there’s no getting out

"500?" the auctioneer yelled, and Whumpee opened their eyes. Nobody in the crowd was really paying them any mind. They were the last servant of the evening to be sold, and most of the guests already had a servant by their side that they'd purchased. The ones who didn't — well, they weren't interested in Whumpee either. "450!"

Great, they were lowering the price even further. Whumpee's legs were shaking from having been up and working all day, only to then be led to the auction where they had to stand for as long as the others were sold. They longed for the uncomfortable wooden chairs of the tavern.

"450?"

Whumpee glanced at their handler, and they got a glare in response. They would get the biggest cut of the sale, and the further the price went down, the less they would get. Whumpee looked away as quickly as they'd glanced at them, down at the floor. Their bare feet were bony and deformed from having spent so much of their time walking back and forth.

"400!"

They knew what happened to servants that didn't get sold. They'd never personally seen it before, but they knew. They'd seen their handler come back with patches of blood on their shirt, they'd heard the rumours, they knew they never saw someone from previous auctions ever again.

"300," someone finally yelled from the crowd. Whumpee risked a glance up at them. They were middle-aged, with hair down to their shoulders, in clothing that was quite unassuming. They didn't look cruel. If anything, it looked like they were trying to save Whumpee from the fate of an unwanted servant.

But would the auctioneer accept such a low bid?

When Whumpee looked at them, they looked a little taken aback. The whole night, the prices had only gone up, not down. The auctioneer exchanged a glance with Whumpee's handler, and when their handler nodded, they turned back towards the crowd. "300! Once, twice…" Whumpee held their breath. "Sold!"

Whumpee was grabbed by their handler and dragged off the stage, and they followed clumsily. "Lucky, aren't you?" their handler sneered.

"I'm sorry," Whumpee said, as though they had any power over the bidding process. They felt like they'd robbed their handler by being such a bad, useless servant.

"300 is still money, I suppose. Do not embarrass me. Do everything the way your master wants, be quiet, be docile. You know the rules. If they bring you back and ask for their money back, I will personally wring your neck."

Whumpee had no doubt about that. "I will do my best," they said quietly.

They finally arrived at the table where Whumpee's new master sat. "Whumpee, was it?" their master asked.

"Yes," they said meekly.

"My name is Carewhumper, I—"

"Money first, introductions later," Whumpee's handler cut in rudely. Carewhumper sighed and reached into their pocket, pulling out a purse with more than enough money to pay for Whumpee. They took out some coins, counting them carefully, not wanting to pay more for a no-good servant than they absolutely had to. Once they handed over the money, Whumpee's handler was gone. Not even a goodbye.

"I'm sorry you had to pay for me," Whumpee said, eyes downcast. "I will do everything I can to make your purchase worth it."

Collin jerked to attention. He must have dozed off, now Marshall was standing at the door, an amused expression playing on his face. Collin forced himself to stand. If that prick came within reach of his chains he'd have a fight on his hands. Blue enveloped his vision and black stars danced across his eyes, and he had to plant his feet to keep the dizziness from bowling him over.

``Woah there!'' said Marshall, ``You're looking a little unsteady on your feet, Chase. Maybe if you'd done what I asked earlier you'd be in better condition.'' The jab stung while Matt was in the room. Matt, who'd been strung up alongside Collin because of Marshall's mind games. I'm not your enemy. Collin wanted to say, he's our enemy. He's the one doing this to us. ``The good news is,'' Marshall continued, ``I'm giving you an opportunity to make it up to me. Are you gonna heel, or do I have to drag you?''

Collin put his fists up, eyes narrowing.

``So stubborn. I can't wait to see you break.''

Collin had expected Marshall to go straight for him, but at the last second he dived to the side, grabbing the chain that attached Collin loosely to the wall. Both hands were on the chain, with about a metre of slack between them. Before Marshall could use the tether to unbalance him, Collin sprang forward and hit him with a right hook. Marshall stumbled, blindsided, and Collin used the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. They wrestled, but Collin could feel himself losing the upper hand. He hadn't been hit, but the effort of the fight was making sparks dance before his eyes, his body weak and uncoordinated. Marshall ended up on Collin's back, the chain winding around his neck above the collar. Collin wheezed as it was pulled tight, desperately clawing at the unforgiving metal digging into his skin.

``Another bruise for your collection. You're gonna make a pretty picture, Chase. I might have to take some photos to show you off.''

Collin panicked as his body truly started giving in. Marshall was crushing him, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think anything more than RUN RUN RUN GET OUT I'M GONNA DIE IT HURTS I CAN'T BREATHE HELP ME! His thrashing was getting weaker. He could barely feel his fingers. He was falling into a long tunnel.

``Stop, you're gonna kill him!''

Blood rushed back to Collin's brain, the chain loosening, clinging to him like a silent threat. His head felt like it was full of bees. The world was swimming.

``Relax. I'm done. He'll be fine.''

``You could have killed him!'' Matt was terrified. But he was angry too. That was a novelty, Collin supposed, as he tried to get his bearings.

``Very easily.'' Marshall agreed. What was he agreeing to? Collin had lost track. ``Can you hear me, Chase?'' Marshall pulled on the chain. Collin bucked, making a muffled protest behind the muzzle. ``Good, good. I was telling Matt how easily I could have killed you.'' Collin felt his arms being tied together behind his back. ``Are you done wasting time?'' Collin refused to respond. He was hauled through the door, chains clanging as Marshall dragged him through the halls of the basement. Finally he was dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Marshall bustled around him while Collin regained enough strength to sit up and glare. He was in some kind of dining room. Unlike the whipping room, this one was furnished. The walls were cream plaster rather than concrete. The table and chairs were wood. Warm yellow light illuminated the scene. It was almost homey.

``You look hungry.'' Marshall said. Collin's head whipped around to glare at him, causing another wave of sparks and dizziness to come over him. Marshall laughed. ``Just sayin'. Looks like you could do with a pick-me-up.'' He reached into one of the cupboards and produced a steaming bowl of spaghetti. Canned, by the looks of it, but still, Collin's mouth watered. Marshall lowered it to Collin's eyeline, letting the smell waft over him, before withdrawing.

``There are some strings attached. In a moment, I'm going to grab Matt and bring him to another room. Remember how I said you two have to share everything? That includes food.'' Collin's stomach audibly growled. Marshall laughed. Collin's face heated. He glared harder, refusing to break eye contact.

``It's okay. You'll have a chance to win the whole bowl fair and square. Look up there.'' Collin refused to look where Marshall was pointing. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid mind games. Collin noted with some satisfaction that his punch from earlier had left a mark, Marshall's cheekbone was pink and swollen. It would probably bruise. Marshall grabbed Collin by the hair and turned his head to a corner of the ceiling. There was a camera there. Collin wondered if there were cameras in every room of the basement.

``That thing is recording us right now. I'm going to leave the room, and you're going to get into some cute poses.'' He thought for a second. ``I wonder if the restraints are unfair… they'll restrict what you can do, but they make you look pretty pathetic on their own. If I take them off, you'd better go the extra mile to make it worth it.''

Collin shook his head.

``No? Your choice. Anyway, Matt's going to get the same instructions, and the one of you who gives me prettier pictures gets to eat.''

More mind games. More attempts to pitt Collin and Matt against each other. Only the stinging, throbbing pain in his neck stopped Collin from starting another fight.

``Well I'll leave you to it. You have five minutes, then it's Matt's turn. I'd try hard if I were you, you look like you need the food. And,'' He leaned in close, almost whispering in Collin's ear, ``Of the two of you he's my favourite.'' With that, he left, locking the door behind him.

***

A few minutes after Collin had been dragged away, Marshall returned alone. ``Follow me.''

The rest of the basement was in sharp contrast to the whipping room, with its concrete everything and hanging chains. It followed the same design scheme as the house above, cream plaster walls, warm lighting, occasional pictures hanging on the walls depicting the countryside and barn animals. Only the floor was concrete. There were metal rails embedded in it, which the end of Matt's chain lead had been slotted into. He could move sort of freely around the basement, but the rails ended at the stairs, so there was no way up and out. He was just glad he had enough slack to stand. He followed Marshall through the halls into a quaint kitchenette. Marshall pulled a chair out from the small table.

``Sit.''

Matt did. Marshall moved out of his line of sight, doing something in the kitchen.

``You're not going to eat me, because you would have cut me up in the other room.'' said Matt. Marshall laughed at his lame half-joke.

``That's not what I got you for.''

``What...'' Matt didn't want to repeat those words. ``Why am I here?''

``I was hoping we could have dinner together.'' said Marshall.

``Is that why you kidnapped me?''

``Partly.''

The hum of a microwave. When Matt heard the door open he was hit with the scent of spaghetti. It smelled like the most amazing thing in the world.

``Where's...'' Matt didn't want to call Collin by the name Marshall had given him. He didn't want to get whipped again either. ``Is he okay?''

``Who, Chase? He's fine.'' Matt startled as a hand landed on his head, but it didn't hurt him, just carded possessively through his hair. The spaghetti was placed in front of him. ``Are you hungry?''

``Yeah. Thanks.'' said Matt. He reached for the bowl, but it was pulled away across the table before he could grab it.

``You'll get to eat, but first you need to do something for me.'' said Marshall. ``You see that camera in the corner? Yeah, that one. It's recording us right now. I'm going to leave the room, and you'll have five minutes to give the camera some cute poses I can put on my wall. Say… five of them? If you can do that, I'll let you eat.''

Matt bit his lip. Of course it wouldn't be for free. He glanced at the camera, then back at Marshall. He was so hungry.

``You're asking for… sexual poses.''

``It's cute that's where your mind went. They don't have to be sexual. Humiliating, maybe? Something you think I'd like. Get creative.''

Marshall left. There was no clock on the wall to indicate time passing. Five minutes. Five poses. Fuck. His heart was beating out of his chest. He knelt down, putting his hands behind his back. His head tilted down slightly, but looking up through his lashes at the camera. That was one. Marshall had said he didn't want sexual poses, but… that was clearly a lie. It was the same thing he'd done with Collin while they were being whipped. He'd made the whip less painful, making sure the compliance came from Collin, not just from an involuntary reaction. How much time had passed? Matt needed to keep going.

***

Collin had, of course, not done as Marshall had asked. Marshall had huffed in amusement when he entered the room to see Collin, still gagged and bound, lounging on one of the chairs, feet resting on the dining table. It was uncomfortable, especially on his bound arms and whipped back, so he had been hoping for a bit more. A rage. A flicker of annoyance at the sight of Collin's running sneakers dirtying the table.

``You've made your choice, then,'' said Marshall, taking a seat next to him. He casually pushed Collin's feet off the table. Collin decided not to care. ``I guess the win will go to Matt by default. Unless he also just sits on his ass, acting like I don't literally own his life.''

Collin rolled his eyes.

``Let's have a look, shall we?'' Marshall pulled out his phone. It showed the video feed in another room of the basement. Matt was in there. He had the collar locked around his neck, but was otherwise free. He was bent over the small table, hands on the back of his head. Collin could see the pixelated stripes of pink and red that covered his naked back. As they watched, Matt got up from the position, ringing his hands, as if wondering what to do next. Marshall took the phone away before he could decide.

``Looks like your cellmate doesn't share your convictions. Do you want to see more? I've got three other poses on video, and he's really going for it. I guess he was hungry.''

Collin scowled. Inwardly, he kicked himself for feeling this way. For feeling betrayed. Of course, Matt had no reason to believe that Collin wasn't also giving it his all in this competition. But he'd hoped, for a second, that they'd both refuse to eat at the expense of the other. He'd hoped that Matt, who seemed so distraught when Marshall had been choking him, wouldn't so eagerly debase himself for a game so obviously unfair. He'd hoped he wasn't alone. He was hungry, cold, exposed, silenced, and his one potential ally was weak willed enough to humiliate himself and starve Collin for a bowl of fucking spaghetti.

``Sorry it wasn't what you were hoping for. I chose Matt specially. I know he's never going to be of use to you. Only to me.''

***

Marshall stopped just before a new door, and grabbed Matt's arm with bruising strength. ``One more rule. Chase refused to earn his dinner, so he doesn't get to eat. If you say one word to him while we're in this room, I will beat him until he can't move and chain him outside for the night. Do you understand?''

Matt shuddered. Of course Collin hadn't followed his orders. His will was so strong. The bowl of spaghetti felt heavy in Matt's hands. Proof of how weak he was. He couldn't let Collin be punished further. ``Yeah. I understand.''

``Good.''

Marshall unlocked the door and pushed Matt through first with a heavy hand on the back of his neck, locking the door behind them. Collin was sitting in one of the chairs, his hands still restrained behind his back. Fresh red bruises ringed his neck, ugly and obvious. He looked up abruptly when Matt was pushed into the room, eyes catching on the bowl of spaghetti. He looked up to Matt's eyes, emotions flashing across his face. Surprise, hurt, anger, disgust. Matt couldn't meet his gaze.

``I don't know what you were finding so hard, Chase. Matt managed just fine.'' said Marshall. Matt's face burned with shame as Marshall brought him to a stop at the head of the table.

``You can put that down now, Matt.'' Still refusing to look at Collin, Matt set the bowl down on the table.

``That's an interesting choice.'' said Marshall. His hand was still on the back of Matt's neck, pressing with just a bit of force. Fingers resting on his pulse. ``Chase seems to think he deserves to sit at the table. You know better, don't you?''

Matt stilled. He knew what Marshall was implying. He waited, hoping to be proven wrong. Marshall's voice was quiet and intense in his ear.

``You know what you are. You know where you belong. Eat or don't, you've already given me the pictures to prove it.''

Matt drew breath. ``What do you want?'' Please not this. Marshall's tone was hard, mocking.

``Are you stupid? I want you to eat off the floor.''

Matt turned to meet his gaze, hoping it was a joke. Marshall was deadly serious. He could feel Chase--Collin, don't forget--Collin's eyes boring into him as he picked up the bowl and went to his knees, placing it on the ground with a quiet `clink' that seemed to echo off the concrete floor. He looked up at Marshall, who's gaze was appraising. He lifted one eyebrow. Hesitantly, Matt lowered his face to the steaming bowl. The smell of spaghetti was hot as it overwhelmed his senses. He was so desperate to eat.

He thought back to the night he'd been kidnapped. It would be so much easier if Collin hadn't interrupted, if he could suffer this humiliation without the judgement of someone with a stronger will. It would be so much easier. Why couldn't Collin have just walked away when he had the chance?

After so many hours of empty hunger, it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. It was difficult to eat, the collar was tight enough to choke him slightly when he bent over, and it was hard to get his lips to the food without sticking his nose in too. Nonetheless, he managed to finish the bowl. At some point, Marshall had sat down in the seat Matt had tried to take, making casual, one sided conversation with Collin.

``Finally. It looked like you needed that.'' said Marshall. ``See, Chase? It's not that hard. Maybe you'll get fed next time. I hope you learn before you starve.''

Matt was yanked to standing by his hair. Stumbling, he caught himself, too late to avoid Collin's eye. The look on his face made him feel sick, the food now threatening to resurface. It was a look of horror, fury, betrayal. It wasn't directed at Marshall; it was directed at Matt. How dare you be what he wants. How dare you be so weak. How dare you make me watch.

``I'm sorry.'' Matt gasped. He froze. He'd just spoken. Was it obvious he'd been talking to Collin? Luckily, Marshall seemed to take the apology for himself.

``Don't apologise,'' said Marshall, ``You're both learning, aren't you? You've set such a good example.''

Matt squeezed his eyes shut against tears. He didn't deserve to cry.

***

They were back in the whipping room. Collin's collar had been chained to the back wall, his arms still restrained behind him. Matt was attached to the rails in the floor, hands free. Before Marshall left, he chucked a set of keys on the ground. They clattered and slid, stopping at Matt's feet.

``You can give Chase a break from the muzzle if you want. I'm not treating any bites, though.''

``Okay.'' said Matt, softly.

Marshall tilted his head slightly. ``Let's have a bit of class, Matt. When a child has to clean his room he says `okay'. When your owner,'' --The word sent a shiver down Matt's spine-- ``Gives you an opportunity, you say…?''

``Yes, Marshall.''

``Better. I'll see you in the morning.''

Matt picked up the keys. Collin glared at him as he approached.

``Is it okay if I…'' asked Matt. Collin gave a short nod, and let Matt gently guide his head down, exposing the back of his neck and the lock of the muzzle. He brushed the blond hair out of the way of the lock, feeling Collin suppress a shiver, and slid the key in. The muzzle was tugged off Collin's face, and he gasped in relief as the rubber bit came out of his mouth, followed by a trail of saliva. Footsteps echoed as Matt took several steps back, giving him space to breathe. A tense silence followed. Matt broke it.

``I'm really sorry. I didn't know it would be like that.''

``You didn't know I'd have to watch?'' Collin's voice was clumsy from misuse. He stretched his jaw.

``No.'' said Matt. ``I didn't. I guess I should have expected you to… not do what he wanted.''

``I'm not gonna roll over and take it.'' said Collin, sharply. Shame heated Matt's face.

``I just-'' Matt didn't know how to finish the sentence. ``I didn't want to starve.''

``Neither did I.'' said Collin.

Matt didn't say anything. Collin was so angry at him, just for trying to survive. Like it was him and not Marshall forcing them to make these choices.

``I don't want to be your enemy,'' Matt attempted, ``Obviously we're different people. Your way is great, like, heroic even, maybe. I just don't know if I can handle it. If I have to- to act like how he sees me to get through the day, I'll get through the day. I can unpack it in therapy once I'm out of here or something. That doesn't make me his pet forever.''

``That's exactly how he wants you to think.'' said Collin, ``If you give him an inch he'll take a mile. The only way we can fight against him is by showing him we won't break. That his methods won't work on us. That's the only power we have.''

``Or the power to pick our battles,'' muttered Matt.

``Whatever. He's obviously trying to make us hate each other. If you keep fucking talking it's gonna work.''

Collin turned his head away from Matt, which was as close as he could get to storming out of the room while being tied to the wall. Matt walked to the other side of the cell and slumped against the wall. Even with food in his stomach, he could tell it was gonna be another cold night.

Previous - Masterlist - Next Author's note: Thank you all for reading and waiting! This was a big one which is probably why it took so long, but I was soooo excited for this idea I had to do it. Thanks for sticking around. Let me know if you see any errors. Tumblr hates my weird formatting and often will make my writing illegible but I think I caught everything before publish this time. Yay! Tag list: @notlikeothernurses @hiddencowboybarbarian @chaotic-orphan