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string-of-broken-hearts · 4 years

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Broken

This is a drabble centered around Alistair just being broken in, a little drabble of pre-pet Alistair

Tw: death mention, non-con mention, branding, slave mentality, abuse, possessive whumper

“I finally broke it.” Master said, sneer plastered all over his face. Alistair wasn’t as lucky…

They were harshly thrown to the ground and in disgust, were given a sharp kick to the side. Tears lined their eyes, but Alistair knew better than to cry. And so, they took it. With their pride being smashed to the ground in humility.

The people in the audience Master had gathered together in spite and pride just sat and watched, the laughter ringing around in their ears. Wallowing in misery, Alistair was completely helpless as they were put on display.

Master quickly smashed his shoe’s heel down on their face, smushing what little cheek they had against the floor.

“Behold. The filth of the earth, the very scum that crawls under our feet.” Master said, grinding his heel against their forehead. Alistair’s eyes bolted to the ground, trying to remember their training. Good mutts didn’t deserve eye contact. That was reserved for people alone. Not filthy wretches.

Shame burned it’s way onto their face, feeling the stare of Master’s guests boring holes into them. Alistair’s stomach lurched from the shame. The only thing preventing them from throwing up was the fear of punishment.

With one last sharp press, Master removed his foot from off of their head, pushing them to the side. He walked to the other side of the room, eyes never leaving Alistair.

Master snapped his fingers twice, making the trembling slave whine and jolt to get into the proper positioning.

Scrambling into a stress position in the mere hopes of release, they bowed their head as tears finally did start slipping out of their eyes.

People started to walk up to them and gaze at the broken property infront of their eyes. Seeing Alistair’s tears, laughter quickly filled the room. Several people poked and prodded while others just stared. And some of the brave ones started to kick and punch them.

Alistair didn’t break positioning, just flinching and gasping to catch their fleeing breath. They were strong, but their tears quickly disproved that theory. They hadn’t stopped until Master patted his leg. He was safe. He would save them. Or at least, they thought and hoped and prayed.

Master pat again, impatient as ever. They nearly ran to him, getting there in the blink of an eye. He chuckled and tugged their hair to meet his eyes. They stared up at Master as if he was their world. And in fact, he was.

He gave a sharp tug, ripping and tearing some strands out. They had forgotten an important rule. Only people got eye contact. Not “things” and “its”.

Gasping, they quickly tore their eyes away, face as red as a lobster. Why couldn’t they ever do anything right? They would surely receive a week in the out for that. They hated the out. They liked the in. The in was safe and warm without bugs and filth and wind and cold and grass and rain and thunder.

The guests didn’t give a fuck, just watching with amused eyes. Master had always enjoyed entertaining. And Alistair was the perfect centerpiece. Worst yet, everyone knew it…

Didn’t matter what they wanted or needed, their whole job was to stay quiet and stay seen and not heard like a good little mutt was to do.

They immediately flinched and curled into themself, white cold fear drowning the red hot shame away. They knew it wasn’t safe when Master pulled out his favorite toy from a nearby side table.

They whined and started to back up, trying to escape from the brand. Their body was already decorated with the mayor’s brand all over. They didn’t want more. They didn’t need more. It hurt, especially when the sound of sizzling, burning flesh filled the room.

Master tsked before opening his mouth to speak. “Today is a momentous occasion. Today’s the day I broke it.” He said, a grin stretching from ear to ear. He waved his hand out dramatically to them, as if showing the “before” part of before and after.

“Come.” Master yelled sharply, he didn’t have time for the pets doddling. They crawled over to his feet, limbs curling into their sides with shame. Alistair’s head was shoved down, meaning only one thing. And they knew it.

Alistair shakily planted a kiss on Master’s shoes before licking them until he kicked them and walked off to heat the brand. Master quickly left the room with his guests, knowing full well they would have some fun of their own. Alistair would have nothing near fun.

Alistair knew all of this was wrong and degrading, but there wasn’t anything they could do. And, like Master said, they were finally broken. No longer a human, but an object to hurt and an object for pleasure. They painfully accepted their fate. They were worthless anyway, at least Master was kind enough to put them in their place and remind them of what they truly were- an abomination. A horrible, disgusting monster.

No one could ever love a monster. So they were lucky they weren’t put to sleep or abandoned to live a life of shame. At least now they were useful. Well, to an extent. And they could not be more thankful to Master for saving them from that.

Alistair started to crawl into the deep parts of their mind, removing themself from reality as the guests did what they wished to their heart's content.

A piece of trash doesn’t deserve privacy or boundaries or wants or needs, so they dared not speak up as the guests did unspeakable things to their body.

When Master finally did return, he was pissed. At both Alistair and his guests. He got like this when he was triggered. It was scary because he took it out on Alistair, no one else.

Brand in hand, he waved it around in the air near his guests, face red with anger. He started spewing hateful word after hateful word, anger, bitterness, and trauma hardening his heart.

The guests thought it was the funniest thing ever, laughing at the supposed tease. That just made him yell more, his yelling soon turned screams. He demanded the guests leave.

They weren’t ready to, not when they didn’t get what they deserved. If Alistair wasn’t going to get hurt, someone had to. That someone was Master.

The guests, in a pain fueled wave of fury and excitement, tackled Master to the ground and flipped him. They cut his shirt and pressed the brand down sharply.

Screaming and kicking and crying, he pleaded and begged for Master Damien to stop. The guests didn’t know his past, and he was determined to keep it that way, but tonight unraveled his plans.

Alistair screamed when Master did, feeling their own pain flare up. They grabbed Master and held him close, growling at the people, refusing to let him go.

The guests just tore them away from Master, planting the brand on them too. Alistair screamed out for the pain to stop, feeling the red hot burning tearing their skin apart. Feeling the effects of the open air stinging it when the crowd had finally got what they wanted.

They collapsed on the ground in tears and shame, waiting for further punishment. Why couldn’t Master get it over with already? Why was he dragging it out?

They didn’t know that the guests had long since gone and no one was going to hurt them further. Master had managed to leave the room quite a while back, taking an ice bath to heal the burn. He was hurt and angry.

No more parties. He was ashamed of how he reacted, and hating Alistair for not taking the pain in his place. He didn’t deserve it. They did. Slaves took the pain. Not Masters. That was very obvious.

Today was supposed to be a good day. Today was supposed to celebrate his accomplishment of breaking them, but in the end, the only broken one was him. Master Damien had done his job well.

He cussed loudly, throwing glass bottles against the wall, reveling in the shattering it caused.

He got out of the bath and threw on some pajamas pants, walking to the living room where his party was hosted.

Wincing when he saw Alistair’s broken state, he tsked. They lay limp on the floor, twitching every so often. It was clear they had been pushed to the limit. Considering, it wasn’t even Master who branded them. The crowds were harsh and reckless.

The guests had done numerous other things when Master had left, it was unclear exactly what had happened, but Master’s torture tools were strewn about the room and blood was quickly seeping into the carpet.

He walked over and poked them with his foot, seeing if they’d respond at all. He frowned, the only response he received was a whimper and a tremble. What was wrong with them?

They didn’t know, they didn’t care. They only wanted the pain and fear to leave. But, Master was never one to comfort. Plus… why would he? They didn’t deserve it. Comfort was for people. Alistair’s whole job as Master’s slave was to be a play thing to hurt. Nothing more.

He crouched down and eventually lowered into a sitting position. They would pay dearly for not protecting Master. He was determined to make them hurt.

He just watched them, taking in such a broken person, however, he’d never admit to them being a person. They weren’t after all.

After a good bit of stroking and possessiveness, he dragged them by their hair and threw them into the hallway that held the shoes and leashes.

A loud whine escaped their lips, unable to control their responses anymore. They needed a break from the pain. They were falling apart. But Master knew best… if he wouldn’t help them than they clearly didn’t need it.

Master just rolled his eyes and scoffed at their helplessness. They winced and crawled over to his feet, kissing them as best as they could. He leaned close and pet their hair, opening his mouth to whisper something.

“You worthless slut, are going in the out. How dare you ruin my big day. I will break you a billion times over again until you learn your lesson.” He said, throwing them back.

Alistair’s eyes grew wide with fear, clinging to his legs in one last hopeless attempt at salvation from the god above, determining their every move, every thought, every feeling. Master was no god, but in both their and his eyes, he was.

He shook them off, flinging them to the side and sharply snaping his fingers. They were slower than before, a little groggy and dissociated with reality.

They tried to get into a kneeling position, but failed miserably. They collapsed in a disappointing heap on the ground and passed out.

Master growled at their incompetence and hastily attached a metal leash to a choker collar he tightly slid on their neck.

They didn’t need it, of course, but bad slaves always got them. They were used to not being able to breathe anyway.

He tied the leash to a tree and threw them out, wiping his hands to rid himself of them. Alistair jolted awake with the chilling wake up the snow gave them. They were barely clothed and were very vulnerable with blood loss.

Alistair scrambled over to the tree and curled against its trunk in fear, hoping for some sort of comfort. They received none as the sun started to set on their shivering, isolated body.

#whumpee #whumper #whump #alistair #atlas #slave mentality #slavery #branding #non con mention #death mention #abuse #dehumaination

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