hello~ I'm Roni :3
this is my whump blog so thats mostly what you'll
find here
I'm much more of a reader than a writer
and though I do write occasionally, I'm not really
comfortable posting it on social media
I will be on here very sporadically to read :3
Not a minor! (There may be mentions of and
descriptions of explicit stuff here,
but it will be tagged!!)
Happy Whumping!!
For some lesbian nsfwhump prompts - a vampire woman attacks a party of religious folk traveling through her territory, killing all but one of the nuns with them. This one, she decides to keep and torment, to see how long it takes to get the nun screaming her name instead of her god’s.
"I want you to forget about that goddess of yours," the woman murmured into her ear, "If she didn't want this to happen, where is she? Hmm? Where is her miracle to save you from me?"
Eula clutched her rosary, its amber beads clacking softly, and the four-pointed silver star - the symbol of her goddess, the only thing she had left of her faith - pressed into the palms of her clasped hands.
"Please," she prayed, with her knuckles pressed so hard against her forehead that she was sure it would bruise, "please, hear me, Oh Goddess - I am still here, my mind and my heart are yours, I -"
Her prayer faltered as a shudder went through her.
There, kneeling on the cold stone floor, despite her desperate attempts to push it down, the thought came.
The memory of pleasure trembled through her.
Invasive and bitter, the hot taste of a kiss.
The prick of fangs against her neck.
She shook her head viciously, matted dark hair falling into her face, and clutched her rosary even more tightly; "Oh Goddess, I am - I - I follow your light and vow to do no harm, to aid those who suffer, to -"
"At it again, are we?"
Eula gasped, jolted out of her pathetic prayer so violently that her rosary clattered to the floor - and splattered her white nightgown with a thin streak of blood.
"You stay away from me..." she whispered, pulling herself to her feet on weak, betraying legs.
The woman was in all white again - sheer silk and ribbons and pearls radiant against the deep copper of her skin - almost glowing in the faint sliver of moonlight that managed to leak through the shuttered window of her prison.
"Oh my, you say that, but you're staring quite boldly at me tonight."
Eula averted her eyes hotly, scowling, as the woman floated across the room towards her. She backed up against the wall, her breath already quickening.
Every night it was the same.
"Please, don't," she whispered, raising her hands up in weak defiance.
"What's this?" The woman took one of Eula's hands, raising it up into the light, and then pressing the palm to her lips. "You're eager, aren't you? There was no need to draw blood for me, you'll take away half the fun."
"That's not what I -!" Eula started, but was cut off by the press of the woman's body against hers. Long fingers danced over her collarbone, a knee pressed up between her legs.
"You seem so tense -" the woman yanked Eula's hand away from where it was clutching the ribbon of her blouse, "-let me help you with that."
"No - no, please - "
The woman plucked the bow loose easily and the front of Eula's nightgown came undone. Try as she might to cover herself up, the woman pulled the fabric away with little effort.
"There you are. Why would you try to hide such a beautiful figure from me?" The woman cooed into her ear, pressing kisses to her jaw, her neck, and then finally - when Eula tried to strain away - grasping her chin to capture her lips.
"Mmn - nngh!"
Eula closed her eyes, but a vivid memory flashed against the back of her eyelids.
Rain pounded down heavily against the muddy path.
Her sisters lay where they had died, cold, white faces contorted in horror.
A beautiful, terrible woman with wild black curls, in a glowing white blood-stained cloak - like a statue come to life - held her too toghtly and stole away her first kiss.
Eula was jolted out of her memory by a tongue forcing its way into her mouth.
She tore away from the woman, taking a halting, wet breath, and shaking her head in a desperate silent plea.
The woman let out a low laugh.
"Oh, you're still so shy," she murmured, then turned Eula around, shoving her against the wall and pinning her there. The woman's hands groped her body, squeezing her breasts and sliding between her legs.
Eula gasped, then groaned, her nails scraping against the stone wall.
"Stop..." she breathed, "...I don't - I - I don't want it -"
"That's what your lips say," the woman whispered against the shell of her ear, "but your body is screaming for my touch already...and I've barely even started. What would your goddess think of this?"
The woman curled two fingers inside of her - they slipped in easily, scratching and painful from her long claws - but slick from the heat that had been building between her legs.
Eula let out a moan that was half a sob.
"No...a- ahh - I don't...I - I don't -"
"Shhh now, stop trying to fight it."
Eula's mind was going blank; waves of pleasure mixed with pain crashed through her.
"No...nn..."
"I want you to forget about that goddess of yours," the woman murmured into her ear, "If she didn't want this to happen, where is she? Hmm? Where is her miracle to save you from me?"
Eula couldn't answer, she could barely think or catch her breath.
Her moans were louder now, strained through gritted teeth - she didn't want to think about her goddess now. Not as her body was being played like an instrument, her strings being plucked by cruel and unrelenting fingers.
"Your goddess can't give you what I can give you -"
Eula trembled, tears welling in her eyes.
"- she has abandoned you."
The woman pressed a kiss to her jaw - and then sank her fangs into the soft space between Eula's shoulder and neck.
The pain was muddled in an instant by terrible, glorious pleasure that ripped through her body and brought her over the edge.
Eula let out a cry as her muscles tensed and spasmed
Blood rushed through her veins, pounding in her ears as the vampire drank from her. She panted and groaned, her legs growing weaker and threatening to buckle under her weight.
Until, finally, the woman drank her fill.
She licked at the bite marks left in Eula's neck, giving a low, humming laugh of satisfaction.
Whumper and whumpee are in a car. It is dark outside and the road is narrow and bordered by bushes. Everything seems to be silent, not even the wind daring to make a noise as the vehicle cuts through it.
"Tell me you love me."
Although the whumpee wants to obey, after last night's abuse the words take a little longer to form. Whumper turns off the car's headlights so that ahead of them is only darkness.
"Say it."
The car speeds up. There is only a metre or less of visibility up front.
"(whumper), please-"
Whumper clenches their teeth, "I won't let anyone else have you."
"I love you," whumpee finally chokes out, flinching at every bend of the road. The car is going far over the speed limit. If anyone else rolled up ahead, they wouldn't see it in time.
"You aren't being genuine now."
"Please, slow down," whumpee raises their voice as much as they dare, "I mean it. I really do."
The hands on the wheel tighten as the car swerves around yet another perilous bend.
"(whumper), I love you," whumpee says over and over like a prayer. They don't, not really, but they are ready to say anything to not end up a mess of broken limbs when the car eventually crashes. They know whumper would do it, too - that was the worst part.
Finally, whumper glances over at whumpee, just for a second. Their face softens.
"I love you too."
The car begins to slow down gradually, gently, until finally they are at a speed that lets whumpee relax ever so slightly. Now, whumper can afford to look at whumpee longer. They shoot whumpee a fond look.
A loving one.
"Thank you," whumpee stammers out. Now, they have to do anything to stop whumper from snapping again. It was a thin treshold easily crossed.
"You can show me how just thankful you are when we're back at the hotel," whumper replies with a small smile that makes whumpee's skin crawl, "Don't worry, it won't be long now."
maybe whumper used to use a shock collar on them. maybe it was just a regular ol' collar, designed to remind them of who they belong to.
regardless, they're safe now, aren't they? at least, that's what they try and tell themselves. but their body seems to have different ideas.
maybe a team member playfully clasps their necklace around whumpee's neck and looks at them in horror when they start yanking at it and babbling whumper's name.
maybe whumpee has to attend a fancy event and has to spend the whole night trying not to sob because the collar of their button-up shirt is too tight around their neck and it reminds them of whumper's collar. maybe they spend the entire event in a daze, dissociating so hard they're barely there. maybe whumpee is normally outspoken and bold, but for the duration of the event they are perfectly mild-mannered and agreeable -- except every time they make a mistake, they brace for a shock.
maybe caretaker is bandaging a broken arm and goes to fasten a sling around whumpee's neck, only for whumpee to break down and injure themselves even more in their haste to get away.
its even better if the team doesn't know what whumpee went through :) they have no idea what's going on when any of these things happen, and whumpee refuses to tell them. maybe whumpee is embarassed -- how pathetic is it that they can't handle anything touching their neck because of some dumb collar whumper used to make them wear? to the team, it just looks like whumpee is being argumentative and hostile for no reason. "it's just a fucking button-up shirt, whumpee! get over it!"
Tommy woke up to his door shutting hard behind Caius, who re-locked it behind him before pocketing the keys.
Tommy startled at the sound, and clutched his sheet to his chest for a moment, trying to calm himself.
Caius wasn’t holding any food or medications. That wasn’t a good sign. He had that serious look on his face, the one where he pretended he didn’t enjoy his pain. Damnit.
“You’re in trouble.”
Tommy’s stomach dropped. He started to sit up against his pillow, but hissed with the pain his movement inspired. He sank back down and pulled the sheet up over his nose.
“Why?”
Caius sighed, disappointment clear on his face.
(Fucking prick.)
“You can’t try to talk to me when you’re with a client, Tommy. You know that.”
(Oh.)
It all came back to him then. Lisa’s hair framing a face his mind had already blurred. Mark’s hands on him - no. Stop it. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Stop. Stop the thoughts.
Tommy turned from him and stared at the ceiling. He hated that his eyes prickled, threatening tears. Was it not enough? Was living like this not a punishment on its own? He felt like he couldn’t go any lower than how he felt after last night.
“I’m sorry.” Tommy said, and his broken voice sounded sincere. He was sorry he ever tried. He was sorry he still thought there was hope. His apology was just a weak attempt to shield whatever was left of himself.
“No meds for a week.”
He shot up in bed at that, grimacing at the pain.
“A week?!”
“Could be longer,” Caius offered with a raised eyebrow. Tommy sucked in a breath and became silent.
“Antibiotics?”
“You’ll get those. Nothing for the pain.”
“But- but,” He scrambled for some defense.
“Pain - pain management is an important part of the healing process, you’ll delay my recovery and it’ll be that much longer before I can - before I can go with another client.”
It was technically true. A plea to Caius’s logic was his only possible bargaining chip.
Caius pretended to chew it over for a moment. This logistic hadn’t slipped his mind, and he had already made peace with it. He stepped back to the door and unlocked it once more.
“I can wait.”
He didn’t give Tommy a chance to reply. The door locked behind him, and Tommy slumped back to his mattress. Helpless tears finally spilled from his eyes and he wanted to scream and scream.
He hadn’t even had a chance to take inventory of the damage yet. His ass felt like he’d been sitting on hot coals, it still radiated heat like a particularly brutal sunburn. His wrists and ankles felt swollen and sore to the slightest touch. Trying to move his hands only made the muscles spasm, and they were too weak to lend him his usual control.
A whole week without painkillers. He’d taken them away before, but never that long. It meant he could count on sleepless nights up with the agony. Even though he rarely broke rules anymore, his punishments got worse, not better.
He wanted to scream and curse Caius, but “throwing a tantrum” would only land him a harsher sentence. He rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow and punched the mattress until he was exhausted and hurt enough to slump back down to rest.
He clenched his eyes closed, begging his body for sleep again. One week without drugs would last an eternity.
—
He’d made it through four days. For four days, Caius made him take daily walks to keep his body from seizing with pain. The rest of the time, he laid as still as he could and wallowed. He wanted to be left alone, but Caius suddenly had all the time in the world for him.
“Go,” Caius instructed, gesturing to the basement steps. Standing at the bottom, Tommy could not imagine making his way up them, just as he had every other day. He didn’t want his sentence lengthened, but he swallowed hard at the prospect of another arduous journey up.
Caius’s hands found his shoulders and he guided him to the first stair, his touch agitating the wounds on Tommy’s shoulders.
“Could you - I could follow you? I just - need a minute.”
“You can do it. One step at a time.”
He was already trembling on his feet. His ankles pulsed with a dull, merciless pain. His legs hurt, his ass hurt, his thighs were still sore to the point of weakness.
“I don’t think I can do this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, can we just - I can walk a few times around the basement maybe? I-”
He was cut off by a hard shove between his shoulders, sending him sprawling onto the stairs.
“If you can’t walk, then you can crawl.”
Caius moved up onto the stairs, and leaned down to grip a generous handful of the prone boy’s hair. He started to ascend the stairs, dragging Tommy close behind by his hair. Tommy had to start scrambling up the steps on his hands and knees to try to keep up. His hands fluttered around Caius’s grip, wanting to wrench his fingers open, but he didn’t dare. The cement was cold and gritty under his palms and his knees, but he dragged himself up each step, desperate to end the pain. At the top he was released, and he crumpled to the floor, breathless with the strain.
Caius let him lay there for a few minutes until he bored, moving again and beckoning to Tommy to follow. Tommy pulled himself onto trembling legs, leaning heavily against the wall. Caius coaxed him forwards, taking him a different path than they usually took for these walks.
Tommy grit his teeth and walked.
He was so focused on trying to stabilize that he didn’t realize where they were heading until he was led to the bottom of the upstairs stairwell. The stairs there were carpeted and clean, with an elegant banister slithering up the side. When Caius directed him to take the stairs, he balked.
Looking into Caius’s face was like trying to read a mask, but Tommy searched for a clue if this was some kind of sick test. He had never been to the upper floor. He assumed that’s where the others lived, or worked, or whatever they did with most of their time.
Caius waved him on, one eyebrow quirked expectantly.
“Caius…I don’t think I’m allowed up there…”
(What fresh hell is this? A trick? He played those sometimes…)
“I’m telling you to go up, so you aren’t allowed to go anywhere else.”
Tommy held his hands to his chest, squeezing them to console himself. The stairs looked endless, curving to the side and out of sight after an already arduous stretch.
“Please Caius, I’m trying, I am, but the stairs, I really don’t think-”
He was interrupted by the sharp snap of Caius’s fingers in front of his face, followed by a sharp finger pointing up the stairs.
“Three more days.”
Tommy gasped, his hand rising to touch Caius’s arm for just a moment before he remembered himself. He didn’t know what he was trying to do, he just - wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to hold onto him. He had nothing more to comfort himself than the very source of his misery.
Judging by the murderous glare Caius was giving him, he was out of time.
When Caius got in this kind of mood, Tommy knew to shut up and put his head down. In the moment it took to register consciously, he was already stepping up the stairs, his hands reaching out to the carpeted stairs ahead of him tentatively. His back felt agonizingly stiff, but being able to support himself more comfortably on all fours helped a little.
(Ignore the pain. Put it in the back of your mind. Move. Just keep moving.)
He made it to the top and froze, unsure of what to do. Caius was only a step behind him, and his fingers hooked the back of his collar. He guided him by the back of the neck over to a tall white door. There was a skylight above them casting soft, bright light down, and Tommy’s eyes watered with the change from his dim basement room. Tommy pushed himself onto his feet and stood uncertainly in the hallway. Caius quickly moved to corner him up against the door, and Tommy blindly grabbed for the handle, finding it locked. Caius was too close, so suddenly, and Tommy could smell him, could feel his breath on his face. The warmth of his body pressing him against the cool wood, reaching beside his hip to unlock the door and turn the handle.
He released his grip on the collar with a grin.
Tommy stumbled backwards as the door gave way, sprawling on the floor in a defeated heap. He groaned and covered his face with his arms, trying to shield his face. Some days, Caius just wanted his pain. It was starting to look like one of those days.
Caius padded in behind him and closed the door. From between his fingers where he laid on his side, all Tommy could see were his feet.
He shivered there, for a moment, anticipating the blows. (At least the carpet is soft.)
(Fuck. Really, really soft.)
He forgot how nice a good carpet felt. The one in his “bedroom” was old and ground into a thin mat over the cement. The carpet beneath him was a clean cream color with padding beneath him, making it cushier than his mattress.
Moments passed and there was no strike. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up until he was sat against the side of an enormous bed, a rich blue comforter spilling over the side. He looked blearily up at Caius, who crouched before him. He pinched his chin and turned his face from one side to the other, looking at his eyes.
(Why am I in your bedroom?)
He didn’t say anything. He’d already switched gears, resigned to whatever Caius fancied doing to him today. The new environment and the big bed put him ill at ease though, and he felt nauseous. His brain was in low power mode, trying to forget what was happening as soon as it did. He wanted to walk far away from his mind and stay somewhere where the carpet was always so soft and clean.
His eyes accidentally connected with Caius’s for a moment. He always forgot what he looked like somehow, and it was so hard to look him in the face. The clear rim of his glass, the soft blonde strands that cradled his face. Those cold, grey eyes.
He looked like the devil to Tommy.
“Stay.”
He nodded numbly, grateful when Caius turned away and broke eye contact. For some reason, he couldn’t make himself look away first.
Caius pulled a long chain lead from the top drawer of his nightstand. Tommy leaned his head back and submitted his throat to him, accepting the lead locking onto his collar with nothing more than a nervous swallow.
(Better than being dragged by my hair…I think.)
When Caius rose, he pulled the leash, and Tommy struggled to his feet. He was afraid to support himself on the comforter, the fabric too fine for his calloused touch.
Caius coaxed him onto the bed with a tug of the chain. The moment Tommy made contact with the bed he whimpered, his muscles turning to jelly in fear of retribution. But Caius joined him on the bed and sat up against his pillows, winding the chain around his fist to gather Tommy closer. He reluctantly crawled to him, the nausea growing stronger.
(Don’t do this. Don’t open that door.)
Caius settled him on his side though, and drew his head down to his lap. One hand curled possessively in his hair again. Tommy braced himself, but his fingers gently combed through, soothing and untangling the strands. Lately, he could get whiplash with how fast Caius’s moods came and went. Shocking, blinding cruelty would be followed with unnerving gentleness.
A book was fetched from his nightstand and rested open on his cheek, one wing of the hardcover supported balanced on his face.
“Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that…”
The bed was cushy, and sank in generously at his touch. It unnerved him, a gnawing feeling plaguing him that the mattress might sink like quicksand beneath him. In spite of himself, he began to relax to the soothing cadence of Caius’s voice, slowly relinquishing the tension coiled in his body. With his face covered, he didn’t have to focus on making his expression acceptable to his unpredictable host. The fingers in his hair didn’t pull or punish, and their rhythmic caresses started to lull him to sleep.
Caius smelled…he smelled like sandalwood. He smelled clean. He smelled warm. He felt warm, his legs beneath him radiating a comforting heat.
Tommy’s heart suddenly ached fiercely. Desperate to soothe it, he nuzzled into the warm body beside him. Caius paused as it upset his book, but he let Tommy cuddle closer without correction.
It had just started to overwhelm him, this odd moment of domesticity. He’d been alone for so long, and the gentle touches were few and far between. He just wanted to embrace the feeling while he had it, before it could slip through his fingers. He’d spent so long just trying to numb the world out, it felt so good to be here and pretend he wasn’t prey in the arms of a predator.
Caius held him, and it felt good.
“I never used to be able to keep a relationship.”
Tommy tilted his head to look at Caius. Their eyes met, and Caius looked into his face so fully and honestly that it paralyzed him.
“It wasn’t a problem getting them, but they never stayed. They wanted me until they saw all of me and then they left.”
Silence hung between them. Tommy was wordless at the sudden admission.
“I guess my longest relationship is you, huh?”
A chill ran down Tommy’s spine. Caius’s hand touched his cheek and he stared at it, enraptured by the contact with his ward. There was something wrong in that look. He didn’t look at him like a lover, but like a doll. Like a muse.
Tommy shrank away from his touch, but Caius’s hand caught him and pushed his head down to his lap. Suddenly his touch didn’t feel so warm and so gentle. The ache came back to Tommy’s chest, as the warm feeling drained from his face.
(You can’t always play pretend.)
“You know I used to do insurance? That’s how I met Rory. We just clicked, he was the only good thing about the job. One day he tells me that his tech whiz friend has got this start-up….that was Michelle. But he wanted us to relocate to Quebec. Can you imagine living in Quebec? Working for some french freaks?”
Tommy wondered if they would have taken him at all. If some boy up north was spared being in his place because of a sliver of francophobia.
“Once he moved here, it all kinda fell into place.”
Tommy missed the other story.
“You know, I never let my licenses lapse. I’ve renewed them three times. I just kept thinking, this is too good to be true. Something’s going to happen and I’ll be back at a desk.”
His position no longer felt comfortable, and Caius’s hand was fully pushing down on his head, seemingly without noticing. He could feel his heart start to pound.
“I think I’ll let them go this year. All in, I guess.”
Anger burned suddenly on the back of Tommy’s neck.
(Are you committed now? Finally into it? I’ve been in it all along. You took away my choice and locked me in a basement and let people torture me for money. You took my life away…but now you finally want to take the reins and invest? I hope Hell exists just so there’s a place for people like you.)
“Hey. I know you hurt. I know it’s been really hard to get through the last few days. How would you like to make a deal?”
Tommy turned his head at that. He was weak for Caius’s deals. He could never manage to turn them down, no matter how many times he paid for it. But sometimes it wasn’t so bad, so he always fell for the bait.
He stared at Caius’s chest, unable to meet his eyes again.
“That’s what I thought you might say,” Caius said with a smile, to Tommy’s obviously piqued attention.
“You take another punishment now, and I’ll count it for the rest of the week.”
(Oh, no.)
(He had to take it, right? What’s a little more pain in the short term? He could just get his drugs right after, right?)
(No, don’t get ahead of yourself. At least ask.)
“What punishment?” he murmured.
“You’ll get the cane,” Caius answered. He said it in that humiliating way, as if he was explaining something in a caring voice.
He mulled it over briefly. Canings were fucking agony, but it might be worth it to cut his time short.
(Fine.)
“Okay.” It came out in a whisper.
As soon as he said it, it started to really sink in. He was suddenly stunned in disbelief that this was happening, As Caius moved him to the side and slipped off of the bed, making his way to his closet. When Caius returned, holding a long, thin whip of a stick. He suddenly remembered sobbing underneath it the last time Caius took him to task. He couldn’t even remember what he had done. Sometimes he didn’t have to do anything at all.
Caius directed him on the bed like a trainer handling his dog, putting him in the same position his last clients had whipped him in. His face down on Caius’s soft sheets, his chest pressed to the mattress. On his knees, and Caius reached between his legs to take his hands. He pulled his hands through and coaxed him to grip his ankles, holding himself in that humiliating position.
Caius’s hands brushed over his ass before slipping his fingers into his waistband and tugging them down.
Tommy whimpered as he was exposed, the fabric feeling like sandpaper as it slipped over the raw skin there.
“Wait, Caius, wait, I take it back, I don’t want to do this.” It came out in rush as the panic properly started to set in, realizing how bad this was going to hurt. He was already covered in wounds, the bruises fully ripened, the skin starting to itch and crack. He let go of his ankles and tried to pull his hands back before Caius could stop him.
He didn’t succeed, and Caius’s hands on his wrists gripped like claws.
“No, that’s not how this works. You took the deal.” Already having anticipated this, Caius grabbed a roll of tape he had secreted onto the bed.
“You’ll keep your hands right there if you want to be forgiven the rest of the week. Otherwise, you’ll get both.”
Tommy held onto his ankles as hard as he could, until his hands hurt as much as his feet. He felt like a great weight was coming down on him as Caius wound the tape around his fists, mummifying him there as he bound the limbs together.
Tommy was already crying when Caius finished wrapping him. He felt a hand on his hip, a curious thumb tugging at the edges of his pain. Getting a good look at him in this state. He told himself he had only imagined it as soon as he heard the soft click of the phone camera behind him.
“Caius please, please Caius, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me anymore,” He begged, but there was no answer to his prayers.
He heard the soft whistle through the air before Caius struck him. It lit up a long slash of pain on his backside, and he panted under the blooming pain. Whip. Whip. Criss-crossing over and over on the backs of his thighs, down nearly to the backs of his knees and up to the swell of his ass. The blows were quick and merciless, reducing him to a sobbing mess of trembling flesh. It burned so bad and he pulled frantically on his bindings, trying to escape the steady battering. Caius started to hit harder, or maybe it just hurt more and more, or maybe both. Sometimes Caius just needed to work something out tanning his hide, and the pain was horrific.
(His own, personal whipping boy.)
The soft mattress beneath him felt like less of a comfort as his face sank in, and he struggled to catch a breath as he wailed into the sheets. At least his knees didn’t hurt. The give of the cushion underneath him let him rock very slightly back and forth, the best he could do to ease the desperate need to move away.
The steady hits sped up and plateaued, finally slowing and stopping. It could have been a hundred strikes. It could have been five, but it took centuries until Caius was satisfied. Tommy was sweating frantically, and the salt stung his welted skin.
“There we go, that got us there.”
He felt like a quivering slab of raw meat on a platter before him. Caius left for a while, letting Tommy cool off and finish his crying jag. When he returned, he had a pot of ointment in his hands. He worked the thick salve into his skin slowly, working an agonizing massage across the bloody strokes. Tommy whimpered and whined with the pain, but the intimate touch stirred unwanted tingles of pleasure in him. He pressed his thighs together firmly, but he couldn’t keep it up with how weak his legs felt.
Finally Caius was done molesting him and cut away the tape holding him in place. Tommy rolled over onto his side and dry sobbed until Caius decided to put him back. Mercifully, Caius helped ease him down the stairs, and took him over his shoulder to carry him the last few yards to his room.
Tommy laid on his bed and shivered. His bed wasn’t more comfortable, but it was familiar. His whole body pulsed with pain. Caius tethered him and Tommy struggled to keep his eyes open, he was so tired after the whole ordeal, though he doubted he would be able to sleep.
(Wait. The meds.)
“Can I please have my medicine now?” The idea of getting some relief from the pain made his teary-eyed all over again.
“Yes, after the three extra days you earned.”
(No)
(No)
(No.)
“Caius!” he moaned, but then his breath caught in his throat.
“I’ll be back after tea,” Caius promised as he locked the door behind him, leaving Tommy to writhe in his bed.
It was a small room in the basement, barely bigger than his twin bed. The only semblance of a window was a short row of thick glass blocks at the top of the far wall. They couldn’t be seen through, and only let in a limited and filtered daylight.
The carpet was long worn out, the soft cushioning of the fibers ground into a tough mat. The clothing his captors provided was locked away from him in a trunk under the bed, and a rotting bookcase housed handfuls of random books. Bare wires hung from the unfinished ceiling and walls, smartly covered with a clear pane of plastic to keep them out of his reach.
He used to have one of those old TVs, the big boxy ones no one used anymore. All it got was the public channels, but he liked to keep it on, just to hear people talking. It was taken away after he scratched Caius, and now he only listened to the sounds of the house and the overhead pipes.
Either they had forgotten to give it back, or they still held it against him - it didn’t truly matter either way, if he asked he would be told no.
He was afforded a few CDs and an old walkman. It lay discarded next to him in bed - he knew what was coming and didn’t want to be taken by surprise. Sam had “cleared” him as his skin had been forced whole again, little trace left of the pain he had endured. Every single time. He stared at the waterstained ceiling and listened until there was the familiar sound of his door unlocking. Caius was the only one that ever came down here. He pulled the sheets over his head.
“You need to get dressed, we have a client tonight.”
Tommy knew. He had been stewing in his dread all day, hiding under the covers in his bed.
“What does this one want from me?” Tommy asked from under the blankets.
“Well… this one is a little more complicated. I’ll tell you about it in the car. But I need you to put this on.”
Tommy felt a very slight weight over his foot.
“It’s at the foot of your bed. I’m going to give you ten minutes to get dressed. I’ll be back, and then we gotta do some prep in the bathroom.”
Tommy peeked out from the covers at Caius.
“The bathroom?”
“The bathroom. Be ready within ten minutes. I’ll leave you to it.”
Caius padded out of the room, clicking the lock shut behind him.
It was nice to have a little space for once, instead of having to strip and dress in front of Caius, but it was hard to motivate himself to emerge from his cocoon. He stared at the clock until 5 minutes passed, and made himself sit up.
(Let’s just take it one step at a time… we’re just getting dressed and going for a car ride… )
It wasn’t very common for clients to request specific clothes, but it happened sometimes. A few wanted him to come in dress clothes. Others had wanted him to dress up for some kind of sick role play.
He grabbed the black fabric at the end of the bed and immediately realized why Caius had left.
The first item he held up was a mess of black leather straps. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it and tossed it to the side
The next item he pulled was a very long black sock - no, stocking.
He frantically shook out the rest of the costume to see what he was working with.
Head to toe, there was the strappy mess, a short black skater skirt, a black goddamn jockstrap, and black thigh-highs with elastic garters already attached.
Fetish gear. Bile rose in his throat.
(What the fuck are they gunna do to me?)
He glanced at the clock and saw he only had two minutes left.
(Empty your head. Just - put it on. Two minutes.)
The jockstrap was a cold faux-leather, but slipped on easily enough. He hardly felt more covered by the skirt, no matter how low he pulled it down his hips. He was so frustrated, so angry, but above all terrified of Caius coming to that door before he was dressed. He caught himself tearing up while he struggled to roll on the long socks. The elastic at the top sat snug enough on his thighs that they seemed to stay up, at least for now. (How the fuck do I put the straps on?!)
Three sharp warning knocks on the door.
The back of his neck felt hot, almost guilty, fearing punishment.
Caius opened the door to a tearful, wide-eyed Tommy on his bed, flushed red and a little short of breath. He had one hand on the hem of his skirt, trying to pull it flat out across his lap to shield him. The other grasped a fistful of the hopelessly tangled harness, pressed to his naked chest.
“Um, could you - can you help me with the-” He swallowed anxiously.
“-With this?”
Caius stared for a moment, unable to keep himself from cracking a grin.
“Yeah, sure.”
Tommy breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed somewhat, dropping the harness to his lap and lowering his gaze. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand self-consciously. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone anymore.
Caius kneeled on the bed beside him and took the harness, holding it up and starting to untangle parts to try to see how it would fit on.
“Is it Alice?” Tommy asked quietly.
Caius chuckled and buckled a part together.
“No, not today. I’m sure you won’t be free of her forever, but she hasn’t set up another booking yet.”
Tommy looked hard at his knees, and pushed the skirt in between his legs so they felt more like shorts. He didn’t feel as comforted as he had hoped.
“They’re new clients, a couple. They just want someone to play with Tommy, you can do it.”
“I don’t want to,” Tommy whispered, his throat thick.
“I know.”
Somehow it was so hard to admit it to Caius. But it wasn’t like he had anyone else he could confide in. Caius would tolerate a certain amount of complaining, but he had to watch his mouth and try to gauge the other man’s mood. Right now, it was just them in Tommy’s room, in the yellow haze of his old lamp.
He stared at the matted carpet while Caius dressed him, fastening him into the harness and adjusting the straps to fit him snugly. He was also put in his collar, locking the barbs under his skin.
“Do you want to see yourself in the mirror?”
“No,” Thomas answered quickly and curtly.
“What do we have to do in the bathroom?”
“Eh, Michelle wanted to take a shower, so we can do it in your bathroom. You showered?”
Tommy nodded.
“When?”
“Um, about an hour ago.”
Caius nodded and led him to the next room.
Tommy had a small bathroom beside his room, and they had sawed a doorway into the separating wall to give him access to it. The outer bathroom door had long been locked and walled over, and he wasn’t given a door between the two rooms.
There was only one lightbulb in the three-light strip above Tommy’s mirror, and the dim yellow glow gave the bathroom a perpetually dingy look.
Caius pointed to the closed toilet and sat down on the tub edge beside it. Tommy pulled his skirt straight and sat on the toilet cover.
Caius fished a couple tubes from his pocket, and gripped Tommy’s jaw in one hand, positioning him like a doll to look up at him head-on.
“Close your eyes.”
It made him very nervous to look at Caius’s face, so he gladly closed his eyes.
He felt something touch his lip and he jerked back, opening his eyes again.
“Hold still,” Caius ordered, and reached forwards to touch the applicator to his lips again. It was a little more gel-like than chapstick, and tingled like menthol.
“Does it hurt?” Caius asked, more out of curiosity than concern.
“It tingles,” Tommy said, “but it doesn’t hurt.”
“Close ‘em.”
Tommy closed his eyes again and felt something small and round start to trace his eyelids.
“I hadn’t heard of the lip stuff before, but it’s like a tinted gloss with bee venom in it, of all things.”
His eyes were circled a few times, and then Caius pressed fingers to his eyes and rubbed them until they started to water.
“Open.”
Tommy obeyed, and Caius studied each of his eyes carefully. He tried to look away, but it was impossible to get him out of eyesight with his face so close.
The next one Tommy recognized as a mascara wand, and it was applied in layered brush strokes until he thought his eyes had watered enough to rid him of the eyeliner.
“Stand.”
Caius stood with Tommy, and put two hands on his shoulders, guiding him to the counter and turning him to face the mirror.
“Not bad, huh?”
(…)
Tommy did look. His reddened eyes were framed with coal-black liner, a little smudged, but it looked intentional. His eyelashes looked long and separated, and his lips were full and pink.
It had been so long since he had actually looked at himself in the mirror. His face looked pale and gaunt. He didn’t recognize himself. Caius fixed his hair with a mild smile, and Tommy stared at the stranger before him.
“You look pretty cute, actually. You can wear a hoodie for the drive. You’d better take a bathroom break before we go, unless you want to show off your new skirt at some Ohio gas station.”
Tommy winced away from his reflection and shook his head, as if to shake off the thought Caius had offered. Caius chuckled and walked back into the bedroom, leaving him there.
“Clean yourself up. Five minutes max.”
When Tommy came out, Caius was sitting up at the head of his bed, flipping through the old book Tommy was working through for the umpteenth time. He bit back a flash of anger at the sight, the only semblance of ownership he had here casually being violated.
“This looks good.”
“You can borrow it if you like.”
Caius gave a little smirk and tossed it aside.
“Let’s roll.”
~
It was surprisingly cool out. Caius did give him a hoodie to pull on over the harness, but he still shivered while Caius unlocked the car and pushed him into the back seat. Even when it was just them on a drive, Tommy wasn’t allowed to sit up front, it was too conspicuous.
Since only Caius was attending him, he got collared and handcuffed to the car door. As Caius got situated, he heard the gentle click of the child locks activating.
Caius let the time pass without comment as they pulled out and made the usual drive out and onto the highway.
Tommy’s stomach hurt. It was early evening, and he hadn’t had any food since noon. He wasn’t allowed to eat for six hours prior to meeting with a client, or drink within four. They didn’t want him to puke when they did whatever they would do to him.
About an hour in, Caius finally spoke.
“We’ve got a little over two hours left, but I’m gonna prep you now.”
Tommy leaned his head against the window, already dreading whatever would unfold..
“Tonight is a celebration, okay? Their names are Lisa and Mark, and it’s their wedding anniversary.”
Caius didn’t have to look at Tommy’s face in the rearview mirror to know his disgust and anger, but he did anyway.
“Lucky for you, they like the feisty ones. So…go hog wild, I guess.”
(Lucky. Sam said something similar the other week. He could laugh if it didn't taste so goddamn bitter.)
“I’m gonna need you to put on a little show. Struggle a little, be a brat all you like, the works. But if you bring about any harm to them, if you so much as raise a hand, I will drop you.”
“What the fuck? They get off on me not wanting to play their game?!”
“Yeah, they do, and you’re going to play along. You’ve got two hours to get over it.”
Tommy was fuming. Caius spoke to him like a petulant child, as if he wasn’t a grown man being told to behave for his torturers. The feeling was so overwhelming while he was unable to do anything about it, and he struggled to separate himself from his impotent fury.
He shifted in the handcuffs, twisting his hands to grab the short chain looped through the inner handle. He grasped it as tight as he could and pulled. He knew the handle would never budge, but it felt good to strain and feel like he was trying something, anything. He held his breath and pulled until his arms were burning and his hands throbbed intensely where they were wrapped in the chain.
He finally relaxed and let go, slumping down in his seat while the blood started to rush back into his fingers. He tried to catch his breath evenly and quietly so Caius wouldn’t accuse him of throwing a fit. Every time the helplessness welled in his chest, he held his breath and pulled, until he was tired and hungry enough to doze off.
~
When the car rolled to a stop, Tommy was gripped with a renewed sense of doom. The walk from the car always felt like walking the plank.
(Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4…)
Caius rolled down Tommy’s window, got out of the car and stretched.
(Hold it in 1, 2, 3, 4…)
Caius reached through the window to unlock Tommy’s cuffs, and pulled him out of the car.
(Breathe out 1, 2, 3, 4…)
His handcuffs are locked again, pinning his wrists together behind his back.
(Hold, 2, 3, 4…)
Caius guided him up to the door with a hand on his shoulder.
Tommy’s heart was pounding. Caius reached for the doorbell.
“Wait, wait.” He couldn’t put a hand out to stop him, but he took a small step into Caius’s space, and it surprised him enough to hesitate. He forced himself to look into Caius’s eyes, desperate to find some connection there.
“Please. Please don’t do this. We can get back in the car. We can just go home.”
He hated how small and pathetic his voice sounded when he begged. His throat grew thick as he began to tear up with desperation.
Caius had never heard Tommy call their place “home” before, only “the house”.
“Tommy.”
“Please Caius, please, just this once, please don’t make me go in there!”
Caius sighed.
“I can’t deal with the pain, the- the humiliation, this stupid outfit, I-”
“Tommy.” Caius silenced him with a thumb to his lips, his hands cradling his face, holding his gaze.
He spoke gently, softly, as if explaining something to a child.
“We sold your dignity five years ago. You have nothing left.”
The grief stuck in Tommy’s throat, rendering him unable to speak.
Caius reached out and pushed the doorbell with finality.
Tommy started to come to, and immediately began to take stock of his body.
He was laid on his front, sideways in the backseat of the car, drooling on Caius’s lap. His memories of Darwin started to come back to him, and he closed his eyes against them sharply, as if to stop them from coming.
Caius replied to the other voice.
“He’s breathing. Looks like he’s waking up, actually.”
Caius’s hand steadied him by his shoulder, which was mercifully numb. Actually, his whole body felt numb, and weak, when he started to stir.
“Don’t move too much. I had to break out the injectables to keep you from fully going into shock.”
“Is he going to bleed all over my car again? Caius, I swear to god-”
“Rory, shut your damn mouth. This isn’t amateur hour anymore.”
“Is he stable?” Michelle asked. Tommy wanted to know that, too.
Caius drummed his fingers absentmindedly on Tommy’s shoulder. He could feel the pressure of it distantly, but without pain or feeling. It felt weird to be so disconnected from his body.
“Stable enough, until we get him to Sam. I packed all the holes in with bleedstop and he’s practically mummified in quickclot. We went through most of the injectables.”
“Sam’s gunna be pissed,” Rory added helpfully.
“He isn’t paid to get pissy. He’ll deal.”
“If this guy wants another session, he’ll have to come to us.” Rory continued to complain.
“No, he can’t. He has a whole…set-up.”
They continued to talk while Tommy drifted in and out.
~
Caius and Tommy were dropped off outside of Dr. Sam Snow’s hidden office. They had an old wheelchair in the trunk to put him in, but the last of the meds were waning. He was in a considerable amount of pain with the bumps of every little bit of gravel or crack in the road as Caius pushed him along. He grit his teeth and tried to keep his groaning to a minimum.
Caius rapt on an unassuming alley door three times, and waited. Knowing Sam, it would be a few, so he leaned against the bricks and started scrolling through his phone.
They sat in whatever their version of companionable silence was, until there was a familiar grinding sound behind the door. Caius pocketed his phone and stood back behind Tommy’s wheelchair, right as the door opened, thick as a bank vault.
A man leaned out, with dirty blond hair too scruffy to look professional. Sam looked perpetually bedraggled.
“Oh good, my favorites,” He addressed Caius, before turning to eye Tommy in the wheelchair.
“That bad, huh?”
“Even worse,” Caius said with a rueful grin.
Sam stepped out long enough to grab the handles of Tommy’s wheelchair, and popped him onto the back wheels to get him over the entranceway stair. Tommy shrieked in pain, muted somewhat by his instinct to keep his lips closed. He grit his teeth, protective of his wounded mouth.
“Shut up,” Sam said mildly, and pushed him through the doorway down a dimly lit hallway.
This part of the building certainly didn’t feel like a doctor’s office. To the left and right there were rooms long abandoned, filled with broken glass and furniture, painted in old graffiti.
Caius followed, pushing the red button beside the door to make it pull closed and lock behind him.
They took a hard right and came to a metal door that Sam opened with a badge and a code. It always felt so unnecessary, but Tommy could only guess at the value of the contents within.
The door opened and Sam pushed him through, walking him past his office on the right and straight into a wide, square lab that the networks of hallways flanked. It was coldly lit, but bright inside, with a generous strip of window circling the room for open visibility. Tommy was pulled backwards into the familiar glass door, and it felt like the temperature dropped a good five degrees past the threshold.
“You’ll want to put him on his front,” Caius offered, stepping in after them and parting off to the right to find the small group of plastic chairs tucked to the far side.
“Yeah, don’t bother helping me or anything, I’ve got it,” Sam remarked with sarcasm, but he pulled Tommy out of the chair and across his shoulder to lay him awkwardly on the exam table. Tommy didn’t fight, and rolled off of his side onto his stomach and laid face down. The exam table had a little hole in the end that he could comfortably put his face in, like a massage table.
He closed his eyes. At least Sam was usually pretty heavy-handed with the drugs.
He felt a tugging on his pant leg as Sam’s scissors started to work their way up his leg, snipping his clothes off for easy removal. Sam didn’t comment until he was laid bare, the remnants of his clothing cast aside.
“What the fuck is this?!” Sam called to Caius. Tommy knew better than to mistake his anger being over his well-being - he was just pissed about the amount of work his injuries took him to fix.
“Yeah, this guy went medieval on him. Had a whole bunch of like, historical torture implements. He bound him up in some type’a spiky chair, with extra attachments. He hit him with a cattle prod until Tommy pissed himself and blacked out.”
Sam made a sound of revulsion.
“Did he at least pay well?”
“Ehhh,” Caius thought for a moment. “He paid a lot, but still had a first-time discount.”
“I hope he tipped like a motherfucker, because this-” Tommy could imagine Sam waving a hand over his mutilated body in a lazy sweep.
“-Is gonna cost ya.”
Tommy imagined Caius’s stupid shrug at that, too.
Sam’s gloved hands felt warm while he probed him, looking over the injuries to gauge the severity.
“I can’t see shit with all the fuckin’ powder. He’s gonna need a saline rinse.”
Tommy knew it was coming, but shuddered anyways. He heard Sam unwind the hose and open the nozzle without finesse, standing back so he wouldn’t get caught in the spray. The saline was luke-warm at best, and Tommy shivered as the solution washed away the last of his body heat. He gritted his teeth to try to keep them from chattering, and watched as pink water poured off the table and lazily swirled around the drain built into the floor.
It didn’t hurt much at first, but as Sam really started to blast away the dried blood and clotting powder, it became a grueling test of endurance. The pink water beneath the table started to become more clear, and then quickly turned to a red as his wounds started to reopen under the spray. He heard Caius say something from the corner, but he couldn’t make it out over the shower. It seems Sam couldn’t either, because the jet mercifully stopped.
“What?”
“Can’t you give him a numbing gel or something?”
“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, and Tommy saw his feet retreat away from the table.
“I plum forgot, he was being so good - Tommy, why’d you let me do that?” Sam mocked, but he returned and began working a thick ointment across his back. It took only moments for the gel to take effect, bringing blessed relief to every wound it touched. Tommy closed his eyes as the pain finally started to subside, and the paste left his skin feeling warm and completely numb.
“I think you owe Caius a big thank you, don’t you?” Sam pushed, as he saw Tommy start to visibly relax under his hands.
(Actually, I think I owe Caius a big shot to the face,) Tommy mused to himself, but he said nothing.
“His mouth is messed up, you’re not gonna get anything from him.” Caius commented, unamused by Sam’s playful mood.
Sam groaned at the mention of more work, but finished rubbing the numbing ointment in without further comment. Tommy closed his eyes, and without the pain caging him in his body, he was finally able to drift. To go somewhere - anywhere - where he wasn’t ass-up on a table about to be needled over.
He was a little grateful to Caius, but it was…complicated. He remembered when he was first in, and so scared, and thought he might find some help in the other man.
“We all have different roles here to make the business work,” Caius explained. Tommy was curled up in a ball on the sleeping roll Caius had brought him.
“I’m your handler. I’m not your friend - I’m your boss.”
Tommy had sat up, leaning against the wall and hugging his knees.
“What about the other guys?”
Caius sighed and sat down next to him, ignoring when Tommy scooted as far away as he could into the corner.
“Well, they’re your bosses too. But it’s like - I’m like the manager, while they’re in corporate.” Caius seemed to struggle for a better explanation.
“Rory has a fuckin’ mouth on him, sure, but he could sell water to fish. He coordinates appointments, knows a bunch of market research and business shit, so that’s kinda his thing.
“Michelle deals with all the tech stuff, he’s a huge nerd. He uploads all the pictures and videos and stuff to the network, but it’s a hidden network, I don’t know, it’s all beyond me.”
“A network for…this?” Tommy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, basically,” Caius replied. “We’re franchise owners, technically. All this - and you-”
He turned to face Tommy fully.
“-Are our business.”
Tommy worried his lip.
“And your job… is to manage me?”
Caius smiled, amused, and adjusted his glasses.
“My job is to make sure you don’t break.”
Caius advocated for him, in a way. And he was nice to him, in a way. But he never wasted breath pretending he did it for Tommy’s good. He managed a balance of keeping Tommy at a low level of stabilization, in spite of everything, to protect his business asset. Abducting people was a huge risk, and not one they could constantly repeat if their other victims died or completely broke down.
He’d heard of other teams with assets like him, sometimes multiple at a time. But if they broke down for good, they weren’t interesting to use anymore and became worthless. Caius afforded him small mercies to maintain a tiny spark of morale, so Tommy continued to be valuable.
Considering he was this far in, Caius seemed to be very good at his job.
Tommy was snapped back to the present when the tip of a needle dug deeper than he was numbed, and he hissed with pain.
“Sorry bud. Just checking to make sure you’re still with us.”
Sam continued poking him with needle after needle, circling every single wound with three triangulating punctures. This batch would take forever.
Tommy suddenly felt a hand on his upper arm, and realized Caius had crossed the room to watch.
“Which ones are these?”
Sam took a break to straighten his back for a moment.
“Well, you haven’t given me a lot to work with. Lucky for you, I just got in this stem cell batch that’s just insane. It’s a more potent combo with extra immunomodulators. Moves weeks of recovery into mere days. I’m also putting our usual pre-scar steroids in, which should also help with the swelling and inflammation.”
“How did you lose your medical license again?”
“I was just too much fun. I’ll top it off with this new wound-food serum I got, it’s supposed to help the body keep up with the crazy-fast healing. I’ll spray him down with a second skin and he’ll need to keep that on for a week. He’ll need lots of rest and lots of food - no starvation punishments and no missed meals.”
“Did you check his mouth yet?”
“Oh fuck,” Sam answered. He started to move Tommy onto his side, but then stopped.
“Ah fuck it. Let me get him patched up here and I’ll take a look.”
It was kind of like getting a tattoo session done, if it were a full-body stick and poke. Sam was methodical and finished the injections before anyone else could have. The serum was applied generously (sloppily) and the second skin sprayed on. A second light with a blue tint was thrown on above the table, and the substance began to dry on across his body.
“Do you know how good you got it? This is cutting-edge stuff, the newest technology that won’t hit the hospitals for decades, if ever. Celebrities pay millions for this stuff.”
Tommy did not respond.
“Luckily for you, everyone likes a blank page, don’t they? Gotta clear the board for the next guy.”
Tommy grimaced at the floor.
(Think about - something else. The feeling of biting into a coffee bean. What it looks like, how it feels in your hand. The crunch, the bitterness. Focus on imagining the sensation. Nothing else. No feeling.)
“I’ll take a look at his mouth and whatever that thing on his jaw was, and I’m sending him home. Come back in a week for the second round of steroids. If it’s going well, we might be able to do the first laser treatment the same day.”
There was a numbed touch to his back, where apparently the second skin had finished curing on him, and he was rolled onto his back. He shut his eyes hard against the blinding overhead light.
“Alright, open up.”
Tommy opened his mouth and Sam grabbed a penlight to examine inside. After a moment, he tsked as if chiding Tommy.
“Don’t you know better than to let strangers put things in your mouth?”
He moved down to do some poking and prodding where the fork had dug into him. He grabbed some now nearly-empty syringes and injected small shots along the edges of the wounds.
“These will be fine. Not even worth a stitch. I’m not going to put on a butterfly just because I want to make sure these heal from the inside out, but I don’t think they’re worth packing.”
Sam applied wound patches over each of the spots, working his fingers into the the edges of the patch until the adhesive melted on.
“Those ones will be fine. As for the mouth, his tongue is punctured in multiple places and pretty swollen. I have steroids that will calm the swelling down and let it start to heal. Mouths actually heal faster than most other parts of the body, and with a little help those will close up fine. However-”
Sam turned, and started sorting through a couple drawers before turning back around holding a bottle.
“Rinse four times a day with this solution. When you run out, switch to saltwater. But…he’s going to need to use a feeding tube for a week.”
At that, Tommy put his face over his hands and turned on his side, curling up to shield himself as best he could. The feeding tube was the worst, and he’d only had to use it once before.
“Yeah, I know bud.” Sam patted him on the shoulder with faux sympathy.
“I’m putting him on a couple oral medications he’ll need to take twice daily AFTER feeding, always after. I’ll make up a care package.”
Sam started pulling various bandages and tubes out of cabinets and stowed them into a bag. Caius had luckily brought Tommy a pair of sweats and a hoodie, which he helped him into while Sam rummaged around.
“What time next week?”
Sam waived a dismissive hand in Caius’s direction without looking at him.
The nausea starts when they roll off the highway. An unfamiliar town lies here, sporting lots of fancy diners and shops for wasps.
“It’s coming up. Get ‘im lively.”
Tommy had been awake for a while now, but a bump of coke made him “more lively” for clients. The bitter taste didn’t help his stomach when he rubbed it into his gums. Sure, it was more direct up the sniffer, but one time he sneezed blood into the passenger window, so they switched strictly to the oral route. He didn’t like the taste or the buzz, but it helped with the pain a little. Not that it mattered.
His stomach drops to his knees when they turn off onto a long side street and begin passing houses. Only a few down and they turn onto a long, neat driveway that slithered into the woods. Finally, a house emerged from the foliage.
(Brown, drab. Not a mansion, but expensive. Groomed lawn. Driveway, maybe a quarter mile. Isolated. Definitely not a client we’ve seen before. New clients are always crapshoots.)
Caius dragged Tommy up the path to the door. He hesitated before ringing the doorbell, making Tommy face him while he fixed his curls and looked him over. He pinched his cheeks and his lips to give him a flushed look, pinching some of his eyelashes between his fingers and tugging them painfully. He repeated it on the other side, making Tommy’s eyes water so they were tearful and moony. He then pressed the gold-framed button next to the door. A twinkling classical piece played inside in lieu of a standard bell.
A middle-aged man answered too quickly, surprisingly well dressed in a tortoiseshell suit and matching glasses. He looked like a professor. He smiled kindly at the two of them.
“Please, come in.”
Caius put a firm hand on Tommy's shoulder and pushed him through the doorframe into the house, while the client politely held the door for the pair. He closed it behind them and activated an electronic lock, hidden from the outside. A heavy deadbolt slid into place with a loud chink. It resonated with an ominous finality that made Tommy’s stomach clench.
“I am Darwin. I take it this is Tommy?” He gestured to Tommy.
“I’m Caius, and this is Tommy.”
Darwin nodded, and then hesitated as he began to turn.
“Forgive me if I’m new to the etiquette of these…arrangements. Could I offer you a water, or maybe some wine?”
“Don’t worry about formalities, you’ve paid for us to be here. Let’s not waste your time.”
Darwin's eyebrows raised just a touch, but he seemed relieved to dispense with niceties. He began up a flight of stairs, which Caius ensured Tommy followed close behind. His heart was starting to pound and his feet felt heavy. Upstairs rooms were less common than basements. They somehow felt so much more intimate. Tommy had long since learned you can’t tell what a client wants based on appearance. He wasn’t sure what he feared more - a dungeon, or a bedroom.
He could feel himself starting to shut down already, and he embraced the dissociation.
(Left, right, left, right, keep walking, just follow. Don’t feel anything, just exist. There’s nothing you can do now. Just breathe. Disconnect from the feeling of desperation. We don’t have to remember this part.)
He walked robotically behind Darwin until he was led into a room that looked like an enormous study, with a fireplace at one side and rows of nice bookshelves and displays lined the walls. The display closest to him looked something like fireplace tools, but not like ones he had seen before. The floors were of a rich hardwood.
“Remove your shoes, Tommy.”
He hated it when they used his name. As if they knew him. As if they were friends. All it took was a warning look from Caius and he peeled off his tennis shoes, setting them awkwardly to the side. (Avoid eye contact. Makes it easier.)
“Are you wearing underwear?”
Tommy didn’t like where this was headed. He despised the romantic ones.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Strip down to them.”
Tommy mechanically removed his shirt, and then more hesitantly, his sweats. He was down to plain black boxers, a stark contrast to well-dressed Darwin. He handed them off to Caius while his eyes scoured the room.
The center of the room was filled with precariously placed items that looked very old and worn. There was a big lumpy looking chair made of wood, a kind of bench-like table with three rolling pins attached in the middle, and a big sort of horse-shaped wooden structure. It looked badly built, and had a big triangle for the saddle.
(Don’t panic. Don’t run. You don’t have to know what’s happening. Don’t think about it. Don't think at all. Turn your brain off. It makes it easier.)
“I curate for the museum here, and over the years I’ve become a bit of a collector of sorts myself. When the museum here wasn’t interested in these pieces, I knew I just had to buy them up. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten the chance to play with them, and they’ve gone without use. Then I found a video of Tommy here online, and I thought I found the perfect person to try them out.”
Tommy felt like his body was moving without his will as he was led to the chair, which upon closer look, was more than uncomfortable. It had no open slats but was made of uncut pieces of wood with a high back, wide arm rests, a flat seat, and another solid plate between the front legs, almost to the floor. Every inch of it was covered in neat rows of small, wooden spikes.
“Which video?” Caius asked conversationally.
(Market research.)
“It was some kind of flogging scene, with Mistress Alice. A few months ago now.”
Tommy’s head swam before he realized he was holding his breath. He felt a little shaken by the mention of Alice, and struggled to stay adrift from his feelings.
“It looks like he’s healed up marvelously though,” Darwin appreciated, looking him over hungrily.
“He cleans up well, and we have excellent doctors on hand. We cannot allow certain things that will damage him beyond repair, so I will be staying with you for our time. Most nerves can be fixed, but no severing of central tendons or arteries, and go easy on the spine to keep basic motor controls intact.”
Darwin nodded. “They shouldn’t puncture too deeply. Everything is antique, but sanitized.”
Without ceremony, Tommy was shoved back into the chair.
He took a sharp breath in when all the points sank in at once, biting into the sensitive flesh of his ass and thighs. The shock of It was like being submerged in icy water. He instinctively leaned forwards away from the back of the chair, but he could feel beads of blood forming where he had knocked into them initially.
Hands appeared from nowhere, wrapping a leather strap across his throat and pulling him flat against the back of the chair. The shock of the pain winded him, and he gasped for breath as Darwin fastened his restraints. His ankles were locked with leather and pulled taut hard to force his legs into the spikes, and his arms were pulled hard down on the spiked armrests. Thick leather cuffs bound his wrists in place, and slight sides built into the back ensured his outer arms were also penetrated.
The best he could do was try to arch his back away from the back of the chair, but with his neck fastened it only seemed to drive the ones in his shoulders deeper. The awkward position made his back start to cramp immediately, and he doubted he could hold it for long. The urge to fight the restraints was overruled by the pain that the slightest movement caused, and he found himself paralyzed by it. Even breathing agitated the punctures, and on instinct he started to breathe shallowly to avoid it. A muted thought came to him, of the sharp wooden skewers used for shish kabobs, and he suddenly related to being a piece of skewered meat.
He vaguely registered that Darwin had stood back and was watching him, a great grin on his face.
“This piece is called the ‘Armchair of Inquiries’ - a bit of a cheeky name, in my opinion. This one was actively used a bit longer than most, with the last recorded use being May 8th, 1868. I’ve had it thoroughly cleaned and disinfected just for you.”
Tommy tried to pull his head away from the pins, only resulting in choking himself against the leather collar.
Darwin smiled. “I had that strap attached as an extra, from a heretic’s fork. I think it makes a good addition, even if it wasn’t the original.”
There was something deeply sickening about the pride in Darwin’s voice, while he gladly explained history that hardly mattered to the butterfly he had pinned.
The initial shock was starting to wear off, but the pain was blooming. He doubted there was enough coke in the world to shield him from this. His shallow panting took on a whine to it on every exhale as the pain began to steep.
Darwin had walked away, and returned with quick steps holding some sort of miniature harness. It consisted of metal bands arched and connected, with an adjustable leather strap. Tommy couldn’t identify it, but the glee with which Darwin presented it made him think he would find out the hard way very soon.
With a surprisingly gentle hand, Darwin guided his head forward as far as it could go against his neck restraint, and slipped the harness over his head.
“This one has many names, and many forms. It was the first piece in my collection. There are other ones that are shaped like pigs, or fools with long noses, or even a cone coming out from the mouthpiece. Just to name a few.”
At being masked, Tommy started to panic and struggle, shoving hard against his restraints only to have the spikes impale him again and again, agitating the wounds with every movement.
“Wait, wait, wait, fuck, fuck, wait you don’t have to do this-”
Tommy finally begged, which Darwin only acknowledged with a soft smile as he worked the cage mask on. There was a metal band that ran down the back of his head, parting his hair, but pushing him off of impalement on the spikes there as the metal band rested atop the points.
The other band came down the middle of his face, forking into a triangle around his nose. Right below, it connected to a thicker metal band across his mouth, and a sharp obtrusion from it pressed hard against his lips. He clenched his teeth against it to try to keep it out, abruptly ending his ability to beg with words. His pleas reduced to panicked keens of fear and pain.
“It’s called a bridle mask, a scold’s bridle, a mask of shame…” Darwin rattled off idly. He tapped a finger against the metal bit against Tommy’s lips.
“If you can’t feel it yet, there’s another spike in here. I’m about to fasten this tight across your jaw, and if you don’t let it in, it’s going to puncture through your lips and cause you quite a bit more…discomfort. Open up for me, Tommy.”
Darwin’s hands cradled his face with a disturbing intimacy, stroking over his cheeks. His fingers found the hollows of his cheeks and pushed into them sharply, forcing his jaw open. A long metal spike followed by a thick metal bit pushed in, and he had to curl his tongue to keep it from skewering straight through. The metal bit held his jaw slightly open, but if he tried to speak, he would pierce his tongue.
The strap at his jaw was pulled sharply taut and secured. Darwin’s hands returned to his cheeks, stroking his face gently between the gaps of the mask.
(Don’t spiral. Just another - just ignore it - the pain is - how much -)
His best guards against the pain were failing, easily overwhelmed by this unfamiliar torture. A new hysteria was building deep inside of him, and he was starting to grow light-headed from his shallow panting around the gag.
Darwin’s lips were parted and he was panting a little too, his face so close, hungry eyes roving over Tommy’s own caged face. His thumbs tenderly stroked comforting circles over the apples of his cheeks, and Tommy felt a wetness there. (When did we start crying?) His eyes felt so heavy as they spilled over without relief.
Darwin closed the gap between them suddenly, pressing his lips intensely against the outside of the gag. Tommy tried to turn away from him, but Darwin’s gentle hands became restraints holding his head in place. He slowly kissed and tongued and licked the dark metal there, and Tommy couldn’t help the harsh whimpers escaping his opened mouth.
Darwin finally pulled away, his lips wet. A strong urge to wretch boiled in Tommy’s gut.
“You look so beautiful.”
His stomach lurched.
“I have one more piece for you,” Darwin murmured, mostly to himself.
Tears ran down the sides of his face, wetting the metal harness as it started to warm against his skin.
“But before that…can I take a picture?”
Tommy was confused for a moment until his brain finally caught up to the fact that Caius was still there, sitting off to the side and witnessing his agony with a look of profound boredom.
“Sure. I have a camera in my bag if you’d like me to take some nice ones for you. It doesn’t cost extra if you let us also use them for promotional materials.”
Darwin licked his lips. “Of course.”
Tommy let out a miserable moan of protest, with heavy tears of humiliation and pain dripping down his face and cooling uncomfortably at his neck.
Caius kept a calm demeanor of cool indifference while he circled Tommy, collecting photos with his camera. Tommy was only addressed with a sharp snapping of fingers, directing him to look one way or another. He could see a dark reflection of his face in the wide lens of the camera, and he closed his eyes with a sob.
Darwin emerged to be front and center again, holding one of the metal tools that Tommy had noticed when he entered. It was a crude, thin piece of metal, with two fork-like tines on each end. He held it up so Tommy could see it, and then playfully tapped one side of tines against his cheek.
“The heretic’s fork. It fits right in here,” Darwin offered, and slipped it into a leather buckle of the collar around his throat. Tommy tipped his head back to try to avoid it, but yelped when he felt one pronged end pushed shallowly into his neck behind his collar bones. This firmly locked the fork vertically against his throat, the tines on the opposite side baring threateningly against the soft flesh under his jaw.
“If you can keep your head up, this won’t hurt.”
With this last attachment, Tommy suddenly felt entirely overwhelmed with helplessness. He couldn't move an inch, couldn’t even breathe without disturbing the bed of thorns beneath him. His tongue was cramped in the back of his throat, and he was starting to drool around the gag. Lowering his head at all would impale him on the tines of the fork, driving it both into his jaw and into his sternum. He couldn’t think of a time he was held in such strict binding, and his brain was starting to short circuit with the horror of his situation.
Darwin seized this opportunity to lean in and press another kiss over his gag. Tommy whined impotently, hyper-aware of his inability to pull away.
Darwin stood back and took a long, shuddery breath of excitement. He ran his tongue over his lips.
“P-pictures, please,” he called breathily. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas could see Caius toss his cellphone aside and get back up to take pictures.
Tommy stared at the ceiling, blinking tears of terror. He always hated the feeling of something stuck inside of him, the gnawing urge to pull it out only growing with the many barbs penetrating his skin. He thought his regular collar was bad enough. He could no longer see anything around him, and he had no idea where Darwin or Caius were in proximity to him. The anxiety made him tense, agitating his wounds.
“This doesn’t quite fit in with the others, but, well…we only have so much time. I think this will speed things up.”
He sounded close. There was a popping, crackling sound Tommy couldn’t quite place.
(How much time do we have? How long has it been? It felt like an hour, at least. Maybe. It always feels slower than it is.)
Something touched him, two dull points maybe an inch or two apart. Pressed to his diaphragm. He braced himself for it to puncture him, but for a long minute it just rested there. Darwin was breathing heavier. (Psyching himself-)
His body was on fire.
It almost felt like relaxing. He lost all control while a painful, hot tingling went through his body. He spasmed, shuddering violently until it stopped as suddenly as it had started.
He sagged back into his bindings, but the damage had been done. There were a thousand points on his body that throbbed in urgent pain. It was a full-body pain like he had never experienced before. It was terrifying not being able to look down at his body to see how bad it was - he felt like his skin must be shredded, vivid imaginings of his flayed corpse pinned to this throne.
A touch against his diaphragm, heavy breathing in front of him. Excited sounds from Darwin. He was lit up once more, for a longer time. He could feel himself tearing around the spikes. This time he was vaguely aware of the sound it pulled from his, a deep, guttural cry as the breath was knocked from his body. It was a unique sound he didn’t recognize as his own voice, but a deep wail of anguish. It felt entirely disconnected, like the sound was coming from the prod pushed to his stomach, not his body.
When it ended, his vision was swimming. Everything was black, gray, yellow, dancing shadows. He blinked a few times as he slowly started to come back to his senses.
This time, he noticed the foam in his throat. He coughed, and blood burned on his lips, long dried from the gag. He finally registered the taste of blood on his tongue, the pain in his mouth. His tongue had been speared on the spike inside of the gag. His brain couldn’t process where or how his tongue was pierced, but he drooled blood out the corner of his lips and struggled to swallow the rest pooling in his throat. He couldn’t identify an exact moment when, but the fork under his chin had been driven into his jaw, and judging by the burning pain in his chest, it was up to the hilt on bottom as well.
Darwin let him stew with the tip of his device pressed to his stomach again. Tommy sucked in a breath, his only chance at pulling away from it, but his movement was easily followed.
He writhed in his restraints as he was electrocuted again, spasming uncontrollably even as it tore him open. Everything was pain, every breath, his nose burned, his eyes rolled back into his head. It let up again and he shuddered to stillness. He could still feel the tingle, and he continued to twitch in spite of his best attempts. He dry wretched, blood in his throat, in his stomach, making him sick. The still room reeled around him.
“Next time…you can call me Arthur.”
It felt a bit like sweating, an intense sweating across the entire side of his body. As the blood trickled out underneath him, he was starting to feel very cold. The shocks left him feverish, and he felt quite sick, like when he had the flu and felt hot and cold at the same time. He hoarsely barked out sobs that wracked his body. Every surface he touched pooled blood, making his seat feel wet and tarry underneath him. He was limp in his restraints, his heavy head supported solely by the prongs driven into him.
He numbly felt a prodding against his naked torso, and unconsciousness took its mercy on him.
Tommy stared at the hand outstretched to him, holding a large white pill in the flat of their palm.
“What is it?”
“You want me to put it in some peanut butter for you? Fucking take it.”
He eyed the pill warily. Drugs usually meant something bad was going to happen and they didn’t want him struggling. Tommy mechanically took the pill in his hand.
“Can I have something to take it with?” Rory sighed dramatically in irritation, but stomped to the sink and poured him some water. He thrust the cup half-filled with tap water into Tommy’s hand a little harder than necessary. In spite of his mood, he was about as relenting as he’d ever be.
“If you’re good, you can have a little soda when we get there.”
(Put pill in mouth. Raise glass to lips. Swallow the pill with well water. Try not to wince at the taste. Drink everything you’ve been given while you can get it.)
“Thatta boy Tommy.” Rory clapped him on the shoulder and shook it a little.
“You’re gonna wanna sit down.”
By the time the others were ready to go, the pill had kicked in mean. Tommy was too weak to walk and was unceremoniously dragged out to the car. It was all he could do to try not to drool on himself, this one was strong.
He was buckled into the back seat, and he slumped against the window, struggling to keep his eyes open just so he could look outside. It was rainy and gray. What luck. He struggled to prop his head up with a heavy arm so he could watch the outside world pass without pressing his forehead to the glass.
The guys were arguing about something outside the car, and then Rory slid into the seat next to him. “I’d tell you not to start shit, but I’d kinda like to try to see you run when you’re this fucked up.”
Tommy’s mouth was so dry. So uncomfortable. The world drifts in and out of focus. He tries to shake his head to clear it, but his movements come slow and small. Dry swallows.
“Where are we going?”
“That’s not your fucking business, Tommy!” Rory answers cheerfully.
Another car door shuts, and a bag is passed back to sit between him and Rory. Probably snacks. Road trip then. He feels queasy from taking the pill on an empty stomach. (Don’t complain.) His arm against the window is cold. (Don’t complain.) The last door shuts and the car starts. Rory reaches over to grab his seatbelt and pulls it out all the way, letting go to let it click click click retract back. It tightens painfully on Tommy and locks, restricting him to only the tiniest increment of movement. Every breath fought against the seat belt, pressing painfully on his chest and stomach.
He doesn’t complain.
The last client did a number on him, and he hasn’t been outside the house in weeks. Tommy hungrily takes in the bleak scenery as they roll out of the neighborhood. A podcast starts over the speakers, a tech one Michelle likes. Rory groans and starts moving around beside him. Five years in and it’s all predictable. Tommy doesn’t have to look to know he’s rummaging through his pack for headphones. He watches the houses and the trees pass as long as he can keep his eyes open. It doesn’t last long.
-
Tommy woke up to a jab in the ribs. “You’re drooling.” He startled blearily and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his fist and it came away wet. He’s too tired to be embarrassed.
-
He must have dozed off again, because the next time he woke up, he was being shaken. They were parked in front of a hotel. It was getting dark, maybe late evening. Hard to tell in the spring when the sun still set so early. The car door was open and Caius leered over him from outside, unbuckling his seat belt and pulling him out without finesse. Tommy struggled to get his feet out under himself, and he had to lean heavily on Caius just to shuffle out.
There are other people milling around the hotel lounge when they walk through the doors, but Tommy was rendered mute by the drugs, and Caius gave an apologetic smile to onlookers who stared. Clearly his friend had too much to drink. What a nice young man to help him back to the hotel.
They get in the elevator, which was mercifully empty. It smelled like chlorine. Tommy couldn’t keep track of the floors they passed, but Caius dragged him out at last, after a few seconds or maybe a decade.
Another painful yank, and Caius unlocked a door with a keycard before dumping him unceremoniously inside. Tommy laid on the carpet and waited. He could still see the room.
“How much longer?” Rory asked, staking his place on one of the two king-size beds.
Michelle was shuffling through his pack on the other side of the bed. “Should be about six more hours. Checkout is at 11, we can grab some food and hit the road. Tommy will be sobered up by the time we get there and ready to rock.”
“I brought a bump just in case,” Rory offered.
Michelle nodded. “Guy doesn’t want him strung out, but it’s good to have on hand.”
Caius was sorting through his bag on the other bed, when he suddenly paused.
“Tommy didn’t have lunch, right? We should get some food in him. I need to grab a cot anyways, I don’t want him to be too stiff tomorrow from sleeping on the floor. What did he have this morning?”
Awkward silence.
“Rory?”
Rory shrugged, avoiding Caius’s stare. “Just the pill.”
A pause.
"You gave him a high-dose sedative with no food?! He hasn't eaten since, what, 6 on Thursday? That's over 26 hours, you fuckin' prick," said Caius, doing quick math.
"It's not my fuckin' job to feed him," Rory said.
"Yes the fuck it is!" Caius snapped back before storming out.
"Whatever, he'll live!" Rory called after him. And when the door was safely closed, added, "Fucker."
Tommy closed his eyes, and sought sleep.
-
He slept surprisingly well through the night, after briefly being woken up for a rushed shower and some food before being dropped back into a worn cot by the beds. Michelle’s alarm went off early enough to grab breakfast, and he was starting to feel a bit more human by the time they were ready to get back on the road.
Caius approached him and crouched down beside his cot.
“You know the drill.”
Tommy chewed his lip, but lifted his head when Caius slipped the collar around his neck. With a twist of the collar and a little pressure from his thumbs, Caius sank the curved metal barbs inside the collar into Tommy’s neck before locking it in place. It still hurt, but he didn’t flinch.
“Same as always. Start shit, get fried.”
He held up the small round remote and pressed the button.
All of Tommy’s muscles seized at once, an excruciating cramping after a day of drug-induced weakness. He vaguely registered a hard hit to the back of his head, as his spasming made him smash his skull on the frame of the cot.
It let up after a moment and he slumped back into the cot, trying his best to curl in on himself on the narrow bed. His heart beat hard and fast and his head pounded away with it. His hands instinctively came up to the collar, to the hot talons in his neck that it secured. He felt jittery, his teeth chattering with the aftershocks and he shivered.
“Just a reminder. Come on,” Caius commanded, patting his shoulder a little harder than would be friendly. As if Tommy needed a fucking reminder.
Caius helped him up onto unsteady feet. A wave of nausea came over him and he pressed a fluttery hand to his mouth.
“You can eat in the car. Let’s move.”
The lobby was much busier than Tommy would have liked. People bustling around, checking out early, grabbing the last of the continental breakfast. A handful of them looked up, curious, at the man shrinking into himself in a black hoodie and a red bandana wrapped around his neck. At the other man leading him carefully out.
What a nice man, helping his shivering junkie friend out.
Tommy clenched his fists in his pockets and kept his head down. He knew from painful experience that trying to reach out to them wouldn’t bear fruit.
They met the others already in the car, and this time Cauis sat beside him. A muffin, a granola bar, and water for breakfast. Dessert: a flat, chalky pill.
“It’ll help you sleep on the road,” Caius offered, as if it was a choice.
(Pill. Mouth. Water. Swallow.)
Tommy threw it back. He watched the outside world rush by until he was pulled back to sleep.
Tommy remembered the first time Caius had kissed him. He was strung up, naked and bloody, bound to a cross for Caius’s cane. His limbs sagged limp in his bindings, in too much pain to speak. When Caius approached him and lifted his head to look at him, Tommy saw fire in his eyes, and he thought he was going to die.
There was something ferocious in his expression, an intensity so urgent it frightened him. Suddenly Caius was close, too close, pressing his forehead to Tommy’s and boring holes in his skull with the look in those grey eyes. Then lips pressed against his, and he was so surprised he gasped. Caius used the opportunity to lick into his mouth, lingering there as Tommy’s brain raced to try to catch up and respond. Cauis pressed his mouth over his once more, hard, hungry, and Tommy could feel his desire, intruding in on his thoughts like a knife between the eyes.
Caius wanted to devour him.
Just as suddenly as it happened, it ended, and Caius pulled away. Tommy gaped, gasping, like Caius had stolen his breath away. His whole body ached and stung, and it overwhelmed the rest of his senses.
“Good boy Tommy, good boy,” Caius reassured him quietly, his hands trailing manicured nails down Tommy’s chest to rest on his hips, thumbing the shallow divots there.
“You’ll understand someday. I’ll teach you.” Those hands strayed lower, and Caius took his limp cock in his hand and stroked it gently.
“No,” Tommy whispered, and with his free hand, Caius stroked the hair out of his face.
“The pain doesn’t have to lessen the pleasure. I’m going to teach you both. Try to enjoy it,” he murmured, and looked down at Tommy’s penis in his hand.
“I know I will.”
-
Tommy sat in his room, feeling insignificant. Caius hadn’t visited him in three days. The only sign he was still alive was delivered in the form of meals through Tommy’s dumbwaiter. Once in the morning and once in the evening, with nothing else to break the monotony.
He killed time in all the ways he knew how. Mostly thinking, imagining a different life outside his cell. He made up a tattoo design competition show to compete in and drew for a while, orating his talking head segments to Bunny as he imagined them, and defended his artwork to an invisible row of judges. He spoke only in whispers, muttering bits and pieces under his breath to his stuffed animal. Then he paced around his room for a while, talking with an imaginary interviewer about his imaginary experience on the imaginary show. He made up an arch nemesis competitor that tried to sabotage him, until he got a bit upset with his imaginary disagreements and abandoned the idea.
He checked his bathroom to see if it was dirty. Nope, spotless. He cleaned it anyways, making a face at the smell of the vinegar solution he was allowed to use. No chemicals, of course, in case he tried drinking them for an easy way out.
He imagined, and paced, and made his bed, and unmade it again. He tried to make a little fort with his pillow and blanket, but he didn’t have enough bedding to make much of anything with. He laid down and stared at the ceiling for a while, and then laid the opposite way just to change it up. He picked at the threads coming loose in the corner of his blanket, and when he successfully pulled three strings out, he made a tiny braid. Drew for a while, tried to invent the ultimate paper airplane. Watched television, but nothing good was on, so he settled for a vacuum infomercial.
His heart sank when he heard the dumbwaiter activate again. While the food and drugs it brought were welcome, it confirmed he would not see Caius today. Again.
Caius wasn’t exactly the best company, but it was all Tommy could get, and he found himself missing his handler, just to talk with another human being again. If he was being punished, he couldn’t think of what for, no matter how he racked his brain. He missed having his hair brushed and hearing about the outside world. He was overdue for his time outside, and he was going stir-crazy without it. He couldn’t see anything through the basement’s glass brick, but he saw the tantalizing glow of sunlight beyond it.
Everyone else gets to go outside, and I’m stuck in here forever.
It was a difficult thought to sit with, and one he’d had many times before. If there was a cure for it, he didn’t know. Instead, he felt overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all, and how he could want something so bad he could taste it, yet still be denied.
He sat in front of the TV and turned it up as loud as he could to drown out the bad thoughts, numbing his brain until the meds kicked in, and zoned out.
~
Caius came slowly down the stairs, feeling a little nervous, a little high. Today would be a momentous occasion, one he’d been putting off for five whole years. Part of him wanted to keep it going, keep Tommy’s innocence forever, but another part of him said that it was time. He’d had his fun. Now he wanted it to be real, and the gravity of it was not lost on him. The idea was exciting, and his body thrummed with energy, his heart pounding. Down the stairs, into the dollhouse. This time, he was playing for keeps.
He hesitated at the door, savoring the anticipation. He’d let Tommy stew in his room for a few days, ignoring him while he let his loneliness grow ripe and sweet. He would not want to turn Caius away tonight.
The thick door muffled the sounds of the television inside, but it was blaring when he opened the door, finding Tommy cross-legged on the floor. He looked tired, like he’d been nodding off, but he turned his face to Caius when he entered.
“Caius?” He croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. The only light came from the television, a neon blue reflected in Tommy’s pale face, giving him an ethereal glow. Caius memorized the moment before flicking on the lights, making Tommy flinch and hide his face in his hands with a groan.
“Don’t you know it’s not good for your eyes to sit close to the television?” He had to raise his voice to cut through the noise, and Tommy scrambled forwards to turn the volume down. “Sorry!”
The boy was excited to see him, and it brought a smile to his lips. Tommy shuffled onto his knees and stood, a little shaky on his legs before stabilizing. Caius had made sure he wasn’t on anything too strong tonight – just the right level of high to make him more docile. Caius was careful that he was just the right level of high to do this the right way.
“Are-are you here for a visit? For a little bit?” Tommy tried to keep his desperation from his voice, but Caius knew him too well. He remembered then, the first time Tommy had actually asked him to stay - begged him, even, and the way it made his heart seize in his chest. So pathetic. So adorable. How could he say no?
Caius looked around the room, chewing his lip like he was thinking about it before finally answering, “I suppose I could stay a few minutes.” He did not miss how Tommy’s shoulders slumped in relief. He sat on the edge of Tommy’s bed and patted the mattress beside him. “How about you come sit here with me?”
Tommy dutifully joined him, his legs dangling over the edge as he sat half-turned towards his handler.
“How was your day? What-what have you been up to? Anything fun?” He asked eagerly, and Caius chuckled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I suppose it’s been a while since we caught up. Well, a while for us.” Tommy was receptive to his touch, snuggling closer with a rare eagerness. He always became more appreciative of Caius after an isolation punishment, needy for his attention after going without.
“Well,” he started, rubbing Tommy’s shoulder. “I went to the opening of a new art gallery in town, but it wasn’t what I thought it would be. The venue was much smaller than what I was expecting, and was more than a bit overdressed for the occasion.”
“Oh no! What did you do?”
“Loosened my tie and lost the cufflinks. Then I was just well dressed enough to make other people feel bad about themselves.” He chuckled, and Tommy giggled, too.
“Did you buy any art?”
“No, it was amateur hour in there. But I suppose there were a few pieces that were alright.” Caius took his phone out and scrolled through his pictures, hugging Tommy close to his side as he leaned over eagerly to watch. He paused momentarily on a selfie, and Tommy pointed to it. He was wearing a blue suit, the jacket open over a white button-up with a black tie.
“You look good there! How were the other people dressed?”
“Business casual at best. Some were even wearing shorts.”
Tommy gasped and put a hand over his mouth as if scandalized, breaking into a big grin when he lowered it again. A thought occurred to him then, and his eyes widened.
“Oh! I um, I have a bunch of new art, can I show you?”
“Sure.”
Tommy sorted through a loose stack on his bookshelf, pulling the best few out to bring back to Caius. He held them out shyly, waiting for him to take them before crawling back onto the bed with him. Caius tilted the first page to hold it up to the light, squinting at the crayon drawings.
“What is it, a swan?”
“A heron,” Tommy offered, slightly deflated.
“Oh yes, I see it now. Hmm…good use of shading here in the wing. And I like the subversion of expectations with having a green bird and purple cattails.”
“It’s a green heron!”
“It certainly is.”
Tommy opened his mouth to tell him that was the name of the species, but caught himself and held his tongue. It was okay to let Caius think he was a ditz. Advantageous, even. But it still didn’t feel good to let his best friend/arch nemesis think he was stupid. Well, more stupid.
Caius had some critiques for all of the pieces, but Tommy was just glad to share them with someone.
They talked for a while. Mostly Caius, telling Tommy about his days, his nights, the weather, the guys. Tommy was hungry for attention and paid it in turn, asking follow-up questions and prompting for details. He didn’t have much of anything to offer for his own whereabouts the last few days, but he told Caius about the vacuum cleaner he saw in an ad.
“They said it’s cordless. How is that possible?”
“Well, you probably have to charge it, like anything else.”
“Oh…well…maybe next time you’re um, looking for a new vacuum.”
Caius chuckled. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
When there was a lull in the conversation, Caius cleared his throat. “You know uh, when I was at that art gallery, I was approached by a photographer who asked me to model for her.”
Tommy’s eyes went wide. “Oh wow! Are you going to do it?”
Caius made a noncommittal noise. “See, the thing is, she wants me to model…nude.”
Tommy hid his smile behind his hand. “She asked you for nudes?!”
“She said it was purely for her artistic vision.”
“Yeah, sure,” and they both laughed. Caius nudged him.
“You’ve posed nude. How does it feel?”
Tommy’s smile faded and he had to look away, rubbing his arm self-consciously. “That’s…different, I think.”
Caius frowned for effect. “I don’t think so, so…how is it?”
Tommy chewed on his thumbnail. Caius grabbed his elbow and forced his arm down to stop him.
“Well?”
“It’s…humiliating,” Tommy murmured. He couldn’t look at Caius. “Everyone else is dressed. You just feel…” he grasped for words, letting out a small sigh when he failed to gather them. “Ashamed,” he concluded.
“Oh, little one,” Caius said, voice sympathetic. He turned to Tommy and took his shoulders in his broad hands, pushing him back to lay him on the bed. One hand held him down while the other caught the hem of his shirt, pulling it up almost to his neck to expose his belly to him.
“What do you have to be ashamed of?”
He splayed his hands over Tommy’s chest, using his thumbs to rub and flick at the small pink nipples on his chest. Tommy looked up at him, flushed and wide-eyed, his pupils dilated with fear and helpless arousal. Caius liked playing with him, teasing him until he was squirming under his hands and there was a little tent in his pants.
“You’re so sweet like this… maybe I should have her photograph you,” Caius murmured, Tommy shook his head, making him chuckle. “Don’t be so bashful.”
He tugged on Tommy, positioning him on the bed and pulling his butt up into his lap. He massaged his hips while he rolled his own up, rubbing against his ass with a soft, contented sigh. Tommy started to look uncomfortable, his eyes darting around as if looking for a distraction. When Caius ground against him, his face went red.
“What–what are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Caius asked easily, leaning over to press kisses up Tommy’s throat. He started to struggle, weakly, testing the bonds of Caius’s pin on him.
“W-wait, I’ll– let me get–get on my, on my knees,” he asked, but his voice was squeaky and nervous. He would rather do that than whatever this was.
“That’s not what I want from you right now.”
“Please, please, I can make you feel good….” Tommy hesitated when Caius said it at the same time as he did. What was that?
“I’ll suck it, please Caius, please let me, please?” He tried to roll off of him, intending to get to his knees, but Caius’s hands became shackles around his wrists, pinning him in place. He caged Tommy in with his body, pressing and rutting against him. Cruel teeth found his shoulder and Tommy cried out, writhing beneath as he chewed, and it felt like he was rending his flesh between his jaws. Tommy suddenly remembered Sarge in his lap, bent over him, ravaging him with bites. He’d forgotten it, tried to let it slip from his mind, but now it came back so suddenly and so fresh that he froze. He panted and keened softly in pain as Caius bit and kissed and licked him, feeling a bit like a chew toy in a lion’s enclosure. Soft golden strands fell across his face as Caius looked back up at him, leaning in to kiss him.
Something is wrong. This is different.
There was one last line Caius never crossed, and he was getting dangerously close. Tommy’s throat was closing, and he gasped for air as soon as Caius let up on his unresponsive lips. His voice came out in a terrified whisper.
“Please, Caius, don’t open that door…” They said it at the same time again, and Tommy stared at Caius, feeling like the butt of a joke he wasn’t understanding yet. His stomach was an anxious knot inside of him.
“How do you…”
Caius looked in his eyes, and he felt pinned like a butterfly beneath his stormy stare. He had a small smile on his face, an attempt at sympathy, but he was barely holding back laughter.
“...know what you’re about to say before you say it?” Caius finished. Tommy couldn’t answer, barely managing a stiff nod.
“Because…” Caius withdrew a hand to stroke Tommy’s hair out of his face, tugging a lock behind his ear. His voice absolutely oozed pity. “Oh, angel…you say the same things every time.”
Whumper who triggers Whumpee's fawn/freeze response with close proximity and a gentle hand on their face, just caressing them despite the hurtful intent behind it.
Whumpee whose defiance dies as their brain shuts down once they're touched in any manner resembling intimacy, just staring wide-eyed at Whumper who coos unnerving things into their ear
whumpee who gets their drink spiked by someone they trust. they don't realise it at first, until suddenly the room is spinning and they are too delirious to form a coherent thought.
the whumper who did it guides them through the room while being too touchy, even to the dazed whumpee. they meet some of their mutual friends along the way.
"don't worry, whumpee went a little overboard with the alcohol," whumper laughs it off and everyone believes them, because whumper is a great friend and an even better liar, "i'll take care of them."
whumpee cant protest, their mouth not forming the right words. even if they could speak, it'd sound like mindless rambling. whumper wouldnt do something like that
and so whumpee can do nothing as they are led away exactly where whumper wants them.
intimate whumper chloroforming whumpee.that is all i have to say thank you for coming to my ted talk
specifying intimate whumper really sent my mind spinning here so here’s some specific thoughts inspired by that
whumper crowded close behind whumpee while forcing the rag over their face, almost like an embrace. cradling them.
whumper hushing whumpee while they’re fighting to stay conscious. murmuring to them quietly, gently. comforting them.
physically comforting whumpee while drugging them: stroking their hair, rocking them, rubbing their side or shoulder.
an already restrained whumpee where whumper is grabbing their hair or their neck to force their face into the rag, feeling them struggle, getting close and looking into whumpee’s eyes as they start to fade.
why do you think whumper loves whumpee…or hates them?
Ooh interesting question, anon! Thanks for asking :)
Whumper thinks Whumpee is perfect. Perfect and beautiful and fascinating and fragile. So very fragile. Whumper is the only one qualified to handle them. They need to be watched constantly, they can't be left to their own devices, no no no. Everything Whumper does is for Whumpee's own good. Whumpee is special, and Whumpee is theirs. All theirs.
Tears stream down whumpee’s face as they struggle to stay quiet, having been told to by whumper several times. But the pain is just too much. Too much, too overwhelming. And they sob. It’s quiet, the silent, sudden sort that racks their entire form, makes their shackles jingle and their breath hitch. And whumper just watches, eyes wide. Enthralled. Caught up in the way that whumpee looks like a painting. A piece of bloody (literally) art, their flesh bruises and cut, blood trickling down their wrists and from a badly busted lip. Whumper cannot help themself. They lean in and lick the tears away, gently, carefully. And whumpee just freezes up. They stop crying, the pain still there, but the sudden….tenderness shocking them from their pained sobs. And when they do stop, whumper simply smiles. “You’re so beautiful when you cry and bleed for me. Please, do it again.”
