Character A is kidnapped and when Character B comes to rescue them, they remove the blindfold to see that A no longer has eyes
(sorry i can’t word it better. Or if it’s too much)
where my mind went with this is that Character A was the only one with the knowledge of how to break out of wherever they were being held captive, so when Character B announces they've come to help A escape, A's heart just sinks because now they're both trapped.
"It's going to be okay, A. You still remember the way out, right?" said B, untying the rope around A's hands.
"B, you need to go," A pleaded.
"Not without you. I need you. We're getting out of this together."
"B, we can't." A flinched as the blindfold was removed from their face. "I can't. I'm sorry."
The door creaked. Neither of them needed their sight to know who was standing in the frame. Whumper stepped forward, smug written all over their face. But that wasn't the worst thing.
"Looking for these?" they grinned.
For a sick, fleeting moment, B was glad that A couldn't see this. Whumper was holding out A's eyes in their bare hands.
"Why don't I leave them by the exit?" Whumper said. "A little reward for if you ever make it out of here. Which you won't. Oh, don't look at me like that B. I can always take yours too if you don't like what you're seeing."
Whumper and Villain have been tormenting Whumpee for hours now. They have taken turns beating him, he has been branded with each of their signatures, a searing hot blazing pain to each shoulder. The smell of burning skin still lingers in the room.
But this time is different, when Whumper took his tray yesterday after one of his rare meals, he didn’t notice the butter knife that Whumpee had managed to hide in the blanket on his bed. Today he has managed to keep hit hidden up his sleeve while Whumper and Villain took turns beating him. He is slumped on the cold floor, body aching, bruises on bruises forming.
Villain leans down and drags Whumpee up off the floor by his hair, as he pulls him up his face is inches from Whumpees. There will never be a better moment! Whumpee slips his knife into his hand and launches with what remaining strength he has.
The knife is connects with Villains head, it punches straight into Villains eye, piercing it with a wet pop, blood pouring from the socket and burying it in his brain. It all happens so quick. Whumpee feels a fleeting sensation of triumph.
Villain’s face is frozen with shock as he drops to the floor, dead before his body fully hits the ground.
Whumpee swings round to face Whumper, pulling the knife with him as he goes, but Whumper is faster and a lot closer to him that he thought. He jabs him firmly with a cattle prod he keeps nearby and shocks Whumpee.
Whumpee drops as the electricity pulses painfully through his body, his limbs useless. Agony races through him, the electric tearing through him, a white hot agony.
Whumper kicks the knife away across the floor and advances on Whumpee who is shuffling backward, shrinking against the door behind him, fear now the dominant feature in his eyes.
Whumpee hadn’t thought this through, he’d only thought of killing them both, not the consequences if he only managed to kill one. He hadn’t thought of who has the keys to his cell, how he would escape the room and get out of this prison.
He realises with dawning horror and a sick terror that punches his stomach that he’s just made a massive mistake.
Whumpee trembles with with fear, his whole body shaking. His breathing comes in sharp gasps, his heart rate rapid as he slides toward a panic attack.
Whumper stares down at Whumpee trying to blend in with the door and make himself as small as possible. A hyperventilating mess.
With total menace and glinting eyes Whumper manages to spit out through clenched teeth.
content: pet whump, lady whumper, conditioning, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, eye whump, chronic pain whump, dehumanisation
"Please…" Poet rasped. "Please… Just stop… I don't— I don't… I can't do anything. I'm broken down, like you wanted. I just want to rest. Please, leave me alone."
"Oh, pet. If you can still talk, you're not broken down."
Dominique walked over and crouched to be at eye level with Poet, who was trying to find a pose, sitting up with their back against the wall, that didn't hurt tremendously. They didn't even have the energy to flinch away when she reached out, grabbing them by the face and digging her thumb and index finger into their jaw until they opened their mouth.
"It's this little rascal doing the most annoying work, isn't it?" she asked, reaching into their mouth and pulling out their tongue. "Without this, you wouldn't be so… Well, annoying. You just yap and yap and yap on, 'please' this, 'please' that, talking like you have any say in what happens to you. You're a pet. You don't get to say anything but 'yes, Miss'. I don't think you fully understand that yet."
Poet was starting to seriously freak out. What was she saying? Was she going to cut their tongue out or something? Surely not. Surely, she wasn't that crazy. "'lease," they tried, but it was difficult with their tongue sticking out.
"Oh, don't worry." She let go, and Poet quickly drew their tongue back in, terrified. "I have ideas on how to make you talk less, but none super drastic. Not yet. You still have the potential to learn."
"I can learn," they squeaked. "I can learn. I swear."
"I need instinctual obedience. I snap my fingers, you do a trick. Without thinking. Without hesitation. Instinctual. Habitual. Instant."
"I can do that. I can. Just— Just don't hurt me anymore. Please. I can be obedient."
"You barely even ever call me Miss."
"Miss, I can learn. Please. Just don't hurt me."
Dominique smiled at them, condescending. "Oh, pet. You think the pain will stop when you've learned? The pain will never stop. The pain will be a constant in your life, always reminding you who you belong to, and what you are."
—
Pet was giddy. Miss was spending the day at home, in bed, because she had come down with a cold. Of course, Pet wasn't glad that Miss was sick, but they would've lied if they said they weren't thankful for cuddles all day. Well… Cuddles… Sort of…
"Get off of me, pet!" Miss rasped, kicking them in the stomach.
"Miss!" they whined, trying to get back to her immediately.
"Get the fuck away!"
"Miss, please!" They didn't like to think about it, but they were stronger than Miss right now. Surely, surely, if they forced themself into her private space, surely that would be okay—
Miss kicked them again, this time sending them tumbling off the bed. They hit their head and back on the hardwood floor, and they saw stars, but they were quick to try and get back on the bed. It was a bit clumsy, sort of like a newborn fawn, but they climbed back and threw themself on Miss.
"Okay, I'm done." Miss threw them off of her and stood up. Pet scrambled to follow her, wanting to stick to her side. "Come with, pet. You can come with me. Come on. We're going."
Miss was inviting them! Pet was absolutely ecstatic, crawling after her as she left the bedroom and went into the kitchen. They didn't know why they were going there — maybe for a sweet treat? Miss loved her sweet treats — but they were just happy to be along for the ride.
Miss went to the drawer with the utensils and pulled it out, and from the floor, Pet couldn't see what she was looking for in there. They waited patiently, glued to Miss' leg, gently humming a tune they couldn't get out of their head. Miss, Miss, Miss, they loved Miss, they loved their life as Miss' pet, they loved everything about their small little world.
"There we go…" Miss muttered as she pulled something out, and Pet closed their eyes, leaning their face against Miss' leg. "Pet. We're going to have a little fun."
"Yes, Miss."
"Sit in the chair. Any one of them."
Pet didn't want to leave Miss. They whined, but Miss kicked them away, making it clear they were to follow orders. So Pet crawled over and climbed on one of the chairs, sitting cross-legged and waiting for Miss to come over and tell them how they'd be having fun.
"Good pet," she cooed, and Pet sat up straighter, proud to have been complimented. She walked over and showed off her instrument of choice — it was a knife, long and thin, elegant like Miss herself. "Now, for this game, you'll need to sit very still for me."
"Yes, Miss."
"Do you know what a lobotomy is?"
That set off alarm bells in Pet's head. Surely, Miss had a reason for asking a question like that. But surely, surely, it wasn't the reason they might've thought. They were a good pet. They didn't ask unnecessary questions. They just answered. "Yes, Miss."
"Good. I don't know much about it, only the basics. I get the gist of it. I'm sure that's enough." She grabbed them by the face — her hand was so soft, as always — and angled their head upwards. Pet's breathing was picking up. Their heart was racing. Miss lined up the blade of her knife to be up against Pet's right eye. When they blinked, they could swear their eyelashes brushed against the metal. "I have to go in around the inner corner of the eye, I think. Then I just scramble the brain a little, that shouldn't be too hard. The frontal lobe, maybe it's called? It doesn't matter what it's called. It'll be scrambled anyway."
"Yes, Miss."
"Are you ready?"
Pet swallowed. This was okay. Miss was doing it, that meant it was good, and it served to make her happy. What else would a pet want, other than making their owner happy? "Yes, Miss."
"Here we go, then," she said with a smile, and Pet smiled back. The next moment, pain exploded in their right eye. They screamed. "Fuck! Pet! Your stupid— fucking— stupid, twitchy pet!" She yanked the knife out of their eye, and Pet slapped both hands over it, breathing heavily. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt so bad. "Fuck! I can't believe this! That wasn't the inner corner!"
Out of nowhere, laughter bubbled up in their chest, and at first they only giggled, but then they broke out into a fit of maniacal laughter. Oh, even Miss was capable of messing up! Because they, the stupid pet, messed it up for her! Stupid, stupid, stupid pet! Idiotic, useless, no-good pet!
"Show me the wound," Miss commanded, and Pet took away both bloody hands for her to be able to look at it. "That's bad. Ew. I'll call someone over to bandage it up." She stepped away from the chair, and Pet immediately scrambled to follow her. "No, you stay here. On the chair. So they'll have an easy time bandaging you up."
"Miss! Please, Miss!"
"No! Stay fucking here! Haven't you messed up enough already? Ugh, I'm going back to bed, I can't deal with this when I'm sick."
Pet didn't go back to the chair. They grabbed onto Miss' nightgown with their dirty, bloody hand, and Miss immediately saw red.
"Get your disgusting paw off my clothes!" she screamed, turning around and kicking Pet in the face. They fell onto their back, the bones that had never quite healed right causing them immeasurable anguish as they lay there, staring up at the ceiling with their one working eye. Blood was still gushing from the other one, seeping into their hair. "Get over here! Bring bandages! Yes, it's their eye! I'm going back to bed, just deal with it." Pet could hear her give the orders, and could hear the subsequent rushing of the employees. Soon, they were lifted up from the floor and back onto the chair, and all they could think was how much they wanted to be with Miss instead.
Whumper who collects the eyes of different Whumpees, labeling them by name and color. Their most prized and rare eyes being kept on the very top shelf for all to see.
If your face is too injured to put a breathing tube through your nose or mouth, hospitals will (rarely) insert it through your eye socket and down through your sinuses to your lungs.
Go do something whumpy with that. Or don’t. Save us all the horror.
