.

Whatever it means.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump let me know if you want to be added or removed

#i got stuck on this for a while #but i finally finished it :D #i hope you enjoy the suffering <3 #The Ashtray #ashtray/skye (oc) #lady whumper #conditioned whumpee #pet whump #pet whumpee #burns #branding #dehumanization #human ashtray #ashtray whump #ashtray whumpee #furniture whump #object whump #object whumpee #female whumper #whumpee and whumper #honey's writing

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The caretaker had thought the whumpee was as well as they could really be after they were really rescued, and while recovery would take a long time, the whumpee wasn’t too injured given the circumstances- at least that’s what they thought. As much as the whumpee tried their best to hide it, it was only a matter of time before the caretaker noted the large branding mark that the whumpee had been trying desperately to hide.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #past whump #branding #caretaker

[whumblr]

Duct tape

Finally finished! Just don't have a cool title but whatev, this covers it.

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

“I bumped into your neighbour this morning and he looked like death warmed up – bit like you do now,” Zayne pointed at Jay, “only more sniffly and red-nosed – and he looked like he couldn’t wait to have an early night. So I thought, well, that kinda puts a damper on things, doesn’t it.”

Jay followed him pacing about, not liking one bit where this was going. Especially since he was hiding something behind his back.

“Because I had plans for tonight,” Zayne continued, “And I don’t want to drag him out of bed to come up here and see what kind of bondage evening we’re engaged in.”

Not liking this one bit!

He finally got both hands from behind his back to reveal a roll of duct tape.

“So I got us precaution.”

“I’ve got some very nice speakers that can easily drown out any screams,” Jay tried, gesturing at the speaker towers and feeling his life going down the drain for even making such a suggestion.

“No, Jay, come on, the man’s sick, you can’t boombox him out of bed like that. No, this should do fine.”

“Since when do you possess empathy? You’d totally blast me out of bed like that.”

“Don’t make this anymore kinky, now.”

Zayne snapped forward and by backing away, Jay effectively helped in his own tackle. He stumbled back where Zayne’s leg was waiting to give him that nudge and he lost balance. Two fists in his shirt pushed his world upside down and, just before he smacked down, held him up inches above the floor to lessen the blow.

Out of concern for the wrong person.

Zayne grinned down on him, and then abruptly dropped him.

The soft drop flat on his back still forced out the breath he’d been holding.

“Now be a good, considerate neighbour and let the man have his peace.”

“Let me have my pea—” Jay started, but Zayne dropped on top of him, punching out the remnants of that sentence in an oof!.

He flinched at the sound duct tape being unrolled and watched as Zayne cut a piece with his teeth and tore it off.

Zayne held it out in both hands and inched closer down to Jay with a smile that would make serial killers bristle with envy.

“No no no wait!” He stretched out his hands, resting one against Zayne’s shoulder to keep him at bay. This felt like being restrained. His one defence mechanism taken away. Not so much a physical defence. Heck, tie his hands and it wouldn’t make much of a difference, not like he can fight Zayne off or try to stop it. But his voice taken away, his only means to make it stop through begging, the one thing that would at least make him pretend he didn’t just take what was doled out, his one means of fighting back. No.

“Don’t make me tape up your hands as well.”

Jay abruptly pulled his hands back.

The constant whispered stream of “nononono”s turned to an indignant hum and Zayne forced the single strip over his mouth.

“Oh, yes,” Zayne crooned. He held Jay’s face gently in his hands, cupping his cheeks and swirling both thumbs over the duct tape, smoothing the wrinkles out and pressing it into his skin. “This really brings out your eyes.”

The fear in his eyes, most likely.

Because what on earth did Zayne have in mind that he had to tape his mouth shut, what on earth was he planning that would hurt so fucking much that he would scream until his neighbour would call the alarm number?! What on—

His mind screeched to a halt when Zayne pulled his knife from his pocket.

And Jay found himself conflicted. He felt his body relax, because usually he could handle the knife. He could hold back on his screams when Zayne was carving him up, as he was forced to hold back and not cut too deep. Then again, if he was going for the same old, then why did he—

He tensed up when Zayne reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. Eyes went wide and he whimpered high in his throat as he watched Zayne pull out a lighter.

“You did well with the electricity. Time to level up to see how you handle the heat.” He flicked the lighter open, eyes fixed on Jay’s.

Jay wanted to fully tell him how he would handle the heat: not well. He wanted to scream and explain in full detail how not well he would handle this so there’d be no need to actively test it out. He already had the answer! But all that left his throat were panicky moans and distressed groans.

And going by the eager look in Zayne’s eyes – and his preparations – he knew exactly how not well this was going to go. But still, he was eager to see if Jay could prove him wrong.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

For a split-second Jay was glad for the duct tape, because he was sure his lips would have trembled at this.

Shaky fingers moved down and Jay nudged up on his elbows, glancing up at Zayne for permission, to pull his button-up away from under him. He’d rather it didn’t get caught in a fire. For… more reasons than one; reasons that wouldn’t just make Zayne roll his eyes.

He reached down to pull out his tee, but a hand on his chest encouraged him back down and Zayne settled back over him.

He protested when the knife cut into his collar and slowly carved its way down, cutting the shirt open – carelessly nicking a bit of skin on his stomach – and he let the cotton fall to the side to expose Jay’s bare torso.

“Shh, you got tons of white t-shirts. Besides, this one will be ruined anyway, with blood and cuts. And maybe…”

Jay drew up in panic as the lighter flicked on with a soft tchk, backing down again when Zayne brought the little flame closer to his face. Then, with a soft hum, he lowered it to Jay’s abdomen and held it to the tattered fabric of his t-shirt.

Jay whimpered hard as the fabric caught in the flame. He flailed and moved to put it out, but Zayne caught his hands.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, and watched Jay squirm, felt his hips buck against his knees, when the growing flame started nipping at his body.

Before it could grow to an uncontrollable size, Zayne squashed the flame out.

“Scary, hm?”

He scooted up a little, catching Jay’s waist in-between his knees.

“Don’t worry,” he crooned, “I’m not turning this into an open fire hazard.” And he raised the lighter, holding it under the blade.

Jay’s eyes went wide and he flinched at the little tchk and the little flame that popped up. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it, watching as Zayne held his knife above the flame. Zayne watched the flame with equal fascination, now slowly swirling the blade directly into the flame. His eyes snapped to Jay’s, catching every bit of fear as he turned the blade over.

He snuffed the little fire out and put the lighter back in his pocket. His now free hand rested over Jay’s wrist, pressing it painfully against the wooden floor.

Jay’s stomach tensed as the fiery blade teased down over his chest, u-turned under his belly button and moved back up over his abdomen. A path of uncomfortable, foreboding heat tingled over his skin, until Zayne held the knife over the side of his ribcage.

“No…” he tried. But with his lips firmly stuck together, he only managed to keep a distressed moan stuck in his mouth. The meaning was clear though and he hummed his protests, shaking his head.

The hand on his wrist tightened, knees settled firmly against his waist, ready for Jay to fly up.

And he pressed the flat of the blade abruptly over two ribs.

Jay howled. Best he could. His back arched and his body shot up, a full on somatic reflex to get away from the burning pain.

The hand on his wrist shot to his chest and Zayne leaned his full weight on him to keep him down. Jay took advantage and tried to claw at Zayne’s arm, to get him to back off. But Zayne didn’t let up; he blocked the flailing with his shoulder and used his full strength to keep Jay from fighting too hard and to keep the blade firmly against his skin.

His body writhed against Zayne’s legs, feet scrambling and attempting to kick off from under Zayne, a desperate attempt to squirm away. Panicked eyes shot to his ribcage.

His skin seared, it fucking sizzled. Pain burned through him, heat spread through his skin as if it too was trying to escape from under the blade, burning everything in its path.

Then after what felt like an eternity – but was more likely not longer than ten seconds –  Zayne ripped the blade away.

Jay’s shoulders fell back against the floor, his hands fell away from Zayne. Pain still lingered and crackled under the reddened skin, as if wanting to burst free. He breathed hard through his nose, taking long deep drags, unsuccessful in getting all his air back.

Luckily, Zayne gave him a small break to catch his breath. He let his palm hover over the burn. “Ooh, that’s hot. Like you absorbed all the heat.” He then let his fingers brush near the blade and hummed. “Well, not all of it. Once more.”

A groan of protest rose to something that would’ve been a screech if Jay’d been able to scream as the blade pressed over a new rib.

“Ah, see, that definitely would have woken someone up,” Zayne said with a wicked smile.

Well, now that he didn’t have to hold back anyway, Jay didn’t see any reason to not voice his pain. He squeezed his eyes shut against the biting pain. He twisted his body, trying to get away, but Zayne held him firmly in one place, caught a flailing hand and pinned painfully it under his knee.

“Careful, careful,” he muttered absentmindedly, as he pulled the knife away again.

Jay fell back, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he was nearing a limit, his body languid and slow as it burned through all adrenaline. But Zayne wasn’t finished yet. And the throbbing, searing pain turned sharp.

A hot line rested over his shoulder, and suddenly the heat pressed into his skin.

The knife slid deep with ease; fire followed every micro-inch along the way. The blade probably wasn’t as hot as before, but against the sensitive open cut, every bit was too much.

Jay frantically shook his head. He tried to beg, but his sounds for “Please!” and “No!” all sounded alike, all mingling into the same distressed pained cries.

At this point, even without the duct tape and with him full on begging, he doubted that Zayne would stop. Going by that inquisitive hum and the glint in his eyes, Zayne wasn’t done yet.

Skin parted easily, again and again, deeper than usual. Zayne now probably also figured out that he wouldn’t have to hold back as usual with the tape muffling Jay’s screams. Or maybe that had been the point of all this? Maybe he hadn’t felt like holding back tonight.

Only after several hot cuts were carved into his chest, his shoulder, ripped through the sleeve of his shirt down his arm, until the blade lost most of its fiery touch, did Zayne finally sit back.

Blood seeped out from the wounds, but not freely, almost like it had to be squeezed out. Still, Jay tensed when a drop tickled down his ribcage over the sensitive irritated burns. Zayne wiped it away with the fabric of Jay’s cut shirt and the friction of cotton against the burn made Jay wince hard.

Zayne’s fingers teased over his cheek, almost affectionately as his palm turned up and he ran his knuckles lightly over his cheekbone. Then, finally signalling the end of this session, his fingers brushed down and he started picking at the duct tape.

“Slow? Or in one go? Rip it off and you wouldn’t have to shave tomorrow. Or for a while even, maybe. Bonus.”

Jay grit his teeth and hummed twice.

“One go?”

Another hum.

“Okeydokey.”

A scream was pulled free along with the tape.

Zayne snorted softly and twisted his lips to hide a smile.

“What?” Jay snarled in-between gasps of breath.

“Nothing, nothing.” He pushed himself off of Jay and got to his feet. “Go apply some lotion, or something. This shouldn’t scar but treat it well.”

Jay too scrambled to his feet and hurried to the bathroom, tearing out his first-aid kit. He hissed as he applied cool lotion to the two burns, but it also instantly brought a relief that his body had been waiting for. And his mind as well; it had been screaming for water, for something to cool the burns, for anything that would prevent this from scarring and infecting and--

He glanced up in the mirror and he saw why Zayne had to laugh. The skin around his mouth and across his cheeks was all irritated, red and wrinkly from that goddamn duct tape. The red stood out against his pale skin and crossed a path over his mouth. A single stripe that made him look like a permanently annoyed and unimpressed Joker.

A level of annoyance certainly was present, but he wasn’t unimpressed…

Leaning heavily on the sink he stared, almost a little detached, at the cuts, the blood, and the discoloured burns, all demanding his attention.

He just really wanted to crash. Follow Hank’s example and go for an early night.

And he would.

-

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98 @scribbelle

#whump #whump writing #restrained whumpee #sadistic whumper #whumpblr #this is what too much forced arson does to a man #Is this unrealistic as fuck? yeah probly #do I care? not in the slightest #heated knife #light branding? if that's a thing #hiwthi #hiwthi drabbles #my writing