Whumper frowned as they walked out into the courtyard. They fully expected Whumpee to have woken by now. Whumpee remained slumped over at the whipping post, their arms pulled tight by the chains keeping them attached to the post. The deep bloody wounds on their back had begun to scab over.
Whumper had left them unconscious in the courtyard hours ago. It was no fun to whip someone once they were unconscious. They stared at Whumpee's closed eyes and blue tinged lips. Whumper shivered in the cold. It was colder than it had been when they had whipped Whumpee into unconsciousness several hours ago.
They stared down at Whumpee and toed their leg. "Wake up," they said gruffly.
Whumpee's eyes remained closed. Whumper kicked them harder. "Wake up." Whumpee didn't stir.
With a growl, Whumper fished for the keys for the cuffs in their pocket. "I'm only going to do this once. Just this once. I don't want you dying before I get my pound of flesh from your hide," they said as they uncuffed Whumpee. Whumpee slumped all the way forward, body completely limp. Whumper grabbed one of their arms and began to drag them towards the house. "Who knows, there could be more fun we can have in the house, too."
short story, captive siblings, public beating, for those who are into that sort of thing.
Characters are cis m and cis f, 24 and 26 years old, respectively.
CWs: slavery, beating, whipping, bleeding, bruising, humiliation, exposure, family trauma
Her knees hit the wet planks painfully hard as they shoved her down and tied her hands around to the weathered wooden post. She was trembling all over. From the cold drizzle, from fear, from anger…she wasn’t sure which. The Lashmaster tore her sodden tunic apart from the neck down to waist, allowing the fabric to fall away and expose her naked back. The tunic had been her only garment. They probably knew that.
The petty official overseeing the affair barked out her name.
“Lyra Stael, slave. Accused of theft from a registered merchant. The sentence is thirteen lashes.”
The Lashmaster unfurled the meter-and-a-half of treated ox leather with which Lyra would be tortured. Lyra leaned in toward the post, bracing herself against the soggy timber. She took a deep breath in.
The lash cracked like exploding gunpowder.
The breath was punched out of her chest from behind.
The streak of pain ignited across her back, a white-hot flare.
She blinked away tears and tried to writhe the pain away, her mouth opening in a wordless howl. She pressed her forehead against the wood, beginning to hyperventilate.
Another lash. Another breathless jolt. Her scream died in her throat, coming out as a raspy choked whimper. She hiccupped. Her eyes were streaming, nose leaking.
They struck her again. And again.
Then came the sound she most dreaded in the world.
“Stop, you bastards!”
Her brother, his voice hoarse with rage, came barreling into the square. His eyes were wide, his taut, wiry physique animated by a vengeful fury. Two guards jumped on him mid-charge, one slamming a club into his ribs, the other twisting his arms behind his back. He still thrashed, still fought, kicking out with mud-blackened bare feet as they beat him to the ground.
“Cullen,” Lyra rasped at him, her voice thin and quavering, “Please don’t.”
Twenty-four summers since her brother had come into this world. Twenty-four years since she became duty-bound to keep him from hurting himself. With his temperament, it had always been a losing battle.
And she was about to lose it again.
“If you touch her again-!” He choked on the rest of his threat, spitting as they pushed his face into the dirt.
The presiding official cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose this one is her responsibility as well. Very well. Tie him up on the other side.”
Lyra was vaguely aware of herself pleading with them as they stripped Cullen naked to the waist and dragged him to the post. Pleading not for herself, but for him. He didn’t resist as they roped his arms around the post, his hands together with hers, the cords biting into his wrists.
He pressed his forehead to the wood and looked up at his sister, his eyes meeting hers through the damp, matted tendrils of his dark hair.
“I said I would take the next one,” he said gravely, wincing as they tightened his restraints.
He blurred in front of her as her eyes welled.
“I never asked you to,” she whispered. “You idiot.”
He closed his eyes and gave her hand his best attempt at a reassuring squeeze.
“For obstructing a punishment,” the official announced. “And for assaulting a judicial officer, the combined sentence for the lad will be eighteen lashes!” He stepped away from the platform again, making room for a deputy with another whip to join the Lashmaster.
“…with nine lashes still to go for the girl.”
The whips, in chorus, whistled through the cold, damp air and snapped across their shivering backs.
They both buckled under the blows, Lyra gasping, Cullen groaning. Their fingers tightened around each other’s wrists as they fought with all their strength to remain upright.
Another pair of biting, shocking blows beat them down again. The Lashmasters worked methodically, prolonging each lash into its own trial of endurance. The rains fell harder now, and the siblings’ wet, tender skin began to split and weep. The modest crowd had grown. Some grimacing, some flinching sympathetically, and some just staring impassively.
Lyra slumped to the ground when she had taken her thirteen, her arms still suspended from the pillar but her legs curled up defensively, hissing and whimpering as the rainwater ran pink down her aching sides. And still she had to wait as her baby brother took nine more evil strokes.
When at last the final lash had fallen and the dripping black leather was coiled again in the Lashmaster’s hand, Lyra gripped the post and pulled herself forward with all her strength, her bound hands reaching out for her only family. He was slumped forward, his shoulder resting against the wood, his head fallen forward, moaning piteously with each breath, but still there.
“Hey, hey,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “You did it. You made it. We made it.”
His eyelids flickered. The corner of his mouth twitched in the barest hint of an acknowledging smile.
Hot tears mixed with the rain running down her face, steaming in the chilly air.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Lyra whispered. “Don’t you ever. Ever.”
“It’s awfully cold out here,” Whumper said as they circled the post Whumpee was chained to. “Don’t you want to come inside and sit by the fire? Warm up a bit?”
Whumpee glared up at Whumper from the snow covered ground. They had grown to tired to stand and had sat down in the snow drift, knowing it would make them lose what precious little body heat they had left. “F-F-Fuckkkkkk n-n-n-n-nooo-oo-ooo.”
Whumper smiled. “You sure? Seems like you’re pretty cold.”
Whumpee’s face contorted with rage. “N-N-N-Notttt f-f-f-fallllllling-ing-ing-ing f-f-f-f-forrrrrr i-i-ittt.”
Whumper was suddenly on Whumpee, grabbing their chin between two fingers. Whumper’s skin was so hot it burned against Whumpee’s skin. “Your lips are blue, you can’t stop shivering, give it up, Whumpee. Tell me what I want to hear so you don’t die.”
Whumpee spat on Whumper’s face. “I-I-I-I’ddddd r-r-r-r-rather-er-er-er-er d-d-d-dieeee.”
Whumper wiped the spittle from their cheek. “So be it then. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. Maybe you’ll change your mind then.”
Whumper dumped Whumpee onto the floor as soon as they got into the cabin. It was cold outside and Whumper needed to get warm. Whumpee landed in a boneless heap at Whumper’s feet.
They stared down at Whumpee. “All this effort, all this defiance,” Whumper said as they cocked their head, “to what end? I’m still going to get what I want from you.” They knelt down and caressed Whumpee’s cheek. “You are so pretty like this. Maybe I’ll keep you like this so I can enjoy you more.”
While Whumpee’s flesh was still pale, their lips still tinged blue, color was beginning to return to them as they warmed up. But they didn’t respond, unconsciousness still having an iron-clad hold on Whumpee.
Whumper leaned down and smelled Whumpee’s hair. “So fresh. So crisp. The cold has done wonders for you, Whumpee.” Whumper kissed Whumpee’s forehead, recoiling back at how chilled Whumpee’s flesh still was.
“I need to warm up a bit first, then we can begin.” Whumper gave Whumpee a quick kiss on the lips before rising. “Then our fun can begin.”
True to their word, Whumper left Whumpee in the snow. Whumpee knew that they would likely die here. They knew that the moment Whumper captured them they were dead. But they would rather die on their own terms than on Whumper's. They had that much at least.
Whumpee was beyond cold. And they were tired. Their teeth barely chattered anymore, their shivering slowing. Their body was shutting down and they knew it. Still, at least Whumper wouldn't get what they wanted.
Whumpee's head jerked up as they realized they had drifted off. Maybe that was for the best. They blinked a few times, fighting the heaviness of their eyelids. They hoped that Caretaker didn't find them. That Whumper wouldn't leave their body for Caretaker. They'd rather have Caretaker accept they were gone without knowing the how. Caretaker shouldn't have to see them like this.
Slowly, Whumpee's eyes closed. They couldn't keep fighting. They curled up as close to the post they were tied to as possible, their arms held up at an awkward angle. It was the best they could do. As they sunk deeper into the snow and the snow continued to fall, covering them like a fluffy, pillowy blanket, Whumpee realized maybe it wasn't as cold as they thought. They closed their eyes one final time, relishing in the warmth they were finally feeling.
When Whumper returned, Whumpee was completely buried in the snow. Whumper cocked their head as they stared down at the snow drift, they couldn't see Whumpee at all. Carefully, Whumper crouched down and began to brush the snow off Whumpee's body with a gloved hand.
Whumpee's skin was pale, almost translucent, and their lips were blue. Frost coated their delicate eyelashes and clung to their bangs. But they didn't move as Whumper touched them. Didn't move as the snow cleared their face and body. They just lay still and silent in their would be snowy grave.
"I think you're good and ready for us to begin," Whumper said at last as they released Whumpee's arms from the chains. They lifted Whumpee over their shoulder. "More than good and ready," they chuckled as they headed towards their cabin, delighting in all the promised fun they would have with Whumpee now that Whumpee wouldn't fight back.
Whumpee was bone weary. They had been standing tied to the post for who knew how long. And before that they had been in standing cuffs. And before that, Whumper had made them balance on a balance board or Whumper would hurt them.
Whumpee was so tired, they weren’t sure how much longer they could keep standing. How much longer they could keep this up. But they had to. Or Whumper would hurt them in earnest. Standing wasn’t so bad.
Until the rain started to come down. Then standing became much harder as the ground beneath Whumpee’s feet turned to thick, squelchy mud. Whumpee continued to slip and slide as they struggled to remain standing.
As they began to shiver, they realized this was much worse. Whumper knew that it was going to rain. They knew exactly how to make this standing tied worse than anything Whumpee had endured up until that point.
But Whumpee couldn’t do anything. They could only stand there as they shivered, trying to stay warm as they struggled to remain upright. They could only hope that Whumper would come get them soon. They were so tired. And so very, very cold.
Death has quite literally been following me around today because 1) I woke up from a nightmare that Chris died from a car accident 2) I asked Harris if he happened to know where Chris was and he suggested that Chris has died 3) I told Chris about both in line for dinner 4) this mf looked at me after our KKY song and repeated one of the lines, “If I should die…” and I nearly left the room
Not to mention I also forgot my wallet in my room and missed a class and quiz because I overslept from a second nap nightmare where I was walking around a school and when classes got out everybody had papers and shoved them in my face, turns out they were my legal papers with secret info and I was completely exposed so people started being really mean and shoving me around saying stuff like “out of my way, f****t” so today has been relatively bad on the whole
