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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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Drabble: Eat Your Heart Out

UH... yeah I had a rough week and decided to take it out on a nameless whumpee. Enjoy! this is REALLY FUCKED please heed warnings

CW: Autocannbalism!!!!!, GORE!!!!, Sadistic whumper, implied drugging, restraints, scapels, ummm medical whump?? kinda?? maybe?? idk?? general fuckedupness of my drabbles I guess. __

They were strapped down, wrists, ankles, knees, waist, neck and forehead all held by soft leather straps. The irony of it was that whumpee wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable. They just wanted to be able to move. But everything seemed fuzzy, they tried to remember why they were here, but couldn’t quite paint a clear picture. They had been walking to their car.. and then everything went black. Now they laid here, staring at an artificial light that seemed all too bright. Everything was too bright and the smell of cleaning supplies burned their nose. It wasn’t enough to wake them from the dreamlike state they were in. It was all a bit too unreal for them to truly register. They closed their eyes for a second and when they opened them again, someone stood over them. “Hello Whumpee. Remember me?”

Whumpee thought hard and forgetting their restraints tried to shake their head. “Oh that’s okay darling, I figured it would be hard for you. You and I met a long time ago. Once. You said that you would wait for me.” Whumper moved from Whumpee’s line of sight and they tried desperately to remember what they were talking about. The thoughts in their mind moved slowly and they whimpered slightly.

“Please.. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where am I? What..” They were cut off when something cold touched their lips. It took them a second to realize that it was a scapel. Whumpee’s lips remained firmly closed. Even as Whumper, slid the flat of the blade against their lips, down their chin, neck and stopping in the middle of their sternum. “Shhhh,” whumper cooed, “Shut up. You were supposed to wait for me, you were supposed to love ME forever and ever. I was only gone for a year. Prison was so hard. But you.. you got me through. The thought of you.” “Please I have no idea who you are!” “SHUT UP,” the yell startled whumpee into silence and they felt tears burning at their eyes, “You can pretend all you want. But I know you remember me. I know it. You broke my heart whumpee.”

“I don’t know who you are! You crazy son of a-“ The scapel dipped into the skin with a fierce sting, just over their heart. The cut curved and slid down. Whumpee cut themselves off with a scream. Fighting uselessly against the restraints. The scapel cut deeper, probably through about an inch and blood flowed down Whumpee’s chest, as they screamed until their voice was raw. “You were always so loud,” whumper said absentmindedly, “never shut up.” Whumper dug the scapel in again on the opposite side, curving and then down at a diagonal until it reached the other gorge in their chest. They cut again and again until it was deep enough.

Whumpee screamed the whole time. Panting heavily as each breath brought new waves of pain through them. “please.. whatever I did, im sorry.. im so sorry.” “You’re not sorry. You’re just in pain,” Whumper said as they liked the flat of the scape, humming with satisfaction. “Yes, now, this next part will hurt, but just try and stay awake.” Whumper grabbed an edge of the cut they had made, the abstract heart on their chest, lifted slightly and with a look of determination, began to cut under the skin. Whumpee screamed and sobbed as the scapel worked under the skin, sliding easily through the layers. Until the skin was held up by whumper, completely away from their chest where it was supposed to be. Waves of revulsion, nausea and pain ran cold through whumpee as they fought not to vomit. “P-Please… stop..”

“No I don’t.. think I will. You know.. this is a very sad rendition of how you made me feel when you left me to rot. When you went off and got with someone new while I was away. Now.. now I want you to eat you fucking heart out.”

“No.. No no..” Whumpee screamed in a panic, sinking against the restraints but they couldn’t turn away. Not even clamping their mouth shut could help. Especially when Whumper, clamped their nose closed with their bloody fingers. Forcing them to open their mouth to breath. As soon as their mouth opened in a gasp. Whumper shoved the heart shaped skin in their mouth and slammed a hand over whumpees mouth. “There we go. Now you know how it feels huh?”

They just tasted blood and they retched as the skin felt loose and soggy in their mouth. “Eat it whumpee. Or we do this again and again and again until we get it right.”

Whumpee swallowed, and whumper tsked in disappointment. “You were supposed to chew.” They released the hand from their mouth and the retched, trying to keep down the growing sense of nausea. “Lets try this again.”

The scapel stung as they carved just over their ribs.

-- thinking about making a taglist for my dribbles. lemme know if you want me to add you!!

#ARUGHHHDHDHFHD D #AUTOCANNIBALISM AUTOCANNIBALISM #Sunny this is making me feel so feral this is so good #You’re so so good at writing things that are so visceral and horrifying but in such a great lovely way I love it #Whump #others writing

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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A Whumper who isn't even a threat. They just inconvenienced Whumpee just for shits and giggles.

They don't even hurt Whumpee. Whenever they show up, Whumpee sighs in an aggravated tone like "Not this guy again."

#Ohhhh yeah #fun #Very Strychnine core tbh #That’s how his relationship with Ambrose started #he just wanted someone to mess with #a quote unquote rival #Whump #Strychnine(oc)

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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A Rose Amidst Thorns #5: The Consequences to Breaking Silence

Miguel faces the consequences to his actions and Henrietta faces some too.

uh this chapter is kinda... fucked up. please heed the warning and proceed with caution. Thanks!! also this is a LONG BOY almost 2.5k so enjoy! also stuff in italics is words that have been lip read Cw: multiple Whumpee's, lady whump, deaf whumpee, sadistic whumper, uncommon restraints, GORE , belting, nails through hands, NSFW NSFW, broken bones, ableism, fucked up thoughts, stress positions, NONCON, forced to watch, implied conditioning, uncommon gags (literally a horse bridal), fear of noncon, Xavier himself is his own fucked up warning Previous | Masterlist| Next

He stood still as Xavier bent down to check Jesse’s pulse. Miguel felt himself wish that Jesse didn’t have one. The man had caused him so much suffering and pain. It would be a relief if the man was dead. Unfortunately there was no such luck, as Xavier stood up circling Miguel like a coyote with its prey. Miguel was scared. He hated to admit it but Xavier was the one person in this gang that truly scared him. Jesse, he could fight, but Xavier was a presence that he couldn’t escape. Even now, the fear pulled apart the structure of his mind, making him stand so perfectly still like Xavier asked him too.

Xavier finally spoke.

Strip.

Miguel frowned at the order and Xavier turned away from him, grabbing Jesse from the waist, putting the younger mans hand around his neck and hauling him upwards. The man's head lolled around. There was a swelling sense of pride at his work. Jesse practically unconscious, Xavier having to carry him out. This pride died inside him as Xavier looked back at him, eyes narrowed.

With shaky hands, Miguel started to unbutton his shirt, fumbling to do so. He looked up again and Solomon was there, talking with Xavier. He couldn’t see what was being said but he noticed that Jesse was being handed off to Solomon. Solomon glanced at Miguel, still fumbling with his shirt. They locked eyes, and Miguel sent a silent plea for help. Solomon turned, carrying Jesse out, not even sending a look back to say he was sorry. Perhaps he was tired of saying sorry. Miguel certainly was, even as Xavier turned and approached him.

He’d only unbuttoned half of his shirt when Xavier stood in front of him, smacking his hands away lightly. Let me help, he said, starting to unbutton his shirt for him. Finishing it quickly, letting Miguel take it off himself. Miguel was about to take off his white undershirt, but Xavier stopped him, hands near his belt, about to undo it. Miguel smacked his hand away and stepped back. He could do that himself, Xavier let him, watching with dark eyes. Undoing his belt, he was about to place it on the floor next to his shirt, but Xavier held out his hand. With a shaky hand, he handed the belt to Xavier. Then he kicked off his boots, leaving his socks, then started on his pants. Stepping out of them and looking at Xavier again. Miguel was only in his undershirt, boxers and socks. His body shook without his permission. Xavier smiled at him, ever so softly, and tapped his shoulders twice. Miguel slowly lowered himself to his knees, trying not to cry. Trying not to let the pressure in his throat make him close. He tried to be somewhere else for a moment, but Xavier grabbed his chin in another bruising grip. Why did everyone grab his face? He knew how to look at people, he wasn’t stupid.

You are in so much trouble. I was going to have you take off your shirt too, but, I think the blood will look very nice against the white.

A whimper escaped him, biting his lip and shaking his head slowly.

Yes. I do think you’re never going to do that again, Miguel. I’ll make sure of it.

The hand on his face was released and Xavier moved to stand behind him. The belt was rubbed against his back, and Miguel felt the tears well in his eyes. His hands clenched in fists on his thighs. He didn’t know when it was going to happen, only that Xavier would not hold back. This was not something that Xavier would grant him mercy for.

The first hit came as a shock and Miguel arched his back as the fire of it stung on his back. Groaning lightly. Another strike and the buckle hit his shoulder blade. He cried out again, leaning forward and closing his eyes. Trying to force himself to breathe. The belt kept coming, across his shoulders, down his spine, on his ribs, near his hips. It was never ending. Each hit knocked the wind out of him, splitting the skin on his back, blood soaking through his shirt. He could feel it dripping down his back.

He lost count around twenty. It seemed like forever until Xavier was satisfied by Miguel’s screams and sobs. Uncontrollably shaking from the burning pain that radiated down his back. He wondered if this was what Henrietta felt like when she was dragged across town. Raw and unable to move. Back on fire, sticky with blood. Xavier crouched down next to him, carding a gentle hand through Miguel’s hair as he stared at the ground. Miguel found the strength to look at Xavier. He finally spoke.

Do you think you’re done? Do you deserve to be done Miguel?

It was a trick question. One meant to humiliate him. If he answered yes, he’d be punished harsher. If he answered no, it just meant to prolong the process. Either way, he was fucked. He shook his head no. Choking on another sob as Xavier tapped twice on the floor. Slowly, even more so than before, Miguel lowered himself onto his stomach. Every movement burned and every contraction of his muscles made him whimper, fighting the urge to scream. As soon as he laid flat, there was something under his chin. Xaviers boot, making him crane his neck painfully to see him.

Good boy. Which hand grabbed the shovel?

Miguels eyes went wide and he couldn’t even shake his head. The boot lifted and inch higher and Miguel was forced to hold himself up a little, whimpering.

Which hand Miguel.

The boot released its pressure and Miguel dropped to the ground groaning as he wiggled his right hand. Blinking away tears. Starting to pray. The boot went under his chin again and Miguel looked up at Xavier, tears in his eyes still.

Are you really going to lie to me? Xavier asked with a grin. Miguel wasn’t lying and they both knew that. But it didn’t matter anyway. The punishment was going to happen anyway, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Guess i’ll just have to break both of your hands.

The boot released and that was when Miguel mustered the strength to try and fight. Trying to lift himself up, but a boot pressed into the middle of his back, twisting against his fresh wounds. Miguel screamed. Dropping back to the ground as pressure was added.

His hands were his way to communicate. Xavier couldn’t take that away from him. Except for the fact that he could. Xavier could do anything he wanted to him and there would be no consequences. Not for him. Because Xavier owned him. This was just a very painful reminder of that fact. Miguel whimpered as Xavier took his boot off his back and tapped lightly on his right hand. Miguel started to recite a prayer in his mind. Begging for some kind of mercy that he would never be allowed.

There was something to be said about the way he couldn’t hear the bones crunch as Xavier stomped his heavy foot on his right hand, but he could feel it. He could feel the way his bones move the wrong way, feel the spur digging into his skin drawing blood. He could feel the way he screamed, tears flowing freely down his face. He could feel all of it. Xavier twisted his foot on his hand and the bones moved wrong, and his hand felt wrong, and Miguel screamed again. But he didn’t dare move, he didn’t even fight. Miguel just gritted his teeth and gasped with relief as Xavier lifted his boot from his hand.

A moment of nothing happened. He expected a tap on his other hand but instead Miguel was hauled back into a kneeling position. Immediately, he curled around his hand, holding it close to his chest and cradling it. Xavier moved to the front of Miguel and kissed his forehead. Miguel knew better than to flinch. Xavier signed his next words, “You’re doing well. Stand and go against the wall for me.”

Xavier almost never signed to him. He knew that he had asked Solomon to teach him when he first arrived, but the use of it was rare. It was almost a relief that he didn’t have to work to read his lips though. He followed the order and stood on shaky legs, walking to the wall of the barn. And pressing his back against it. Watching as Xavier disappeared into the tool shed. His hand throbbed and ached, every movement made new waves of pain fly into his wrist, his forearm, all the way up to his elbow. It even looked wrong. So Miguel refused to look at it. Instead he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

It was a minute or so before Xavier tapped once against his eyes, and Miguel opened them. Xavier was smiling at him and there were hands on his wrists. Cuffs locked around them and Miguel hissed through his teeth at the movement of his broken hand. Xavier rolled his eyes and turned around to pick up something Miguel still couldn’t see. But he stayed still.

He stayed still even as Xavier brought the hammer and the nail, reaching above his head to hammer the nail into the wood. Each hit brought vibrations down the wood that sent chills down his spine. His breath stilled as Xavier grabbed the chain between his wrist and lifted him up, electing a cry of pain as Miguel was lifted onto the tips of his toes. His hand felt it was on fire. His arms and shoulders were strained as he hung loosely on the nail. Another nail was hammered to cement that he could hold his body weight against the chains.

There was a throbbing pain that was already starting in his shoulders, in his calves, everywhere. His back was pressed harshly against the wood as Xavier pressed himself against him. Xavier grabbed his chin, breath hot on his face, you are going to stay as quiet as possible for me, understand?

Slowly, Miguel nodded. Tears welling in his eyes again. Trying not to sob, Xavier released his chin. Kissing his forehead again gently. Another nail, longer than the others, was gently pressed against his bad hand. Miguel whimpered, and Xavier brought the hammer down on the nail, forcing it through his hand. A scream ripped out of him before he could even stop it. Feeling the blood flowing down his arm. His world was white, blurry as he tried to grab lungfuls of air. He didn’t even notice that he was hanging fully by his wrist from his restraints. Xavier was trying to get him to focus, smacking his face lightly, but Miguel was already gone.

Retreating into his own mind, staying out of focus, even as Xavier lifted him up slightly. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t just letting Miguel dislocate his shoulders. Perhaps he just wanted him to be present when he did. Xavier was saying something again and Miguel was in too much agony to pay attention. The older man let Miguel’s head hang, shaking his head. Xavier left him again and it was during this break that Miguel returned to himself. He made note of all of the different pains running through him.

Throbbing fire coursing through his hand and up his wrist. Shaking, burning calves from holding himself up on his toes. Aching shoulders from them being forced above his head. Strips of fire across his back that rubbed against the wood. His whole body ached, he had to be done. He prayed that this was done. Miguel couldn’t take anymore. He truly couldn’t. But he always did.

A new fire was lit in him when Xavier returned, a horse bit in one hand, and practically dragging Henrietta in with the other.

Look who decided to join us. She heard you scream. Felt like joining the party. This is why I told you to be quiet, now you both have to pay for it.

Xavier turned to Henrietta, blocking her, but it was clear that they were talking to each other. Her hands were tied behind her back and she was thrown unceremoniously on the ground. Miguel whimpered and raised his chin again, trying to draw the attention away from Hen. Xavier kicked Henrietta on her back and then looked at Miguel, stalking over to him, bit in hand. He grabbed Miguel’s cheeks, prying his mouth open, and placed the bit in his mouth. Miguel retched at the taste. Horse saliva, chewed hay, and metal that pressed on his tongue as the reigns of the bridle was tightened behind his head and hooked onto the nails that the chains were connected to. It pressed his head against the wood. And he gagged as Xavier pushed the bit on his tongue harder.

If you look away for more than the time it takes to blink, I’ll take your eyes.

Miguel could do nothing as Xavier backed away and turned to Henrietta again. He could do nothing as Xavier hitched his hand up Henrietta’s dress, tearing it away. The boy was completely helpless as Xavier undid his belt and hiked down his pants, his cock was fully hard. Miguel couldn’t look away as Xavier entered her, as he fucked her with no sense of gentleness. It was the horror of it that made him keep looking. Henrietta’s face full of pain, no pleasure almost at all. It felt like forever until Xavier finished, draping himself over Henrietta, face strange and screwed. Was that how Jesse looked when he finished? He found himself wondering vaguely and he hated himself for wondering it in the middle of this. But Xavier was finished and Miguel watched in mute horror as he kissed Henrietta harshly. Then he pulled out, straightening himself out, pulling up his pants, and looking over at Miguel. Eyes dark.

Shifting slightly, Miguel blinked away tears that he didn’t know had come. More flowed freely as Xavier stalked toward him slowly, grabbing the hammer and the nail in one hand. He wiped away Miguel’s tears with the other. Then the bastard pressed himself against Miguel again, keeping him still. The nail pressed against his good hand and Miguel shook his head, breathing heavily through his nose. The scent of dirt, hay and whiskey filled his senses as the hammer forced the nail through his good hand. Miguel screamed again. Blood dripping down his wrist and arm, the fire in his hand spreading through his fingers.

His vision went black and Xavier let him hang this time as he lost himself to the inky blackness of unconsciousness.

Henrietta’s pained face haunted him. Xavier fucking her haunted him. He wished he didn’t dream. For when he woke up, he was sure to see Henrietta still laying there in the dirt. __

Taglist: @demondamagege @burntcoffeewhump @for-the-love-of-angst @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghetti @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @whumpifi

@flowersarefreetherapy

#AHHWHDHDJCJDJHDD #SUNNY #THIS WAS SO GOOD BUT SO BRUTAL #I also read this at 5am at the airport next to my mom so hey thankfully she didn’t ask what I was reading #BUT GODDAMN #I’m stealing Miguel and being nice to him #He deserves to whack people with shovels and be happy #Henrietta too :((#Xavier is such a BASTARD #Ouuughh #whump #others writing

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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YEAH IT SURE IS

Gods I need to write that scene so bad

Whumpers who just suck at being whumpers are great

Idk I’m such a sucker for whumper punching whumpee but like. Breaking their knuckles on whumpee’s cheekbone or some shit. Like just generally sucking at being a whumper

#Whump #Hemlock(OC)

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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can you come collect your freak of a man please. He’s doing things

#I've had this post sent to me twice with people saying it had Strychnine vibes #So #strychnine(oc)#not whump

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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Guess who drew the boy! Diseased little beast.

#ITS THE GUY #HES FULL OF PLANTS #Anthro Honey is so so cute #Anthro whump my beloved too in general #I love this diseased little beast #whump #others art

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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Whumpee turned caretaker who frequently has nightmares about what they went through in the past, nearly every night. It haunts them. But then whumpee goes missing, and the nightmares don't go away, but since the first time since they started- they change. Now they're about whumpee, and just as bad.

#whump #whump prompt #nightmares #whumpee turned caretaker #implied kidnapping #I was thinking about Strychnine #And how his nightmares start to become about Ambrose eventually #strychnine(oc)

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tictac-murder-spaghetti · 8 months

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A Rose Admist Thorns #3: Always Sorry

Henrietta has a really, really bad time also no beta we die like {gunshot}

CW: lady whump, poc whump, slapping, public humiliation, public nudity (nonsexual), non-con kissing, degrading language, reference to underage whump (if you squint), noncon touching, BRANDING, gore, graphic description of burns, referenced noncon, implied future noncon, complex whumpee/whumper/caretaker dynamics, medical caretaking mentioned please let me know if I have missed anything : ) Previous| Masterlist | Next

When Henrietta woke up the first time, she didn’t remember Solomon’s comfort, or the fact that she had still thought of escape. It was the second time that she was awake that she remembered Miguel gently feeding her broth, she could barely keep it down. There were wet towels on her body, and she figured that she was hit with a fever. Infection possibly. But after she took sips of broth, she was asleep again.

It wasn’t until after the fifth time that she woke up that she stayed awake for longer than five or so minutes. She was gently coaxed to sitting up by Solomon, who had assured her that she would not heal correctly if left lying down. Solomon's hands were always gentle. And he even helped her walk across the kitchen. It was slow, grueling, and painful, as pain radiated down her back, almost into her legs, and up her neck. Every movement made her want to scream. But she didn’t, she stayed on her feet and was made to sit in a chair as Miguel brought her some more soup. “Despite everything,” Solomon said as Henrietta was slowly making herself eat, “you’re healing well, the fever broke last night, and-”

Henrietta shot him a look. Solomon stopped talking but stared at her for a moment. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, Hen. But you can’t do anything unless you’re healed,” his voice had an edge to it. As if he was moderately annoyed with her.

“Since when have you been so careful with your words?” she asked, shaking her head slightly. Three years ago he would have already been creating plans with her. Vaguely she wondered if he had been broken by Xavier. But he was still unmarked, still had that straight posture. There was no sag in his shoulders. Nothing, there wasn’t a clue as to why he seemed so tired.

“Not today Henrietta. Not today,” was all he said, voice wavering between frustration and exhaustion. Solomon turned to Miguel, signing something that she couldn’t quite catch. Honestly, she had almost forgotten that the boy was even in the room. He was so quiet, so good at hiding himself in the background. He left the room shortly after. “Xavier is going to be here soon, now that you’re up and around.. I won’t lie to you, you’re probably going to get hurt again.” Henrietta blinked at him, shaking her head slowly, as if she couldn’t believe his words. “No, he… he already hurt me enough.” “Hen.”

“No Sol.”

“Hen,” gentler this time, “you know he’s not going to count that.”

The panic seemed to rise in her throat, tears welling in her eyes as she pushed away the half eaten soup. “I know,” she said carefully. Closing her eyes and letting herself feel it. Just for a second, the fear. Give it ten seconds to consume her, then she would open her eyes and face it. She’d learned that it was easier to face it. As soon as she heard Xavier’s spurs on his boots she looked toward Solomon, who looked so… haunted. Like he was already looking at a ghost. Xavier walked in and smiled widely at Henrietta, Miguel and Jesse trailing behind him. She stared at Xavier for a moment as he came up to her, pulling her close by the hem of gown that Solomon had put on her before her little walk, and smashed his lips against hers. Henrietta, once again, did not kiss back, but Xavier didn’t seem to care as he let her go. Satisfied for the time being.

“I missed you Etta,”

“Don’t.. Don’t call me that,” she said, hating herself for the stuttering and the way her voice sounded so weak.

Xavier ran a hand over her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently over her lips. “Or what?” he asked, voice so gentle, so soft. She knew what was coming next, she tensed. The slap nearly knocked her off the chair and her eyes watered. Xavier stepped away as she brought a hand to her cheek, burning and itching from the sheer force. “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore Etta. You lost that privilege a long time ago and its about time you learn something,” the man grabbed her wrists, and the suddenness of it made her cry out. She looked at the only two men who would help her. They stood idly watching, Solomon’s hand on Miguels shoulder to.. Comfort him? Make sure he stayed still? She couldn’t read them over her own panic at the harsh metal cuffs slapping around her wrists. “Xavier wait, please,” she cried out as he pulled on the chain lifting her from her chair and half walking, half dragging her to the middle of the kitchen where he attached the chain to her cuffs. Her eyes went wide as she saw Jesse with the cattle brand, putting it in the fire. “Xavier!” Henrietta pleaded as he pulled on the chain reserved for bleeding out the deer that they caught, and she was lifted onto her toes. Her back stretching painfully, still not fully healed. “Careful Xavier, you’ll tear her stitches,” Solomon stated warily, grip white-knuckled on Miguel’s bicep who was looking at the floor now. She found herself angry at Solomon, her focus shifting from Jesse for a second. “Fuck you,” she spat angrily at him and Xavier laughed again. “Don’t worry Sol. You can just stitch her up again when she does rip them.”

Solomon didn’t respond, chewing on his lip. Nodding slowly as he shut up. “Xavier please don’t do this,” Henrietta started to beg as she watched the brand turn orange in the fire.

“Sweetheart, you don’t think begging will help you now do you?” Henrietta whimpered, feeling her brave facade fade. Xavier pulled out his knife and trailed it down her cheek. She shuddered and gritted her teeth. “You can do it, you remember when Miguel got his don’t you?” Henrietta nodded slowly, remembering as if it were yesterday. How it had taken five different people to hold him down, struggling to keep him still. And her she was, strung up like meat. Easy prey. She wished that she had Miguel’s type of fight. But she didn't; all she had was her own quiet defiance and her words. “You used to be my wife Henrietta, now you’re just another whore I own.”

Xavier suddenly cut away her gown, from her collarbone down to her thigh and ripped it off her. Leaving her bare for everyone to see. “Please,” she whispered, as Xavier went to grab the brand, twirling it out of the fire as it glowed. The stylized XR was beautiful, and it was usually reserved for the cattle, or people that he’d bought. A few of the ranchers wore the brand, but everyone who wore it knew it was a sign of defeat. A sign that they were owned, not respected. Miguel’s was right over his heart on his chest. There was another one on his lower back after the first time he had tried to escape. Xavier had branded him again as a reminder. Now it was Henrietta’s turn.

Xavier looked sinister as he brought the brand close to her again.

“I should brand it on your damn forehead, really let everyone know who you belong to. What you are… but I really have a hard time ruining that pretty face of yours,” he sighed. Then he shrugged, “I guess your chest will have to do then sweetheart.”

Before she could even protest, the iron went straight in the middle of her chest, just below the neck, on her sternum. When it comes to pain there is always a moment, when the signals take a second to reach the brain. A second where there is nothing, and then that second is gone. Then all of the pain came shooting forward, and she opened her mouth in a scream. The sound of burning flesh sizzling in her ears, the smell was even worse. The meager contents of her stomach threatened to come up and she felt lightheaded, sagging in the restraints. She barely even noticed the audience of the gang coming to see her. Naken, in pain and suffering. The brand was pressed harsher against her chest, pushing her off balance and she hung lowly her wrists chaffing against the metal cuffs. Blood dripping down them.

Finally, Xavier pulled the brand away, taking chunks of melted skin with it. The brand sat on her chest, burning as if her entire chest was on fire. Her breaths coming in short pants, her world spun and all of the men were gawking at her. She caught a glimpse of Jesse, holding Miguel by his hair, making him look at her as he tried to avert his eyes. She glanced up, locking eyes with Xavier as he ran a hand down her face. Gently wiping away a tear.

“You did so well sweetheart. So so well,” he said, unlocking the cuffs and letting her fall into his arms. Henrietta let herself be held, just for a moment, she rested in his arms. He picked her up, one hand under her knees the other as gently against her back as he could. “You’ll take care of her in my room from now on,” he told Solomon. Carrying her to the bedroom upstairs. Xavier laid her in bed and she barely had the energy to cry again.

“I let you off easy you know,” he said softly, tucking her hair out of her face. “I could always be worse.” Henrietta closed her eyes, choking out a quiet whimper before saying, “I know.”

Xavier gave her a gentle kiss again, and this time she let him. She let his tongue enter her mouth, let him deepen it. Then he pulled away. “Solomon will apply a salve, and tomorrow, you’ll polish the saddles. How does that sound, hm? Something easy for you, not too much movement. I’ll take care of you.” Henrietta sobbed quietly, letting him run her hands over her body. Letting him do what he wanted for now. She didn’t have the energy to fight. Not with the burning in her back, in her chest. She couldn’t fight anymore.

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Solomon. Xavier looked back at him, fire in his eyes. But Solomon stood firm. “I have to apply the salve now, unless you want it to get infected,” he said pointedly, “and I have to check her over for ripped stitches.” “Fine,” Xavier said, pushing himself away from her. “I’ll be back within the hour. You better be done.” “I will be,” Solomon assured quietly, as the slipped past each other.

“And the kid?”

“Ask your nephew,” came the cold response. “Jesse took him somewhere.” Xavier made a low noise of annoyance, before walking off. And Solomon rushed to her side again. Face dropping from neutral to concerned. He gently applied the salve, a green looking thing from a tiny tin canister, to her chest, rubbing gentle circles. She whimpered and Solomon inhaled sharply, comforting her with a gentle hum of acknowledgement. “I know Hen. I know,” he whispered. “I’m going to turn you on your side now okay? I need to check your back.” When he touched her he was gentle, not Xavier gentle, but a true gentleness.

Luckily the stitches on her back remained closed, albeit a little irritated. He applied fresh gauze and let her rest. Every movement burned and she felt so exhausted that she could sleep for days. Solomon was about to leave before she spoke again.

“He’s going to rape me.”

A pause, and then, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry.”

“I know,” Solomon said, then he left the room, and she was left to wait for Xavier. ___

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#HENRIETTA #I feel so bad for her #So so very bad for her she needs a hug #THE BRANDING SCENE #It's just so... good and also gross #The “chunks of melted flesh”? euagghhb (wonderful)#The last lines too #ARGH #whump #others writing

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