Just when they thought it was over, their body covered in bruises and burns, Whumper shoved yet another hot poker into whumpee’s side full force, pressing the red hot metal against the soft, badly bruised flesh. Whumpee had no time to prepare, to even attempt to move from Whumper (which would have been a bad move anyway). The scream they let out is a weak, pitiful call. Like a sad, sickly animal. They tried to jerk, but their body was just too weak. Too broken. Tears streamed from their tightly shut eyes and they tried to beg, to apologize for everything they had ever done. But their voice was so badly shot that Whumper could barely understand. “Pl-please-“
“I’ll do anything-“ Whumper yanked back and Whumpee sobbed, their body barely moving as they lay, waiting. Waiting for more pain. For more suffering. And Whumper was more than willing to offer them just that.