Sable | woman, she/her, 30s | just writing things that make me happy | some content may be 18+/nsfw | blog is a "choose not to warn" space; I use some warnings but cannot promise all content will be tagged |Ā Writing Masterlist
Out unseen
This is my main series, and it follows a team in a fantasy setting as they fight to take down a cruel, powerful man and his web of influence. When Felicia, a magic healer, is captured by Volkan, she fights to hold onto herself through his abuse and torture while the rest of the team fights to bring her home. Painful magic healing, magic mind control, captivity, and a lot of explicit nsfw noncon.
Some of my past series and pieces are:Ā Ā
By flash and thunder fire
Whumptober 2020 | Kidnapping | Betrayal of trust | Conflicted whumper/caretaker | Lady vs mean men
Val-Norina
Based on a roleplay with @whumpymirages | pirate kidnaps a princess, falls in love | f/f enemies to friends to lovers | the captain is gross
Generic characters
aka generic scenarios or oneshots with characters iām never gonna use again
there is so much fantastic, lush, deeply-realized original erotica on ao3 like helloooo everyone please check out the fantastic, lush, deeply-realized original erotica on ao3
I finished Out Unseenā¦ Iā I FINISHED IT AND IT WAS AWFUL (read awful as: AMAZING FANTASTIC DREADFUL I WANT TO THROW UP) AND AND I FINISHED AND IT IS TERRIBLE AND IT IS A CLIFFHANGER SABLE AND WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK SABLE AND Iā
I canāt wait for the next part, PLEASE TAG ME IN IT oh my god I am gonna die, I am actually feral for this series and Volkan and Felicia and OMFG THE ENDING AND AGGGHHH ā
And fuck, can you add me to the tag list please for the next part?! I CANNOT WAIT!!!! ACCCKKKKK obviously no pressure *grabs a hunting knife* no pressure at allšš take your time, please *starts sharpening it menacingly*
ok my confession is I'm TERRIBLE at maintaining a tag list, so I will try to tag you when it comes out but can't guarantee I'll remember! The best way to be notified might be to subscribe to the story on ao3. also I am in fact the world's slowest writer so :'( sorry in advance!
Hellohellohello, I am here to be ANGRY at youš¤Øš š¤
So I am reading out unseen (on AO3 atm cause the chapters are all there fully) and I am an avid coffee drinkerā and I am very much enjoying ā by very much I mean I cannot stop thinking about and reading at every opportunityā Out Unseen, Sable. It is living rent free in my brain and it is so. Well. Written. That it satisfies everything in my body and soul and heart and mindš„°š
But TELL ME WHY THIS MORNING ā as the kettle boiled for my morning coffee, and I dolloped out seven teaspoons of instant into a mug ā I ALMOST GOT SICK AT THE THOUGHT OF COFFEE BECAUSE OF DAVIDS AND VOLKAN AND HOW THEY TREATED FELICIA AND THEN HAD COFFEE AFTERWARDS?!?!?!! AND DURING?!?!! HMMMMMMM?!?!?!!
Do you see what you have done?! You understand WHY I am upset, surely?! NO?! HOW VERY DARE YOU!!!!!
What has coffee ever done to you, to make you associate it with these vile villains in this way?! HMM?! You are a dastardly Villain yourselfšššš I just needed you to know how much you RUINED my day, my special morning coffee that always tastes the best in the dayā and now it is associated with those BASTARDS FOREVERMORE
The audacity. I think you should modify your content warnings, and your trigger warningsš¤š¤š¤ And make sure coffee enjoyers understand the gravity and implications of your work. Disgusting. Truly.
[this is all jokes and I am actually so obsessed with the story and also love your FRICKEN @?!?!! Like hello, it is so cool!!!! And I am EATING, nay, DEVOURING, Out Unseen like it is my fricken job atmā UGHHHH YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD. But this actually happened this morning and I think you ought to know of the disgust effect you had on me by your characters. The VILLAINS ARE SO GOOD AND UTTERLY DETESTABLE RAGGGHHH]
omg thank you soooo much for reading!!! I've been loving all your tag commentary and everything, I'm so glad you're into the story!!
ok the coffee thing is so real and probably the most evil thing I've done to Felicia tbh, even when she makes it home and heals and finds safety, she'll never be able to enjoy a cup of coffee again ševen the smell of it is a trigger for her šshe may have taken volkan's eye, but he took her ability to enjoy a delicious hot mocha on a cold day š
Now that my storyās done, hereās a collection of all the content related to my whump series, Playing With Fire.
James, Mac, and Ivy are a bomb squad, doing their best to stick together and protect each other in the wake of a gang who will stop at nothing to get to them.
Running themes include: team whump, lady whump, whump aftermath, forced to watch, manhandling, cigarette burns, restraints, angst, interrogation, hidden injuries, injury reveal.
āAny time you think about doing something stupid,ā he continued, āknow that it will always fail, and that things can always get worse for you.ā
finished commission for @sableflynn of their OCs Felicia and Volkan!
Want some art for yourself? Check out my Summer Sale š¦
Thank you for everyone's patience, I hope everyone who wanted to join found the new blog! It's time to share this year's prompts!
(Drumroll, please!)
On this blog, we won't reblog submissions, only use it to post prompts, tags, useful info and of course to answer any questions you might have.
We will post the tag for each day, and we ask that youĀ use two tagsĀ when filling prompts this year so that others may find your creations easily:Ā
Tag 1 ā>Ā #wij26day__Ā (Fill in the blank with the appropriate day number for the prompt you are filling! For example, if you are doing the prompt for day 21, make sure to tag your post with #wij26day21.)
Tag 2 ā>Ā #whumpmasinjuly2026
Be sure to also tag @whumpmasinjuly-archiveĀ if you would like your posts reblogged to our official archive account!Ā Of course, feel free to use any other relevant tags too!
You can also find a banner that you can use in your posts (if you want, not required) under theĀ #wijbannerĀ tag.
The prompts are divided into three categories:Ā community (white boxes),Ā questionĀ (red boxes), andĀ creationĀ (green boxes). Everyone is free to participate as much or as little as they wantāthereās no completionist requirement!
This calendar provides a preview of the prompts, but on each day a more detailed post will be released with more context and additional suggestions for each dayās task. Similar to previous years, all prompts and other important information will be found on @whumpmasinjuly under theĀ #infowhumpmasinjuly tag for ease of access, or here under #wij26day0.
This blog will also use the tagsĀ #wijquestionĀ ,Ā #wijcommunityĀ , andĀ #wijcreationĀ respectively for each post so that you can filter and find the type of prompts youād like to do.Ā
Below the cut you can read the whole list of the prompts for this event:
(Re)Introduce yourself
What is your earliest memory of enjoying whump?
Restraints
Send an ask to 3 people you haven't interacted with yet
Who are your favourite whumpees?
Bloodbath
Create a prompt for someone else to fill
What are your all time favourite pieces of whump media?
"That's not what I meant"
Reblog some of your favourite whump gifs
Where did you find your place within the whump community?
Falling
Give a sneak peak at something you're working on
What is a recent whump obsession of yours?
Dizzy
Give some fic recs
What is your favourite part of whump?
Smoke
Go back to a favourite whump fic/gifset/art piece and leave a comment
What's one thing you would say to a/your/your favourite whumpee? (It won't impact the plot)
Chekhov's gun
Reblog some of your favourite whump art
How did you end up joining the whump community?
Pickup
Check out someone's rec from a previous day (fic/gif/art) and leave a comment
What's a trope you love that deserves more attention?
"I don't want to"
Create a whump meme
What would be your ideal whump situation/what's your whump wishlist?
Ooo i love the new chapter so much!!! It adds so much potential i adore itš
omg thank you! Volkan also thinks the mind control adds so much potential š he was on the verge of being bored with Felicia, but now this whole situation is giving him TWO fun whumpees to play with!
It was his first time seeing Felicia in over a month, and all Marcus could think was: fuck. Heād had nightmares of this moment, of how sheād looked when he last saw her, and none of them prepared him for the reality.
She was shaking when she hugged him, but as Volkan pulled her off of him too soon, she burst with frantic energy. āVolkan,ā she hissed, squaring her body between him and Marcusāfuck, heād just gotten here, and she was already placing herself between him and danger. He was as useless as heād ever been, wrists and ankles bound, the ropes unyielding to his efforts to slice them on the brick edge lining the hearth. The flames warmed his back, and the ropes held firm.
With the distance between them now, he could see Felicia more clearlyāthe bruises, the wet tangle of hair, the metal bangles on her wrists like shackles, the desperation in her eyes as she pressed her hands against Volkanās broad chest. āVolkan, please, he has nothing to do with this, he doesnāt have to be hereāā
āWould you rather I just killed him?ā It was the first time Volkan had spoken, and the rumble of his voice sent a spiking pulse of hatred through Marcus unlike anything heād felt before. For all that Felicia was pushing back against him, he was unmoved. One eye gleamed with delight; the other was covered by a black hole of an eyepatch.
āVolkan, please.ā Feliciaās voice cracked on the word. āPlease, just let him go, Iāll do whatever you want, just not himāā
āYouāre getting hysterical.ā Calm and steady, Volkan placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her towards one of the leather armchairs circling the fireplace. āYou need to relax if you want to be with him for this.ā
At that, Marcus snapped. āStop touching her, you fucking freakāā
āIāll get to you in a minute, boy,ā Volkan said, waving a dismissive hand in his direction as he forced Felicia into the chair. She was pale, silent, eyes wide, and she allowed herself to be sat down without protest. Their chance for freedom was slipping away.
āFeliciaāā If she was tied down, if neither of them could move, it was over. Marcus fought his bonds with fresh urgency. āFelicia, do something!ā
She locked eyes with him, and hers were dull, the light fading. Everything was moving too fast and in slow motion all at once as Volkan pulled cuffs from his pocketāfucking creep, did he carry those around all the time?āand bound Felicia to the chair by one wrist, then the other. Marcus thrashed, and by the time Felicia snapped into action, she was already trapped. They had lost before theyād even begun.
Volkan brushed her hair from her face with a mock tenderness, then turned back to face Marcus. He cleared the space between them in in a few steps and loomed over Marcus. Fuck, he was so tall. Marcus had to crane his neck to look up at him, and that pissed him off even more.
āVolkan, please.ā Feliciaās voice was shaking, and the sound of it hurt Marcus more than anything. Looking past the bulk of Volkan, Marcus could just make her out in the glow of the fireplace, small and making herself smaller with every breath.
Volkanās smile was slow, indulgent, infuriating, and he allowed her to stumble over her words for a minute before sliding a knife from his belt. The blade of it caught the light, and Felicia fell silent.
Marcus was silent, too, watching the knife like a hawk. It was dangerābut it was an opportunity. All he needed was two fucking seconds and he could do it. Heād grab the knife and drive it through Volkanās heart and get them both out of there. His pulse pounded with anticipation.
Turning the blade, Volkan pressed the flat of it against Marcusās cheek almost gently. His free hand ran through Marcusās hair with an intimacy that sent ice through his veins, that reminded him of what Felicia had told him after the dance and what this man was capable of.
āOpen your mouth.ā The command was both unexpected and inevitable, and Marcus could only recoil. From her chair, Felicia was struggling anew, pleading, āVolkanāā
Volkan smiled down at Marcus almost sweetly, and then he crossed the room in two steps and buried the knife in Feliciaās stomach. It was so fast, so sudden, Marcus couldnāt processāand then it slammed into clarity, and he was yelling, and Felicia was frozen, blood welling up around where the knife pierced her. Her eyes were glassy and her chest heaved with tiny breaths.
āI can heal her.ā Volkan left the knife to return to Marcus. Marcus couldnāt tear his eyes from Felicia, whose hands gripped the armrests with white knuckles, whose face was paling by the second. She was going to die while he did nothing.
āMarcus.ā Rough hands tilted his face away from Felicia to look up again at Volkan. He was already hard, the piece of shit. āI can heal her. But first you need to open your mouth.ā
āFuck you, you bastard,ā Marcus spat. Volkan was a sick fuck, and it was a game to him, and Marcus had lost.
Volkan said nothing, smiling broadly, and after a heartbeat and another hitch of breath from Felicia, Marcus opened his mouth.
Volkan took his cock out and rested it between Marcusās lips, doing nothing, and fuck, this bastard was going to make him do all the work. From the corner of his eye, he could see Felicia stirring, coming back into herself; and then he realized he couldnāt look at her while doing this, so he closed his eyes and began to suck.
With his eyes shut and the roar in his ears blocking out the world around him, the cock in his mouth could be anyoneās, some anonymous hookup at a bar, some guy heād crashed with after a late night. He leaned into that feeling; this was sex, nothing more, and if he could finish it quicklyā
āEyes open, boy.ā Volkanās voice struck like a clap of thunder. āLook at me.ā
White-hot with hatred, Marcus opened his eyes, and as he made eye contact with Volkan he swore the cock in his mouth twitched. Fucking smug piece of shit, good eye gleaming in the firelight, one large hand resting lightly on Marcusās head, and Marcus was off-kilter with his hands still tied behind his back but fuck it, he was going to finish this. He leaned forward, venomous, taking Volkan deeper, tongue tracing a vein along his length. He had never hated someone more, and he turned that hatred into a twisted passion, because Felicia was bleeding out in a chair and every second he spent indulging this sick bastard was another second she slipped further away from him.
Marcus worked the cock in his mouth by feel, responding to each twitch and throb, tightening his lips, his glare never leaving Volkanās face. The bastard was so horny, it couldnāt be long nowāand there it was, Volkan pressed the back of Marcusās head and hilted himself down his throat and came. Marcus took it all without a sound, a thin line of saliva connecting his lips to the flaccid cock as it was drawn from his mouth. Volkan tucked himself back in his trousers, and in his face Marcus saw the post-orgasm haze of pleasure that meant his guard was down, that this was their best chance.
Volkan crouched, knees cracking, and brought his gaze to Marcusās eye level. āYouāre fun,ā he murmured, good eye tracing the venom in Marcusās expression. āItās almost a shame, what Iām going toāā
Marcus slung his head out in a wild headbutt, angling for Volkanās blind side. It hit with a satisfying crack and a grunt from Volkan, and Marcus was already scrambling back. He was jumbled, still tied up, but his mind already raced ahead; maybe if he could get the knife, or one of those fireplace toolsā
Then his world exploded with stars, head cracking against the hardwood floor as Volkan bore down on top of him. He struggled to rise, but Volkanās hand forced his head into the ground, his eyes watering as he stared into the fireplace. āWeāre not done here yet,ā Volkan growled in his ear.
Still bearing down his weight, Volkan shifted and began to work at the rope binding Marcusās legs together. Marcusās blood froze; and then he redoubled his efforts. āYou piece of shit,ā he spat, āsheās going to dieāā
Then his legs were free, and he pushed himself away before Volkan could make his next move, struggling to his feet with his arms still bound behind him. To his surprise, Volkan let him stand. Marcus braced himself, legs wide, finding his balance. He kept his eyes trained on Volkan, but risked a quick glance at Feliciaāface pale, chest fluttering with breath, eyes wideābefore fixing his attention on the threat before him. Volkan rose easily, rolling the tension from his shoulders, considering and then he punched Marcus across the jaw.
For all he had been expecting an attack, Marcus was still caught off-guard by the speed with which Volkan struck. The blow sent him staggering, and then he lost his balance and stumbled to the floor. He rolled away, expecting a kick that didnāt come. Instead, Volkan loomed above him, the ghost of a smirk crossing his face. āGet up, boy,ā he growled.
Face throbbing, Marcus rose, and when Volkan attacked again, he was ready. He danced out of the way of the next punch, using his momentum to put space between them and buy himself some time. As much freedom of movement as he had, he was useless with his hands still bound behind him. If he could just cut the ropesāhe risked another glance at Felicia, the dagger embedded in her abdomen, but fuck, if he messed with that she could just bleed out even fasterāand then Volkan landed another blow on his cheek, sending him reeling across the room.
There had to be a way out, but every time Marcus approached it, Volkan struck again. The blows left him unbalanced, unable to focus, if he could just take a minute to catch his breathābut Volkan was relentless. And the worst of it was that even as each blow stunned him and took his breath away, Marcus could tell the man was holding something back. He was toying with him, smiling, probably getting hard again, the bastard. Each punch, each kick left Marcus more and more exhausted, while Volkan was still pristine save the growing bruise on his face where Marcus had landed his headbutt. Furious, desperate, he tried the same maneuver, slinging his head at Volkanās blind side. He missed, and an elbow to the back of the skull send him sprawling on his stomach, wind knocked from him and the world spinning around him.
Volkan was on top of him again before he could move, and the rough hands at his back began untying his wrists. He couldnāt dare to trust this new freedom, not with Felicia watching with fresh terror, and at the jangle of metal behind him, he barely managed to turn his head and look back over his shoulder. Above him, on top of him, Volkan held two thin metal bangles, twins to the ones Felicia wore, and even with his untuned senses Marcus could feel the prickle of magic gathering around them.
āWhat are youāā Marcus began, and then Volkan slipped the first cuff around his wrist and he suffocated. No, that wasnāt itāhe could breathe, but something was weaving around him, trapping him, threatening to invade, and then Volkan slid the second cuff around his other wrist andā
And he was gone, he couldnāt see Felicia or the room or anything anymore, he was in darknessā
and something ensnared him that he couldnāt understand, something in his mind or soul or whatever the fuck, and he still couldnāt breatheā
and then something that was him or the thing ensnaring him told him to relax, and he did, and the darkness became even darker but he was relaxed, and it didnāt matter that he couldnāt breathe.
***
Felicia was fading. The knife embedded in her stopped the worst of the blood loss, but each pulse of her pounding heart drained more life from her, and she could almost convince herself that the prickling she felt all over was from that and not from the magic Volkan was weaving over Marcusās unconscious body. The metal cuffs on his wrists gleamed dully in the firelight.
Volkan rose with his same easy smile, poison in his eye. āWeāll give him a minute,ā he said with a nod at Marcus as he stepped over to Felicia. She couldnāt look at Volkan, couldnāt take her eyes off her friendās crumpled form a few unreachable steps from her.
āVolkan, whatāah!ā She cut herself off with a sharp gasp of pain as he twitched the knife in her abdomen. He had barely touched it, yet that tiny movement was enough to drive her breath from her, insides twisted and burning and pulsing.
Volkan traced the thin ooze of blood around the blade of the knife. āI hope this hasnāt been too distracting for you,ā he murmured, twisting the knife just so and forcing a ragged yell from her strained throat. Her weak fingers gripped the edges of the chair she was bound to, and when he ripped the knife from her body, her vision went white.
She blinked rapidly, and as her vision returned, the first thing she saw was Marcus, unmoved. He could be dead, but for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Volkan probed into her now-freely-bleeding wound and she arched her back, straining to get away. Her blood soaked into the thin dress she wore and pooled into the worn leather of the chair.
When he finally healed the wound, it was with a slow breath that promised more pain to come, and it gave her no relief. Marcus still hadnāt moved. āVolkan, whatāwhat is heāā
āHeāll be fine.ā He brushed her hair back with bloodstained fingers, leaving a smear across her cheek. Her body tingled with the lingering absence of pain from the healing, the slow replenishing of blood within her. Willing herself beyond the hopelessness of the situation, she focused her gaze on Marcus, as if the power of her staring would be enough to bring him back.
Then he gasped, and her heartrate redoubled. Marcus twisted on the ground, eyes a bright flash in the light of the fireplace before he shut them again, face turning away. Volkan moved to him and crouched over him with something that could be curiosity. He murmured to Marcus, voice too low for Felicia to make out any words, and then he stood back.
āMarcus, get up,ā Volkan said, and Marcus did so. There was blood on his face where Volkan had touched him. Marcus was bleeding as well, a thin trail of blood from his nose mingling with a split lip, and bruises were already forming across his face. For a moment, that was the only damage Felicia could see.
But the longer she stared at him, and he stared back, silent and unmoving, the more her skin prickled. Something in his energy, his stance, was different. His face was blank; even as his eyes bore into hers, they simultaneously looked beyond her, or maybe at nothing. And he was so still. Marcus had never been still in his life.
Something was very wrong.
āWhat did you do to him?ā Her voice was shaking.
āHeās completely fine,ā Volkan said. āMarcus, let her know youāre fine. Give her a smile. Wave hello.ā
āIām fine,ā Marcus said, in a voice that was and was not his. The corners of his lips turned up in a facsimile of a smile that didnāt reach his eyes; his hand moved in a wave with no feeling behind it.
Felicia recoiled as if heād slapped her. That couldnāt be Marcus. It moved like a creature wearing Marcusās skin.
āVolkan. whatāā She strained against her bonds, lightheaded with terror. āWhat did you do?ā
āMarcus, slap her in the face.ā
Marcus moved as if he were completing some mundane household chore, and then his palm cracked against Feliciaās cheek. It didnāt hurt. There was no force behind it, but neither was there any apprehension. It was a slap.
Volkan moved closer as well, considering. āHarder than that, Marcus,ā he chided.
The next slap snapped her face to the side, her ears ringing. Tears sprang to her eyes from the physical shock of it, and Marcus loomed over her, unmoved.
āPunch her in the face.ā
āMarcusāā Before she could finish the thought, his fist slammed into her cheek, cracking her head against the back of the chair. āMarcus, Marcus, stopāā
āKeep hitting her until I tell you to stop.ā
The blows came at her at random, glancing across her cheek, her shoulder, her jaw. Whenever she blinked the stars from her eyes, she saw Marcusās face, her best friend, but no, it couldnāt be him. He couldnāt be beating her with that blank look on his face. Each punch rattled deep inside her, driving cracked rivulets through some secure part of her she hadnāt even realized sheād been holding onto. How naive of her, to think there was any part of her being that Volkan couldnāt shatter.
āMarcus, stop.ā
Marcusās arms dropped to his sides, gaze once again focused on nothing. Felicia sucked in a deep breath that turned into a cough that shook her body in fresh pain that sent her into a spasm of gasps, folding in on herself as much as she could with the bindings still holding her tight to the chair. When her vision cleared and she looked up through sweat-damp bangs, Volkan held the same knife heād stabbed her with.
āMarcus.ā He took Marcusās hand and placed the knife in it, curling each finger around the hilt. āUse this knife to stab yourself in the left eye.ā
Marcusās arm moved as if in slow motion, and Feliciaās heart froze. āMarcus, stop!ā The knife drew closer to his face. āStop, please, Volkan, Iāll do whatever you want, just stopāā
Volkan spoke and rose his hand, and Marcus froze, the knife hovering inches from his face. Volkanās gaze on Felicia was hungry. āWhatever I want?ā
No no no no, she thought, but she bit down the protest. āYes,ā she choked out, āwhatever you want, just please, leave him alone, you already have meāā
āI do have you,ā Volkan agreed, āand you already do whatever I want. Marcus, do it.ā
The knife moved again, and despite herself, Felicia squeezed her eyes shut. A soft sound that mightāve been a grape popping, and a small exhale of breath, and when Felicia peeked out from half-shut eyes, it was done. Marcus stood at ease, knife casually dangling from one hand, freely bleeding from the ruin of his eye. She was going to be sick.
āMarcusā¦ā she began, but there was nothing to say.
Volkan took Marcusās chin in his hand and turned his head, examining the gore with grisly relish. He took the knife, wiping the blood off on Marcusās shirt before sheathing it and turning to Felicia. His hands brushed the cuffs holding her, leaving a smear of blood, and with a spark of magic, the bonds were released.
She flexed her wrists, staring up at Marcus in mute horror, unable to move.
āGet up,ā Volkan said, not ungently. āYou need to heal him before he bleeds out.ā
It was his first time seeing Felicia in over a month, and all Marcus could think was: fuck. Heād had nightmares of this moment, of how sheād looked when he last saw her, and none of them prepared him for the reality.
She was shaking when she hugged him, but as Volkan pulled her off of him too soon, she burst with frantic energy. āVolkan,ā she hissed, squaring her body between him and Marcusāfuck, heād just gotten here, and she was already placing herself between him and danger. He was as useless as heād ever been, wrists and ankles bound, the ropes unyielding to his efforts to slice them on the brick edge lining the hearth. The flames warmed his back, and the ropes held firm.
With the distance between them now, he could see Felicia more clearlyāthe bruises, the wet tangle of hair, the metal bangles on her wrists like shackles, the desperation in her eyes as she pressed her hands against Volkanās broad chest. āVolkan, please, he has nothing to do with this, he doesnāt have to be hereāā
āWould you rather I just killed him?ā It was the first time Volkan had spoken, and the rumble of his voice sent a spiking pulse of hatred through Marcus unlike anything heād felt before. For all that Felicia was pushing back against him, he was unmoved. One eye gleamed with delight; the other was covered by a black hole of an eyepatch.
āVolkan, please.ā Feliciaās voice cracked on the word. āPlease, just let him go, Iāll do whatever you want, just not himāā
āYouāre getting hysterical.ā Calm and steady, Volkan placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her towards one of the leather armchairs circling the fireplace. āYou need to relax if you want to be with him for this.ā
At that, Marcus snapped. āStop touching her, you fucking freakāā
āIāll get to you in a minute, boy,ā Volkan said, waving a dismissive hand in his direction as he forced Felicia into the chair. She was pale, silent, eyes wide, and she allowed herself to be sat down without protest. Their chance for freedom was slipping away.
āFeliciaāā If she was tied down, if neither of them could move, it was over. Marcus fought his bonds with fresh urgency. āFelicia, do something!ā
She locked eyes with him, and hers were dull, the light fading. Everything was moving too fast and in slow motion all at once as Volkan pulled cuffs from his pocketāfucking creep, did he carry those around all the time?āand bound Felicia to the chair by one wrist, then the other. Marcus thrashed, and by the time Felicia snapped into action, she was already trapped. They had lost before theyād even begun.
Volkan brushed her hair from her face with a mock tenderness, then turned back to face Marcus. He cleared the space between them in in a few steps and loomed over Marcus. Fuck, he was so tall. Marcus had to crane his neck to look up at him, and that pissed him off even more.
āVolkan, please.ā Feliciaās voice was shaking, and the sound of it hurt Marcus more than anything. Looking past the bulk of Volkan, Marcus could just make her out in the glow of the fireplace, small and making herself smaller with every breath.
Volkanās smile was slow, indulgent, infuriating, and he allowed her to stumble over her words for a minute before sliding a knife from his belt. The blade of it caught the light, and Felicia fell silent.
Marcus was silent, too, watching the knife like a hawk. It was dangerābut it was an opportunity. All he needed was two fucking seconds and he could do it. Heād grab the knife and drive it through Volkanās heart and get them both out of there. His pulse pounded with anticipation.
Turning the blade, Volkan pressed the flat of it against Marcusās cheek almost gently. His free hand ran through Marcusās hair with an intimacy that sent ice through his veins, that reminded him of what Felicia had told him after the dance and what this man was capable of.
āOpen your mouth.ā The command was both unexpected and inevitable, and Marcus could only recoil. From her chair, Felicia was struggling anew, pleading, āVolkanāā
Volkan smiled down at Marcus almost sweetly, and then he crossed the room in two steps and buried the knife in Feliciaās stomach. It was so fast, so sudden, Marcus couldnāt processāand then it slammed into clarity, and he was yelling, and Felicia was frozen, blood welling up around where the knife pierced her. Her eyes were glassy and her chest heaved with tiny breaths.
āI can heal her.ā Volkan left the knife to return to Marcus. Marcus couldnāt tear his eyes from Felicia, whose hands gripped the armrests with white knuckles, whose face was paling by the second. She was going to die while he did nothing.
āMarcus.ā Rough hands tilted his face away from Felicia to look up again at Volkan. He was already hard, the piece of shit. āI can heal her. But first you need to open your mouth.ā
āFuck you, you bastard,ā Marcus spat. Volkan was a sick fuck, and it was a game to him, and Marcus had lost.
Volkan said nothing, smiling broadly, and after a heartbeat and another hitch of breath from Felicia, Marcus opened his mouth.
Volkan took his cock out and rested it between Marcusās lips, doing nothing, and fuck, this bastard was going to make him do all the work. From the corner of his eye, he could see Felicia stirring, coming back into herself; and then he realized he couldnāt look at her while doing this, so he closed his eyes and began to suck.
With his eyes shut and the roar in his ears blocking out the world around him, the cock in his mouth could be anyoneās, some anonymous hookup at a bar, some guy heād crashed with after a late night. He leaned into that feeling; this was sex, nothing more, and if he could finish it quicklyā
āEyes open, boy.ā Volkanās voice struck like a clap of thunder. āLook at me.ā
White-hot with hatred, Marcus opened his eyes, and as he made eye contact with Volkan he swore the cock in his mouth twitched. Fucking smug piece of shit, good eye gleaming in the firelight, one large hand resting lightly on Marcusās head, and Marcus was off-kilter with his hands still tied behind his back but fuck it, he was going to finish this. He leaned forward, venomous, taking Volkan deeper, tongue tracing a vein along his length. He had never hated someone more, and he turned that hatred into a twisted passion, because Felicia was bleeding out in a chair and every second he spent indulging this sick bastard was another second she slipped further away from him.
Marcus worked the cock in his mouth by feel, responding to each twitch and throb, tightening his lips, his glare never leaving Volkanās face. The bastard was so horny, it couldnāt be long nowāand there it was, Volkan pressed the back of Marcusās head and hilted himself down his throat and came. Marcus took it all without a sound, a thin line of saliva connecting his lips to the flaccid cock as it was drawn from his mouth. Volkan tucked himself back in his trousers, and in his face Marcus saw the post-orgasm haze of pleasure that meant his guard was down, that this was their best chance.
Volkan crouched, knees cracking, and brought his gaze to Marcusās eye level. āYouāre fun,ā he murmured, good eye tracing the venom in Marcusās expression. āItās almost a shame, what Iām going toāā
Marcus slung his head out in a wild headbutt, angling for Volkanās blind side. It hit with a satisfying crack and a grunt from Volkan, and Marcus was already scrambling back. He was jumbled, still tied up, but his mind already raced ahead; maybe if he could get the knife, or one of those fireplace toolsā
Then his world exploded with stars, head cracking against the hardwood floor as Volkan bore down on top of him. He struggled to rise, but Volkanās hand forced his head into the ground, his eyes watering as he stared into the fireplace. āWeāre not done here yet,ā Volkan growled in his ear.
Still bearing down his weight, Volkan shifted and began to work at the rope binding Marcusās legs together. Marcusās blood froze; and then he redoubled his efforts. āYou piece of shit,ā he spat, āsheās going to dieāā
Then his legs were free, and he pushed himself away before Volkan could make his next move, struggling to his feet with his arms still bound behind him. To his surprise, Volkan let him stand. Marcus braced himself, legs wide, finding his balance. He kept his eyes trained on Volkan, but risked a quick glance at Feliciaāface pale, chest fluttering with breath, eyes wideābefore fixing his attention on the threat before him. Volkan rose easily, rolling the tension from his shoulders, considering and then he punched Marcus across the jaw.
For all he had been expecting an attack, Marcus was still caught off-guard by the speed with which Volkan struck. The blow sent him staggering, and then he lost his balance and stumbled to the floor. He rolled away, expecting a kick that didnāt come. Instead, Volkan loomed above him, the ghost of a smirk crossing his face. āGet up, boy,ā he growled.
Face throbbing, Marcus rose, and when Volkan attacked again, he was ready. He danced out of the way of the next punch, using his momentum to put space between them and buy himself some time. As much freedom of movement as he had, he was useless with his hands still bound behind him. If he could just cut the ropesāhe risked another glance at Felicia, the dagger embedded in her abdomen, but fuck, if he messed with that she could just bleed out even fasterāand then Volkan landed another blow on his cheek, sending him reeling across the room.
There had to be a way out, but every time Marcus approached it, Volkan struck again. The blows left him unbalanced, unable to focus, if he could just take a minute to catch his breathābut Volkan was relentless. And the worst of it was that even as each blow stunned him and took his breath away, Marcus could tell the man was holding something back. He was toying with him, smiling, probably getting hard again, the bastard. Each punch, each kick left Marcus more and more exhausted, while Volkan was still pristine save the growing bruise on his face where Marcus had landed his headbutt. Furious, desperate, he tried the same maneuver, slinging his head at Volkanās blind side. He missed, and an elbow to the back of the skull send him sprawling on his stomach, wind knocked from him and the world spinning around him.
Volkan was on top of him again before he could move, and the rough hands at his back began untying his wrists. He couldnāt dare to trust this new freedom, not with Felicia watching with fresh terror, and at the jangle of metal behind him, he barely managed to turn his head and look back over his shoulder. Above him, on top of him, Volkan held two thin metal bangles, twins to the ones Felicia wore, and even with his untuned senses Marcus could feel the prickle of magic gathering around them.
āWhat are youāā Marcus began, and then Volkan slipped the first cuff around his wrist and he suffocated. No, that wasnāt itāhe could breathe, but something was weaving around him, trapping him, threatening to invade, and then Volkan slid the second cuff around his other wrist andā
And he was gone, he couldnāt see Felicia or the room or anything anymore, he was in darknessā
and something ensnared him that he couldnāt understand, something in his mind or soul or whatever the fuck, and he still couldnāt breatheā
and then something that was him or the thing ensnaring him told him to relax, and he did, and the darkness became even darker but he was relaxed, and it didnāt matter that he couldnāt breathe.
***
Felicia was fading. The knife embedded in her stopped the worst of the blood loss, but each pulse of her pounding heart drained more life from her, and she could almost convince herself that the prickling she felt all over was from that and not from the magic Volkan was weaving over Marcusās unconscious body. The metal cuffs on his wrists gleamed dully in the firelight.
Volkan rose with his same easy smile, poison in his eye. āWeāll give him a minute,ā he said with a nod at Marcus as he stepped over to Felicia. She couldnāt look at Volkan, couldnāt take her eyes off her friendās crumpled form a few unreachable steps from her.
āVolkan, whatāah!ā She cut herself off with a sharp gasp of pain as he twitched the knife in her abdomen. He had barely touched it, yet that tiny movement was enough to drive her breath from her, insides twisted and burning and pulsing.
Volkan traced the thin ooze of blood around the blade of the knife. āI hope this hasnāt been too distracting for you,ā he murmured, twisting the knife just so and forcing a ragged yell from her strained throat. Her weak fingers gripped the edges of the chair she was bound to, and when he ripped the knife from her body, her vision went white.
She blinked rapidly, and as her vision returned, the first thing she saw was Marcus, unmoved. He could be dead, but for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Volkan probed into her now-freely-bleeding wound and she arched her back, straining to get away. Her blood soaked into the thin dress she wore and pooled into the worn leather of the chair.
When he finally healed the wound, it was with a slow breath that promised more pain to come, and it gave her no relief. Marcus still hadnāt moved. āVolkan, whatāwhat is heāā
āHeāll be fine.ā He brushed her hair back with bloodstained fingers, leaving a smear across her cheek. Her body tingled with the lingering absence of pain from the healing, the slow replenishing of blood within her. Willing herself beyond the hopelessness of the situation, she focused her gaze on Marcus, as if the power of her staring would be enough to bring him back.
Then he gasped, and her heartrate redoubled. Marcus twisted on the ground, eyes a bright flash in the light of the fireplace before he shut them again, face turning away. Volkan moved to him and crouched over him with something that could be curiosity. He murmured to Marcus, voice too low for Felicia to make out any words, and then he stood back.
āMarcus, get up,ā Volkan said, and Marcus did so. There was blood on his face where Volkan had touched him. Marcus was bleeding as well, a thin trail of blood from his nose mingling with a split lip, and bruises were already forming across his face. For a moment, that was the only damage Felicia could see.
But the longer she stared at him, and he stared back, silent and unmoving, the more her skin prickled. Something in his energy, his stance, was different. His face was blank; even as his eyes bore into hers, they simultaneously looked beyond her, or maybe at nothing. And he was so still. Marcus had never been still in his life.
Something was very wrong.
āWhat did you do to him?ā Her voice was shaking.
āHeās completely fine,ā Volkan said. āMarcus, let her know youāre fine. Give her a smile. Wave hello.ā
āIām fine,ā Marcus said, in a voice that was and was not his. The corners of his lips turned up in a facsimile of a smile that didnāt reach his eyes; his hand moved in a wave with no feeling behind it.
Felicia recoiled as if heād slapped her. That couldnāt be Marcus. It moved like a creature wearing Marcusās skin.
āVolkan. whatāā She strained against her bonds, lightheaded with terror. āWhat did you do?ā
āMarcus, slap her in the face.ā
Marcus moved as if he were completing some mundane household chore, and then his palm cracked against Feliciaās cheek. It didnāt hurt. There was no force behind it, but neither was there any apprehension. It was a slap.
Volkan moved closer as well, considering. āHarder than that, Marcus,ā he chided.
The next slap snapped her face to the side, her ears ringing. Tears sprang to her eyes from the physical shock of it, and Marcus loomed over her, unmoved.
āPunch her in the face.ā
āMarcusāā Before she could finish the thought, his fist slammed into her cheek, cracking her head against the back of the chair. āMarcus, Marcus, stopāā
āKeep hitting her until I tell you to stop.ā
The blows came at her at random, glancing across her cheek, her shoulder, her jaw. Whenever she blinked the stars from her eyes, she saw Marcusās face, her best friend, but no, it couldnāt be him. He couldnāt be beating her with that blank look on his face. Each punch rattled deep inside her, driving cracked rivulets through some secure part of her she hadnāt even realized sheād been holding onto. How naive of her, to think there was any part of her being that Volkan couldnāt shatter.
āMarcus, stop.ā
Marcusās arms dropped to his sides, gaze once again focused on nothing. Felicia sucked in a deep breath that turned into a cough that shook her body in fresh pain that sent her into a spasm of gasps, folding in on herself as much as she could with the bindings still holding her tight to the chair. When her vision cleared and she looked up through sweat-damp bangs, Volkan held the same knife heād stabbed her with.
āMarcus.ā He took Marcusās hand and placed the knife in it, curling each finger around the hilt. āUse this knife to stab yourself in the left eye.ā
Marcusās arm moved as if in slow motion, and Feliciaās heart froze. āMarcus, stop!ā The knife drew closer to his face. āStop, please, Volkan, Iāll do whatever you want, just stopāā
Volkan spoke and rose his hand, and Marcus froze, the knife hovering inches from his face. Volkanās gaze on Felicia was hungry. āWhatever I want?ā
No no no no, she thought, but she bit down the protest. āYes,ā she choked out, āwhatever you want, just please, leave him alone, you already have meāā
āI do have you,ā Volkan agreed, āand you already do whatever I want. Marcus, do it.ā
The knife moved again, and despite herself, Felicia squeezed her eyes shut. A soft sound that mightāve been a grape popping, and a small exhale of breath, and when Felicia peeked out from half-shut eyes, it was done. Marcus stood at ease, knife casually dangling from one hand, freely bleeding from the ruin of his eye. She was going to be sick.
āMarcusā¦ā she began, but there was nothing to say.
Volkan took Marcusās chin in his hand and turned his head, examining the gore with grisly relish. He took the knife, wiping the blood off on Marcusās shirt before sheathing it and turning to Felicia. His hands brushed the cuffs holding her, leaving a smear of blood, and with a spark of magic, the bonds were released.
She flexed her wrists, staring up at Marcus in mute horror, unable to move.
āGet up,ā Volkan said, not ungently. āYou need to heal him before he bleeds out.ā
contents: literally just so much explicit and gratuitous torture and noncon. enjoy!
Read on Ao3
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Felicia hit the hard cement of the basement floor as she had countless times before, and yet like she never had before. She was bruised and bloody, her shoulder screamed where she had been shot, and deep inside her, something long dormant now burned brightly.
Volkan was also different. His single eye no longer held that deep, personal hatred heād thrown at her in the woods, but neither did it shine with his usual frivolous amusement. His boundless rage was now concentrated to a fine point, focused and honed and deadly.
She staggered to her feet, but before she could fully rise he kicked her onto her back. She sprawled out, and he slammed his boot onto her shoulder where heād shot her. He stomped again. Something in her cracked.
It was a dance theyād performed countless times before. Already, the fire in her was fading, smothered by pain and blood loss, but noāshe grit her teeth and held on. She was going to lose, but that didnāt mean she had to make it easy for him.
When he snarled a hand in her hair to drag her across the room, she dug useless nails into his skin. He ripped the sleep dress from her body with a single tear, and she lashed naked legs at him as if she could stop him. He threw her onto a metal table like she weighed nothing, and all her wild lashing was nothing as he strapped down her arms and legs.
She was secured, arms pinned, hips at the edge of the table, legs spread, because he was so fucking predictable.
Volkan ran his hands along her bloody body, drawing out the lightest healing from her. It was just enough to prevent her from bleeding out, not enough to truly ease the pain. Heād gotten very good at that level of granular healing.
He considered her, half his face cloaked in blood and shadows, and his silence unnerved her. He hadnāt spoken a single word since bringing her to the basement, where the silence echoed louder than her screams.
Then he stepped behind her and out of her line of vision. She stretched her neck back as much as she could, but restrained as she was, she couldnāt get an angle to see him. She could hear his heavy footsteps, and then the harsh sound of metal on cement: he was dragging something across the floor. Her heart rate tripled.
He returned and stood between her spread legs. The sound of his belt unbuckling was almost a relief, because it was something she understood, something she expected from him. He could rape her a dozen times over, and she would close her mind and bear it.
He thrust into her without ceremony. She was as dry as sheād ever been, tense from pain, and he tore through her like paper. She gasped despite herself as he forced his way deeper, her burning insides contrasting with the unyielding cold of the metal table against her back. Each thrust rocked her, jolting her injuries, splitting her body.
And yet he barely seemed to be taking any pleasure from it. She knew what his pleasure looked like, the endless ways heād chased it with her suffering, and the way he fucked her now wasnāt about his pleasure at all. It was his attempt to reassert his dominance over her, because in all this time, rape was the only way he knew to take control of a situation. It was pathetic, and he was pathetic, and she was in agony but she didnāt care.
He finished in her with the slightest exhale and pulled out before she could blink, walking again to the blind spot behind her. Again, the heavy sound of metal behind her, and the dread building within her. She breathed heavily, angling again to try to see him, the movement sending a fresh jolt of pain from where heād fucked her.
When he returned, his eye still held that sharp, focused anger. When his hands touched her body, they were laced with magic, and the air buzzed with it a split second before pain shot through her.
Each touch sent white-hot magic through her like bolts of lightning. He touched her stomach, and her body seized with the electric agony. Her shoulder, her hip, her thigh. With each jolt, she couldnāt move, couldnāt breathe, her body paralyzed as the current of pure magic ran through her. Then he targeted her most sensitive areas, her nipples, between her legs, because he was a fucking pervert. She couldnāt hold back the scream that broke through as he sent a burst of burning magic through her clit.
She trembled, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. He had paused at last, but she knew the anticipation would make the next touch sharper than ever. She sucked in a gulp of air, wanting to spit words at him, but it was useless. What would a fuck you, you piece of shit do except highlight her own helplessness? He was pissed, and he wasnāt talking, but she knew him. This was foreplay to him. Whatever was coming next would be much, much worse.
He touched her again and she flinched, but it wasnāt the magic-laced touch of before. Almost tenderly, he wiped down the skin of her shoulderānot the one heād shot, the other one, where a lifetime ago heād given her a cigarette burn. The scar of it lingered as a faint white circle, an inverse freckle.
He spoke at last. āAre you familiar with the symbol for failed healing magic?ā
She was. It was standardized across all hospitals and clinics, a symbol all aspiring healers learned on their first day in healerās college. A deceptively simple series of lines and loops, found stamped in medical files to represent failure. An attempt at healing that didnāt take. An injury that was too grave. A healer that wasnāt good enough.
Not trusting her voice, she jerked a nod.
Seemingly satisfied by that, Volkan nodded in return. He reached behind her, and at first her mind couldnāt piece together what she was seeing: the swirled symbol, glowing white-hot. A branding iron.
The heat of it, inches from her, triggered a primal terror. She pressed her body away, chains and metal table digging into her skin. āVolkanāā
āItāll be worse if you move.ā Something of a smile started to creep back into his faceādespite everything, he was enjoying her pain, her fear. He loved that he could still get to her.
His free hand pressed into her sternum, holding her in place, and brought the iron down to her bare flesh.
The minute it touched her skin, her vision went white. The burn was worse than any magic heād used, worse than the cigarette heād burned her with, worse than anything, and she couldnāt stop her bodyās instinctive attempts to twist away from the heat. Even over her screams, she swore she could hear her own flesh sizzling. The meat of her shoulder was melting away, leaving bone, leaving nothing.
He ripped the brand away at last and a bit of flesh went with it; she was on the cusp of hyperventilating. Grabbing her head, he forced her to look at her shoulder, at the mark heād left. She struggled, and then everything slammed into focus: angry burning skin, hot and red and charred and oozing and agonizing.
He traced a nail along the edge of the burn, and her scream became a sob. āStopāā
āI havenāt started.ā
He released the bindings holding her down and slid her body to the floor. She couldnāt even bring herself to all fours. Everything sheād had in her had left when he ripped the brand from her flesh.
She barely managed to lift her head as he stalked around her and lashed a vicious kick to her ribs, and again, and again. She coughed, gasped, struggled to breathe. In the haze of her vision, he was a blurred mountain looming over her.
Then the bracelets at her wrists hummed with fresh magic, and she flinched against the imminent pain before chains connected to her shackles, dragging her to kneeling, to her feet, to her tiptoes. Stretched and swaying, she couldnāt quite get a solid foothold; when he crowded into her naked body, hands stroking her hips, her attempted kick was weightless.
āIf youāre very lucky,ā he said, āI will kill you in the next twenty-four hours.ā
The terror of his words was there, tight in her chest, threatening to break freeābut there was something more beneath the surface. She didnāt want to die, and she had never been as vulnerable as she was in this moment, but neither had she ever been as honest as she was now. Sheād drawn something out of him that sheād never seen before, a twisted honesty in turn, and she no longer needed to scrape and appease and make herself small for him.
With nothing else to say, she spat in his face.
He didnāt blink at that, holding her gaze, his own inscrutable, one eye a bloody crater.
The basement door opened.
His expression didnāt change on the surface, but she knew him, and she saw the shifting of miniscule muscles like the shadow of a storm. Behind him, a staff member approached with the air of a man on the gallows. Volkan didnāt turn from Felicia.
āVolkanā¦ā The man placed a cautious hand on Volkanās arm. He barely went up to Volkanās shoulders.
āI trust this is incredibly important.ā Volkan removed his hands from her at last, and turned to face the man.
āIām so sorry for interrupting, butā¦ā The manās voice lowered, and Felicia strained to hear but couldnāt pick up any words.
Volkanās reaction, however, was unmistakable. His expression changed at last, slowly growing into the smile heād been missing all night, the smile that chilled her worse than any hate-filled glare.
āThank you,ā Volkan said with genuine warmth, placing a genial hand on the manās shoulder. āIāll see to it at once.ā His smile broadened as he motioned towards Felicia, pushing the other man in her direction. āFeel free to spend some time with her,ā he continued, āand let the others know that sheās available as well. Open for both staff and guest use.ā
And without another word, Volkan was gone, leaving Felicia alone with this strange new man. Relief at her presumably-delayed execution curdled with a low-burning dread at what news couldāve brought such a sudden change in Volkanās demeanor.
The man was nondescript, one of the dozen or so workers in the estate who facilitated Volkanās rape and torture, and he eyed her now as if he didnāt dare believe his luck. His gaze roamed over her naked body, and then he placed a hand on her breast and she shut her eyes to the inevitable.
āIām not a sadist, you know,ā he said.
Fuck. Not only was he going to rape her, he was going to make her listen to his half-hearted justifications and apologies while he did it. She couldnāt stop him from doing anything he wanted, but she didnāt have to respond, so she kept her eyes and mouth shut. He walked around behind her, and when he trailed a touch over her sensitive nipples, she flinched despite herself. His hushed intake of air at that told her heād misinterpreted her bodyās reaction.
āIām really not,ā he continued, now behind her. āI donāt want to hurt you at all. This doesnāt have to hurt.ā The clink of a belt buckle, cold hands on her bare hips. āBut I canāt very well turn down a gift from him, can I?ā
She didnāt dignify that with a response. The man made a token effort, fingers dancing over her clit, before presumably deciding it wasnāt worth the work to worry about her pleasure. Then the fingers were replaced with his cock, and his hands were on her hips again, and he pulled her back onto him.
The barest arousal heād managed to wring from her was hardly enough to lubricate his way as he forced himself deeper into her. She grit her teeth against it, already sore from Volkan, now alight with fresh pain. He fucked her with short, rocking thrusts, breathing heavily as if it were some great exertion.
The rape was mundane, after everything Volkan had put her through. If she focused her attention on the sickly sensation of this stranger sliding in and out of her, if she leaned into the slight burn of the everyday pain it brought, she could almost forget the horror of the branding that still pulsed through her like a heartbeat. She could almost forget that Volkan had declared her open for both staff and guest use.
The man finished quicklyāor he didnāt drag it out, the way Volkan always didāand then walked back around to her front without another word. She was bare and burning and cold where heād filled her a second ago, and when he cupped her cheek with a thumb tracing her lips, she shivered. He kissed her almost chastely, and then he was gone before her brain could even come up with the idea to bite him.
He was the first of many to visit her in the basement. Felicia had always had a vague sense that there were others living in the mansionāshe knew better than to think Volkan was doing his own cooking and cleaningābut it dizzied her, the number of unfamiliar faces, figures indistinguishable except in their desire to hurt her. They came alone or in pairs, clutching half-drunk beers, slapping her or kissing her, blowing off steam. One made a punching bag of her body. Another took her slowly, fingers working expertly between her legs and coaxing a bitter orgasm from her.
Somehow she ended up on the ground, the world spinning around her, throat still sore from the last visitor. The chains held her still, jangling rudely with each shuddering breath she took, and the brand on her shoulder was a burning stake holding her in place. She sank as low as the chains allowed, pressing her forehead to the cool cement and letting her eyes drift shut.
Then the basement door slammed open, and she heard familiar voices.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, willing them to leave, refusing to acknowledge them even as her muscles tensed in subconscious terror. The voices mingled, three of them, and none of them was Volkan but they all tugged at her memory, dragging her somewhere she didnāt want to goā
āSheās a mess.ā
āI like her better this way.ā
Sheād made them drinks, and theyād used the bottleāand when she could no longer deny it, she opened her eyes and took in the three figures looming over her. Miles, Scott, Victor. The night sheād been forced to entertain them was a lifetime ago, yet the dread of it returned in an instant.
What more could they do to her? Sheād been raped, beaten, branded, and anything they added to that would be a drop in the ocean.
But Felicia had yet to find a limit to the cruelty of Volkan and his lackeys.
They circled her, taking in her battered form, the bruises blooming on her skin, the come drying in her hair, the brand spreading tendrils of fire within her. One of the figures crouched beside herāMiles, she could make out the faux-warmth in his eyes and the hunger beneath it.
āIf you all lift her up,ā he said mildly, āI can get under her.ā
She shut her eyes again, tilting her head away from him. āGo away,ā she croaked. They ignored her.
āI donāt want her mouth again.ā Scott, petulant. āI had that last time.ā
āWe have all night.ā Victor was behind her, already sliding hands down her body to adjust her position. āYou donāt have to limit yourself to one hole.ā
She was shaking her head, no, but Victor was lifting her up and Miles slid under her, cock already out and hard. He took her hips and guided her onto him as if she were made of glass. She barely felt him inside her. Numb, she let her eyes drift shut again.
A sharp slap to the face, and her eyes flew open. Scott loomed over her, cock in hand. āI want to see her choke on me,ā he growled, slapping her again.
From behind her, Victor said, āSheāll bite you off.ā
She would. Scott mustāve seen it in her eyes, because when he grasped her jaw with a rough hand and forced her mouth open, it wasnāt his cock but a gag he shoved in her mouth. She bit down anyway, but he was already buckling it around her skull, and the cruel prongs stretched her jaw painfully.
He guided himself into her mouth, and she jerked back instinctively. The motion of it ground her body into Miles, piercing her from below; he let out a breath at that, and she forced herself to hold still, but Scott thrust deeper into her throat, and behind her Victor was pressing against her ass with a practiced efficiency.
She couldnāt breathe. The assault was too much, from all directions, filling her below, above, behind. Victor thrust forward and fully sheathed himself in her ass, and she screamed; the vibrations massaged the cock in her throat, and Scott jerked her forward until her nose pressed into his abdomen; she writhed against him, and Miles gripped her from below and angled his hips and between the three of them sheād never been so full, every molecule of her being suffocating.
They didnāt quite move in tandem, but there was a rhythm to their motions that never fully gave her relief. Miles couldnāt do much from his position, but between him and Victor she was sure she was splitting open. Scott was fucking her face like it was another cunt, his furious pounding leaving her the barest space to catch a breath before it was knocked out of her again from behind. Her vision blurred with tears, and maybe it was better that she didnāt have to see their shitty faces, but it only added to the disorientation.
They fucked her for what could have been hours, or days. Miles finished first, flooding her with a sickly warmth and wriggling out from under her to lean against the wall and sip his drink. Victor finished a minute later with a grip on her hips hard enough to leave bruises. When he pulled out, Scott did as well, sliding from her mouth with a string of saliva. His cock, still erect, bobbed as he walked around her, and across the room Victor was examining the tools lining the wall.
Her jaw ached from the punishing gag, and then as if heād read her thoughts, Miles was there, drink in hand. He gave a small smile and brushed sweaty bangs back from her face, then tipped his drink into her open mouth.
āThis will help,ā he murmured, pressing on her forehead and tilting her head back so she was forced to swallow or choke. The burn of the liquor inflamed all her other injuries, heightened the sensation, and with her jaw held open she couldnāt bite down the sob that broke through. Miles softened and reached around her to undo the buckle of the gag. With it loosened, she could finally close her mouth, ignoring the condescending pat on the cheek from Miles as he stepped awayā
And fresh pain exploded in her core as Scott thrust into her from behind, hammering into her ass like an instrument of war. She cried out, each movement sending daggers of pain through her body. Where Miles had stepped aside, she could just make out Victor raising a whip. She took in a quick breath, and he brought it down across her breasts.
The pain of it lanced across her, her muscles seizing, and Scott answering her tightness by redoubling his thrusts. The second lash from Victor hit her nipple, drawing blood; the third hit her fresh brand and she screamed.
If she could have passed out, she would have, but some primal part of her brain clung to consciousness. The lights of the room alternated overly bright and dim as her vision wavered. Each strike from the whip was answered with Scott sheathing himself to the hilt inside her. Miles stood to the side, presumably content to palm himself and enjoy the show; Victor wielded the whip like a maestro, each lash precisely placed to torment; Scott ground himself into her and then growled, āGive me thatāā and Victor must have known what he wanted, because he didnāt hand over the whip but instead strode over to them and forced the handle of the whip into her cunt and her vision went black.
They took her for several rounds, rotating in and out, switching positions, pulling tools and toys from the wall to use on her sore and shaking body. She hung limply from the chains, jerking whenever they fucked her or hit her or electrocuted her. Even as they finished with her, leaving her in a crumpled heap on the ground, it took several minutes for her body to realize she was alone, for her muscles to stop tensing in anticipation of the next strike.
No one else came down for hours, perhaps. Felicia lay where theyād left her; she had long since given up on trying to find a position to alleviate her suffering. With her cheek resting on the cement, her line of vision spread across the ground, where she could just make out the smears of her own blood in the dim light. The room was silent as a tomb. She was breathing, but everything else about her was shutting down, refusing to perceive. She couldnāt fall unconscious, but maybe she could stop being on some level.
Time must have passed.
The next time the door opened, she knew it was Volkan; the weight and cadence of his footfalls were etched into her very being. The inevitability of it held her down, sunk into her bones. He was going to kill her. Fighting back the bone-deep exhaustion, she forced her eyes open and looked at him. He had cleaned himself, his ruined eye now covered with a thick black patch. With his visible eye, he watched her not with the unbridled rage of before, or even the methodical, controlled anger, but with a mild irritation, as if she were a distasteful household chore.
He considered her a moment, then stepped around her. A heartbeat later, she felt the icy blast of cold water.
He hosed her down with brutal efficiency, directing the spray along her body, in her hair, between her legs. Red and white swirled off of her down the drain in the cement. The spray of the hose was like shards of ice, and she curled in a feeble attempt to protect herself, but he maneuvered around until she was some semblance of clean.
When the hose was shut off, the room was again silent save the steady drop of water from her wet hair and the gurgle of runoff down the drain.
āI truly was planning to kill you.ā
She jerked her gaze in his direction at that, shivering and watching him through narrowed eyes. He stepped over to her and crouched at her level, and his hand on her skin was warm.
āIād do it slowly,ā he continued, ātake you apart piece by piece.ā He tilted his head to consider. āI could stretch it out for four or five days, at least.ā
She didnāt have the energy to move away, but she retracted from his touch on a subconscious level. The deadened fury of her gaze landed on the eyepatch. Her voice was a croak. āNext time, Iāll make sure I get your brain.ā
He smiled at that, and it chilled her. It was the smile that said he was enjoying himself, he was no longer furious, he no longer saw her as a threat. He had decided heād won.
āOf course, once I calmed down, I realized killing you would be wasteful.ā He pulled out a small towel and began to dry her off. She hissed in pain and flinched as he rubbed up against her bruises, cuts, burns. He ignored her pain and persisted, roughly but not unkindly. āMuch better to sell you off to someone and at least recoup some of the investment.ā
The tenor of his speech, his self-indulgent monologuing, told her that wasnāt the end of it, and so she waited in silence for him to make his point. Heād set aside the towel and was now running his hands over her in healing, drawing on her to take the edge off the worst of the injuries. He never fully allowed her to give herself over to healing, but allowed the smallest stream through to thwart incoming infection, staunch bleeding, drag her from half-dead to painfully functional. The brand flashed in bright pain and then dulled, marring her skin white on off-white.
The healing left her disoriented as always, her mind dissociating from her body as she struggled to keep up with what had happened to her, and in her daze, he pulled her to her feet with a smile.
āIāve found something better to do with you.ā His smile was full and broad and hateful now. āIāll be able to get a few more monthsā use out of you, at the very least.ā
āI donāt want it.ā Exhausted, defeated, she barely knew what she was protesting, she just knew she didnāt want to be in a world where he was smiling at her like that. āIām done. Just stop.ā
He ignored her and pulled a slip of a dress over her head, then jerked her forward. āWalk with me.ā
She couldnāt. She wouldnāt. But the promise of fresh air beyond the basement called to her, and she followed him up the stairs on unsteady legs before she could stop herself.
Upstairs, the estate was quiet. The darkness outside the windows was the velvet of pre-dawn, and the household staff were nowhere to be seen. She wondered how many of them had come down to fuck her, if they were all sleeping off their partying.
Volkan guided her through the house, the short walk down the hall an exertion after hours (days?) spent in chains. The rug was soft as a cloud on her bare feet, and the warmth of the mansion thawed the deep-seated chill in her bones. When they finally reached the room Volkan was looking for, Felicia felt the faintest stirring of strength within herself, and braced herself to turn whatever he had against him.
He opened the door, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the lightingāthe room was spacious, a few seats were arranged around an open area in the middle, a fire was lit, and kneeling in front of itā
āMarcus,ā she breathed, and the world shifted beneath her feet.
He looked up at the sound of her voice, and the cocky defiance on his face was wiped in an instance: replaced with rage, heartbreak, horror, love.
She crossed the room in a few steps and threw herself at him, arms wrapped tight around him. He was warm and kind, and he couldnāt be there. He wasnāt supposed to be there.
āIām so sorry,ā he whispered, leaning his head into her. He was bound, she realized, arms and legs twisted and forcing him into a kneeling position. She held him tighter.
āYou canāt be here,ā she whispered, voice breaking. Everything sheād been through was meant only for her. He couldnāt be in this world. Her heart was hammering with terror, defeat.
āFelicia, Iām sorry.ā He pressed against her, and his cheek was damp with tears. Behind them, she heard the click of a door shutting, a lock sliding into place. She held Marcus in trembling arms, the bracelets on her wrists digging into both their bodies, and she refused to look behind her.
Can I get, female whumpee getting ready for the big event at Whumper's house, getting dressed and male Whumper appearing behind her and zipping up her dress? Please?
Bundling up her hair, sweeping it aside, and slowly running the zipper up. Maybe touch over some scars or bruises before the fabric hides it all.
Some hushed threats whispered in her ear: "Don't disappoint me now." "I'll be watching you." Or worse, brought with a smile: "It will be fun."
Both staring in the mirror, Whumpee awkward or scowling. Whumper admiring. "Look at you." Or hands on her shoulders as he spins her around. Looks her over. A finger brushing over her chin, forcing her to look up.
You asked for it...I'm telling everyone about the forbidden Jolkan dnd coming out AU
It starts with the Jamivy-Volkan sadistic card game. James protests to using the 20-sided die to roll for how many times to kick Ivy, pulls out his d4 from his satchel of dnd dice instead. Kicks the shit out of Ivy, killing her. Volkan is impressed and wants to be invited to game night. They end up having it at Volkan's place. Felicia is the DM (whether she wants to be or not). They have a genuinely nice time, and near the end of the session, a drunken, vulnerable James confesses, "I think I like guys too." Volkan nods sagely and says "Yeah, I could sense that." Gives James some genuine advice on coming out and accepting himself. Felicia designs a heavy-handed npc to be a boyfriend to James's character. Gets legitimately into planning a fun and engaging session for them. Volkan gives James a tour of his place after, stopping by the basement with all its knives and whips on display ("this is where I work on my research with Felicia." James is like "š¤ hmm ok"). Gets James a lyft home, Pete is the lyft driver (he has five stars because Harrison always gives him a good rating). Takes Felicia back downstairs for some light torture before bed. All in all, a lovely time for everyone š
Felicia wasn't thrilled about being roped into this at first, but she ends up really enjoying it! Developing the campaign is a nice distraction from how miserable her life is. She likes getting to flex her creative muscles and pretend to be somewhere else. And of course she's happy to support James on his journey of self-acceptance.
This raffle has been a long time coming as a late celebration of 500 followers and general gift to the whump community.
What's being raffled?
A waist-up greyscale sketch commission of a single character.
Any character, any pose, any whump.
Rules:
To enter, please reblog this post. That's all!
You don't have to be following me to enter (but I mean you could be that would be very cool of you.)
The raffle will end on March 20th, and one winner will be drawn via a random name picker. The draw will happen around 4pm GMT (10am CST).
I will DM / send an ask to the winner to let them know they've won. They then have 24 hours to confirm, or I'll pick a new name.
[Optional] Add in your reblog tags which character you would want drawn in a precarious situation :V
Thank you to everyone out there for sticking with me (and my un-knowable, unstable schedule of posting things) I read every comment and every tag, and I'm very grateful to everyone who enjoys my blog in the open or in the shadows.
Good luck to everyone who enters!Ā š¦
