Whumpy Fantasy

Photo ID: [A white long legged bird that is wide stepped with the caption "whumpee" on the bird itself and "That" where the bird is reaching out with its foot while the caption on the very top says "Whumper: Don't do that."]

I found this on pinterest and made some small edits and now I'm cackling like a crazy person in my bedroom.

The guard might assume that the prisoner's organization punishes its members in some other way. Maybe using a method that doesn't leave scars? Maybe it's something even more cruel? And if the prisoner denies it, would the guard believe them?

The guard sees that the other organization doesn't use corporal punishment, but they consider it a bad thing. Something that makes its members weaker or less obedient. The guard might even assume that, given how "unprepared" the prisoner is, they won't be able to withstand torture. What if the opposite happens?

Of course, this can also be what pushes the guard to question their organization. It wouldn't be a straightforward process. After all, the guard accepted suffering for their cause, they might've even been ready to die for it. That kind of indoctrination is not easy to shake off.

“Listen, if I pass out…”

“If you let up pressure, I’ll bleed out. So just, don’t move.”

“Listen to me,” A said over screams outside their door. They pulled B close and waited until their eyes met, B’s dilated and wide. For a moment, they could only stare at the loss of color; then B’s parted lips, as if about to protest, or deny any of this was happening.

But there was no denying this.

“They are going to take me,” A continued slowly, “and when they do… they are going to torture me.”

B stiffened and tried to pull away from A’s touch, but A held on; they had to. It wouldn’t be long before silence reigned and the feel of their skin became a bittersweet memory, maybe something to cling to when this all came to an end.

“No,” B said, shaking their head, lungs clenched beneath their ribs making it hard to breathe.

A hesitated, licking their lips. “Eventually, they’re going to make me scream-”

“Please,” B tried to say. Every heartbeat hurt. Every passing second sending jolts of bright, electrifying pain through their veins.

“But no matter what you hear,” A continued with a tone of command, bringing a hand up to the side of their face, “you’re to say nothing to them. Understand?”

B stiffened. The fighting outside was growing fainter—the slaughter coming to an end. How long before their enemies burst into the room? Until they were seperated? Their identities found out?

B held A’s hand tight to their face, unable to stop the tears from falling.

“Understand?” A repeated. Their voice took on a pleading, urgent note.

It wasn’t until B gave a single stiff nod that A let out a sigh of relief.

Behind the barricaded door, the sound of heavy footsteps and armor rushed toward them.

A brushed B’s tears away, leaning close to press their lips to the top of their brow as B flung their arms around A, clutching them close.

Light flared bright beneath the crack of the door, a flash briefer than lightening, there and gone in a blink. Next came the sound, deafening and obliterating, a giant boom that shook the room, throwing them back.

A voice came from directly in front of him, accompanied by a hand tilting his chin upwards. “Are you ready to behave, boy?”

They know it’s going to be the most painful thing imaginable. The white bolt of agony shooting through their flesh, and the Whumper’s sigil being permanently etched into their skin until the day they die - a grim reminder that the sick villain has claimed them as their own.

But as Whumper is about to reach Whumpee, something happens. Whumper accidentally drops the branding iron onto the hard stone floor. The tool is old and brittle, and it snaps in half from the impact.

For a moment, Whumpee feels a surge of hope. Maybe they won’t have to endure this particular pain after all, or at least they’ll have some more time to prepare. However, the hope is immediately quashed by Whumper’s next words.

“Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to rely on my own handiwork instead.”

“You?” Master asked incredulously.

Theo shook his head, opening his mouth to make this right but Raiken stepped in again, cutting Theo off before he could even whisper.

“Yes master. It was me.”

“I’m disappointed. You were supposed to be a good one.” Master glanced to the side and then back to Raiken, his eyes gleaming with malice. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you your lesson then won’t I?”

Theo stood shocked, terrified for Raiken. Raiken wasn’t the one to blame. He shouldn’t be the one getting this punishment. Especially when it was Theo that had broken the number one rule: Don’t scream while downstairs.

Theo had just been so frustrated. He couldn’t take it anymore and he’d let out an angry yell.

He immediately regretted it, looking at Raiken with fear in his eyes.

When master came down for punishment, Theo was ready to take it like a good slave. But now…

“Kneel.” Master held out his hand and a servant produced a whip. Theo’s heart raced as Raiken knelt on the floor, back to Master. He was visibly trembling now.

“You will receive ten lashes and you will count with me. Scream and I’ll add five more. Cry and I’ll add 10. Refuse to count and you won’t survive. Understand?”

Raiken nodded, a small movement of his head, barely noticeable. Theo stared in horror from the corner of the room. This was happening because of him. Because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

Master reeled back, whip unfolding on the floor behind him. Theo choked on his fear, his fists clenching and unclenching with indecision. He should be the one under the lash. Not Raiken. But if he intervened now? Raiken would just be punished more for lying. Theo prayed that Raiken could follow Masters instructions.

The whip came down hard right down the middle of Raiken’s back, slashing a bright red line right through the pale unmarried skin. Raiken clenched his eyes shut, a raspy “1” coming from behind his gritted teeth.

Raiken’s hands were wrapped around each other tightly in a ball, his knuckles white with the force of it.

The whip came down again Theo flinched hard. He wanted to close his eyes but he couldn’t. He deserved to watch this.

Poor Raiken, so tense Theo thought he would snap, whispered the number 2. No tears fell. No screams escaped.

Master was relentless. Back to back, strike after strike, Raiken was forced to count and to suffer through the punishment that hadn’t even been his to take. It wasn’t until Master got to nine that Raiken broke. A whimper escaped him and Theo held his breath in fear.

Masters face contorted into a sickening smile and Theo’s stomach dropped.

“I believe that is five more to your punishment slave.”

Raiken hung his head, his chest heaving with every breath. Theo could see the barely contained tears on the brim of his eyes and hoped to god that Raiken didn’t let them fall.

The whip came down once more, harder than before and Raiken bit his lip to hide his scream. Theo could see a small trail of blood dripping down his chin and he had to hold in his gag.

Again, the whip slashed through flesh, bringing blood to the surface where it flowed freely and fell to a puddle on the floor. Theo could no longer breathe, his chest too tight.

“13”

“14”

“15”

“16”

On the last slash, Raiken opened his mouth in a silent scream, face morphed into one of pure agony. He was gripping his thighs so hard that Theo was sure he’d see bruises there later.

“I hope you learned your lesson slut. You,” Master said, pointing to a quivering and terrified Theo still standing in the corner. “Get him cleaned up. And clean up your cage, it’s a mess.”

With that, Master left, bloody whip in hand. When the footsteps were gone, Theo rushed over to where Raiken wobbled dangerously to one side.

Theo fell to his knees in front of Raiken, his hands caressing Raiken’s face in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

“Oh my god Raiken why did you do that? Look at you! Oh my god oh my god!”

Raiken’s tears fell then. Streams of water leaving streaks down his face. His face crumpled and he fell forward into Theo’s arms. Theo tucked Raiken’s head into the space between his shoulder and his neck, running his hands through Raiken’s hair and trying to ignore the dark blood coating his back.

“I’m so sorry Raiken.”

******

“I… don’t know if that’s normal.”

“Please, I’m begging you -”