the sweet spot between a whumpee being drugged into unconsciousness and being fully aware is so good. like they're aware of what's happening to them but can do nothing to stop what's happening to them because of the drugs. they're not really processing it like a clear-headed person would. they're not putting meaning to sensation, its just sensation and raw fear. drugs take away both their physical and mental defenses.
a side effect of whumpee's non-con trauma being that once they start having consensual relations, they want it all. the. time.
but like, to the point where it scares them.
because it's inconvenient as hell. they're always turned on, always craving sex, and when they're not getting it? the emptiness in them becomes an ache.
whumper is hosting movie night with a couple of friends, none are aware of the dynamic between their dear friend whumpee and whumper.
cw: nsfw, voyeurism, noncon/dubcon
whumpee lays, relaxed, on whumpers chest, blinking slowly, breaths deep and even as their eyes watch the movie, ear pressed to whumpers chest. theyre on the couch, blanket over the two of them.their friends are sprawled out around the floor and the other seats in the room.
then, whumpee feels a hand work its way between their legs, pulling the fabric of their shorts to the side. before they can even gasp in shock, whumper is shushing them softly, pressing a finger to their lips. a silent order.
whumpee didn't even hear whumper unzip their fly. slowly, whumper pushes themself deep into whumpee, being sure to keep them quiet. Whumpee tenses up, letting out small gasps as they try to remain still, undected by their friends as whumper violates them right there.
Body writing. Tally marks for how many times the whumpee has been physically hurt. Marks that dehumanise them. Marks that make the whumpee no more than an object to be used for the whumper's pleasure. To brand the whumpee with something as simple as body writing.
Whumpees who associate being sedated/drugged with being violated. They need something done like a procedure or minor surgery, and insist on no sedation. Whumpee simply cannot tolerate not knowing what happens to them while they’re out. Sure, being awake for it will be horrible, but trusting someone else with their body is not an option.
“Most people find this extremely uncomfortable, are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“I’m sure.”
“We can give you something just to take the edge off—“
“No.”
“Alright. If you change your mind, just let us know.”
The team forces their way inside and discovers where Whumpee’s being held. They're chained to the wall, gagged and blindfolded. Bruised, bleeding, scared, left that way as a warning for their rescuers.
Whumpee’s pants are undone and askew on their hips, revealing a sliver of their underwear. Ashamed, the first thing Whumpee tries to do once untied is pull their pants back up, but they're too weak or injured to do so. Someone else has to help them.
Just. The intimacy and awkwardness of someone else helping you button your own pants after you've been violated like that. The fact that no words have to be exchanged for everyone in the room to understand exactly what happened to Whumpee.
Lead Whumper leaves for a while, puts some of their subordinates in charge of Whumpee. Their orders were simple. Keep Whumpee alive.
Lead should’ve been more specific, considering they wanted them not just alive, but functional: they return and Whumpee is, for a lack of a better term, broken.
It’s pathetic. Lead enters Whumpee’s dark cell and is greeted by the sight of them curled up on the floor, sloppily bound, blindfold half off their face, covered in bodily fluids. Shaking, cowering, trying to shield themself.
Lead is incensed, demanding to know what possessed their subordinates to do such a thing. They flip on the lights, untie Whumpee, remove the blindfold, yet Whumpee doesn’t move or take advantage of the moment. They remain on the floor, shivering in fear like a small dog.
The subordinate Lead entered with has no idea about what led to Whumpee’s state. Lead will deal with the others later. They help Whumpee up; after flinching like they expected Lead’s outstretched arm to be one that hits, Whumpee doesn’t fight the assistance. Lead brings Whumpee to a new, clean cell, provides them with clean clothes and some food. Whumpee entertains neither, ignores the bed, and instead presses themself into a corner, back to the wall, knees to their chest, arms wrapped around their legs, face buried.
Lead watches this, growing more and more angry. The change in environment hadn’t worked like Lead had hoped. The once defiant, stubborn, tough person they’d finally gotten their hands on had been reduced to this. The easy problem now would be finding who did it. The harder one would be fixing the mess Lead was now left with.
CW: continuation contains implied noncon!
Lead leaves Whumpee’s cell, putting a trusted employee on guard to watch them, on a mission to locate and punish whoever broke their perfect Asset. It doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. A small cohort of the ones left in charge formed a tight group, and let nobody else access Whumpee or view that they did to them.
Now, Whumpee wasn’t exactly in a position to protect themselves. The group found them a fun prize, an attractive thing that talked back. Person? No, that wasn’t a descriptor that even passed through their minds. All they saw was an object to exploit, and they did. Over and over again, until Whumpee expected every touch to hurt, fighting to be useless, suffering as a given. Learned helplessness was now their defining philosophy.
At first, they group brags. When they realize they’re not being met with praise, but disapproval, their tone switches to justification, to victim blaming. Oh, come on, you’ve seen them, you understand, don’t you? Lead stops the discussion there. They don’t have to hear much to know their course of action. None of their employees will forget what happens when they cross Lead.
They return to their Asset, knowing now how horribly violated they were in Lead’s absence. The least they can do is tell them it won’t happen again. They’re not empathetic, this comfort is strictly pragmatic. They need trust, or something close enough to it that Whumpee won’t break down at the mere presence of people. They’re not feeling bad for Whumpee. Whumpee is their detainee, their Asset, they cannot afford to spend more emotional energy on them than they already have.
Whumpees with caretakers/partners who wonder why they hate intimacy so much. Why anything more than hugs scares them. The thought of undressing, doing that, just no. They can’t do it. It’s panic inducing, the thought makes them want to run and hide.
Caretaker/partner is sad, but respectful. They know better than anyone that Whumpee is exquisitely sensitive to their boundaries being broken.
But it’s not until they find out why Whumpee is that way, that they fully understand. They’re horrified.
Sure, they knew Whumpee’s time in captivity was bad. But when Whumpee told them the ways they’d been violated, stripped—literally and figuratively—of their dignity, they wonder how Whumpee even manages to function.
