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It's funny having a very high tolerance for pain but a very low tolerance for other forms of discomfort. Like yea tattoos piercings cramps shots cuts bruises whatever thats nothing. But I better not get nauseous or hear a loud sound. Or I'll die
“Let me remind you of something.” Whumper stepped forward, leaning down to make eye contact with the captive they had hogtied on the ground.
“I’m in control of everything that goes on here. I control your food and water. I dictate who comes in and out of this room. I choose what outside information you hear.”
They put their boot on Whumpee’s chest, slowly crushing their ribs. Whumpee closed their eyes tight as Whumper dug their shoe into their sternum.
“I decide how much pain you’re in.” Whumper took their boot off Whumpee’s chest, only to kick them hard in the stomach. Whumpee coughed and sputtered, curling in on themselves as much as the ropes allowed.
“Think about that the next time you talk back to me, okay hun?”
With that, Whumper turned, leaving Whumpee to think about what they’ve done.
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Stoic Whumpee pushed to their limits. Their face twitches with the effort it’s taking them not to cry. The grimaces they make, biting their lip till they taste blood, trying not to shout. The uncontrollable hiss that escapes them due to unbearable pain. The hitched breath they suck in as they brace themselves. The curling of their hands and feet, their balled fists, their poorly suppressed flinch as something suddenly painful is done to them. The broken sob they just can’t hold back anymore. Reflexive tears making their blindfold wet.
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Whumper using afrodisiacs againts whumpee. People can prepare themselves for pain, but what about pleasure? Good old overstimulation+edging, the utter helplessness and humillation of whumpee when they can't control their body's reactions (maybe whumper eventually comes to "help")
alright anon let's do this 😈 leaning more into the psychological horror of being out of control of your body versus whumpee experiencing actual "pleasure"
When Whumper shoved the pill into their mouth, forced them to swallow, Whumpee prepared for the worst - disorientation, blinding pain, their body broken down in agony. All things they'd been through before, at this point. Excruciating, terrifying, yes, but also survivable. They got through it by knowing that Whumper might be able to hurt their body, but they'd never touch their soul.
So at first, when they felt nothing, when Whumper simply smiled and walked away with a promised, "See you soon," Whumpee only felt relief. Maybe there would be no pain today. Maybe this pill, whatever it was, didn't work on them for some reason. There was only the dull ache in their shoulders from their wrists tied to the ceiling. Compared to everything else Whumper had put them through, it was almost laughably manageable.
And then the sensations started to hit.
It started slow - a buzzing, a feeling of warmth building. When Whumpee realized what the feeling actually was, their knees practically buckled.
No. No.
Because they'd rather Whumper just hurt them, rather they break every bone in their body, than this. The forced arousal grew alongside a rising nausea. It wasn't choice, wasn't wanted, was just nerves firing completely against their will.
By the time Whumper returned, Whumpee was nearly hysterical. The inability to free their hands, to soothe the sensations, was driving them mad. They writhed in the air, eyes widening at the hunger in Whumper's eyes.
"Please - please - make it stop - I don't want -"
"Shhhh." Whumper's grinned stretched impossibly wide, delighted. "You weren't expecting this, were you? Don't worry. I'll help you."
"No -" Every cell in Whumpee's body battled itself as Whumper's hands landed on them, mind rebelling, sick with shame and horror, while their body arched towards the touch, as if it was completely alien to Whumpee. The feeling of Whumper's hands brushing over their hips, converging between their legs, was enough to make Whumpee scream.
Quickly, minutes bled into hours. Time ceased to exist. Whumper's patience, their unyielding drive to keep Whumpee on the edge, meant there was no pause, no relief, no way to measure how long this would last. Every nerve ending was alight, overstimulated, and yet Whumpee could not stop, could not hide, could not escape.
“You feel that?” Whumper purred at one point, taking their mouth off of Whumpee only long enough to taunt them. “That’s all you, Whumpee. You can’t stop it. You can’t even stop yourself.”
Whumpee begged for a break, begged for unconsciousness, begged for pain instead, but was only met with the relentless ministrations of Whumper's mouth and hands. And in that terrible limbo, Whumpee truly wondered for the first time if they could survive this place.
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the bone-chilling moment when Whumpee realizes that their begging, screaming, crying, pleading - not only will it not make the Whumper stop, it excites them, amuses them. Every plea or sound of pain only seems to spur Whumper further, like Whumpee's pain is oxygen feeding the fire.
