#winchesterdhr

“Get in there, and shut up.”

Finn grunted as he was rather rudely shoved into the interrogation room by the guard. The room was large and empty, save for a pair of chains with metal cuffs dangling from the ceiling, and a table against the far wall of the room. The wall to his left had a large mirror on it, and unbeknownst to him at the moment, his dad was on the other side of it, forced to watch everything that was about to happen. 

He turned to glare at the man once he closed the door behind himself. “What the fuck is going on!?” he demanded. “I didn’t even do anything this time, I swe––” Smack! 

Finn’s head snapped to the side from the force of the larger man’s slap. He stayed still for a moment before bringing a hand up to his reddening cheek.

“Shut. Up. You stupid slave,” the guard growled, grabbing Finn by the hair roughly and jerking his head so he was now glaring up at the guard. “You do not get to talk unless you are given permission. Do you understand? Nod your head, boy.” Finn scowled, but nodded his head. “Now we can get you set up properly.” 

The asset let out a small yelp as the guard dragged him over to the dangling set of chains by his hair, and wasted no time in lifting his arms above his head and cuffing his wrists. Finn was now facing towards the mirror in the room, glaring at the guard’s reflection as he watched him light up a cigarette behind him. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of smoke filled the room, but his eyes went wide when he watched the man pull a knife out from his belt. 

“Don’t move,” the man hissed in his ear, pressing the point of the blade into the small of his back. “Or I may end up cutting you instead.” Finn swallowed thickly, nervousness written all over his face as the man got to work, first cutting into the back of his plaid over-shirt and tearing it open down the middle. For the next minute or two, the room was filled with the sound of ripping fabric as the guard cut and tore away at the sleeves of his over-shirt, and then went to removing the t-shirt underneath. Soon enough, Finn was left standing there shirtless, the tattered remains of his clothes scattered around his feet. 

The guard circled around him, blowing smoke into his face as he gave him a crooked smirk and patted his hip. “I’d cut these off ya too, slut, but I don’t think your dad really wants or needs to see that much of you. By the way, he’s in there,” the man cocked his head, gesturing towards the mirror on the wall before he moved away from the blond, grab something off the table and went back behind Finn. “He’s going to be watching all this on the other side. Oh, and he’s the reason you’re here, actually. Seems daddy dearest couldn’t keep his mouth shut, so Killian thought the best punishment for him would be watching what we can do to his kids and that little fuck buddy thing he has.”

All while the guard was talking, Finn was watching him fasten what appeared to be an ordinary black collar around his neck. However, the collar felt a bit heavier than a normal one, but he didn’t think too much of it until he heard a faint “beep” and then...

“Aaahh!” he cried out, his body writhing and jerking as the collar delivered painful electric shocks. He stood there, panting and chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “C’‘mon man...” he gasped out. “This...this isn’t fair–– aaaahhhh, stooopp!” 

“Life isn’t fair, Finny boy,” the man said with a sigh, pocketing the remote in his hand for now as he moved back to the table, picking up a new item. He stood behind Finn, trailing his fingers over his spine as he paused to think on what to do next. “Hm. How old is your father, Finn?” He took another drag from his cigarette before taking it out of his mouth, pressing it into the back of Finn’s left shoulder and pulling out a pained hiss of breath from the asset. The guard didn’t seem phased by this at all as he continued speaking. “You’d better answer correctly, boy. I know the answer from reading your dad’s file. If you answer incorrectly, I will shock you again.” 

Finn grit his teeth and furrowed his brows, staring right at the mirror as he tried to remember just how old his dad was. God damn it, why was he so shit at remembering how old his parents were? He shut his eyes, trying to think. Okay, he remembered that his dad had been around twenty three or twenty four when he had been born, and he was twenty two now, so–– “Beep!”

“Aaaah, fuck, stoppit, stoppit! Please!” Finn yelled, jerking around as he was shocked once again. 

“Tsk, tsk, you were taking too long to answer.”

“I was...th-thinking,” he panted before flinching and crying out again when the guard shocked him once more. 

“It shouldn’t be that hard of an answer, kid. Now, answer the fucking question, and I’ll lay off the electricity. How old is your dad?” 

“Forty six! He’s forty six!” Finn blurted out, tensing up with his eyes squeezed shut as he waited for another wave of shocks to come. After a few seconds of nothing, he was pleasantly surprised when they didn’t, and he let out a relieved breath, lowering his head. 

“Very good, that’s the correct answer,” the guard hummed, taking his cigarette out from between his teeth. “Now, let’s round that up to an even fifty, and that’s how many lashes you’ll be taking with the whip.” 

“Wh-What?” Finn’s bright blue eyes went wide and he lifted his head, but he didn’t get much time to prepare as the guard unfurled the whip in his hand and snapped it against his bare back with a loud “crack!” as the tail of the whip met his skin. Finn cried out, jerking forward out of reflex and clenching his fists. Holy fuck, that hurt. He could feel his skin and nerves practically burning from where the whip had touched him. Unfortunately he didn’t get much time to focus on it because the guard was setting his shock collar off once again, getting him to scream out. 

“Come on, you dumb bitch,” the man sneered. “You’ve been here long enough, you should know by now that you’re expected to count, and that was only number one. Every time you forget to count, or if you mess up, you’ll get shocked, and we’ll start all over from the beginning again. I don’t care if you end up losing all the skin on your back, you will get it right. Hopefully you can get it on the damn first try. Now, from the top, boy.” 

The guard raised the whip and brought it down on Finn’s back again with another echoing “crack!” He cried out, his back arching as he tried to ignore the intense stinging pain. Shit, wait, he still had to–– “Beep!”

“Aaaahhh, one! Oneoneoneone, pleasestop!” 

“Aah, you did remember. I’ll let that one slide. I know you haven’t had much experience with a whip before. But you won’t be getting any more warnings, kid. If you don’t call out a number within five seconds, we’ll be starting over. Now, this one’s two. Keep count, bitch.” 

“Aah! Shhhhitttt, t-two...” 

It went on like that for at least another half hour, the whip cracking and Finn’s cries and counting filling the room. He’d ended up miscounting at fourteen, and had to start over. By the end of it, his back was covered in angry red, bleeding cuts going in two different diagonal directions, forming the shape of an “X,” on his lightly tanned skin like he’d been clawed mercilessly by some animal. His shoulders and arms were burning from being in this position for so long, and his voice was hoarse from all the yelling. Lined up perfectly across the back of his shoulders and base of his neck, the guard had marked Finn with his cigarette, leaving at least seven burn marks in his flesh. He did that in an attempt to get the asset to speak up when he started losing his voice around number 28 or so. 

Finn was practically hanging from the chains holding him up now, his head lowered with drops of sweat beading down his forehead. He was panting heavily, trying to catch his breath and hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He refused to give the man any satisfaction in that. Fuck, his back felt like it was fire, and he was pretty certain that if Preston saw it, there would be one hell of a fit. 

“Mm, isn’t that pretty,” the guard mused as he ran a finger over one of the marks, making the slave flinch and let out a noise of discomfort. “Oh, relax, kid. These things are nothing. They’re not that deep, and they’ll heal with minimal scarring in a couple weeks. I’m following Killian’s rule on no permanent damage.” He circled round Finn again, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips. “You take the whip rather nicely, bitch.” 

“Fuck you,” Finn growled, curling his upper lip at the guard and spitting at his feet. He was about to realize that that was a bad idea real soon. He cried out as the guard grabbed his hair and roughly jerked his head up and back, his lips coming close to his ear. 

“You little shit, you were so close to being done,” he snarled. “But your mouth just cost you. You and your dad both should realize that when you run your mouth, it only gets you in trouble.” The man pulled away, taking his knife back out from his belt and grinning wickedly into the room Dylan was sitting in as he held the sharp blade up for everyone to see. “I think you need to be reminded of what you, your dad, and your brother all are now. And this is the best way to do it.” 

Finn wasn’t given much time to even ask what that was supposed to mean, because the guard was now pressing the sharp blade against his abdomen, drawing blood, and slowly cutting across the skin before changing direction with the knife. His eyes went wide, and he let out a cry, trying to squirm and kick away the guard. 

“Don’t move,” he hissed, drawing back the knife. “Squirming around will not only make me cut too deep, but it’ll get you even more punishment.” 

Finn stilled after the threat, not at all doubting that this man would make this whole thing worse with one wrong move. The guard wasted no time in getting back to work, pressing the knife into his stomach and cutting away into the first layer of skin. The blond had no idea what this guy was doing, but he was taking his sweet time and god, did it hurt. 

“Please...” he rasped. “Please...stop...” 

“Shh, I’m almooooosssttt done––there. That should do it. Some of my best work, actually. These aren’t as deep as they could be, so they’ll heal with minimal scarring in a couple weeks. But for now, it should do a good job of reminding you to watch your fucking mouth.” 

When the man stepped away from him, Finn was able to see just what he had been working on for the past ten minutes, and the sight nearly made him sick. Etched in large, sharp red letters across his stomach, the guard had written “SLAVE” into his skin, blood trickling down from the new wound. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a little whimper and a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks as he just stared helplessly at his reflection.