ecstacy

➳ s!her . married . pan

[whumpologyy]

"Please."

Whumpee's voice was raw and hoarse from days of screaming. They licked their dry lips and tried again.

"Please, I can't again, not today.....please......"

"Please what?" Whumper's voice was calm, casual, as they glanced up from readying their tools.

"Please don't hurt me. Not like -- not like yesterday."

Whumper looked at them, almost amused. Then their expression flickered with something akin to consideration, and they stepped closer.

"Alright. I hear you. I won't hurt you today."

Whumpee's shoulders sagged in relief, but it was short-lived. Whumper's grin widened, a glint of amusement sparking in their eyes.

Instead of striking, they leaned lower, lips brushing Whumpee's collarbone. They froze. No blow, no sharp pain — only the unbearable press of Whumper's mouth.

Whumper felt them tremble and chuckled. “See? I can keep my promise. I’m not hurting you. I’m enjoying you. That’s better, isn’t it?”

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

It wasn't.

It most definitely was not better.

Every press of Whumper's lips, every brush of their fingers—Whumpee wanted to cry, or beg, or say "no, no, I changed my mind—"

But, they froze instead. A couple tears slipped down their cheeks, and their lips parted, but no sound came out. They didn't push Whumper away.

Whumper's lips drifted lower, pressing kisses to Whumpee's lower stomach...and Whumpee sucked a breath through their teeth, finally finding it in themselves to say: "Wait—please—"

And Whumper's hands grabbed their hips, and their voice died again.

"Shh, sweetheart. I heard you. I'm not hurting you tonight."

And for whatever reason, Whumpee couldn't find the heart to say "No, but this is worse."

Even as Whumper parted their legs, and slowly kissed their thighs...as Whumper teased their genitals with their fingers, and whispered dirty nothings—"You're being so good for me," "We should do this more often," "There we go, darling," "Mhn, your skin is so fucking soft..."

When Whumper flips them over, Whumpee whines, tries to roll back over, or kick away—a short lived attempt when Whumper grabs them by the hips again. The whine turns into a whimper, the flight attempt shifts to freeze.

And Whumper has their way—kissing between Whumpee's cheeks, and breaching them even further...

And when Whumper leaves, the dam finally breaks.

It didn't hurt. Whumper kept their word.

But the violation was worse.

They wished they never said anything.

Because now, they felt ruined.

All they'd wanted was to feel at home in their own body again, for one fucking night...

But now, they would never feel whole again.......

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Whump Prompt:

Content warning: urine, manhandling, threat of violence.

Whumper grabs Whumpee, and presses them against the wall. Whumper's face is red, and nails dig into Whumpee's skin while they make a clear threat: "When I'm done with you, you won't even be able to move for months."

A warm stream releases between Whumpee's legs as they tremble, so much terror coursing through their body they can't even beg.

They know this is going to hurt. Bad.

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Whump prompt...

Content: dismemberment

Whumper presents a captive Whumpee (who has already been there for some time) with 2 choices: they can either go home, with a couple conditions, or they can stay with Whumper.

Those conditions?

Whumper would cut out their tongue, so they couldn't tell anyone where they were, with who, or what happened to them, and they would cut off their hands, so Whumpee couldn't write those things either.

So Whumpee has the option to be permanently maimed, but "free"/at the mercy of their family or loved ones, or to remain intact, but at the mercy of their Whumper.

And that's if Whumper keeps their word. What if Whumpee chose to go home, and Whumper maims them and keeps them anyway? Or they stay intact for a bit with Whumper, but then Whumper starts to dismember them slowly? Cutting off toes or fingers as punishment, and the like.

There's no "good" option. Whumper wins whatever they choose.

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Pride month whump prompt:

Content: BDSM, noncon

Whumper takes their captive Whumpee out on their first public outing since they've been with Whumper. A pride parade.

However, Whumpee is in the bare minimum—a thong (and string bra if female), a leather harness, and a ring gag and walked on a leash, made to crawl (or be dragged).

Everyone thinks they're in a consensual pet-play BDSM relationship.

Whumpee is embarrassed, horrified, and desperate to disappear.

Later that evening, Whumper shows them all the pictures -- that they took, that they found posted online with Whumpee in the background, and make them look at themselves in the mirror.

[the-bar-sinister]

I love the absolute sickness of it when whumper genuinely believes they have whumpee's best interests at heart.

When whumper genuinely believes that the violence they're doing to whumpee is normal and acceptable.

When whumper genuinely believes they love whumpee, and whumpee believes it too.

When whumper apologizes and holds an injured whumpee in their arms and is really sorry, and whumpee believes it, and forgives them and loves them, even though they know it will happen again.

The compelling awfulness of it all.

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

"Behave, or else I'm going to have to punish you."

"You have till the count of 3 to obey. 1...2...3."

"Okay, go fetch the ___ (belt? wooden spoon? paddle?) and/or come bend over."

"This is gonna hurt me more than it'll hurt you."

"You know I only do this because I love you, right?"

"This is a consequence for disobeying. You understand, don't you?"

"You knew better."

"Maybe you'll remember better next time."

"You know I don't hate you, I do this because I love you."

"If you keep doing that, I'll add more to the punishment."

Bruises? "Let them be reminders for next-time."

After punishment:

"You understand why you were punished, don't you?"

"I forgive you."

"It's okay, it's over now."

"I'm sorry I had to do that, I don't get any pleasure from punishing you."

Holding Whumpee and comforting them while they cry, before rejoining the rest of the household.

Finding out that Whumpee didn't actually do what they were punished for, and saying, "Well, you've probably done things I don't know about," instead of apologizing.

Basically...this is what spanking a child and being spanked as a child is. Sorry not sorry. This is why I am anti-spank.

[fineiguessimintowhump]

whumpee going from

Please- Please don't hurt me-Please

to

Please- Not Today- Whumper, I can't-

to

Just- Not my hands- Please- Whumper

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Content warning: torture, verbal abuse (told to self delete), non-con referenced

Whumpee had been hopeful at one point.

Not necessarily that their Whumper would be a good person, but maybe they could talk to them...plead for mercy, to be set free...maybe if they could just find one glimpse of humanity in their Whumper—maybe things would be okay—

No. They were naïve.

When they first woke up in the basement, they begged, they pleaded, "Please don't hurt me, please, I'll be good, please let me go I won't tell anyone, plea- ah!"

As Whumper fisted their hair, they cried out. Their chest fluttered anxiously as their hands flew up to grab Whumper's wrist, writhing and continuing to whisper pathetic pleas. "Please...please don't hurt me. I-I don't want this,"

Instead of releasing Whumpee, their Whumper bends them over a table, or maybe they fasten the Whumpee's wrists to a support beam. "You're not escaping this, Whumpee. You'll learn that I don't give two shits about what you want. You're mine for the rest of your pathetic little life."

And then—clothes are cut away. Maybe they're whipped, or spanked, or burned, maybe branded, sodomized, spat on, cut...either way, they are hurt, and later left in a corner marked up, chest heaving with gut-wrenching sobs, tears streaming down their face, whispering to themself, "Please... why didn't they listen? why me? It hurts... please..."

As time passes, they learn to disassociate during the torment. They learn to move on auto pilot. They beg less, they kiss their Whumper's boots, they learn to lean back, or kneel, or stand straight, or bend over and take what they're given, and even to 'reciprocate.' They learn, but sometimes Whumper still goes too far, or too long, and it hurts more than usual. Or maybe Whumpee gets sick, is nauseous, or has a headache.

So when Whumper comes down, when they try to drag the Whumpee out of the corner, Whumpee whimpers and writhes. "Please, no, please Whumper—not today—I-I can't, it hurts, please, but I-I will be good tomorrow, please, not today,"

Only to be back-handed across the face, and kicked to the center of the room. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. You're here only for my pleasure. Get that through your thick fucking skull. You want a reprive? Too-fucking-bad. The only way you're getting out of here, is if you kill yourself. Till then, I do whatever the fuck I want to you, whenever the fuck I want."

Whumpee sobs and presses their face into the floor, submitting themself to another torturous session. And this time, Whumper drags it out, punishing Whumpee for begging at all.

As weeks pass, Whumpee's begging changes. They know now that pain is inevitable.

So 'Please, don't hurt me,' evolves to fetching Whumper a knife and begging, "Just—please, not my hands...please..." as they hand their Whumper the blade and kneel before them, laying down or offering limbs anyway, if demanded of them.

Or on another occasion, Whumper approaches with a cane, and Whumpee automatically plants their hands to the wall and spreads their legs. "Just...don't hit my head or genitalia...please Whumper...I-I'll warm your bed tonight, or you can record this for future viewing, but please, I'll be good," they plead.

And this? This, Whumper allows them to get away with.

They don't mind Whumpee trying to negotiate, because they still get exactly what they want. It's, in Whumper's mind, a 'give and take' of sorts, but they ultimately win in the end. And later, once Whumpee has been good and their Whumper is satisfied, Whumper holds their pet to their chest, strokes their hair, scratches their stomach...

"Have I told you how pretty you are when you submit, Darling? You've come a long way since I found you," Whumper mumbles, lightly grinding against Whumpee's thigh, despite already being sated. There is no arousal in the act, it is more-so done to communicate ownership over an already well-loved toy. "I just want to bury myself deep inside you forever. This, this...no, you, are my safe place."

Whumpee closes their eyes as tears well up. Of course, the feeling is not mutual. They're wrapped up in their abuser's arms, their back is glued to their chest with sweat and welts that are raised and oozing, and every inch of their body is throbbing, burning, screaming at them 'bloody murder.'

But they can't say that.

So instead, they stick to what is safe.

A small, trembling, "Thank you, master."

Because what else can they say?

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

A whumpy thing I can't get out of my head...

We've probably heard some version of Whumpee telling a Caretaker "I don't deserve this," referring to comfort, care, nourishment, etc.

But what if a Whumpee said it to their Whumper? And I'm not talking about a defiant Whumpee. I'm talking about a Whumpee who is being hurt and humiliated, who is trying to be good, to be submissive, to be pleasing...

And they believe that they do deserve punishment for most things. Talking back, resisting, disobeying, stepping out of line...

But this? This time, it feels disproportionate, or completely ramdom. They thought they were being good. They didn't break a rule, they didn't assume anything, they were being good.

So why?

"I don't deserve this" is said, not in defiance, but as a broken plea to have an already twisted sense of fairness, normalcy, or stability/predictability restored.

How would their Whumper respond? Would the Whumpee still believe that they don't deserve it later?

Feel free to add!

[goes-whump-in-the-night]

okay please consider: runaway princess whumpee

princess whumpee who was like the youngest of so many children and ran away to escape whatever “useful” political marriage she would be shunted into

who actually had a life for herself outside the palace walls, filled with friends and love and adventure and life

who gets captured and dragged kicking and screaming back to her home and greeted with two equally terrible pieces of news: that all her siblings are dead, and that she must now serve as queen to whoever else will take the throne

who screams and claws and rails at this treatment, does everything in her power to try to escape - and so her family must do anything it takes to beat her into an acceptable shape

so long as it doesn’t leave a mark anywhere her subjects can see

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Ah yes...

Padded restraints, keeping her in bed in her room at night.

Lower back, buttocks, and upper thigh cannings/whippings, with plenty of ointment so there's no scarring.

Threats. So. Many. Horrible. Threats.

Convincing the staff that she's going through a mental episode, and a danger to herself and others.

Capturing a young friend that she has on the outside (a literal child? A teen?) and beating/torturing them unless she behaves?

[withdrawingramen]

bzzzt?

Spy Whumpee being tied down and electrocuted as a part of their interrogation. They're at this set voltage that's already painful enough, as if their skin and muscles underneath are being pierced by needles relentlessly. The moment the shock is stopped, Whumpee slumps forward in the chair, breath ragged, trembling from the aftershocks. Whumper steps into their line of blurred vision. "I can do this all day, you know, but I'm not very sure about you." Whumpee tries to even out their breathing. They've been trained for this. But it's been too long. They can feel their body giving out. Their resolve to keep their organization's secrets hasn't cracked, yet, but their capacity to keep enduring is definitely going to reach it's limits. They don't speak. Whumper doesn't speak either. They lazily stride over to the machine delivering the shocks, and Whumpee's gaze follows them. Their eyes widen as they notice Whumper turn up the voltage. No. Oh, nonono. Gods, no- The next moment is filled with this organ-deep, visceral agony that they can't even comprehend.

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Adding to this idea...

When Whumpee does break from the torment, they shut down.

They don't give Whumper the information they want, they don't even cry. They don't beg. When they're released, they don't even curl up.

Whumper drags them to the corner of the cell, giving them time to recover before trying again tomorrow.

Tomorrow it's just more vacant stares, limp limbs, and silence.

Enraged, Whumper tries everything.

Water-boarding, burning, breaking bones, starvation, solitary confinement, drugging, sodomy, promising rewards, care, freedom...even allowing small comforts.

All to no avail.

Finally, Whumper is forced to give up hope of extracting information from the Whumpee.

But what now?

Do they kill Whumpee? Keep them? If so, what for? Do they abandon them? Ruin them and dump them on the side of the road? Send them back to the organization they were a part of as a warning for others, either dead or alive?

So many options...

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

Behind the mask, I'm not that perfect girl.

Behind the mask, I've had my share of trauma.

I've had words directed at me that should never have been spoken.

I've broken and I've sinned and I've bit the hand that fed me—I'm not perfect.

They say no one is, but still seem to expect it from me.

No, I am not innocent. I can't remember the last time I was.

I like to claim I'm wild and free, but there are times I still feel chained.

Behind the mask, I guess I'm afraid.

I'm scared to be too much, but then I turn around and convince myself I'm not enough.

I keep people at bay, because I'm terrified to let them in.

Like the Phantom, I crave intimacy, but am all too aware of my deformity that would drive them away.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," I plead, hoping that if they promised, they would stay true once the mask has been removed.

I swear, I swear—I'm still an angel. Even if I've fallen, I still know what it is like to be good.

I know how to kneel, and what to say when I pray. I know the answers, I know the exact right 'church' words to say.

I guess, behind the mask, I'm just a girl who wants to be loved, but never felt she was good enough for God.

[whatiswrongwithecstasy]

And suddenly...

Life changed.

Like a shooting star—make a wish before the moment is gone.

It's blowing out a birthday candle, hoping that the future is warm and bright.

Hoping that maybe, maybe this unbelief isn't forever.

Maybe I won't doubt Him everyday for the rest of my life.

Maybe everything I thought I knew, I can still know, and maybe nothing has to change.

And so I open my arms, I lift them high. But as I sing, the words fall flat.

I don't mean them.

Father, forgive me.

If you can.

If you're real.

I tried to be good.

Truly I did.