#bright.writes

Whumpee mumbles out something, a protest, pathetic, and they're glad it seems like Whumper doesn't hear—and not, as Whumper twists the knob on the machine beside them, and sends more electricity through Whumpee, ripping a scream from their throat as they seize.

They leave it on for longer this time. It's already taking everything Whumpee has not to give in now. The pain is unlike anything they've experienced before, and if this keeps up…

Then it's over, and Whumpee's slumping forward over themselves, panting, and then opening their mouth to spit out blood.

"Oh, darling, where's that coming from?" Whumper asks, cupping their chin and lifting it up. "You bit your pretty lip…look at that, all swollen now…"

They start dabbing at it with a cloth, and Whumpee doesn't have the strength to pull away. Their vision is taking more and more time to clear out afterwards, their muscles still twitching and sending tiny shocks of pain through them.

"Y-you—you're g-going t—to k-kill me," they manage to get out, barely, and Whumper hums, stroking a finger along their jaw.

"I would never, my sweet. After we've only had a few days together? And before I've broken you? No, no."

"You won't...break me…" Whumpee says, finally looking up at them. "You won't."

Whumper tightens their grip on Whumpee's chin, enough to keep them in place—

And kisses their forehead. Gently. Presses their lips to it more like they're checking for a fever than anything else.

More like Caretaker would, and Whumpee's suddenly choking back tears, and they've never felt so…

Not broken. They're not broken. They're not...they won't…

"I will," Whumper says. "I promise you, I will. You're already on your way. Now...one more chance. Say it for me, Whumpee, and this can end."

Master.

Whumpee instead says nothing at all. They won't. They won't.

Whumper shrugs a shoulder. "Then we'll continue."

They push the cloth into Whumpee's mouth, pat their cheek, and then return to the machine.

And then they twist the knob up all the way, as far as it will go, and God does it hurt, more than before, which Whumpee didn't even think was possible, and they scream out, thrashing in the chair.

Whumper turns it off, and then on again without giving Whumpee more than a moment. Leaves it on, somehow, for longer.

And then does it again.

And again.

"Speak, Whumpee," Whumpee hears at some point, through the haze of agony their entire world has become. "Say it. Say it! Say—"

"Master!"

The word slips from Whumpee's mouth without their permission, but the second it's out they can't stop themselves, sobbing, "Pl-please, M-Master. No—nnn—no more. I c-can't. Master!"

Whumper's hand goes to the machine again, and Whumpee cries out, squeezing their eyes shut, bracing themselves best they can for what they're absolutely sure will be the final thing they ever feel.

And then instead, it clicks off. Everything goes silent aside from Whumpee's desperate, gasping breaths, and the creaking of the chair's legs as they shake and twitch violently, uncontrollably.

Whumper cups their chin, and Whumpee's never cared less what happens to them, as long as the pain just stays away.

"Say it again," Whumper says, and Whumpee doesn't hesitate. There's nothing else on their mind but wanting it to stop.

"Master."

Whumper smiles, stroking under their jaw.

"There we go. I knew we'd get somewhere eventually! Such a stubborn little thing."

Another too-affectionate kiss to their forehead, and then they're released. Left to slump forward, catching their breath, not so sure they should be relieved they're still alive.

"Now," Whumper says, rounding them to place their hands on Whumpee's shoulders, squeezing.

"No," Whumpee pleads, trying to twist himself away, but the ropes around his wrists keeping him firmly attached to the headboard haven't loosened. As much as he's been struggling, as much as Whumper has been making him squirm—

He can't get free. He hasn't been able to yet, at any point.

He's starting to really, truly think he never will.

"You fucking asshole, you—"

Whumper starts to touch him again, and Whumpee cuts off with a cry because it hurts. He's aching and too sensitive and he wants it to stop, and yet...

"Oh, you moan so pretty, pet. Come on...beg me to let you finish again...you sounded so cute..."

No. No. He'd been begging to end it, not to—

"Don't be embarrassed...it's not like there's any reason to be shy anymore...I've seen everything now."

Whumpee can't hold back a sob at that. "You're s-sick, you—you're—"

"And you're blushing." Whumper reaches up to stroke his chin, and fucking coos at him. "Such adorable little pink cheeks..."

"I hate you! I hate you, you sick fuck!"

"My favorite thing to hear," Whumper murmurs, leaning over to kiss at his chest. "I'll miss it, when you start telling me you love me."

No. No. Not that. Never, ever fucking that. But instead of another protest what comes out is a moan, and he tries to tuck his legs up to protect himself to make it stop, because he can't make himself stop, but Whumper pushes them apart again, too easily. They manipulate Whumpee too fucking easily. They touch him everywhere, and as much as he tries to keep quiet it all drags more sounds from his sore throat, makes him bite his lip until it bleeds again as he twists against the sheets, until he finally tries to roll over onto his side, to get away, because as overstimulated as he is the feelings are turning into that again, and he's going to—

"Ah, ah." He's pushed back over onto his back, forced to stay there. He's never felt so helpless, not with anything Whumper's done. "You've done so good for me, pet. Just one more and you can rest. I promise. You just...you look so good, writhing like this..."

"I can't," Whumpee sobs, shaking his head. "Not again, I can't, oh God, I can't..."

"Oh, but that's what you said last time...and the time before that." Whumper leans over, kissing and nipping along his chest, and Whumpee cries out. "I want to see if you mean it this time."

"Ah! Too much!"

"I don't think it's nearly enough, my sweet," Whumper purrs, licking at his neck, then sucking another mark onto it, and Whumpee's head falls back against the pillows as he gasps.

It shouldn't feel like that, it shouldn't feel like this—

"I don't—ngh—want to!"

"If you really didn't want to," Whumper tells him, "you wouldn't have. But you must like my touch. In fact, I'd even say you love it. And wouldn't it just so happen...I love to touch you, too."

Whumpee writhes, protesting again, but it's much more strangled, barely audible, and Whumper listens even less. They just keep touching, keep teasing, keep using their mouth everywhere Whumpee can't handle until finally he's lost himself to pleasure he doesn't want, and eventually falls over a fourth time with tears streaming down his face.

And he doesn't know why, in the midst of it all, but he curls towards Whumper, burying his face in Whumper's chest, desperate for he doesn't even know what, muffling the scream that comes out.

"Oh...that's it...there, good boy, just like that...perfect. Look at that...I wrung you out, hmm? Nothing left, is there?"

But they keep touching, for just a minute longer, and Whumpee sobs out incoherent pleas until at last Whumper lets him go, and he goes completely limp against the bed, gasping and shaking violently.

"Ssh, it's over now."

And then they lay down next to him, kissing at his neck again, then up to his mouth.

"You were so good for me, pet," Whumper says, against his lips. "I knew, when I chose you, that you would be. Eventually. So good. And soon...soon you'll be even better. Mmm. I know. Sleep now. You earned it."

Whumpee's already losing hold on awareness, slipping away despite the danger still right beside him, but the hand going through his hair, not pulling or yanking but petting, doesn't feel horrible...and they're warm...and he's tired...

Whumpee looks up at them, and their expression turns a bit confused. They wiggle a little on the bed, and then spread their legs a little further apart, and Caretaker can’t look anymore. It feels wrong. It feels like they're violating them without even doing a thing.

“But I’m ready,” Whumpee says, confused.

“Ready?” Caretaker echoes, to the floor, and Whumpee shifts again, and the moan they let out makes the blood rush to Caretaker’s cheeks as they duck their head even further.

“For you, Master.”

“God,” Caretaker groans, and then grabs the throw from the chair in the corner, tossing it over Whumpee's lower half as they approach. “We have to talk.”

“Yes sir,” Whumpee says, tilting their head, and Caretaker shakes their own.

“No. I’m not sir. I’m not Master. I told you. I’m Caretaker. I’m not—” They sigh again, even harder somehow. It almost hurts. This all almost hurts. “I’m not going to have sex with you."

Whumpee’s breath hitches. They sound like they’re going to cry, and Caretaker doesn’t know why until—

“I—I was bad?”

“What? Whumpee, no, I just—”

“I was bad,” Whumpee whispers, and buries their face in their hands, starting to curl up into the same ball they’d been in for the entire first day Caretaker had them here. “I was bad, I was bad, I was bad, I’m sorry, what did I do? What did I—”

“Whumpee.”

But Whumpee doesn’t seem to hear them. They cry even harder, trembling, and the second Caretaker reaches out to touch them, to hold them, do something because they can't stand to see the poor thing like this, Whumpee moans.

"Please...take me...please...I'll be so good for you, Master!" Even with their voice choked with tears, their face red and wet, they try to get closer, pawing at Caretaker's pants, kissing at Caretaker's shoulder, trying to nuzzle up to do it to their neck until Caretaker flinches away. "Wait! No, I-I'll use my mouth, I—I don't bite, they trained me good, I promise—just don't—don't be mad at me, Master, please—"

"Oh, Whumpee…" Caretaker can't keep their own voice from shaking. They can't keep the tremble out if their hand as they reach to pet Whumpee's hair, because they know now it seems to calm them down. "Oh, what did they do to you?"

"Trained me good," Whumpee whispers, but...this time they sound haunted. For good reasons, Caretaker is sure, and Caretaker doesn't want to know a single one of them.

"You're good," Caretaker tells them. "Okay? Just. Please. I think you're beautiful. You are. There's nothing wrong with you. And you didn't do anything bad. I’m not mad at you!"

Whumpee sniffles. "But...you don't want me.”

“No, Whumpee. I mean—I want you here. I don’t want to…” They gesture, a bit helplessly. “Do anything to you.”

“Why...wh-why else am I here?"

"You're here to be safe. You're here so you don't have to be hurt anymore!"

But Whumpee doesn't look like they believe that. And of course they don't. Caretaker isn't a therapist, they just met Whumpee, and they have no idea what they're doing. Not a clue. They have Whumpee because the chance had been there to take, to rescue, to be a hero.

It's turned out so much more complicated now than they ever could have dreamed. And it's not their fault, of course; Caretaker doesn’t blame them. They just want to help.

He woke up stripped. He woke up with Whumpee across from him just as bare, wide-eyed, terrified, leather gags with a lock keeping them from speaking.

He woke up with a collar secured around his neck, same as Whumpee, a metal chain leading from it to the wall behind them on opposite sides, keeping them apart.

With Whumper watching them. Specifically him.

"I just planned for that one," Whumper says, gesturing. "He's beautiful. The most attractive I've seen. It's his fault you're here, really. Flaunting that beauty as much as he does..."

Whumpee cries out in protest, tears in his eyes. By the time Caretaker can speak to him—if he can at all—the damage will have already been done, he'll already think it'd his fault as much as Caretaker knows it's his own, and it hurts.

Where had they even been taken from...? He can't remember...they'd been at the bar, one they'd been going to for years after work, and then...and then...

"But I've been watching him for a while, you know, and...I found myself starting starting to pay more attention to you. And Caretaker...you are just...wow."

Whumper run his hands up Caretaker's body again, the front of it this time, from the inside of his thigh to rest his hands over his chest.

"So nervous," Whumper hums. "Don't be. You're beautiful."

Whumper pinches a nipple, drawing a startled gasp from both Caretaker and Whumpee, and there's nothing but delight on Whumper's face.

"You're both so protective over each other," Whumper goes on. "I don't think I've ever seen two people so close. And you're a kind of handsome I've never much paid attention to...so that's when I started thinking, you know...that it would be twice as fun to have both of you."

Caretaker swears, talks back, but it's lost against the gag. Whumper strokes under his chin, and smiles at him.

"You're right. I think, maybe, it's time to test one of you out. And that little one...well, he's special. Very special. It's going to feel good. I want to take him right. But you...well, I'm not sure it'll be that good at all, so—"

Whumper slams Caretaker down against the ground, mounting him from behind, and Whumpee shrieks, crawling forward to the end of his chain, clawing at the ground. "No!" he shouts out, audible even though the gag, and when he finds that's the only word that can even halfway get through he repeats it again. "No! No, no, no, no!"

"You'll get yours," Whumper promises. "You're going to get yours good. And Caretaker...if you're good...I'll consider being more gentle next time. Prepare you a little more. Do it somewhere...softer."

Caretaker grunts in pain as fingers toy everywhere they shouldn't, flushing with humiliation when he truly comes to terms not only with this happening, but it happening in front of Whumpee.

"If you're not good," Whumper says, "well...at least I have him. Though I'm sure he'll miss you...I'll have him looking at me the way he looks at you in no time."

"No," Caretaker mumbles, too quiet, and then he squeezes his eyes shut.

"What's that? You're going to make it good for me?" Whumper grabs a handful of his hair and pulls, and Whumpee sobs, kicking out at the wall, wrenching on his arms, desperate to stop what he can't.

Caretaker can't do this. He can't act afraid. He can't give up. He can't act like he'd rather be killed here and now than this.

Not in front of Whumpee. No, he has to get Whumpee out of this. And that means living long enough to do so.

So eventually, he nods. He nods, and relaxed his body, and hides his face against the floor to keep the tears hidden when Whumper purrs, "Good boy," and continues.

Whumpee's hand is nearly close enough to touch. He knows looking up means Whumpee can see he's crying, but Whumpee's crying, too, and he figures it doesn't much matter. Not right now.

Instead, he reaches his hand out, past the point of pain from the wrenching chain, and grasps onto Whumpee's fingers, a promise to get him out of this if it's the last thing he does before closing his eyes.

"How fucking sweet," Whumper laughs, grasping Caretaker's hips hard enough to bruise as he pushes in. "Yeah. Fuck yeah. That feels good. You're good, Caretaker. So damn good for me."

He doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be.

But he wants Whumpee to be that even less. Maybe between now and when Whumper returns, maybe he'll have been able to get Whumpee free...

"Let's see how that mouth sucks me off, next, and then test out the pretty one, and hell, this might've been the best two-for-one deal in the world."

Caretaker tries not to think about it. He only thinks about Whumpee's touch, about getting Whumpee out of here, about Whumpee.

Whumpee moans Caretaker's name. Caretaker says I love you, I always have and knows it won't be understood. Maybe it shouldn't be. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever, after this.

But he hooks his fingers around Whumpee's, and uses them to keep himself together, and Whumpee squeezes back.

Whumpee lets out a horrible sound from where he lays on the floor, face pressed against it, body trembling from fear and exhaustion and pain, from everything awful they've just put him through that Caretaker couldn't fucking stop.

With a quiet chuckle, Whumper sits up, still straddling Whumpee but no longer leaned down, whispering into his ear. No longer just on the verge of assaulting him, again. Whumper 2 even stops stroking Whumpee's hair from where they're kneeled beside him, tilting their head up as Caretaker grabs all of their attentions.

Whumper 3 uncrosses their arms, coming forward.

"You want us to fuck you?" they ask. "Instead of him?"

Caretaker trembles, and then takes a breath and nods.

"Well aren't you brave," Whumper teases, picking themselves up off Whumpee, and Caretaker's relief that it's working, even briefly, is cut short when Whumper 3 rounds him, reaching out to squeeze his ass.

The group ignores him. Caretaker ignores him. There's nothing else he can do. Now that their attention is on him, all three of them creeping towards him, Whumpee's alone. Bloody, terrified, but untouched.

Caretaker gasps in a breath at the same time Whumpee does, and Whumpee writhes, clenching his bound fists together and crying out, "No! Don't touch him! Please!"

Caretaker can't watch it happen again. He can't. They hadn't been willing to hear him the first time, but if there's anything he can do to prevent the second, he will.

"Strip, then," Whumper 2 says, slicing the rope around Caretaker's wrists, and the other two hum agreements. "Go on. Let's see what you're offering. And if you try anything stupid, we'll kill you and fuck him while he watches."

Whumpee claws at the floor, sobbing out another protest. He tries to lift himself up, but his arms won't hold him, and he crumples down again with a heartbreaking cry.

Caretaker tries not to look at him. Instead he obeys, reaching up with trembling fingers to start to undo his shirt, and then letting it fall off his shoulders.

"Not bad," Whumper says, circling him, and Caretaker flinches when Whumper 2 pinches his side from behind. "Keep going. All of it. You know what we want to see."

Breathing hard, unable to keep as steady as he wants to, Caretaker does that, too. He undoes his belt, and drops his pants to the floor.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand on his ankle, nearly falls over as he stares down at Whumpee, who's managed to drag himself the few feet over to him, leaving a smear of blood underneath.

"Stop," Whumpee begs. "Stop. Caretaker. Stop!"

"He loved it," Whumper laughs. "We really made you feel something special, didn't we, Whumpee? Better than Caretaker ever could, huh? You want us again?"

Whumper 2 starts making their way over to Whumpee once more, and then Caretaker holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut and pulls his underwear down, too.

"Well now," Whumper 2 says, and instead comes to him. It should be a relief, when their hands grab at Caretaker's hips instead of Whumpee's, but it doesn't feel like one, and he can't help but flinch and squirm when fingers touch over where they shouldn't. "Look at this..."

"Very nice. Quite a pair we picked, aren't they?"

"A perfect one. Didn't expect either to fight so much..."

"Let's see how you compare here, first..." Whumper 2 says, and then shoves their finger into Caretaker without any warning.

Against his will, Caretaker cries out. It sounds, to him, like the most pathetic sound he's ever made. His hands flail out, and the other two grab onto a wrist each and hold him steady, tug him until he's slightly bent over to give Whumper 2 better access.

"Relax," Whumper tells him, pressing a deceptively gentle kiss to Caretaker's hand. "How tight?"

"Not like the whore. But better than I expected."

Whumper 3 strokes their hand down Caretaker's chest. "Tell us what you want us to do again?"

Caretaker swallows hard. "Take me instead."

"No, no. Tell us what you want us to do."

Whumpee sobs, whimpering out Caretaker's name. Caretaker keeps his teeth grit, biting into his cheek until he tastes blood, so that he doesn't whimper, too.

And when he's sure he's got a hold on himself—mostly sure—he clears his throat and says, "I want you to fuck me."

Whumper whistles. Whumper 2 grabs Caretaker's shoulders, and forces him down to his knees, and then leans up right into his ear.

"Gonna need you to say that again," they murmur. "A little louder. Beg us to."

Whumpee's hand brushes up against Caretaker's, crying, pleading him not to. Caretaker's not sure he himself isn't about to fall apart.

"Fuck me," he mumbles, and then finally lets out a sob he can't hold back and says, louder, "Please. Please fuck me."

Whumpee protests louder. Curses and swears until Whumper 2 kicks him hard in the stomach, and Whumpee rolls over onto his other side, coughing.

"You keep reminding us about that pretty mouth, boy, and we'll—"

Caretaker grunts, furiously, and interrupts them with a hissed, "So?"

Whumper bends down a little, to Caretaker's level, and cups Caretaker's chin. They lean forward to press their lips together, and Caretaker squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking hot down his face, and forces himself to be still.

Whumper pulls back, and nips along Caretaker's jaw. Whumpee's fingers are against his again, and Caretaker curls his pinky around Whumpee's.

Whumpee's back is still bleeding from when he did. His whole body hurts, from disobeying in the first place.

He doesn't want to be bad. But it's impossible. It's impossible. Whumper wants him to do impossible things. Like keep his air in again and again and again with no regard to the agony in his chest, the way his heart is beating fast and then slow and then fast again, the way his vision is dark and shimmering at the edges because it's too much.

"Punishments are supposed to hurt," Whumper says. "Yes, the whip works, but this...well, you were very naughty. So you deserved something very special."

Whumpee chokes, and Whumper smiles. He leans down and kisses Whumpee's trembling, pale blue lips, and brushes a thumb along Whumpee's cheek, and then squeezes his nose before kissing him again.

"Longer. You're so beautiful when you suffer."

Whumpee barely hears it. He's starting to tilt to the side, to give into the blackness calling him, because even when his mouth opens on his body's instinct to breathe whether he's allowed to or not, Whumper prevents it with his own lips. Holds him close and kisses him harder, grabs Whumpee's shaking hand and presses it to where Whumper is hard.

Whumpee's chest heaves, and he grunts out a plea, and then—

Whumper releases him, holding him tight against his body.

"Breathe, precious boy. Just breathe now."

Whumper pets his hair, almost gently. "Oh, good boy. Yes. Good boy. Thank me for being so kind to allow you air."

Whumpee breathes. He gulps in air again and again, grateful. So grateful he whimpers, "Thank you..."

He'd do anything for it not to be denied again. "Thank you, sir...I'll do anything for you, sir...thank you..."

He gets another kiss, shorter this time, and he lets it happen, breathing through his nose instead. It doesn't matter. He has air. His eyes slide shut, and he kneels there, swaying slightly, as content as he ever feels.

Until Whumper. Always until Whumper does something.

"Catch your breath," Whumper murmurs to him, running his thumb along Whumpee's bottom lip as Whumpee hears him unzip his pants with the other.

"I won't be long, tonight...you've gotten me worked up with all that. And when you swallow, and can breathe again, you'll thank me for that, too."

Whumper reaches down, squeezing Whumpee until he whines.

"Pretty boy...feel so good in my hand...but you won't come tonight, either."

"Yes sir," Whumpee whispers. "Yes sir. I promise. I'll be good for you, sir."

Whumper takes a handful of his hair, guiding him forward, and hums.

"I'm sorry, pet," they murmur, stroking down the poor thing's tear-stained face. "I know you'll miss me. But it's just today...and I'll be home tonight."

Whumpee whimpers, tugging at the restraints. They wriggle, uncomfortably, legs spread against their will (as usual), and Whumper watches. Loves to watch, always.

"That's...that's...h-hours, what...what if I need to—"

Whumper presses their finger over Whumpee's lips. Silences them, as they should be.

"You don't need anything until I tell you you do," they say. "Not a thing. Isn't that right?"

Hesitantly, Whumpee nods. "Y-yes...Master."

Whumper feels a thrill of pleasure through them, leaning to kiss their pet gently. "Good. Very good. And you know what...you are right. What if you do need? That little hole of yours always needs something. I shouldn't leave it empty."

"No—" Whumpee mumbles, shaking their head, but Whumper's already in motion, reaching over to the drawer beside their bed and rummaging through it before they pull out something that makes Whumpee sob.

"I just don't know how far the remote control will be able to reach it," Whumper says, frowning, and then shrugs. "I'm sure you'll tell me all about it tonight."

Whumpee cries out, but even as they try to squirm they're kept in place as Whumper preps them and then gently slides the toy inside. Tests it once, and watches Whumpee whine and shiver beautifully. Keeps it going just long enough that their pet is about to fall over the edge, and then stops it.

"I'll take care of you so well tonight," Whumper says, kissing over them, loving the way their chest heaves under their lips. The way their body craves more, even if their pretty mouth protests. "I'll see you soon."

They fasten a gag around Whumpee's mouth—"I don't want you screaming anything that isn't just for me."— and then they're gone.

Whumpee's sob turns into a cry of pleasure as Whumper clicks the remote again, off and on, higher and lower, all the way down the street until the thing beeps and loses contact.

Disappointing, but not a real problem. It's still inside them, and they still know exactly who put it there, who they belong to, and who owns them.