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I’m a sucker for whumpees with scarred backs.
The criss-crossing lines, evidence of torn flesh and burns, layer upon layer of scar tissue built up until the original skin is essentially gone. The reveal when they take their shirt off. How it stands as a testament to their suffering. Mmmm.
Brutal whump idea:
A large ring pierced through Whumpee’s mouth, below their tongue and straight through their jaw. A chain hooked to that, and used to drag them around like on a leash, tugging whenever they’re moving too slow.
Not only the pain, but it works as a permanent gag. Maybe it goes through their tongue as well. They can’t speak right. They can’t eat. Any sound comes out as a pathetic whine. They can’t close their mouth, maybe their hands are bound behind them so they can do nothing about the blood and saliva dripping down their chin.
The only thing that matters is that they certainly won’t be mouthing off to Whumper again.
tw: drugging
a defiant whumpee trying to claw at whumper’s arms in protest as their body reacts to the sedative that was just injected into them. they can only muster aggravated, painful groans and whimpers as whumper cards a hand through their hair.
“shh, my love… don’t fight it,” they whisper, guiding their captive to lay back down.
CW: Blood, Amputation
"From now on, you will do as I say if you value your life." Whumper snarled menacingly.
"I'm nice though, so I'll give you ten chances. Your first order is this: kneel before me."
Whumpee stared defiantly from the floor where they lay crumpled. They sneered at their captor, narrowing their eyes.
"Oh, yes, you're so nice, kidnapping me and everything. Real stand-up behaviour from you there!" They spat, eyes darkening, "I will never follow your commands, you monster."
Whumper's aura of confidence shifted to one of slight frustration, glaring at Whumper like they were a particularly petulant child.
"Fine, you want to test your boundaries? I know mutts like you tend to do that under new masters." They grabbed Whumpee harshly by the wrist, yanking them over to a wooden table hidden in the shadowy corner of the room. There, they strapped Whumpee's hand in place by the wrist, palm down, tightening the leather buckle they used until their captive's flesh burnt red from pressure. They then locked it shut, to prevent any unwanted tampering.
"Ten chances, I suppose one of those would end up being wasted on a learning experience hm?" Whumper mused light-heartedly, rummaging through a storage box next to the table. Whumpee took the time to experimentatively pull against the strap, working the buckle with their hand.
"Oh, I'd move that other hand out of the way if I were you!"
Before Whumpee could fully grasp what that could mean, Whumper spun around, cleaver knife in hand. Quick as a flash they grabbed the little finger on Whumpee's restrained hand, pulled it away from the rest of them, and brough the cleaver down on it with a sickening crunch.
For a second, Whumpee felt nothing. Then, the white hot pain hit them with the force of a truck, and they screamed like a wild animal, their body going limp as they fell to their knees in agony.
Whumper doused the nub left behind in a sterile saline solution, tightly wrapping it in gauze, halting the bleeding. They picked up the quickly cooling amputated finger and crouched down, holding it in Whumpee's face.
"That's one chance gone, ok? I'm sure you understand not to waste the remaining nine."
Whumpee weakly nodded.