Blog to go with the whump a woman discord server. Here we'll be reblogging lady whump from around tumblr and lady whump from our server members as well as events and games from there! Please tread carefully, there will be some NSFW themes. They will always be labeled. Take a look around and enjoy your stay!
Come join us! We'd love to have you! Please message me @for-the-love-of-angst or @whumpstash for a link!
*This server is for lady whump (ladies as whumpees) and lady whumpers (ladies as whumpers). If this isn't something you are into, please do not join.
You can dislike lady whump and not want to see it, but you can still appreciate its role in the whump ecosystem, and go elsewhere if you see a fin. (Special thanks to @winedark-whump for the quote)
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MORE LADY WHUMP LOVERS (list curated by @lady-whump-collection)
This is an OC whump art exchange where artists can sign up via Google form found here, and will be assigned a partner at random to draw art for, similar to a Secret Santa. At the end of the event, participants post the art on their blogs with the required tags and it will be reblogged to the main event blog.
The form closes on May 1st 2026. You will receive your partnerâs information on May 8th or 9th, either in your tumblr ask box, or dms. Youâll have roughly two weeks to complete the art, and you will post the art on May 22nd 2026 with all of the required tags included.
When you post your piece tag it #whump_art_exchange_2026, and tag @whump-art-exchange, as well as tagging the person you made the art for. I will reblog all of the finished pieces so that people can see everyone's creations.
This is a minor friendly exchange, do not submit sexual content for this event, even if you are an 18+ blog. If your blog is 18+ check that off in the form and I will assign you appropriately.Â
Sign ups are open to all skill levels, and partners are assigned at random with the exception of triggers, 18+ blogs, ect. All works must be a fully completed art piece with a clear image, and effort must be put into it. Do not submit AI art.
If you are unable to complete your gift, or need to drop out of the event let me know as soon as possible so that I can assign a new artist for your partner. If you need a time extension let me know so that I know you are still participating!
Harassment, or hostility of any kind will not be tolerated and anyone doing so may be blocked or asked to leave the event.Â
Inbox @whump-art-exchange or dm @mottinthemainpot if you have any additional questions.
I've been considering creating a discord server tied to this blog BUT I- and the other mods- are very busy people. I am curious if there's any interest in that and if there's anyone who would be interested in assisting in running it. DM me - @for-the-love-of-angst and let me know if you're interested in helping run a server and if you have experience!
this is a drabble continuing Cliff edge, set about two months after the original story
TW: asphyxiation, attempted murder, lady whump
They felt her heart beat frantically under their palm as they held her down by her sternum. Freesia was warm as always, her bones rigid, brittle under their weight resting on her ribcage.
"Nandi, please!" she whined, but her pleas felt hollow. The rasp in her voice cold, scared, but not mindless. It wasn't enough.
They pushed down harder, watching as the air was forced out of her lungs. Free's hands shot up to Nandi's hand, but quickly gave up on trying to get them to budge and instead went to claw at the skin of her throat.
They smirked, and empty, almost bored half smile. She would only bebable to breathe if they eased the pressure.
"It's enough, please!" she half mouthed, half croaked with the last of her air.
Nandi hummed. It wasn't. Not even remotely; they felt hungry, her desperation not nearly as heavy as it usually felt. It used to cloud their senses, it sat in their stomach, a dark, dense, sweet fog that sated their hunger.
Freesia was looking at them. Fingers digging into the skin of her own throat, feet digging into the porous dirt of the forest floor.
Her arm was scratched up, bleeding a little, a harsh line separating the flowers from the stem of one of her tattoos. It was almost poetic.
Her eyes were bloodshot, framing the almost, but not quite black irises, and she was staring daggers at them. There was a tinge of annoyance just below the surface, a flicker of trust that they would spare her life again, just like before.
With their free hand, Nandi smoothed a strand of hair away from her sweat slick forehead.
They looked her in the eyes and shook their head gently.
There it was, the fear they'd been craving,they leaned in so close their faces were nearly touching and devoured it. A single teardrop spilled over her waterline. Nandi tilted their head to the side and watched it find its way down on her cheek.
They licked it up on a whim. It was salty and warm, a regular teardrop, nothing more, but it quenched their thirst like nothing had before.
They pushed down on her sternum ever harder, feeling her ribs crackle under the pressure.
Her tears flowed and they let up to cup her face with both hands, so she didn't pull away as they licked up the tears.
It took a moment, until she started breathing, sucking in the clean mountain air and letting it out in wretched sobs and coughs.
Nandi couldn't help, but grin and between two licks lean down to her ear and whisper.
Contains: torture, violence, injury/bodily harm, lady whump, threatened noncon, fear of noncon, defiant whumpee, multiple whumpers
âBeg, and I might consider letting you have a bath.â
Harper looks up at her captor, her long, blood matted hair hanging heavily against her face. Her shoulders are pulled back, her arms held by the men behind her. Working her lips, she draws up the blood, saliva and bile in her mouth. He must know what sheâs doing, but he doesnât move, and she spits, sending it all onto his clean, white dress shirt.
âFuck. You.â She says, eyes narrowing, glittering like steel.
He doesnât look affected as he slowly crouches down in front of her. âLet me make something clear to you, doll. Youâre not getting out of here. Which means you might as well make yourself comfortable,â he says, his southern accent thickening.
âIâd rather die.â
âSo melodramatic,â he says, standing up again. âIâm going to have to punish you for your defiance, you know.â
âDo your worst,â she growls.
He backs off a couple steps, and then looks at his henchmen. âGo ahead.â She feels a hand press to her shoulder blade, and another tighten around her bicep. Fear lights in her gut, but she keeps her mouth shut. If this is how sheâs going out, sheâs leaving with her dignity intact. With a single, hard pull, her shoulder is dislocated. She lets out a scream, tears flooding her eyes. When the pain in her shoulder has faded some and sheâs gone quiet again, her captor reaches forward to lift her chin up with a finger. âReady now?â The tears run down her face freely. She can taste the salt seeping through her lips.
âNo.â
He chuckles. âWhat a little spit fire.â He glances behind her. Once again, a hand presses to her shoulder blade- this time her left. Her eyes shut as she mentally prepares herself for the pain. This time, she doesnât scream, but the agony of it leaves her shaking and gasping all the same. âWe only get worse from here.â Her captor warns.
âPiss off,â she says, her voice weak.
He laughs. âYou know what, I think I will. These boys havenât been around a woman in ages, I bet theyâd love some alone time with you.â
Harperâs stomach turns as he pivots on his heel, walking off. âW-wait,â she says, her voice hardly escaping. He doesnât hear her, and the men push her down to the floor. âWait!â She says, louder now. Still, he doesnât stop, doesnât come back, pushing open the exit door. It shuts behind him with finality. âWait, donât! Please, please, donât!â Without her arms, sheâs helpless to fight back as the men begin to strip her. âPlease, Iâm sorry, Iâll beg! Iâm sorry! Please!â
A minute later, she stands under the spray of a shower head, her eyes trained on the drain below her. Her newly set shoulders ache and rivers of pink water run down her body. The more grime thatâs removed the more bruises she can see. She shivers slightly, unable to so much as wrap her arms around herself for comfort. She doesnât regret it, sacrificing her pride was worth saving herself that particular horror. She doesnât regret it, but she wonders how long it will take before she has nothing left to sacrifice, before the horrors are as inevitable and uncontrollable as death itself.
Hello there! My name is Harley (she/her), your new local whump writer, exclusively on tumblr, soon coming to ao3 :D
I've liked whump since I could remember and way before I even had a name to put to it, and I have been lurking here for a while now. But the time for crawling out of the shadows and writing my own things has come!
I'm doing the Bad Things Happen Bingo and so far, I have one prompt fill up, and three more written ones sitting in my folder and waiting to be edited. Tags for it: #my writing #bad things happen bingo
I am still really new to actually interacting in this community and writing things, so I don't really know exactly how things work but hopefully this will turn out well :)
---
Some tropes I love:
- Lady whump (I really, really just want some women in my fiction)
- Hurt AND comfort
- Fantasy / medieval whump
- Nonhuman characters
- Defiant whumpees
- Touch-starved
- Torture; whipping, beating, stress positions, etc.
Tropes that are meh / I don't really like:
- BBU (occasionally I do circle back to it, but it's not really my thing)
- Hurt no comfort
- Medical whump
- Lab whump
- Carewhumper
Squicks:
- Extreme gore
- Eye / teeth injuries
---
Other things I'm working on:
I also have 30k of a completed series sitting in my folder though it needs a LOT of editing before I post it.
Here's a quick overview of it for those interested:
A thief and assassin unable to leave her occupation and bound to the whims of a cruel and powerful earl, is captured after she is given false information.
To her surprise, she is freed though the consequences for failing her mission soon prove to be almost worse than death.
In the end, the person who saves her is one who she had expected would be amongst those cheering the most for her death.
If anyone would like to beta for this or knows where I could find a beta, I'd really appreciate it! I'm terrible at editing and a second perspective would be really nice.
I wrote some self indulgent hero x villain lady Whump, both hero and villain are female contents: blood, near fatal injury (impalement), lady whump, building collapse/ bombing
ââââââ-
Hero flew down through the smoke and rubble, landed gracefully despite her aching body, her tight uniform ripped in multiple places, skin cut and bruised underneath.Â
She looked down on Villain, her emotions battling each other. Usually it was a victory defeating the Villain, watching them run off back to their little layer to plot their next city bombing or power grid shutdown⌠But they never wanted to hurt them like this, never wanted to see them dead.Â
But here they were, their arch nemesis on the brink of death. After the 40 story office building collapsed from the explosion, Hero had struck Villain down with the entirety of her supernatural power. They had expected Villain to bounce back up, recite their catchphrases and laugh menacingly. But they didnât come back up. And when Hero flew down to search through the rubble, they came to find that Villain had been pinned, skewered on an exposed metal rod, it pierced their abdomen.Â
âYou got meâŚâ Villain choked. Her skin was pale and clammy, each labored breath painfully shifted the rod in her body, for now the rod was keeping the blood from spewing out.Â
Hero pulled off her mask revealing her face to Villain for the first time, she forced a brave expression despite the tears stinging her eyes.Â
âI always imagined you were ugly under that maskâŚâ Villain admitted, she paused to cough and sputter, blood stained her lips red and dribbled down her chin. â⌠But youâre beautiful.â
âShut up,â the hero turned away to wipe her tears on the back of her sleeve. After a moment she turned back sporting her ursula brave expression this time with more determination than ever.Â
âIâm gonna get you outta hereâŚâÂ
Hero positioned herself over Villain and wrapped an arm around their back, the other cradled their head.Â
âUgh, just- just leave me to die in peaceâŚâ Villain pleaded.Â
Hero pulled her up off of the rod and blood began to gush. Villain could feel the grooves of the rod as it slid through her body. She groaned and gritted her teeth, she refused to scream in front of her, even at her lowest moment; she was stubborn and full of pride even on the brink of death.Â
She was freed from the rod and blood gushed out of either side of the wound.Â
âYouâre not going to die,â Hero reassured her. She realized Villain had passed out either from the pain or from the rapid blood loss.Â
Hero placed her hand over the bleeding hole in Villain's stomach, her power radiated heat, the bleeding stopped and the hole began to close up into a large pink scar.
Hero knew this wasnât a fix, the internal damage was immense and it would take a lot more time and energy for her to heal Villain. For now it would stop the bleeding until they could get them back home.
Hero flew their nemesis back to their own base, they would deal with police and press later.
I do like lady noncon whump but are afraid to admit it openly because allos tend to make it creepy. But in actuality I use it to get over my own trauma but they don't see that.
Either they find it arousing or think you are a pervert and getting aroused by hurting women.
Lady noncon whump
Them shaming you for your fiction preferences is terrible, AND IT'S WORSE when you really desperately NEED it to process--this has happened to me, and it's almost like being blamed for the original traumatic incident itself.
They're like, "I'm sorry but that's just inappropriate." Like, thaaaanks, more shame. Just what I needed.
"you can't like it because I find it disturbing" blegh. Me, I think men and women are equal and should be fictionally whumped equally.
I prefer male whump (trauma reasons lol) but write and read both. So I'd be a major hypocrite to judge someone else who ALSO had a gender preference for whumpees.
And yeah I get disappointed (no judgement though) when I'm trying to find a tragic story with rape and it gets like... Sexy... that's why it's so important to me that whump is distinguished from kink as a fiction category. Because i am looking for screams of pain and emotional developmentâ¨
My fav female noncon story tropes right now:
Whumpee raised to be soft and submissive, but she's smart, making biting comments that enrage whumper--who thought she would just quietly let them do it. (Cue punishment)
Prisoner of war, soldier whumpee, catches leader whumper's eye and he orders her to be brought to his tent that night.
Whumpee that has been so heroic all the bad guys hate her guts. In revenge they tie her down and take turns with her.
Female whumpee is the only one given the choice to be raped instead of beaten, and she takes it.
This series got longer than I thought it would so I thought I'd create a place to find each part.
I try to update every Sunday although sometimes there are extra updates as well.
Please heed the individual warnings on each Part. Some of them get really intense with things some people may not be comfortable with so I've included overviews in case you need to skip a part but want to understand the next ones.
As always please let me know if I miss any tags
Part 1:
Summary: Natalie wakes up in a cell restrained in chains after a night of drinks with friends. She meets her captor Evelyn and is told the rules she must now follow.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, restraints
Part 2:
Summary: Evelyn tells Natalie a twisted version of how they met and uses Natalie's hunger to force her to recite it.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, restraints, starvation, psychological torture, hazy memories
Part 3:
Summary: Evelyn watches and torments Natalie from afar. Eventually, she releases the chains on Natalie's arms and allows her a little bit more food. Natalie shows a defiant streak.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, restraints, starvation, psychological torture, punishment, whumper POV
Part 4:
Summary: Natalie starts suffering the consequences of defiance. An intermittent siren stops her from sleeping for at least 12 hours and her mental state deteriorates rapidly. Luckily, Evelyn turns up to make everything worse...
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, restraints, psychological torture, punishment, sleep deprivation
Part 5:
Summary: Natalie suffers even more for her defiance. Evelyn is especially sadistic to begin with on this punishment, but Natalie learns she can earn a little mercy here and there.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, restraints, psychological torture, punishment, sleep deprivation, electrocution, intimate whump, non-con touching
Part 6:
Summary: Two police detectives talk to Evelyn about Natalie's disappearance. She offers to help in any way she can with their investigation.
Content: Whumper POV, kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, psychological torture, Carewhumper, Police Investigation
Part 7:
Summary: Evelyn is mostly nice to Natalie and offers her gifts and rewards. Natalie is very confused by this. Evelyn tells Natalie to follow her upstairs.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, intimate whumper, Carewhumper
Part 8:
Summary: Natalie is shown to a guest room and closet with clothes for her in it. Evelyn *appreciates* Natalie's body and new outfit by putting her hands all over her. Evelyn cooks them dinner and sets them up in the lounge for a movie night.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, Carewhumper, non-con touching
Part 9:
Summary: Evelyn enjoys making Natalie sing for her and reveals she had stalked Natalie before kidnapping her. She further enjoys forcing Natalie to compliment her and eat more food than she can really stomach.
Content: Whumper POV, kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, psychological torture, punishment, Carewhumper, Intimate whumper, non-con touching, force-feeding
Part 10:
Summary: Natalie once again tries to find mercy and avoid punishment. Evelyn uses this to force intimacy on Natalie via kissing and Evelyn's hands roaming instead of a punishment.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, psychological torture, punishment, Carewhumper, Intimate whumper, intense non-con touching, intense forced intimacy, brief vomit mention, non-con pet names
Part 10.5:
Summary: Natalie realises she has a chance to escape and takes it. Evelyn is pissed when she catches a defiant Natalie.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, psychological torture, punishment, Carewhumper, Intimate whumper, escape attempt, hints of Stockholm Syndrome, defiant whumpee
Part 11:
Summary: Natalie wakes up after her failed escape attempt and suffers the harsh and painful consequences.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, intimate whumper, non-con touching, forced intimacy, punishment, electrocution, starvation, violence, Stockholm syndrome
Part 12:
Summary: Evelyn works from home and hosts a video meeting with her team. She then collects Natalie from the basement and binds her arms.
Content: Whumper POV, kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, psychological torture, Carewhumper, injuries, intimate whumper, restraints
Part 13:
Summary: Evelyn has Natalie keep her company in her workshop and Natalie finds out more about who Evelyn is.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, intimate whumper, Carewhumper, Stockholm syndrome
Part 14:
Summary: Natalie earns some mercy by keeping quiet as Evelyn takes an urgent work video call.
Content: kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, psychological torture, punishment, Carewhumper, Intimate whumper, hints of Stockholm Syndrome, starvation
Part 15:
Summary: Evelyn makes food for Natalie and considers how broken her captive may be. she forces Natalie to drink alcohol.Â
Content:Â kidnap whump, female whumper and whumpee, whumper pov, psychological torture, punishment, Carewhumper, Intimate whumper, escape attempt, hints of Stockholm Syndrome, defiant whumpee, forced drinking
Part 16:
Summary: Evelyn turns card games into reasons for Natalie to get increasingly drunk.
Content:Â kidnap whump, female whumpee, female whumper, care whumper, alcohol mention, forced drinking, intimate whumper, Stockholm syndrome
Part 17:
Summary: Natalie's drunken mind is a mess of Stockholm syndrome and Evelyn loves it.
Content:Â kidnap whump, female whumpee, female whumper, care whumper, alcohol mention, forced drinking, intimate whumper, hazy memories, Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent, creepy whumper
Part 18:
Summary: Evelyn checks on Natalie before heading to work and dealing with her employees.
Content:Â kidnap whump, female whumpee, female whumper, whumper pov, care whumper, alcohol mention, intimate whumper, humanised whumper
CW: blood, stabbing, major character death, mentioned death of a child
It was yet another sleepless night for Elvan. The moon was full and cast a rectangle of silver light across the room from the balcony door, illuminating the sleeping form in the bed beside her. Turned towards Elvan with one hand resting on the other womanâs chest, her lips parted ever so slightly in the faintest of smiles, Asenath was perfection made human. Elvan reached out to push a loose strand of hair away from her face, caressing her cheek as she did so. Her own fingertips were too callused to really feel the soft skin beneath them, but that didnât matter; Elvan already knew every part of her queen, inside and out. She leaned over to press a kiss to the sleeping womanâs forehead before carefully easing out of bed to avoid waking her up.
Wrapping a robe around herself, Elvan quietly crossed the room to the balcony door and stepped outside. The cool breeze and the chill of the stones under her bare feet warned of an autumn hastening to winter. She leaned against the balustrade and took in the crisp night air, letting her gaze wander across the moonlit courtyard below. The row of windows belonging to the servantsâ quarters looked the same as it always had, though it felt like a lifetime ago that Elvan had first heard that voice that had so captivated her, flowing melodies making their way up to her from that open window every night as she stood on the balcony, just as she did tonight.
So much had happened between then and now. It had only been about two years, but that time had seen such momentous events it hardly seemed right for it all to be squeezed into so brief a window. Elvan had gone from Theosâ queen to his killer as quickly as his temper had changed, and from regent to ruler in her own right far too soon after that. Nearly the entirety of Tyrosâ lifespan occurred during that time; he had lived for less time overall than Elvan had known Asenath. The boy had brought such joy into her life, but he'd left the world just as quickly as he'd entered itâone long night of fevered crying had been the only warning they got, and then he was gone.
The one constant throughout was Asenath, the woman Elvan loved more than life itself. No matter what happened, Asenath was there. She was the only one Elvan trusted with the part of herself she couldnât show the worldâthe part that cried for a week when her son died, that wished she could go back in time to be with her parents and her little brother, that didnât always have all the answers. The part that felt all the emotions that werenât politically advantageous.
Elvan heard movement from inside and silently cursed herself for waking up Asenath. But as she turned toward the door, a scream ripped through the still night and embedded itself in her heart like a knife. It was Asenath. Elvan burst into the room to see a man holding the other woman against him and bringing a knife up to her throat.
Time stood still. The movement of the blade towards Asenath seemed to slow to a crawl. Elvan let out an inhuman roar as she leapt across the room, but it felt like running through honey. Asenath struggled to break free, wide eyes full of terror and fixed on Elvan. She got closer. The blade got closer. She was two steps away. The blade made contact. One step away. The man drew the blade across Asenath's throat in one swift motion, causing blood to spray from the gash, and let go of her just in time for Elvan to grab his hand that still held the knife and twist it around to plunge the blade deep into his own neck, buried to the hilt with the tip of the blade visible on the other side. The three of them fell to the floor in a tangled, bloody heap. Elvan shoved the man off and pulled Asenath to her. Blood spilled out of the deep cut in her neck, soaking them both, as she choked on her own blood trying to breathe. Elvan desperately tried to staunch the flow of blood, but it was pointless.
âNo, no, no, no, no, please, my love, don't leave me,â she begged. âNot you too...â
Asenath looked up at her with pleading eyes, and with her last vestiges of strength, feebly brought one hand up to touch her love, leaving a streak of blood down the center of Elvan's bare chest.
Powerless to fix the situation, Elvan could only gather Asenath into her lap, rocking gently as she held the dying woman in her arms. As the tears rolled down her face and mingled with the blood, she whispered into Asenathâs hair.
Originally written for Angstpril Day 2, Survivor's Guilt. Yes I know it's four months late, sshhhhhh I definitely didn't forget about this in my wip folder...
Companion piece to Not You Too.
CW: major character death, mentioned death of a child, survivor's guilt
Our bed is cold, my love.
Youâre not in it, and I hardly am either. I canât sleep without seeing you. How I wish that were a blessing... Nothing would make me happier than being able to hold you in my arms againâfeel your heart beat against my own, smell the lavender in your hair, taste the citrus on your lips.
But my mind wonât allow me that mercy. Every time I close my eyes I see you on that terrible night. I hear you scream out, that anguished cry echoing in my head. That was the last time I ever heard your voice. I wish it had been laughter. I see your killer lift his knife to your throat and I try to stop him but he's too fast and I'm too slow and he's drawing the blade across and I can't save youâ
Blood spills out of the gash and I can see the pain and fear in your eyes.
I wish I had been faster.
I know killing him won't undo what just happened, but I'm not even thinking about him as I push the blade through his neck.
I wish I hadn't gone outside that night.
He's dead before he hits the floor. You collapse in my arms.
I wish good people didn't die for the sins of others.
I hold you tight to me for the last time and I feel your heartbeat fading fast, your life slipping away like sand from a shattered hourglass.
I wish you were still here.
The air is still heavy with the scent of your blood, though I'm not sure if the smell actually lingers in the room or if it's just in my mind. Either way, I don't think I can stay here; I'm moving to Theosâ chambers. I feel like I'm leaving you behind, but I can't stay in this room anymore. The echoes of death have become too much. I hope you won't be lonely by yourselfâTyros is here too, at least. Keep him company, and...tell him I loved him, will you? He'll never get the chance to grow up, but I hope he'll understand.
And I hope you'll understand, too, my love. You were the light of my life.
Do you remember when Tyros died? It was the worst pain I had ever felt. Do you remember the backlash? The faction that believed my legitimacy was nullified by the death of our son? How I could not mourn his loss publicly? I had to appear strong, but I wasnât really. Not inside, not behind closed doors. I could play the unshakable leader as much as was needed, but I cried every night for a week. I hadnât cried like that in over a decade, even when I lost my family. But you were there, every night, your calming presence always beside me. I felt foolish, like a lost child rather than a ruler dealing with a politically precarious situation. But you never told me not to cry, or that I couldnât grieve for Tyros. You just stayed by my side as it happened, and I will forever be grateful.
But now youâre gone. Now youâre the one Iâve lost, and it is so much worse. Youâre not there at nightâno one is. At least with Tyrosâ death, other people mourned the loss of their king, even if I could not. But now, my world has fallen to pieces, and barely anyone has noticed. There already were people who didnât consider me the rightful ruler; those bastards probably didnât see you as anything more than my favorite, at best. I will never forgive myself for letting them live to take you from me. I know itâs too late for you now, but it would feel like I was betraying you if I didnât make them pay.
It's a dark gaslamp fantasy with a gradually building whump plot, in short--When an impudent young noble tries to protect her friends, her enemies come together to take her down. But she has no idea exactly how far they'll go to erase her sense of self.
Due to Tumblr's content guidelines, this version will be non-NSFW because the protagonist is a teenager. For the canon version:
You can find Dance of Death on Amazon for $0.99 :) and AO3 for the chapter-by chapter canon.
Let me know if you want to be tagged as I upload chapters!
Content warnings for this book are:
Institutionalized slavery, fantasy racism, child abuse, intimate whumper, humiliation, whipping, caning, ptsd, magical torture, suicide, more specific content warnings per chapter
Chapter 1: Low Expectations
Chapter 2: Oh You Shouldn't Have
Chapter 3: So Cozy
Chapter 4: The Stiletto
Chapter 5: She Said What
Chapter 6: A Bit of a Temper
Chapter 7: Totally Not Blackmail
Chapter 8: I Smell a Lawsuit
Chapter 9: We All Fall Down
Chapter 10: Horizons
Chapter 11: Druid Justice
Chapter 12: Warren Raizden
Chapter 13: Ostensibly Torture
Chapter 14: Generous Accommodations
Chapter 15: What Choice Do We Have
Chapter 16: You Lost Him
Chapter 17: What a Fucking Morning
Chapter 18: Hurt feelings
Chapter 19: Unskilled Labor
Chapter 20: Solutions to Slavery
Chapter 21: My Crimes
Chapter 22: Secrets
Chapter 23: A Bad Feeling
Chapter 24: Trickery By Capitulation
Chapter 25: Slavery Is Getting Old
Chapter 26: Slavery Is Wrong
[in case you're wondering, these chapter titles are what Nife would sarcastically name them]
Chapter 27: Clever Lies
Chapter 28: Striker Being Very Impolite
Chapter 29: Fun Times
Chapter 30: A Rather Unpleasant Night
Chapter 31: The Rare Gift of Literacy
Chapter 32: Striker's Other Other Psychopathic Side and Other Problems
Back from the dead to post a thing I wrote the other day for an extremely self indulgent AU to my longstanding, long suffering WIP :)
What do you mean it's been more than a year since you last posted. Not gonna lie, time is meaningless and a lot of stuff has happened. Either way, I hope you enjoy :)
Thanks to @justplainwhump for the support with this one, she's been a real rock these past months. I hope you know how much I appreciate it <3
Tiny bit of context that may help: The General is the de facto King of the nation after his successful coup to overthrow the previous King. He forcibly married the Crown Princess, and she has committed the grave sin of... saying "no" to him, so he feels he is allowed to teach her a lesson.
CW's: fade to black noncon, (male whumper, female whumpee), creepiness in general, forced servitude setting, forced to strip, threatened with a knife, cigarette burning.
Thereâs a distinct sound clicking down the wooden corridor. Itâs subtle, rhythmic, and very recognizable. I turn a corner and find my assumption to be correct. One of my wifeâs Maidens of Honour, the one with a prosthetic leg. The odd sound was her leg every other step.
What incredible timing.
âYou.â
I call out to her, and she immediately stops, turns to face me, and stands aside against the wall as I approach.
âGood evening, your Excellency.â
Her greeting is stiff, her posture perfect as she bows her head, her long dark hair resting just so over her shoulders. I canât help but look down at the rest of her. The maidâs dress is modest, just below the knee level, high necked and practically pristine. Of course. This girl is known to take great care of her appearance.
I do appreciate that very much.
âWhat are you doing here?â I ask her as I stand directly in front of her, barely a step between us, âa little late to be wandering around, donât you think?â
Itâs here that she does look up, ever so slightly, as she answers my question. âI was going to see if her Royal Highness needed anything from me before I retired for the evening, your Excellency.â
She speaks with an elegance that has not changed since the first time she set foot in this place, speaking to me no differently than she speaks to my wife in public. I canât help but let out a small chuckle - clearly fate is on my side tonight.
âOf course. Come with me, Iâll take you to her. Save you wasting your time.â
With that, I turn back around the way I came, and it takes a second for her to register my order and follow me wordlessly. She knows this way does not lead to my wifeâs bedchamber, but of course, who is she to disobey me when I know where my wife is?
She may be a simple girl, but credit where credit is due, she knows better to disrespect her betters, unlike a certain someone I know.
A few moments later, weâre back at my Imperial Office. Itâs late, so of course thereâs no one else around, meaning that when I open the door, turn on the light switch, step inside and wait for the girl to enter, itâs just the two of us.
The latch of the door clicks shut, and I slide the lock into place.
âYour Excellency?â she asks, and I barely catch the quiver in her voice. âWhere is her Royal Highness?â
I donât deign to answer her question, she doesnât need one. Instead, I walk over to her, closing that distance between us even more than we did in the corridor. She is looking me square in the eyes, her stance firm, I can see her fists clenched by her sides. I must admit, if she is scared, sheâs hiding it quite well beneath that bravado of confidence, like she knows what will happen here.
She hasnât the slightest idea.
The girl clears her throat and speaks again. âWhere is her Royal Highness?â
I reach for the side of her face, and cup her chin in my hand, relishing in the way she freezes in my grip. âThat doesnât matter.â
âBut I -â
âShh,â I push my finger to her lips, silencing her, âbe quiet, girl.â
I want to savour this. The moment that I finally get to give my wife a taste of her own medicine. If she wants to be stubborn, I will make the consequences for her refusal severe.
Well. Severe for her and her friends. Me? I plan to enjoy this.
The girlâs breath shakes in my grip, and I pull her closer, practically feeling her heartbeat as I lean in for a kiss. She tries to lean back, get away, without directly fighting back. She tastes sweet, her lips soft and sensual, rather like the kiss I got from my wife our first night together.
Itâs incredible how similar this feels to that very first night.
I pull back from her, keeping a hold of one of her upper arms. Her eyes are wide, her voice nonexistent, yet she does not reject me. Just frozen in place, and yet, I like her like this. I lean in again, and leave little kisses on her cheek to see how she reacts, she just barely turns her head as I leave the trail down onto her neck.
She shortly pulls her arm back, presumably testing my grip, but I donât let go. She must realise that I am stronger than she thinks I am, given that she does not try that again. I can hear her breathing deeply as I move my kisses back up to her ear and whisper.
âTake off your dress.â
âWhat?â she croaks out.
I stand back up straight, âare you deaf, girl? What are you waiting for? Take off your dress.â
âSir, why -â
âAre you going to disobey me, or are you going to do as I tell you?â
As I begin to speak, I reach for the knife in the sheath on my belt, which catches her attention and I can hear her breathing still. I havenât even got this knife anywhere near her, as I had stepped back to give her some space, giving me the chance to get a good, long look at what she has hidden under her dress, what Iâve never seen in the years since she was first assigned as Maiden of Honour to the Crown Princess herself.
How many men can claim they will have seen this?
The knife is a convincing argument for her to do as sheâs told, because she shakes her head shortly, before starting to undo the buttons on the front of her dress, her hands visibly trembling as she works the top one loose. Then the next. Then the next. Then the next
âGood. No need to be shy, is there?â
I move back a step and sit down in the armchair just behind me, in between the desk and the fireplace. I keep the knife in my grip, testing its sharpness on the tips of my fingers. Hm, itâs a little dull. Perhaps I should sharpen this. Either way, it seems like she does not want to test out the knife regardless of how sharp it is, because sheâs now fumbling with the apron tied at the back, the buttons fully opening up the front of her dress, giving me a tantalizing taste of what she has hidden beneath it.
Once she has the apron untied, she drops it to the floor. As she tries to work off the dress from her shoulders, she quickly rubs one of her eyes before letting that fall completely, leaving her stood there in her underwear.
Sheâs quite the beauty under her clothes as well as in them, it seems. Sheâs not got much in the way of blemishes, but her slender figure is accentuated by the way sheâs stood, legs tightly together, with her prosthetic leg ever so slightly in front of the ârealâ leg. The beautiful form of a dancer, with strong legs that have just the perfect amount of muscle on them to look like she could form complex dance moves without much effort.
I wonder what other moves she could do, if she really really tried.
She looks at me, and I can see her eyes are shiny with tears that she desperately is trying to hide, folding her arms in front of her, probably shivering in here. Sheâs somewhat obscuring her chest, but the way sheâs done it has pressed her bra up, making those features look considerably more attractive.
I canât help but smile. The girl has done very well so far. Letâs see how far she will go for me, in comparison to my wife, whom I helped undress on my wedding night, feeling her form in my hands as I unzipped the dress, leading her out of it and towards the bed.
Back to reality.
I nod in the direction of the sofa behind the girl here, still twisting the knife in my hands.
âGo lay down on that sofa.â
She doesnât move, just cringes on the spot as she casts a small glance behind her at the sofa in question. One of the nicer ones in this place, a lovely green velvet fabric cover with rich emerald silk cushions in either corner. Quite the comfortable piece of furniture, and sheâll finally get to experience it.
However, hereâs where she decides to be resistant. She shakes her head at me, soundlessly refusing my order.
Thatâs a pity.
âWe can do this the easy way, or the hard way,â I stand up from my seated position, âare you sure you want to find out what the hard way entails?â
As soon as I say that, I take one deliberate step forward, and she all but falls backwards into a seated position on the sofa, gripping the delicate fabric in her hands, her chest moving quickly from her rapid breathing, her gaze firmly planted at the floor. I could swear I can hear a sob creep through that breathing, but it vanishes as soon as it began.
I carefully re-sheath my dull knife and begin working on undoing my own clothes, watching her shoulders move with every breath she takes. I can see her concentrated effort on steadying her breathing, but she still seems to breathe very quickly. I work my belt loose and undo my service uniformâs trousers, slipping out of my shoes then stepping out of my trousers, leaving them on the floor beside the girlâs discarded dress.
âLie down on your back.â
She looks up at me briefly as I loosen my tie, and I realise that she has tears streaming down her face. Hm. Iâve never known this one to be an emotional one. Iâve seen one or two of those girls cry, especially since my revolution, but this one always seemed stone cold, uncrackable.
It seems Iâve found that spot with which I can break her.
Slowly, she swivels on the spot, lifts both her legs onto the sofa, and lies down onto the soft cushioning of the sofa, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She turns her head away from me, into the silk, her arms tightly at her side, her legs crossed over one another. Itâs here that I can hear that tiny, tiny sob once again, her eyes screwed shut.
I take off my jacket, leaving just my shirt on, and make my move. Straddling her at the waist, I get a good feel at her upper body. Running my hands up her sides, I stop at her breasts, if only to see what she does. I can see her face screw up and she hisses through her teeth, clearly trying to ignore me as best she can, but thatâs quite difficult when Iâm sat on top of her getting a good feel at tonights entertainment.
Leaving her bra as is for now, I move my body into position above her, running my hands back down her midriff and working at her underwear. This action provokes another reaction from her.
âPlease, please stop -â she gasps out, her eyes open now, but still not looking at me, tears flooding down the side of her face.
I am now done with her underwear, and silence her cries by forcing my lips onto hers, feeling those little sounds at their source. She doesnât try to buck me off, or fight me. My wife did that once.
She has not done it since.
I move away from her lips once again, whispering into her ear, âyou donât need to say anything else, girl. Just lie there and let me do all the work.â
With one last stifled sob, the girl closes her eyes and her mouth, looking away from me again. Iâm ready, ready for my good time, all whilst a few of my men are probably doing the same to the other girls right this moment. I plan to enjoy every second of this, and every second of knowing that what my wife does not know will not hurt her.
And oh, I will get what I want from all of them.
---
The girl lays still on the sofa when Iâm done.
Iâm thoroughly satisfied with my time here, and am getting myself presentable - tightening my belt around my waist - whilst she just lies there, unmoving and silent. I will admit that she didnât do much more beyond lay there and cry, but for the experience I wanted? I am more than content with that.
If I wanted more from a sexual partner, Iâd certainly be more persuasive in getting what I want from them.
âHow did you find that, girl?â I ask as I walk over to my desk and fetch a cigarette and lighter from the top drawer, âdid you enjoy being fucked like you deserve?â
She does not answer me, does not even look in my direction, doesnât even move. Merely acts like I hadnât said anything at all. From here, her head isnât visible behind the armrest of the sofa, but I have a good view of everything else.
I light the cigarette and walk back over to the sofa, taking a drag as I stop right at her upper body. Itâs a bit annoying that she has ignored me, I would have thought sheâd have it in her for a bit more respect than that.
I press the lit end of the cigarette into her shoulder and she instantly screams out, trying to move away from the cigarette, clutching her upper arm.
âSit up,â I kneel down beside her, and she does as ordered, âtell me, was I your first time with a man?â
She blushes furiously.
âAm I to take that as a âyesâ, then?â I canât help but smirk. How interesting. I would have thought this one would have been snapped right up by some classmate during her teens, she certainly could have fooled me.
I pick up the discarded dress from beside me and throw it at her.
âGet dressed then clean up this mess,â I give the order as I move back towards my desk, âand hurry it up. Itâs late, and I have to get up early in the morning.â
I continue to smoke the cigarette as I wait for my wifeâs Maiden of Honour to finish what she had started. Little slut. Iâm sure I can get more satisfaction out of her next time - satisfaction for me, that is.
Funny thing, that title of hers. Sheâs no Maiden anymore. And Honour? Well, the little minx certainly has none when Iâm through with her.
She quietly yet quickly works at the sofa with what little we have in this room. Sheâs still in a sorry state - not yet dressed with her hair an absolute mess, the fresh burn from the cigarette is red and raw on her upper arm, and the tear tracks on her face have yet to dry.
By the time Iâm finished with my cigarette, so is she with the sofa, and she quickly gets the dress and apron back on, tying up the buttons a lot quicker than she got them off.
âBefore you go, girlâŚâ
She freezes, not even finishing tying her apron behind her back, just holding it in her hands, both tightly at her side.
âTell anyone about our little meeting, and I will make sure there are consequences. Is that clear?â
She nods.
Not good enough.
âI canât hear you, girl. Am I understood?â
And then, in a display Iâve not seen since I first brought her into this room, she looks back up at me with a hardened stare. The tears are no longer flowing.
âUnderstood, your Excellency,â her voice, while weak, is certainly more akin to before than during our little tryst, âI wonât tell anyone about this, as you command.â
âGood. Now get out.â
She certainly didnât need telling twice.
Iâm not too far behind her in leaving the room, still relishing in the delights of fucking one of my wifeâs so-called friends whilst she has no idea.
Iâll have to do this again sometime. Perhaps I should let my wife disobey me more often.
