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melanie-ohara · 4 months

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In The Woods Somewhere - Chapter 2

Whumpuary2024, Day 06 - Prompt: Used as Bait

Sabine faces off against the bandit leader in a last ditch attempt to save her mortal enemy...

This one contains a lot of Making Stuff Up about those Peridean bandits, so one day it'll probably stop being canon compliant

AO3 here

Three hours earlier....

Shin's tent was cold, and she rubbed her balled fists against her chest to warm herself up as she crossed from her bunk to the wash basin. Behind her, she heard the flap open as Feldspar, the leader of the bandits, entered without asking. Shin ignored him for a moment and instead looked at her own face in the cracked mirror. She looked pale and tired, but that was no surprise. The last of her eyeliner was smudged and barely visible around her eyes. She considered using charcoal from the burnt-out fire but no matter how naked she felt without her warpaint, it made her skin itch after a few hours.

"Sister," Feldspar prompted, and Shin forced herself not to grimace. These men were descendents of the original Nightbrothers, and they were nothing like the zabrak colony that still existed on Dathomir: Shin had spent long enough around Morgan Elsbeth to know they were more like the witches of old. When she had first come to them, they had mistaken her ashen skin and pale hair for a Nightsister's, and she had never tried to correct them. It suited her purposes, but pretending to be a witch sickened her.

"Feldspar," she greeted coldly, without looking around.

The men had lost - or maybe never had - the ritual knowledge of their sisters, but they had an instinctive connection to the living Force Shin could barely comprehend, let alone match. Their ability to predict had led them to their quarry without fail, but their empathic telepathy was less helpful: Shin had to seal her mind from them to avoid giving herself away.

"Our enemies are near," Feldspar said. His voice slithered like rats over a corpse. "They threaten balance, and we must strike them down."

Shin had never been able to determine if that phrase meant that the Jedi and her pet Mandalorian threatened to destroy something the bandits protected, or threatened to bring balance to chaos. Peridea made no sense to her, not since Baylan had abandoned her to it and struck out on his own.

She shook her head. "My former Master is a greater threat now." Shin dipped her head and splashed cold water over her face. It washed off the last of her makeup, and she frowned at how young her reflection looked. How small.

Feldspar moved closer, until Shin could see him in the mirror. He wasn't wearing his helmet, and his grey skin and lipless mouth full of rows of spiked teeth were off-putting so early in the morning.

"We have the opportunity to end your Jedi now," he hissed insistently.

Shin tilted her head forwards a little to examine the dark roots of her hair. Before she could stop herself, she wondered if the purple-haired Mandalorian had any bleach.

Feldspar stepped into her personal space and came close to her ear. "Perhaps you can take it from her once she's dead ," he said, and Shin winced. Feldspar would have felt the curiosity in the thought, and the distinct lack of malice she held for Sabine Wren.

She turned to fix his sharp silver eyes with the hardest glare she could muster. "Fine," she said. "Prepare a war party."

Feldspar nodded and left, and Shin was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of foreboding.

Shin walked at the head of the formation, a step behind Feldspar. The bandits travelled in a loose group that looked random and disorganised at first glance, but was carefully calculated to maximise sightlines. The forest closed in around them, and Shin couldn't see far into the darkness around them. The Nightbrothers eyes' were better adapted to the dark and she was forced to rely on them to navigate. The feeling that had struck her in the tent had only grown the further they'd gone, and now it was balled up in her chest like a secret she could barely keep.

"Hold," Feldspar whispered. His voice was barely audible to Shin but the others all stopped, no matter how distant they were. Feldspar's eyes were closed against a vision - Shin could tell from the pale wisps of green smoke that flitted out from under his eyelids. "Here," he said, after a moment. "Scatter."

With a rustle of parting undergrowth, the bandits vanished into the darkness.

"We've tried an ambush before," Shin pointed out. It was cold and dark and the anxiety was making her irritable. Baylan would have chided her for being unfocused. She wished she couldn't think like him.

"Not with bait," Feldspar said, and Shin's lightsaber was in her hand and ignited before she had even processed the thought screaming in her head. The Nightbrother was ready for her though, and grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, forcing the blade out and away. "I am sorry, Sister," he said, and a white heat filled Shin's stomach as his blade forced its way inside. "But a bird will fly to a dying wolf."

Shin coughed. It didn't hurt, not yet. She knew it would, once the shock had passed and her brain caught up with her body, but she had a few seconds to bring up her free hand and hurl Feldspar into a tree hard enough to break his neck. Her arm refused to obey her. She glanced down and saw the cursed green tendrils of witch magic curled around the blade. She couldn't even spit in his face as he yanked the blade free and shoved her down to the ground. Pain battled with fury and hate as Feldspar reached down to pick her lightsaber up from where it had fallen.

Now....

Sabine grabbed her helmet from Shin's side and put it back on, turning as she got back to her feet to face the bandit leader stepping out of the shadows. The familiar sound of Shin's lightsaber igniting pierced the air and the orange light glittered in the rain as he advanced on her slowly.

"That doesn't belong to you," Sabine told him as she unhooked her only lightsaber and switched it on. She had barely found her guard position when the bandit surged forwards faster than Sabine thought possible and struck for her head. She twitched her hands up to block his strike and tried to use the pull of the blades to open his guard. The bandit yanked Shin's blade free of the lock and stabbed forwards, forcing Sabine to hop back a step and swing her lightsaber down and out in a weak block that opened up her left side. She struck out to get some breathing room, but it was wide and predictable and he easily countered.

This was bad.

The bandit was forcing her back, step by step, as each of his strikes forced her into a stance that gave him an opening to attack again. Before she could even hope to find an opening, the bandit leader forced her lightsaber out of the way and lined up a shot that would take her head. Sabine tried to lift her left hand to take the blade on her vambrace, but she knew before she moved it would be too late.

Or it would have been, if the bandit's lightsaber hadn't stuck in the air like it had hit a rayshield.

Stunned, Sabine stared at Shin. The fight had pushed her back past her prone form until she was behind the bandit leader, only now she was sitting up and reaching out, clamping the Force tight around her own lightsaber blade and holding it in place.

Her face was contorted with agony as her other hand gripped at her guts. "Kill him!" she screamed.

Rallying, Sabine swung her lightsaber down to slice through his wrist. Shin's hilt dropped from his severed hand and before he could even scream Sabine raised her foot and booted him hard enough in the chest to send him sprawling into the mud. Before she could move back to Shin, blaster fire erupted out of the trees around her. Sabine managed to catch a few bolts with her blade before they started to impact her beskar. Her visor glowed with red and orange cutting sizzling paths through the rain and within seconds she was overwhelmed. She dropped her lightsaber as she dropped to her knees, just managing to wrap her forearms around her abdomen below the protection of her chestplate. She knew it wouldn't be long before one of their shots found a gap - and even if they didn't, beskar wouldn't hold up forever. Eventually the steel would collapse, and she would die. She glanced over at Shin, and through the blur of colour she saw that she was out cold.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

She felt the rush of the Force moving around her before she saw what was happening. Ahsoka, resplendent in her bright white robes, landed between her and the blaster fire. Her saber erupted into life and whirled in a tightly controlled circle, deflecting bolts into the trees. Sabine's lightsaber shot off the ground by her knee and into Ahsoka's free hand.

"Go!" her Master shouted back at her. "Get her to Huyang!"

Sabine stared for a half-second as Ahsoka started advancing, a tornado made of light swirling around her and turning the rain to steam. She shook herself and grabbed a blaster in one hand as she ran, bent low, to Shin's side. She was still breathing, but barely, and Sabine scooped her into her arms as gently as she could with blaster bolts churning up the mud around them. She wrapped one arm around Shin's back and supported her knees with her other forearm, keeping her blaster gripped tightly as she stumbled back the way she had come.

She couldn't protect Shin like this, and her heart was in her throat the entire desperate sprint towards the sunlight bleeding through the edge of the forest. She nearly fell twice, and forced herself to slow down a little. Behind her, she could still hear Ahsoka fighting the bandits back, and wished she could turn back and help her. Shin, her mortal enemy, needed her more than her ally now, though, so she pressed on.

Relief almost made Sabine scream: Mirshko was waiting for them, already kneeling so they could clamber on. Ahsoka must have brought him when she followed her. Sabine lifted Shin onto Mirshko's back, dimly aware of how light she was compared to the last time they had tangled before she forced thoughts about how malnourished the other woman was out of her head. Gaping stomach wound first, she thought as she swung her leg over Mirshko's back and clicked her tongue. He rose to his feet under her as she wrapped her arms around Shin's waist to keep her close, and then kicked her heels into the Howler's flank. They left the battle behind, and sprinted towards the T6.

Shin woke slowly and painfully. Her insides were on fire and her head throbbed at the over-bright ceiling lights. Panic set in when she didn't recognise the room she was in, and she tried to cry out through a parched and scratched throat. All she managed was a hoarse grunt, but it got the attention of whoever was in the room with her.

"Lady Hati," a blurry grey and white shape said, in a voice that Shin guessed was meant to be soothing. "Please relax."

Shin tried to reach out and crush it with the Force, but her arms were bound to the bed and no amount of straining would break their hold, not while she was so weak. She screamed again, and this time managed a cracked and broken howl.

"The bindings are for your own safety, as well as mine," the droid explained. "Lady Wren extends her apologies. In fact, perhaps I should fetch her."

Shin barely heard the droid, and ignored the sound of the door opening and closing, focusing instead on blinking her eyes into focus. Once she could see, she could block out the pain, and once she could block out the pain, she could escape her bindings, and then she could slaughter her way out.

She shook her head as her vision cleared, and a smudge of colour caught her eye. On the wall by the bed, someone had drawn a lothcat. She recognised it from the first time she had met Sabine Wren, underneath that transmission tower so long ago. So far away. The drawing was close to where her hands were bound, and she could just trace the edges of them with one of her fingers if she stretched it. It was the Mandalorian's handiwork, that was clear, and she realised with a strange spike of a feeling she had no name for that she was lying in her bed. She remembered Feldspar spearing her and leaving her for dead. She remembered Sabine. She had stared up into her warm brown eyes as rainwater ran down out of her hair and wondered how she had ever wanted to kill her.

"Shin?"

It was her. She didn't need to turn her head to know, though she had never heard her voice strain that way before. She didn't know what she could possibly say and kept her eyes fixed on the lothcat drawing on the wall rather than face those eyes again.

Sabine looked down at her. Without a bacta tank, Huyang had assured her his surgery skills could save her life and banished her from her own room while he knitted her back together. Shin looked so weak it was hard to believe she could ever be dangerous. Sabine knew she was, even now, tied down and wracked by pain, but it didn't stop her. She pulled the desk chair over from the other side of the room and sat down at Shin's side.

"I'm going to stay here," she said softly, when Shin still refused to take her eyes off the little drawing of Murley on the wall. Cautiously, she rested her hand on Shin's wrist. It reminded her of the way Shin had led her around on Elsbeth's ship when she was a prisoner, and hoped Shin would be able to take something of the same strange comfort she had felt from her then.

After a long moment, Shin nodded.

#wolfwren #sabine x shin #sabine wren #shin hati #star wars #ahsoka #writing #fanfic #ahsoka series #huyang #ahsoka theories #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #used as bait #shin hati needs a hug

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whumpitlikeyoumeanit · 4 months

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whump prompt 103

Whumpee is used as bait in a trap for Wumper's real target. When the trap is sprung, Target resists and Whumpee is injured in the crossfire.

#whump #whump prompt #whumpee prompt #used as bait #whumper doesn't care about whumpee

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whumperofworlds · 4 months

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Every time that trope comes up in whump, you'll hear a woman (me) squealing from across the world.

#whump #whump memes #used as bait

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tildeathiwillwrite · 4 months

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Whumpuary 2024 No. 3

Used as Bait | Stumbling | "This is gonna hurt"

Whumpuary Prompts List

TW: hostage, captured, guns, threats, tied up

Consciousness returned slowly. Whumpee blinked blearily, confused. They were in a dim, unfamiliar room. They were tied to a chair with coarse ropes, their hands bound behind their back and their feet tied snugly to the chair’s legs. The side of their head throbbed, and something warm and wet ran down their neck. In a flash, Whumpee remembered getting jumped and struggling before a burst of pain in their head and then… here.

The only light came from behind them, throwing long shadows that obscured much of the room. Large wooden crates were stacked on both sides, making the room appear smaller than it was. The wall across from Whumpee had a massive cargo door with a blinking red light. Behind them, Whumpee could vaguely hear footsteps and voices.

“...preparations are complete,” one of them was saying. “All we have left to do is wait.”

“Is the hostage secured?”

Whumpee gritted their teeth, their stomach churning from fear as the shadows of those speaking came into view. The hair raised on the back of their neck as they imagined the speakers’ eyes on them.

“Yes, but they’ve probably woken up by now.”

A beat of silence.

And the sudden crack of a gunshot. Air whooshed centimeters from Whumpee’s head, and the bullet glanced off the brick wall with the sound of shattering rock. Whumpee flinched away instinctively. The chair tipped sideways. Whumpee envisioned it slamming into the floor, their skull colliding with the hard concrete and cracking with a sound not unlike the gunshot—

Before any of that could happen, someone from behind pulled them back. “Well…” they said, a hint of amusement in their voice, “the hostage is definitely awake now.”

“W…” Whumpee stammered, their heartbeat pounding in their ears, “where am I? Why am I tied up?”

The person who had saved them from falling spun the chair around and bent down to get at Whumpee’s eye level. “Look, Whumpee,” Whumper said as if they were speaking to a small child, “I know this is all so confusing to you, but it’ll all be over soon. We just need Caretaker to come for you, and we blow the both of you to pieces.”

Whumpee’s mouth went dry. “Wha…what? What did we…?”

Whumper smiled almost in a consoling, sympathetic manner. “I’m sorry you don’t understand. But I need you to be a good little hostage now, alright?” They pulled back their fist. “Don’t worry, this is gonna hurt a lot.”

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #used as bait #this is gonna hurt #my writing #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #captivity #captive whumpee #tied up #restrained

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whumpy-bi · 10 months

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Whumper/Caretaker Dialogue Prompt

“Watch it, watch it! We’ve got your little friend, you know.”

“…What?”

#whump #whumpee #writing #whump writing #caretaker #whump thoughts #whumper #dialogue #kidnapping #whump prompt #used as bait #used as leverage #protective caretaker

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brainrotlesbian · 7 months

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Whump thoughts

I love the trope of “used as bait” in whump. Love, love, love it. There’s so much you can do with it. Is whumpee used as bait for a friend? An enemy? Family? If it’s for an enemy, who wants to get their hands on the enemy? Is whumper more powerful than the enemy, willing to go against both people?

A physically weak/smaller whumpee used as bait for someone stronger, and they know what their purpose is but can’t prevent a rescue attempt. The moment they see their rescuer they try to argue or tell them something’s wrong, only to be gagged or not listened to, so they can only sit back and watch the plan fall apart. Or maybe they aren’t aware of their role and are so relieved to be rescued only for their would-be rescuer to be captured with them.

Or maybe it’s a stronger whumpee who’s a cornerstone of a team or has vital information so rescue is inevitable, and seeing them beat down and nearly broken is a huge morale killer. Even if a rescue is successful, things will never be the same because whumpee is a traumatized shell of their former self.

And the types of restraints that could be used. Chains, ropes, tape, anything. Maybe whumper has whumpee blindfolded so they can’t see any rescuers and can only hear them. Or maybe they’ve been blindfolded and have noise-cancelling headphones on so they can never tell if a touch from someone is from whumper or a potential rescuer. Whumpee being gagged so even if they can see/hear any rescuers, they can’t warn them of the danger.

Is whumpee even really there or is it a trick? Maybe it’s a projection, a shapeshifter, an illusion, whatever it is that it’s not actually whumpee, and the rescuer(s) fall right into the trap to be captured. Maybe whumpee is watching from their own spot, be it in the same room/building or watching from a video/spell/whatever that allows them to watch the trap being sprung in real time.

Maybe there are multiple whumpees, where whomever arrives to rescue them has to choose who to save, whether they’re aware of it or not. Perhaps one whumpee is a lover/partner, and another is a family member (parent, child, cousin, niece/nephew, etc), and the rescuer can’t bare to chose who to save, so whumper chooses for them. Or the rescuer actually chooses with whumper having no intention of harming either whumpee, and instead watches as their relationships crumble.

There’s just so much potential with this trope and I am terrible at putting it into words properly

#whump #whump thoughts #used as bait #whump tropes

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pigeonwhumps · 16 days

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Capture

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

WoW birthday event: used as bait | held for ransom | "it's a trap!"

Erik invites Cedric and his slave around for the evening.

1.9k

CWs: slavery, beating, whipping, non-consensual nudity (non-sexual), captivity, whumper pov, use of the word 'bitch', punching, bruises, drinking, drugging

Cedric yanks open the door to the boiler cupboard and claps his hands together twice, sharply. The eyes of the choppy-haired girl curled up on the hard floorboards snap open and she scrambles out, not quite fast enough to avoid the encouraging kick to her lower back.

"Look sharp, Savannah. Erik's invited us round this afternoon and I need you to look better than that."

He looks Savannah up and down. She's only ever allowed to wear black tank tops, shorts and either a bra or binder when they're at home, and her hair is still mangled from when she was a little bitch and hacked it off (she doesn't dare do that anymore). Her appearance isn't entirely her fault, but he does love how much she shrinks when he comments on it.

"Yes, sir."

"Follow me then. Quickly now."

Savannah bows low and follows hot on his heels. He doesn't look back - she doesn't need it anymore. He unlocks the door to her small bathroom, containing a toilet, sink, cold shower, and very little else. The only lock is a deadbolt on the outside. The plumber had looked at him oddly when he'd had it installed.

"Shower. Dress. Kitchen in five minutes."

She shuts the door, and he strolls to the kitchen, sinking down onto the worn chair. It's early afternoon already. He'll have Savannah make him a sandwich, then they can set off.

Five minutes later almost exactly, Savannah enters the room. Her hair is shinier now, and she's in a cute little blouse, cardigan and skirt.

"That's better. Ham sandwich and then you can take the beers to the car. I hope for your sake it's tidier this time."

"Yes sir."

Savannah fixes a quick sandwich, before bracing herself and hefting the large case of beers into her arms, staggering slightly at its weight. Cedric smirks, watching her legs. She has wood nymph blood in her, as much as anyone does these days. He's glad he bought this particular broken girl from Erik to be trained as his slave, even if she's had a few relapses.

She's waiting by the jeep when he gets there, perfectly poised with her hands behind her back and eyes on the ground. Cedric looks inside the jeep. Then he turns back to stare at her.

"Really, Savannah? Does this look clean to you?"

She hesitates. "Yes, sir?"

He cuffs her hard around the head. "Try again."

"No, sir."

"Better. You can clean it and receive a suitable punishment later. For now, get in the back. You won't get any dirtier there than in the rest of this vehicle."

Savannah obeys, climbing inside with the case of beer, hugging her legs.

It's a bumpy journey, and Cedric relishes every one, knowing Savannah is suffering for her sloppiness. Stupid girl.

Savannah staggers a little upon exiting, legs probably stiff, but lifts the beers without complaint. Cedric smiles. Her eyes don't even flicker towards the trees anymore. Erik broke her well.

Cedric rolls his eyes at Erik's ring doorbell as he presses it. He has cameras everywhere, it's so excessive.

Kieran, Erik's slave, opens the door, scrambling backwards to usher them in but not in time to avoid Cedric's punch to the chest. He strides past him as the boy doubles over.

Savannah's footsteps don't falter behind him. Good.

"Show us the way, then, Kieran. Unless you want your owner to think we had to do it ourselves?"

Kieran scrambles in front of Cedric and Savannah, still winded. Cedric smiles. He still resents the fact that Savannah is more afraid of Erik than him, her owner, but he can't take it out on Erik. The boy however...

Erik smiles as they all enter.

"Cedric! It's been too long. I'm glad to see you still have the slave I sold you, it would be a shame never to see her again. She was prettier with long hair, but each to their own. Leave us a few beers and put the rest in the fridge. And fetch the snacks, both of you."

"Yes sir."

The boy just nods. He hasn't changed much since they last met up, wearing a t-shirt and trousers with long, dark, twisty hair, with a few extra bruises. Erik has never avoided the face.

Cedric plops himself down on the leather couch and accepts a beer, taking a long swig. "Cheers."

Erik smirks. "Savannah giving you a hard time?"

"Nah. Hard week at work. I'll get her to give me a massage or something. How's your boy? Misbehaving?"

Erik shrugs. "Entertainment. And he needs reminders sometimes. All slaves do."

"Still don't regret keeping him?"

"Never will. Even the special projects I rarely keep, but I trained him perfectly for my needs and he's excellent. I'll need a new special project soon though. The space is looking rather sad without one."

The slaves come back in, carrying a plate of tortilla chips and another of dips. Cedric tries some and grins. The fear in both slaves' eyes is the perfect complement.

"Yeah, okay, I see what you like about him." He takes another swig of beer. "What shall we play?"

Erik throws his controller across the room. The slaves both duck, Kieran not quite managing in time as it grazes the top of his head. Savannah steadies him.

Cedric is well past tipsy and heading towards totally sloshed. He must've drunk more than he thought.

He snaps his fingers sloppily. "Girl, beer."

"Yes, sir." She obeys, pressing one into his hand. He drinks as much as he can in one gulp and then dumps the rest of the can over her. "Oops. Must be time for strip poker."

Erik smiles. "Kieran, fetch the cards and deal."

Kieran does so. They have... roughly the same amount of clothes, it's fine.

Erik loses the first hand.

"Clothes off, Kieran. M'choice. Top."

The boy pulls his t-shirt off. He turns his back, as is traditional, and Cedric whistles, sobering up slightly. The criss-cross of scars, the colours and textures and areas where they meet and overlap... it's beautiful. Amazing work.

"How did you create that?"

"Trade secret. Maybe I'll show you one day."

Oh, he'd love that.

The game passes in a bit of a blur after that. He knows his slave ends up completely naked, serving drinks and snacks with the same poise she had before, and then the boy removes the last of his underwear because it's only fair. He knows that he confesses to Savannah's occasional bitchy fits and, with encouragement, beats her clumsily with Kieran's belt.

"Hey, Cedric, what do you say I show you my special project workshop? You keep asking."

"Surreee."

"Kieran, help me get him upright. I don't think he can stand properly." Erik mutters something Cedric can't make out. Kieran obeys, and the floor seems to sway and swirl under Cedric's feet but somehow the slaves are staying upright.

He envies that.

It's only Erik with him now, who pulls an arm around his shoulders to help move him along. It's… it should be cold outside. Should it? He isn't.

There's a shed that feels so far away. He blinks, watching it blur. No, there's two sheds. Odd. Do sheds usually duplicate?

Then he's inside the shed. It's darker in there, things he can't make out. It feels unnatural. A shiver runs down his spine.

He wants to leave, suddenly, he'd much rather see it in daylight. His knees buckle before he can do anything about it.

“Finally,” mutters Erik from somewhere far away. “I thought you were never going to succumb.”

Cedric's vision finally goes, and with that the rest of the world.

Cedric wakes.

His head throbs like he's been on the biggest bender of his life. His knees hurt too, and his arms are numb. Must've been a hell of a night.

Doesn't feel like he's anywhere comfortable though. Where is he?

“Oh, finally! You're awake!”

The voice is too loud, but he recognises it and forces his eyes open, trying to figure out where it's from. Maybe he had someone over last night.

But then… he visited Erik, didn't he?

There's a dark silhouette moving around the dimly-lit room, and then his head pounds, eyes burning as a bare bulb flicks on directly above him.

The floor is bare earth, a pile of cages and tools in one corner. Cedric's on his knees, arms suspended above his head, naked except for what looks like a hospital wristband but black and sturdier.

Erik's in front of him, wearing a grin unsettlingly past ecstatic.

“What the hell?”

“You wanted to see my special project shed. This is it.”

Cedric growls. “I'm not your fucking ‘special project’. Let me down.”

Erik clucks his tongue. “You know better than to make demands. I'll let you down when I'm good and ready.”

Cedric snarls. Why's he even here? He's not a slave, he's not one of those pathetic losers fool enough to be captured by Erik. He's not weak or cowardly, like they are, he wouldn't let himself be broken and kept.

Wouldn't let himself get taken.

Hang on a fucking second.

“Did you drug me?”

“Took you long enough to cotton on. I always thought you were at least a little smarter than that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now, now. That's not how we do things around here. And I don't give adjustments periods. Let me show you my baby.” Cedric narrows his eyes as Erik crosses behind him and comes back carrying a long, braided rope, split into nine in the middle. And each of the nine strands is in itself braided with–

“Fucking shards of glass?”

“I said I'd show you how I made Kieran’s scars. Quite something, isn't she? She's mostly reserved for my special projects, unless a regular victim gets too cocky. Lucky you, getting to experience her first-hand.”

Cedric responds by grasping the ropes tight and struggling to his feet. There isn't much to hold onto but he manages to get his legs under him, standing shakily. He needs to get out of here. And then he can get his bitch back and rain down hell on Erik and the boy for all of this. Admittedly he's not sure what the boy has to do with it apart from having the misfortune of being here at the time, but Cedric is still going to give him hell for it.

And then his legs are kicked back out from under him and he collapses back to the ground.

“You're going to be fun.”

Fun, thinks Cedric. Yeah. But why does Erik want him? Everyone's fun to break. Savannah has forest nymph blood, Kieran's part ceasg, but Cedric's completely human. Nobody buys full-blooded humans from Erik, that's not his business model.

Erik pulls him back to his feet and pushes him against a stout wooden pole that Cedric had been wondering about, tying his arms around it tightly. He growls, struggling.

“Temper, temper. We'll break that from you. Gotta say, I haven't been this excited about a special project in a long time.” He flexes the whip a little. “What do you say we get started? We need to figure out your baseline tolerances, so this whipping is going to be a little different. I'll keep going until you can't take any more. And I'd usually bring in someone newly-broken for this part, as a test, but I thought you'd like to see a familiar face. Meet Megan.”

Cedric hadn't heard anyone behind him – curse the customarily-silent wood nymph footsteps – but then Savannah comes into view. She's clean again, any injuries hidden, in a fitted t-shirt and long shorts.

“You look disgusting,” he snarls. She shrinks backwards, arms not quite coming up to hug herself but not quite not, either.

“Megan, get a grip. Take a seat. It's this man's whipping, not your own.”

“You can't just go changing my slave's name!” he cries, outraged. “And my name is Cedric.”

“She isn't yours anymore. Nor is that your name. Your *number* is now 197, until I sell you and then it's their decision. Now, let's start with your baseline whipping tolerance. Megan, do not lose count.”

Despite the humiliation, Cedric smirks at her. He's going to take that as a challenge.

From her seat on the dirt floor, Megan flinches but looks up at him determinedly, fear-filled eyes focused just off to his right. That's where Erik must be standing, then.

The whip hisses through the air and Cedric has a split-second warning before all nine ends land on his back.

All the breath is forced out of him and he arches his back. The glass tears into him, shredding the skin and flesh even beyond what the rope alone can do.

“One.”

“Louder, sweetheart, I need to know. It's not your whipping.”

The next hit is harder, rope abrasive, skinning, glass digging into flesh where the skin’s already gone. It rips a scream from his throat, one that should surely bring people running.

“T-two.”

“Better.”

Cedric gives up listening after that. If his bitch of a slave is allowed to sit and watch while he's whipped, Erik isn't likely to say anything sensible. He'll have to be alone before he can do anything.

But he's out cold well before that.

#whump #whump writing #wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 11 #used as bait #multiple whumpees #multiple whumpers #slavery whump #lady whump #uh oh these ocs wont leave my mind #help #lore too

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