The New Master :: Brothers Jones Whump drabble
A/N: A very happy birthday to @sherlockianwhovian who I humbly ask will accept this small token of my appreciation of whumpship! I know you like muzzles, and I know you like slave Killian, and what better way to tell you how much of a good friend you are than with a little brothers Jones whump. Hope you like it! Oh, and the fabulously harrowing art of baby!Killian was made by @hollyethecurious who also beta’d this little slice of whump goodness because she loves you too! We can’t wait to meet you in June!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Say it again, boy.”
This one was the worst they had ever had. He was a fat, cumbersome lump of a man with rotten teeth and too small clothes that did nothing to hide the portly shape of his stomach. He was younger than the last man who had purchased them, only this one hadn’t bought them at all, he had simply been the best player in a game of cards where none of the other slavers had noticed he was cheating. He was disgusting, cruel, and Killian hated everything about him.
“Master,” Liam ground out through clenched teeth, willing the lump in his throat to fall. His feet stung, lines of fire painted across his soles where their new master has left his mark, and he fought with the quiver in his lip that threatened to break his resolve.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard,” the man grinned, twisting the well used cane between his chubby palms. He stepped forward and reached out with his hand, his stubby fingers almost touching the gently curled locks on Liam’s head before the boy flinched away. Liam shook, his fear finally finding the surface as the man leered a black-tooth grin. “Was it?”
“No, master,” Liam croaked, his voice cracking in the back of his throat that was hoarse from his screams. He averted his gaze to the floor, his bare feet swollen under the layer of dirt and grime that both he and his brother had become encrusted in via their transfer.
The man paused and he tilted his head, his creepy eyes roaming over the young teen in front of him. Liam had a small amount of muscle definition, his wiry biceps bruised from his new master’s heavy handed technique of pushing him around still aching under the scrap of material that the man called an overshirt, but he was still a boy. He was barely fourteen years old but old enough to know that this man was no good and if he didn’t comply, however much he hated it, Killian would be next.
The man moved around him, his rancid breath hot against Liam’s neck making his hair prickle to attention. Liam shuddered, balling his fists at his sides, willing his body to stay exactly where it was whilst his master perused his figure.
“Are you afraid of me, boy?” He rasped. His voice was gravelly, changed from tobacco and beer that the man had surely been a bit too indulgent in this day.
“No,” Liam said defiantly.
The man chuckled, his belly bobbing up and down until he let out a rageful grunt and unleashed a barrage of strikes against Liam’s back. “You should be!” The cane hit him over and over, the boy’s body crumbling to the floor as he was whipped, back arching away from the man’s blows and scrambling forward across the damp, harsh, plank floor of the underdeck cabin.
“Leave him alone!” Killian screeched from the darkened corner of the room.
“Shut your mouth!” The man paused momentarily to point his slightly curved cane in Killian’s direction. “Or you’re next!”
“Stay away from him!” Liam roared, rising up and launching himself at their new master.
The man shook Liam off like he was nothing, sending the boy flying across the room and into the opposite wall. Liam hit his head and rolled to the side, groaning in a haze, brow creasing in confusion as his fingers felt over the pain in his forehead.
“Liam!” Killian cried, rushing for his brother. His attempt was cut short when the chain attached to the shackle on his leg suddenly stopped, wrenching him backwards and into the trunk like legs of another brute of a man.
“Shut that boy up!” The slaver yelled, licking his lower lip and casting a glance back to Liam’s prone body. He bit his lip between his teeth when Liam rolled onto his back and revealed a huge tear in his shirt. “I’m busy.”
“No!” Killian cried out, scrambling against his restraints. “Leave him alone!”
The man had almost reached Liam when a growl rumbled from his chest and he coughed a heavy sigh. “Shut him up-,”
“I’m trying, sir!” The second man grunted, struggling with Killian who was trying to slip from his grasp.
“Then try harder!” The slaver spat. “Muzzle him if you have to!”
Killian struggled but it was no use. At seven years old and malnourished he was barely strong enough to support his own weight, but it didn’t stop him trying. He threw his head back and thrashed it from side to side, his hair flopping in front of his face as the second man held his arms back. His shoulders throbbed with pain and before he had time to object any longer, the hardened leather muzzle was shoved over his face and the buckle secured behind his head.
A tear slipped from his eyelid and his voice was muffled behind the leather, his lips coated in the foul taste of many a boy that had come before him, and as Killian fixed his gaze on the man across the room, his brother helpless at his feet, he knew they wouldn’t be the last.