Jun 5
A defeated enemy bound and forced to kneel in the centre of the camp/base, left like that until someone decides what to do with them, all too aware of the many hostile eyes on them.
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A defeated enemy bound and forced to kneel in the centre of the camp/base, left like that until someone decides what to do with them, all too aware of the many hostile eyes on them.
Currently obsessed w the idea of multiple whumpers, but one of them is used exclusively as a punishment. Whumper 1 spends the most time with Whumpee, but if they start to misbehave, Whumper 1 can always threaten to have Whumper 2 come and pay them a visit. And pretty soon, Whumpee would do ANYTHING to keep that from happening.
Writing prompts
Okay... Sounds interesting...
Multiple whumpers
Content: belt whipping, threats, stoic whumpee, forced to hold a stress position, riding crop, implied noncon
Whumpee shudders with welts covering their back, hands still bound to whumper's heavy desk chair. "You think the belt is bad? You haven't seen what whumper 2 can do."
Holding positions for whumper 1 because whumper 2 will be so much worse.
"Go ahead. Downward dog. It's good for you." Whumpee does whatever they say. If they don't, whumper 2 will make them take these same positions and strike them with a riding crop for every flinch.
As soon as whumpee hears whumper 2's name, they go silent.
Whumper 1 actually treating whumpee nice when they behave. Regular meals, a comfortable bed. All whumpee has to do is let them pet them. Let them touch them. Pretend to like it.
These are my old arts btw. Created an account here before but deactivated it and now I'm in here again. Lol. Found these in the net. Does not guarantee I'll have this exact same style again tho.
Defiant Whumpee who has been put in a stress position by Whumper, and just left alone for a while. When Whumper returns, they release Whumpee and watch them crumple to the ground.
Whumpee, who normally fights Whumper at any chance they get, lies still, their breath raspy and gaze far away as they try to work through the pain.
Whumper just watches with a slight smile. This is the first time Whumpee is completely unrestrained, and they're not even trying to escape.
Progress.
Do you like affectionate whumpers? Because... have you considered villain whumpee + affectionate whumper? Especially if whumper is hero or something like that 😍😍
You know, this is one I have not thought a lot about until making this post! Honestly, affectionate whumpers give me so much ick lol. But I don’t mind trying, so here’s one way to do it (for simplicity I’m just making Villain male, but do what you will):
TW: captivity, mentions of water torture, shock collar, stress positions & food deprivation. Non-consensual comfort touching and kissing. SFW
Whumper is enamored by Villain. Like, they constantly daydream of Villain, imagining what it would be like if they were together. They start to imagine being the one to change him, to make him a better person.
This infatuation grows to the point where Whumper develops a whole plan to capture Villain and reform him. They do succeed in capturing him.
Whumper, of course, can barely restrain their excitement. On their first visit with Villain, they try to be kind as they explain their plan, and then they are shocked by how volatile his reaction is. Villain is fighting against their restraints, screaming horrible things at them. Whumper is sad about what’s next, but they know that Villain won’t change without some pain.
Whumper sticks to methods that mostly won’t leave permanent damage to appearance. Shock collar, water boarding, stress positions, withholding food and water.
*collecting myself for this*
Whumper is genuinely sad about Villain’s pain, to the point where they are comforting Villain even as they torture him.
cw: blood, muzzle, stress position
Whumpee hung limply from their manacles, wrists strained by the metal keeping them upright. Their knees were on the stone floor, raw and bleeding, and their head sagged between their taut shoulders. A strip of black fabric was tied tightly across their eyes, complimenting the silvery metal of the muzzle clamping their jaws closed. The extra touch of blood sluggishly running down their back and pooling on the floor was Whumper's favorite part. They loved seeing their precious plaything like this, whimpering and clearly on the edge of unconsciousness. Beautiful.
Mei Mara
For His Kingdom (part 4)
Masterlist
He has a name now! (Thank you @anarlossethedunadan!)
Contents: sleep deprivation, torture, stress position, beating with a metal rod, royal whumpee, defiant whumpee, multiple whumpers
The young king tried to sleep, uncomfortable though his bonds and the cold stone floor were. But every few hours, as best he could guess, a guard or soldier came by, banged loudly against the bars of the cell, then left. It seemed he would not be allowed to sleep.
Eventually, the soldiers from before came, stopping at his cell. He tried to get to his feet, face them standing, but his exhaustion coupled with having his hands bound behind his back threw off his balance. He was yanked up and dragged down the hallway, not allowed to walk on his own. He glared at them.
“I can walk, you know.”
They ignored him.
They hooked his bonds to the same device as before. He tried to steel himself for the pain, but the wrench of the chain on his already tender and aching arms forced a cry from his throat.
Bent over, shoulders aching as he tried to hold what he could of his weight on his tiptoes, he found himself again wishing he had just been executed.
The general took the lead this time. He grabbed the young man’s hair, forcing him to look up. “Let us start simply. Tell me your name, boy.”
The young king hesitated. He did not want to give them any satisfaction of answers, yet was refusing to answer something they already knew really worth the pain they would enact if he did not speak.
He saw the general prepare to strike him and he choked out, “Cinn. My name is Cinn.”
The blow came anyway, the impact radiating through his body. He gasped in pain.
“Wrong. You have no name, until you choose to beg for the name of ‘slave’.”
Cinn clenched his jaw. Hot tears pricked at his eyes but he met the general’s icy glare with his own. “My name is my own, and I know it whether you recognize it or no.”
That was most certainly not the answer the general sought. He held out his hand and a soldier — the one who had lost his brother — handed him a metal rod. The soldier’s smile looked almost giddy in anticipation.
Cinn tried to brace himself but he had no leverage. The first blow hit his ribcage, hard, and he felt something crack. He screamed. The next blow hit his legs, then across his spine.
The blows after the first were measured, not dealing debilitating injuries, yet each made his body jerk in pain. His vision began to dance with dark spots.
A blow struck his right arm, wrenching it harder against the ropes. His shoulder flared in agony.
Then his left was struck, and with a sickening pop it dislocated again. His cry of pain was a strangled howl. Tears streamed down his face beyond his control.
Suddenly the suspension slackened and he was dropped again to the floor. The soldier came over, pressing a knee heavily against Cinn’s back. He grabbed the young king’s arm and re-located it roughly.
“Look at me,” the general commanded from above him.
Cinn strained to look up.
“What is your name?”
Cinn spat a gob of bloody saliva at the general’s foot. “Cinn.”
The swift kick in response turned his world black for a time.
