CW: referenced noncon, BBU, Luke is a piece of shit, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, captivity
"Go on."
Luke kicks up his feet, resting heavy boots on the table, crossed at the ankles. He should light a cigarette or something for the effect, but he doesn't have any on him and getting up to go get some would undermine it. Instead, he just smiles.
The trainee, backed up against a wall across the room, won't look at him. Those huge, gorgeous bright green eyes are focused off to one side. Eyebrows so pale they seem nearly invisible furrow. There's a little wrinkle in his forehead, showing his confusion. Cute, but they'll have to work on showing emotions he wasn't asking for.
"... Go on...?"
The trainee's voice is hoarse. He fucked up, a couple days ago. Luke ruined his throat, and he sure apologized until what was left of his voice was gone after. It's coming back, but there's something sweet about it now, raspy and every sound halfway a whisper. Makes Luke feel sentimental, a little sappy.
"Yeah. Go on. Do it."
The trainee, swimming in the plain white shirt and black shorts they all wear, hugs himself tightly, shivering in the chill. Luke normally keeps the room warm, but he wants this trainee desperate for the warmth another body can provide. And he'll be rewarded once he seeks it out.
Until then...
The trainee blinks - once, twice. Then, hesitantly, he rasps, "... Do, do what... Handler Petrus?"
Luke catches that stammer. They'll fix that, too. He smiles and tips his head to one side. "Cry. Go on, do it. I can tell you want to, that lower lip's been wobbling all day."
"But... t-tears are for... f-fucking, Handler." The words are carefully, slowly pronounced. Trainee doesn't want to say them, but he does it anyway.
Soon he'll forget he ever didn't want anything at all.
"I know, I know." Luke waves a hand in the air, dismissing the words. "Normally that's true. But today, I don't fucking care if you cry. Get it out of your system. We have a lot of work to do, today, and I don't want to deal with it when we're training. So. Cry now, and you can hug me after. Cry when I'm in you and I'll use that whip on the wall and make you cry harder. Thoughts?"
The trainee looks at him for a long pause. The little wrinkle in his forehead deepens.
"Well? Questions? Comments? Concerns?" Luke's smile stretches wider. He opens his hands, encompassing the room. "Anything to say at all?"
The trainee swallows - Luke watches him wince with delight. He mulls over whatever two brain cells still bounce around that emptied-out little head.
Then...
"... I can have... a hug?"
Luke laughs. "Yes, you needy fucking whore, you can have a fucking hug."
Sure enough, the pretty little thing drops to the floor, face beet red as Luke laughs until his sides are sore, and starts to cry.
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My first proper writing post here, for @amonthofwhumpβs Twelve Days of Whumpmas event! I donβt know whether Iβll manage to post something for all twelve days, but Iβll try my best. This was intended to be a longer piece incorporating the βmemories/flashbacksβ and βleft in the coldβ prompts from days four and seven as well, but I wanted to get something out for the first day, so the second half will come later.
This is also the first post featuring my new OCs! Blake... is a creep. Wynn, theyβve only just begun to learn about themself, is a survivor.
Warnings: referenced noncon, noncon touching, intimate whumper, using whumpeeβs sensory issues against them.
"Blake, don't..." Wynn tries to keep the panic out of their voice, even as they struggle against Blake's grip. "I'll... I'll get in the bed with you, okay, you don't have to do thisβ¦"
"Oh, I know you will, gorgeous," Blake purrs, shoving Wynn up against the tree and pinning them there, hands around their arms, knee between their thighs, breath hot on their face, every intrusion of his body on theirs grating against their overstimulated nerves. They'd just wanted a night to themself, one night of quiet to stave off the overload and maybe let yesterday's bruises heal a little more. Sometimes he lets them have the space they need, a little breathing room just to make the pain hit deeper when it returns. Sometimes he'll only pin them down harder when they struggle, push them past their limits through meltdown into shutdown. They'd thought they knew what they were risking when they pushed him away.
"I'm sorry," they whimper, and they don't know whether they're trembling more out of fear or from the biting cold in the night air, the melting snow already seeping into their socks, icy wind blowing straight through the thin cotton pyjamas that are all Blake lets them wear.
Blake chuckles, shifting position to press one arm across their chest, keeping their back pinned to the rough bark while his free hand reaches for a leather strap. "You didn't piss me off, babe," he assures them, grinning as he slips the loop around their wrist and pulls it tight. "I had a feeling you'd wanna get away tonight. It's getting too much for you again, huh? I can always tell."
"Y⦠you�" Wynn can't get the words out, can't put them in order, panic and cold and the oncoming overload stifling their speech. You can tell?
βYouβre having trouble talking,β Blake goes on, grabbing Wynnβs other arm and yanking it around behind their back so he can bind both their wrists together. They stumble as their body twists, might have faceplanted into the snow if he wasnβt holding them up. βZoning out moreβ¦ and you keep doing that thing with your fingers, you know?β He pushes them up against the tree again, one hand gripping their chin, holding their head firmly in place. Wynnβs breath comes shallow. It would be easy for that hand to slip down to their throat, to grip tight and take their air and leave fresh bruises round their neck and spiralling stars behind their eyes. Their shoulders are twisted awkwardly behind them now, pain shooting along their arms. βI even thought about letting you off the hook tonight, but I didnβt want to lose this chance. The weatherβs supposed to clear up, by tomorrow.β
βI - whaβ¦β It should make sense, Wynn should be able to get it, but theyβre shaking and hurting and dizzy, mind clouded. Blake strokes their cheek, tilts their head until his eyes find theirs.
βThis isnβt a punishment, beautiful. Itβs an experiment. If all I wanted was thisβ¦" His hand reaches round to grope their rear, hips rocking against them. Wynn's stomach knots. "...you know Iβd just take it.β
Wynn nods. They know, of course they know. Blake steps away and they shudder with a mix of relief that heβs no longer touching them and the chill as the heat of his body leaves them. He reaches into his bag again, retrieving more straps, buckles and fastenings glinting in the moonlight.
Wynn could run. The thought crosses their mind, but how far would they get, really? And when Blake caught up to them - it would be so much worse. Theyβve never actually made him angry before, but he loves having an excuse to make it worse.
They donβt run. They donβt struggle. They close their eyes as he wraps the leather bands around their stomach and chest and legs and pulls them tight against the tree, shutting out the glare of the light from the house on the snow, at least. The leather pulls and rubs and digs into their skin, the bark scrapes up against their twisted arms. They try their hardest not to make a sound, but they let a hiss of pain escape them once or twice and they can feel the way he smiles.
They know itβs done when thereβs a hand on their face again, and they make themself open their eyes.
βItβs an experiment,β Blake repeats, and his eyes are bright with vicious pleasure and his thumb traces ever so softly over their lips. βHereβs how I think itβs gonna go. Youβre going to get in my bed with me tonight, and youβre going to want it. Need it. Cling to me like your pretty little life depends on it.β
Wynn swallows, hard. They know what the point of the game is, now. βBecause Iβll be freezing?β
βYou got it.β Blake steps back, makes a point of looking at his watch. βSee you in - well, Iβll play it by ear.β He turns to leave, his footsteps crunching in the snow.
βBlake, youβll kill me! Iβ¦β Iβm not even dressed, Wynn thinks, hysterically, but their voice fails them again. Blake turns back to look at them, amusement in his gaze as he looks them up and down.
βDonβt worry, sweetheart. Iβm not gonna let you go that easily.β
He walks away and Wynnβs voice catches, stalls, thickens in their throat as they try to scream after him, and what would he listen to, what could they even say? Nothing. Thereβs nothing they can do. They slump in their bonds as Blake reaches the house, closes the door behind him.
c.w. mentions of past abuse, mentions of torture, intimate whumper, vague reference to noncon
AO3
Hayko flinched away as he felt his chin lifted for their eyes to meet, where Nick could get a better look at the evidence of the abuse. A thumb swept over his chin and his split lower lip with a feather-light caress. The blood trickling down his nose painted a streak onto his nail.Β He wiped it away gently.Β Nickβs expression was unreadable as he kept the investigation going and Hayko didnβt know whether he wanted to feel his anger more. He felt the thumb press a bruise gingerly and he sucked in a breath from the sting but stayed otherwise quiet, trembling slightly. Say something. Do something.Β
Nick was looking him dead in the eye now, his jaw clenching the way it did when he was beyond pissed and with a voice that barely restrained his rage, βWho did this?β
Taking a shuddering breath, Hayko looked away. Who didnβt do it? he wanted to say but getting smart with people usually didnβt bode well for him. That, and he didnβt think he would live through another beating.Β
βLook at me,β Nick said, low, threatening. βWho?β His touch was so soft compared to that tone.Β
Despite this, Hayko thought it best to keep staring at the floor. Was he really expected to continue his humiliation? By now, he would have been hit hard enough to see stars but strangely, Nickβs hand stayed all but tender.Β
βYou know not answering me usually doesnβt work out well for you.β Nick looked at him expectantly, the anger simmering in his eyes.Β
βI-I know,β he rasped.
βSo, do you want to tell me who toyed with you?βΒ
Even after all the pain, he could feel his anger burning in his chest at that shameful description, and he gritted the backs of his teeth, shooting him a look. βJust do it already.βΒ
Nick raised an eyebrow after an instant of silence, βDo what?βΒ
βJust d-do it,β he repeated. βI can...I can probably take it and Iβm used to it by now so s-stop dicking me around and just do it.β Haykoβs voice broke at the end of the tangent. βI know Iβm y-yours, I didnβt want this for fuckβs sake. So, spare me the show and do it already.β Bracing himself for the impact, Hayko let his eyes slip shut and waited for the air around him to change as Nick brought his hand back. But it never came.Β
βLook at me,β he ordered again.
Hayko stifled a sob as he turned his eyes up to face Nick at last. βWhat?βΒ
Nick took and released a slow, even breath. In a way, it looked like he was holding himself back. βWho did this?β
βOh, f-fuck you,β he finally sobbed and let himself fall against his chest as Nickβs hand drew him close. βFuck youβ¦β It was muffled by the shirt along with the other sobs that slipped out all at once.
As if he were someone besides Nick, Hayko felt Nickβs fingers coiling gently in his hair and raking through them softly, reassuring hushes swirling in his ears against the sound of his own body wracking with cries. His vision was blurry. All he could see was the dull grey of the shirt and the chest he shook against.
Nickβs voice was just above a whisper again, βWho did this?β His fingers scratched at Haykoβs scalp encouragingly, a gentleness he could take away in a second but didnβt. βI just want a name, love.βΒ
He looked up to find Nick again, eyes red and stinging. What are you going to do with them? βWhy?...βΒ
βSo I can have a chat with them about personal integrity,β he sneered.Β
Hayko felt his lip twitch up before leaning his forehead slowly against his chest and closing his eyes, swallowing. βI-it was Eladio. H-heβ¦βΒ
Nick listened patiently, soothing him with the caresses.Β
β...told me I h-had toβ¦β he hicced a sob, βentertain this...group ofβ¦β He froze as he felt the caressing come to a sudden halt.Β
βEntertain?β Nick asked darkly.
βN-Not that,β Hayko mumbled quickly into the polyester and moved a sleeve up to wipe his eyes, already swollen enough from the ordeal, let alone this. Upon hearing this, the tension sank out of his grip and the hand threaded through his hair again. βThey...messed me up for a while and then l-left.βΒ
He hummed, βWhat did they do?β Nick slowed down his movements, his fingers traveling to the back of his neck. There was an assortment of colors by the bruises left. Realizing the silence in that time, he glanced down. βHayko?βΒ
βDonβt make m-me say itβ¦β he whispered. βPleaseβ¦β
Nick nodded, ignoring the fact he wouldnβt see, and tightened his grip on his body as his answer. Haykoβs sobs continued quietly, dampening his shirt at the ribcage level until eventually, there was no evidence that the shirt had ever been dry. βYou know Iβm not going to hurt you,β he said softly. βBut I am going to be coming back late tonight...β
Hayko thought he heard a laugh and for once, he felt like he could have laughed too. He sniffled, βY-you canβt...umβ¦βΒ
βCanβt what, kill them?β Nick chuckled. βCome on, I thought we knew each other better than that, love.βΒ
βYou canβt...justβ¦β he stammered. βHe wonβt let you.β The silence that followed after gave Hayko an idea of what face Nick was making.Β
βNever said I was going to kill them.β Bending down to his height, Nick reached around Haykoβs legs and heaved him up, ignoring the surprised gasp and ensuing protest. He jostled him against his chest as he took him down the apartment hall from the hallway and into the bathroom. Once they were there, he slowly let him down on the edge of the bathtub where Hayko keened quietly at the unpleasant pressure of the acrylic against his thighs.Β
For a few silent moments, the only sounds between them were the thud of bottles against each other, the tape hiss that tore from a roll, and Nickβs thoughtful hums in deciding amongst the disinfectants. Haykoβs mind wandered in the therapeutic silence to other places. Questions. He glanced up timidly, watching the manβs movements - paced.Β
Why didnβt you just do it? Eventually, he turned around with his pick in equipment. You could have just hit me, just made me say Iβm yours, just cut off my breath. You could have just done it. Why didnβt you do it?Β
βIβm over here, love,β Nick said, waving a hand in front of his face. βBack on planet Earth, if you please.βΒ
Hayko blinked rapidly as his eyes found him, snapping out of his trance and he rasped, βS-Sorry...um...βΒ
With a curious look, Nick stared in silence. βWhatβs on your mind?β
βNothing, I just,β Hayko closed his eyes and shook his head, swallowing with difficulty, βI just spaced out for a second.β He hoped Nick would believe him. Please donβt make me say it. For a second, his heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare, almost as if Nick was trying to empty him out. But he didnβt seem to be out for blood today and simply shrugged in acknowledgment.Β
βTry to stay mostly here, yeah?β he laughed, sitting next to him on the tub. βIβm not sure what could possibly be more interesting than me.βΒ
It is about you, idiot.Β
Hayko scoffed - something he thought he had the privilege of doing now. Nickβs hand moved against his chest and ran up the tattered remains of the shirt, smiling under his breath as he felt him shiver against the touch. The shirt came off easily and it was then that Nick paused to investigate the damage scattered across his ribs in all its raw blacks and blues. Haykoβs eyes fell away, blinking away new tears, βYeah.βΒ
βDid quite a number on you, didnβt they?β he mumbled, stretching out the bandages and scooting closer. βArms up, love.βΒ
Hayko obeyed, trying to stay still as he felt the bandages winding around his body, wracked with exhaustion, agony, and every fucking thing in between. As he had been entertaining, what kept him on his toes was the eventuality of facing Nick. Of facing his dangerous smile as he looked over the evidence of the torture and then finished him off with what they didnβt do. Couldnβt do.Β
Finding his strength, he had been ready for everything from a dark βWho do you think you are, getting used up by these other fuckers?β to a βNow Iβm going to make you wish they finished you off.βΒ
What he hadnβt been ready for was the expert gentleness with which his hands moved over his skin, the touches burning in place after they left. He hadnβt been ready for the soft whispers and the comforting grip, holding him in place as he wept with such firmness that Hayko thought he would clatter to the ground if Nickβs arms hadnβt been there.Β
βA-Ah!-β Hayko suddenly gasped, feeling a sharp pain shoot across his chest from a misplaced touch.
βSorry love,β Nick murmured apologetically, βWasnβt looking.β His thumb swept over the skin as if to correct the mistake.
He nodded slightly, sighing. βA-Alright.β With a lilt that soft, Hayko could have listened to it forever, if only it could be forever. There was no doubt that this was something to cherish. After this day of pure hell, he just needed someone to touch him as softly as Nick was doing now, just needed someone to hold him as he had. God damn you.Β As the bandages were tightened and secured, those expert hands moved lower, lower until they reached his hips where he held them for a while. Hayko could have melted into the touch. God damn you. I hate you, youβre fucking vile. Fuck you. Giving me exactly what I want, and it has to be you.Β
Nick glanced up, his voice quiet but coated with want, βYou look damn good like this, you know?β His eyes roamed over the bandages and the bruises peeking from beneath them, hands still secure on his hips.Β
Haykoβs eyes found him slowly. Then, they lost him again.
idk if this has been asked before (ignore this if it has!) but what would chris be like if he had in fact stayed with branch until he was thrown out?
Nearly silent even after Oliver abandons him on the street. Very still, and watchful, rarely speaking. Prone to wincing or flinching back from unexpected movements. Prone to offering his body as payment for whatever anyone will do for him, and completely dissociated during the act itself. Frightened of nearly everyone.
Tyler struggles to keep a facade in front of his colleagues and learns the whereabouts of Tara's informant.
Written for @whumptober 2022. Will be continued soon.
This is for Day 16, "no way out" and day 19, knees buckling.
A part of Tyler's arc.
Cw for BBU, institutionalised whump, facility whump, a bunch of professionally horrible people (WRU handlers and managers), referenced dehumanisation, (newly) reluctant whumper pov, shortly referenced noncon/dubcon (WRU romantic training), referenced torture
Tyler took the bus to work. He'd drunk too much vodka last night to be able to drive safely. He pressed his forehead to the window, greenish suburbs passing by the windows in a blur until the gray buildings of the industrial zone took over. Facility 002 was located far outside the city.
Hard to reach. Easy to control.
In his pocket, his fingers fiddled with his access card. It didn't say his name, didn't even say the company name, just a plain number, but still he had always kept it hidden. Odd, he realized. He'd told himself over and over again that he just did a job. People in his generation did what earned them money, and tried to be good at it. Nobody identified with what they did, or their employer, he was just like them, right?
Then why had he never told anyone? Even when it had all technically been legal, when he'd been working with voluntary acquisitions. Security, that's what he'd said when asked about his job. Corporate security for some high tech lab. Nobody had ever waited to know more.
The bus' doors opened with a hiss. "Industry Park South Entrance," the automated voice announced. "Last stop. This bus terminates here."
Tyler started, needed a second to find orientation, before he grabbed his backpack and got off. There were just a handful of other passengers left. All here for the same destination. A janitor, a receptionist. Did they tell others where they worked, he wondered.
Did it matter? They didn't do what he did. They weren't handlers. He remembered 238's screams last night, played to her over and over by him. He remembered the countless times he'd slept with her. He remembered her brown eyes, serious and solemn, when she'd told him 'I don't think I signed up for this'.
He'd taught her to never say it again.
Tyler wanted to scream. Instead, he put on an easy smile, nodded to the security officer at the entry, as he swiped his card. It hurt. The edges of the plastic card had cut into his palm, after clutching it too tightly. The pain felt oddly comforting.
"You're late."
Tyler looked up, meeting the gaze of Alex from Client Relations. Squinted dark eyes took him in critically, no doubt noticing the rings underneath Tyler's eyes, the slight trembling of his hands.
"Had a long shift yesterday," he mumbled. "Didn't sleep well."
"I know. Log out at 12.37 am," Alex said without even looking somewhere to check. They weirded him out. "No idea what you did that long, nor do I want to know, honestly. Anyway. Senior Handler Nguyen wants a word before you go in. He's in his office."
Shit.
Tyler nodded numbly. "Yeah. Uh. Thanks."
When he turned towards the office floor, Alex' hand stopped him. "I really don't care," they said. "But he didn't seem like he'd care much, either."
Tyler frowned at them, but they'd already pulled back their hand and were staring at their tablet.
"Oh. Important call. First product specification with Judge Nicholls." They rolled their eyes. "It's her fourth pet, and she's always such a diva. Anyway." Alex' looked Tyler down once again. "If you're sick, don't stay too close to me. There's a cabinet full of prescription drugs at Doctor Wood's office. She'll get you up to peak performance in no time."
"I'm goo-"
"Shhh." Alex was on the phone already, gesturing for him to shut up and pointing impatiently at Alan's office.
*
"238's a mess today," Alan said, without any preface. He didn't even look up from his papers. It felt odd, standing here still in civilian clothes and waiting for a uniformed handler to judge him. "You deviated from protocol, Parker. Why?"
Because it was easier to beat her and cause her pain than to fuck her while she pretended to enjoy it. Because like that, at least, they'd both known it was fucking wrong what was happening.
"Protocol for her current training phase is to simulate a domestic environment, Sir." Tyler crossed his hands in front of him and looked at the tips of his sneakers, hoping Alan wouldn't watch him too closely. His boss was insanely good at spotting a lie. Tyler could just hope that right now, he wasn't looking for one. "I've read her file and that on her prospective owner's other pet. He'd use pain in a domestic environment. So I prepared her for that."
"Huh." The rustling of paper indicated that Alan had put the file down. He hadn't been reading it anyway, Tyler wagered. Alan was playing mind games, always. And even though Tyler saw it happening, he usually got caught in them anyway. Alan was a master on his playing field.
He remembered, that on their first meeting, he had aspired to be like Alan one day. It felt ages ago. "I appreciate the initiative. Bold move though, to not discuss it with me beforehand." He paused. "Bold move especially, coming from you, Parker."
"I⦠I like to do things right. This, um. This didn't seem bold to me. It was within my scope of decision. I thought."
Alan chuckled quietly. "Well that does sound more like you for sure. Next time, write that reasoning down in your report, too."
Tyler nodded, trying to hide the relief in his voice. "Of course."
"I ordered solitary for her for two days or three. The uncomfortable kind. I think your intuition was right. She needs to take any attention her owner gives her as affection. So we lock her up, let her crave any human touch, and you'll get back to her the day after tomorrow and give her both. Fuck her and hurt her. Fuck her hard. And if she doesn't get it, she'll get one more day of solitary, and we'll try again."
Tyler felt a hard knot in his stomach. Fuck her and hurt her. Again and again and again. That was his job. In contrast to her, he had signed up for it.
Alan didn't seem to register his discomfort. "We have all the time, her prospective is overseas for the next six weeks."
"Good."
It wasn't enough, it seemed, because Alan paused for a moment. "Everything alright, Parker? I'm giving you praise, and a break for today. You're unusually passive about it."
Tyler cleared his throat. "Bad night. Personal, Sir."
"Huh. Don't let it interfere with your work." Alan tilted his head. "I was thinking about filling you in on one of my other cases today. But in that case, let's postpone it. You can go ask Handler Thompson if she's got some work for you while 238 is on hold. Heard her bragging about some special assignment."
Carly. Tyler had to hold back not to grimace. He'd tried to befriend her, in the beginning. Always important to be on good terms with the colleagues, after all. But she was⦠something else. Something he never wanted to be. He should've understood back then, already.
"Sir, maybe I should-"
"Her methods are very different from mine. I don't think highly of her. But you can learn from her nonetheless."
Tyler swallowed. "I⦠Sir, I thought I might just call in sick for the day."
"Huh." Alan raised an eyebrow. "Well. If it's that bad, I guess there's no better day than today either. Good work, in any case." Something fell on his shoulder, and Tyler flinched before he realized it was Alan's hand, in a rare gesture of reassurance. "You're on a good path, Parker. Keep that private life separate from work and vice versa, look closely at how things work in this facility, and your next career move won't take long to come. You have a lot of potential. Use it."
Tyler didn't feel like it.
*
He managed to pull himself together as he left the office. Still in his civilian clothes, he felt the weight of his phone in the pocket of his jeans. He'd go home and call Tara. He'd meet her and come clean with her and he'd convince her to be safe.
"Hey, T!"
Tyler almost flinched when he heard Carly's voice. She was sitting in Alex' office, lounging in the visitor chair with her feet on their desk, pointedly ignoring their eye roll. "Short day, or have you pulled an all nighter with that raunchy trainee of yours? She as flexible as she looks?"
"Very," Tyler said.
Carly grinned. "Too bad your boss doesn't let me touch her. I'd love to give her some... specialty training." She put two fingers to her mouth and finished the gesture with a slow flick of her tongue. As if they wouldn't have understood before.
"Not on her training plan," Alex' voice was flat, almost a little bored, but Tyler still noted some annoyance. "She's in the box today anyway. Tyler is off duty. In contrast to you."
Tyler raised his eyebrows, but didn't inquire, how the hell Alex managed to get their hands on information that quickly.
"Oh, I have plenty time." Carly smirked. "Got my pet lib bitch strung up in a nice little stress position. She's going to be soft as a kitten when I get back with her."
"Technically, she's not pet lib," Alex corrected coldly. "These potential sign-ups she made trouble about, they weren't pets. She's anti WRU. There's a distinction."
"She messed with our business. And she is working with pet lib, I'm sure about that. Two or three hours more with her, and I promise she'll spit out some names."
Tyler leaned to the door frame as casually as he could. He feared his legs would give out. "Who -?"
"002242. Our latest acquisition. Social worker. Seriously interfered with recruitment down town."
'My informant was arrested', Tara's voice echoed in his head. 'WRU recruiters all but hunting homeless kids. Tried to do something about it. Now she's gone.'
He didn't feel well.
"We...," Tyler cleared his throat. "I thought involuntary acquisitions meant custom orders."
"It is a custom order. Internal one. Director Fisher's. He's unhappy with pet lib and anti WRU sentiment in this town. Need to smother some voices, re-educate some others. Luckily, it's just a small number compared to the ones that actually bring us money. Financially, each of these trainees is a disaster. Can't offer them via our website, can't give them to anyone who keeps their pets in public - at least nobody local, and shipping pets overseas is such a hassle."
"Your perspective is so cold, Al." Carly rolled her eyes, ignoring Alex' quiet correction, "Alex."
"Talking like they're objects, not people, with real feelings." She swung her legs off the table to lean in. "Feelings, Al. Pain. Despair. Fucking bleak and hopeless sadness. And that little, devastating moment when they understand that this is it." She all but moaned. "Fuck, I could drink that in with a straw."
She checked her watch and got to her feet. "Time to work on that, I guess. Cheers, Al. T, you coming? I could need a hand."
"Actually, Tyler has signed o-"
"Sure." Tyler talked over Alex, feigning a grin of his own. "Yeah. I'm in."
Carly bumped her fist into his shoulder. "Great, buddy. I promise, working with these assholes before the Drip, it's even better than fucking them later." She let out a chuckle. "And doing it both? Man, that's the real thing. Fuck, I love my job."
I don't, Tyler thought, with the dawning realisation it was far too late for that.
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What would now Chris say to himself when he turned up on the doorstep of Nat's house, all those years ago?
"It doesn't have to hurt. And it's okay that you never wanted to, you don't have to want to. And it's okay to move, or dance, or jump or sing however you want. You deserve your mind and everything it can do, they were wrong to tell you otherwise."
Cw for BBU, pet whump, nudity, referenced caning, referenced noncon/dubcon, but mostly this is relationship drama.
[Masterpost] [Part I] [< Previous] [Next >]
"What the fuck, Gemma?" Mark almost slipped on the wet floor as he lunged forward and caught the cane before it could rain down onto Ira again. "Are you insane?"
His girlfriend's eyes were glistening with tears, salty streaks on her cheeks. She didn't fight when he tugged at the cane, let go off it, and didn't even look down, when he dropped it to the ground.
He held her by the shoulders, fought the urge to shake her. She was trembling, eyes flat and cold, glued onto the naked pet on the bed.
"Thank you," Ira whispered, as if to herself. "Miss... Miss Gemma. Dis..." She gasped. "Dis... ah. Discipline is important for the balance and wellbeing of a pet."
Gemma didn't seem to hear her. "What did you do, Mark?" She asked flatly. "What did you do with my pet, in my bed?"
Mark looked at Ira, at the thin bloody lines over her breast and stomach. She was barely moving now, her breath flat, shoulders shaking. Her eyes were closed, as if she could just hide from the world like this.
She hadn't been like that just minutes before. She'd been good, perfect, without Gemma interfering and making it all about herself.
He'd just taken her, however he pleased - three or four times, he guessed, depending on how one would count it - and after her initial show of acting up she'd played along. She'd enjoyed it, too. Of course she had, it was her single purpose. If Gemma wouldn't give it to Ira, he would.
"The fucking question is what you just did! Did you really beat her up for serving her one single purpose?"
"I asked you not to touch it."
"And yet I did," Mark felt his hands curl into fists. "This is my place, too. You don't get to tell me what to do in my own home."
"I asked you to," she replied stubbornly. "I asked you for one single thing Mark, and that's to keep it in your pants for one afternoon. But I guess I don't mean anything to you."
"I... I fucking get it. You - you're jealous." Mark pushed her at arm's length, stared down at her. "You're jealous that I fucked the pet instead of you?"
"That's not -" Gemma began, but he couldn't bear her flat apathetic voice.
"You want us to have an actual sex life? You know what, try to actually come home from work at night, maybe, or to get rid of this stick you've got shoved up your ass. Maybe treat me like a person instead of a burden? Like I'm actually worth something? Guess what, then I might have wanted to fuck you instead of the dumb pet." He pointed at Ira. "She looks at me like I matter. Like I can be the center of her world, like my touch makes her happy. You? You look at me like you're sorry for me, like you're disappointed that even you, perfect Miss Gemma couldn't fix me."
Gemma still didn't look at him, just at Ira spread on the bed. "She... It said, it said no."
Mark scoffed in disbelief. "Well she's made to be fucking obedient. She said it for you, Gemma, because that dumb pet still finds it in her to love you, and wish to obey you. As if you could be loved. You can't be loved, Gem, but you know what? You deserve her. You can keep her. She's the only one who can stand being with you even if you're the cruel cold controlling bitch that you are. Because I..." He shrugged and stepped back. "I can't."
Gemma's head spun, clear eyes boring into his. "What the... What the heck, Mark. Are you - are you breaking up with me? You? You, the one who did every even remotely possible thing wrong? You have the audacity to think you're the one to break up? No. No, Mark, it's me, I'm in charge, and I -" She brought up her hands in fists, tiny, delicate fists, and he almost laughed at how ridiculous she was. How he couldn've had this little woman keep him prisoner in this relationship for so long.
"You what?" he teased.
The anger boiling up in her was cute to watch. He could see her gaze fly down to the cane. "Oooh, you're going to beat me up? Like you did her? No Gemma, you've lost this one. I'm out." He backed out, a wild thrill rushing down his spine. He was free. He was fucking liberated. It felt fantastic. "Have fun with her. She's amazing with her tongue. And she can make it all just about you, the way you like it, right?"
He grabbed his pants from the floor. Gemma was frozen in place, hands still balled into fists, face contorted between anger and disbelief.
"Fuck you, Gemma," he said softly, as he reached for the doorknob. "And if you feel too good to do it yourself, use her." He wondered, for a moment, if she would. Or if she'd beat her to death, insane as she was. He didn't care, he realized. As long as he was out of this.
"Bye."
He pulled the door shut behind him and stepped out of his life.
For @amonthofwhump 12 days of Whumpmas, here's day 6 - Blackmail. And a little sneak peek at future Dany, after she's free from Ridley. (Or, boss!Dany, as I like to call her).
References the ongoing (explicit) Christmas party arc [On Tumblr] [On Ao3]
As all Dany pieces, this is dedicated to @hackles-up
Thus, cw for referenced past noncon.
[Dany Masterpost]
-
I remember his eyes. Pale green irises, thick, dark eyelashes. Lindsey Manners' eyes are hauntingly beautiful.
In my memories, they're staring down on me, hungry and lustful.
Right now, they are wide with fear.
I enjoy this far more.
I push my chair back from the huge desk and give him a cool smile. I picked a corner office, on the former conference floor. Not the very top floor, where Ridley used to reside. High enough to make an impression, though. "Mrs..." He clears his throat. "Mrs Lordin, before you try and fire me, you must know that -"
I lift an eyebrow. I can guess what he's aiming for. The man is desperate. He's built his whole existence on my husband. This company. My company. He can't lose it.
"Yes?", I prompt. "What is there that I have to know?"
"You can't", he stammers. "You can't fire me. I have... I have videos. Files. Of that party. You wouldn't want those sent to your business partners."
I throw my head back and laugh, first at his bluntness, and then at the confusion spreading over his face at my reaction. "I wouldn't, that's right", I admit. "But..." With a shrug I reach to the picture frame on my desk. Ridley's and my wedding photo, and run my fingers over its rim. It's creepy, how thin I was. I've been free of him for just short of two months now, and already look a lot healthier. "You know, my husband won't exactly leave me for what happened. And whatever traction this would get, I still own a multi-million Dollar Corporation. You however..." I look him down. "You have nothing but your reputation. Maybe, maybe your fiance. Bianca, isn't it? I've had coffee with her. She's lovely."
Lindsey blanches.
"You've been with her for quite a while, haven't you? Starting dating a while before this... party?" I point at the picture of Ridley. "He likes to keep videos, too, you know. That particular one is a favorite of his. Had me watch them often enough. So I do happen to have my own copy of it. You are very well recognizable on it, Lindsey. Every last part of you. And I, your boss' wife, have very, very clearly been drugged, which you don't seem to mind. At all. So. What do you think, which one of us would suffer more from the repercussions of that publication?" With a last look at it, I put the picture frame back on the table, face down.
"I..." He stammers. "You..."
"Fucking whore?", I assist him. "Mh. Yeah. You sure liked to call me that."
"What... What do you want?" He almost chokes on his words.
"I don't want to fire you. That 14 mil project my husband so kindly rewarded you for? That was pretty good work, actually. I want you to continue that. I'll name you head of portfolio management. You'll work your ass of for me, Lindsey. You'll get married this summer, you'll keep my business going, and these videos stay where they are. Here's your new contract." I slide a Manila folder over to him and he puts his hand on it shakily. "I think it's in your best interest to sign."
I place a fountain pen next to the folder and give him a short smile. "I'll be less generous with the bonus, though."
He swallows and licks his lips. For a second I have to fight my nausea. Then he nods, and I manage to keep my smile straight.
Lindsey takes the pen, scribbles down his signatures next to mine and hurries out of the room.
I carefully close the file, align the folders with the table and lean back in my chair.
