*sigh* very well.

Aaa sorry I should’ve had this done like three hours ago but instead of finishing it I took a nap

Cw: manhandling, noncon touching, captivity (mild chapter, more of a set up for the next few)

What laid behind the door was… not at all what Bee was expecting. That being said, they weren’t entirely sure what they had been expecting—perhaps another room full of torturous items, or maybe just an empty space but…

This just seemed like a normal, dirty bedroom. By dirty, Bee meant that it looked as if no one had been in there in years. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, illuminated by a thin ray of light that slipped through the boarded up window.

A dresser was pushed against one wall, plain and wooden, with a few of the drawer handles missing.

“You’re lucky I’m not keepin’ you in the basement,” Friend sighed, pushing Bee into the room. They stumbled a bit, bracing themself against the bed to keep from falling.

It was small, covered in a moth-eaten quilt. A small cloud of dust rose as they disrupted the blanket, and a moment later Bee sneezed.

Without another word, Friend slammed the door shut. Bee cringed as it locked with a click.

They glanced around the room, looking for anything they may have missed. The floorboards groaned under their feet as they walked over to the dresser, and began to search through the drawers. Empty, empty, empty, empty. They were all empty.

Bee didn’t know what they were expecting. Of course they were empty. Maybe they had been hoping that there was a hammer stashed away in the bottom drawer, or perhaps a crowbar. Something they could use to pry the boards from the window and run free.

Bee limped across the room, and peered through the gap in the boards. It was small, maybe two inches wide, and gave them a view directly into an overgrown garden. Their brows furrowed as they examined the wild flowers and ivy. It didn’t seem like something Friend would plant.. no, they didn’t seem like a flower kind of person at all.

Had…someone lived here before Friend? Bee glanced back around the room.

It had the potential to be a nice, cozy little cottage house. A few fresh coats of paint, and a thorough cleaning, and the cabin might have actually been a nice place to live.

Minus the torture chamber in the basement, of course.

Bee hobbled over to the bed, wobbling uncertainly as their knees threatened to buckle. They glanced to the door, half expecting Friend to burst in at any moment.

Was this what they wanted? For them to rest? Why else would they lock Bee in a bedroom?

Bee pulled the quilt off the bed, and gave it a good shake, breaking into a coughing fit as dust filled the air.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best idea.

A minute later, their coughs settled, and their face twisted as dust seemed to coat their mouth and throat.

Definitely not the best idea.

The rest of the sheets on the bed seemed for the most part clean, as well as the pillow, untouched by the dust or moths.

Bee couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful as they dropped the tattered quilt to the floor, before crawling under the remaining blankets and curling up on the bed. The mattress was stiff and lumpy, but it was a million times better than the cell Whumper had kept them in.

Bee pulled the blankets over their head, and a few minutes later, they were out cold.

Yeesh this took like a week I’m so sorry

Nothing really happens here, but the next part is going to be eventful so hopefully that will make up for it

Cw: creepy intimate whumper, drinking (champagne), vampires, humiliation, degrading (nonverbal), pet names

Mouse’s jaw dropped open. They couldn’t remember ever being inside a limo, but this was not at all what they had expected. A long, rather normal looking, black leather couch stretched across the length of the vehicle, while a small bar stocked with champagne and fine glasses sat opposite.

Silas sat down on the edge of the couch, and reached over to grab a bottle from the minibar. Mouse wasn’t sure where to go, if they were allowed on the seats or not, so they simply stayed awkwardly standing, hunched over with their head grazing the low roof.

Silas’s eyes flicked to them, his cold, dead gaze piercing through their soul.

“Sit.” Silas ordered, grabbing a crystal glass from the bar, and popping the cork off the bottle. Mouse’s forehead scrunched, as the glanced at the fine leather seats. Surely he didn’t mean…

“On the floor.” Silas sighed, noticing their confusion. He rolled his eyes, filling his glass halfway, before setting the bottle back into its place. As Mouse lowered themself to the carpeted limousine floor, the engine started, and a moment later the vehicle jolted forwards.

“There’s a water bottle in the cooler, you may have it,” Silas raised the champagne glass to his lips, and took a small sip.

Mouse didn’t need to be told twice. They reached their hand into the cooler, a chill creeping down their spine as their fingers brushed against ice cubes. Mouse’s hand wrapped around the small plastic bottle, before pulling it out of the basin. They looked up to Silas, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” Mouse whispered, clumsily twisting the lid off and breaking the seal.

“Of course, little one,” Silas chuckled deeply, taking another sip of his champagne. In the back of their mind, Mouse wondered if it actually did anything—they knew alcohol had little effect on the undead. If it didn’t have any effects, why would he even drink it? Maybe it was a pleasure from when he was alive, maybe a comfort. Maybe it was just a way to flaunt his obvious riches and power. Maybe.

Mouse took a small sip from the bottle, letting the cool water calm the flush that had began to creep up their neck. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a cold drink—with Master it had always been room temperature. Cold, mushy food and flat water from a kitchen tap. They could tell by the weird, almost slightly metallic taste.

But this water was fresh, and heavenly. When the limousine hit a small bump, their hand slipped, and a bit of water dribbled down their chin, but Silas just smiled, and finished the last of his champagne.

It felt like minutes, but could have very well been hours later, the limousine pulled to a stop. Through the dark tinted windows, Mouse couldn’t see anything outside. They glanced up as the driver slipped out of the vehicle, and opened the back door a moment later.

Silas climbed out first, setting his empty glass on the minibar, before extending a hand to Mouse.

“Come on, Mousie. Are you ready to see your new home?”

Yikes sorry for the wait my inspiration has run away

Cw: drowning, manhandling, beating, bruises, kicking, cursing, creepy whumper

Friend shoved their head under the cold water once more, only letting them up when Bee began to go unconscious. They let them cough out most of the water in their lungs, before forcing them back under.

The third time, Friend held them under the cold water longer than before. They held them under after Bee’s struggles began to weaken, after their movements diminished to mere twitches and spasms. They held them under until a darkness began creeping from the corners of Bee’s vision.

Suddenly, just as Bee had begun to accept their fate, they were roughly yanked above the water. Friend hit their back hard to help them cough the water from their lungs.

Bee choked and sputtered, crumpling to the cold bathroom floor the moment Friend’s grip released their hair.

“You’re fucking lucky,” Friend spat, pulling back their leg and kicking Bee hard in the ribs. “I could do so much worse than this.”

Bee’s coughs turned into a cry as Friend’s heavy boot made contact with their chest. They curled into themself, a choked sob slipping from their wrists as they curled their arms around their head, bracing for another blow.

“You have ten minutes, after that I’m coming in whether you’re ready or not.” Friend spat, before stomping out of the room, and slamming the old wooden door behind them.

Ten minutes… for what? Bee swallowed back a sob, slowly uncurling from the ball they had formed. They coughed every couple of seconds, their lungs still adjusting to the strange sensation of not being filled with water.

If Bee had to guess, they would assume Friend wanted them to shower, clean up. Why else would they leave them in the bathroom?

But… it was Friend. Bee could never assume anything with them.

Slowly, Bee got to their feet, their legs trembling underneath them, barely able to hold up their weight. With a shaking hand, they reached over the side of the bathtub—the cold water still draining, and turned on the tap.

For a few moments they held their breath, fully expecting Friend to barge back in with a giant knife, but as the seconds ticked by, and the door remained shut, Bee began to brush off their nerves.

They turned the water as hot as it would go—which wasn’t hot at all. Hell, it was barely warm, but anything was better than the freezing water dripping down their neck.

Bee peeled off their wet shirt and pants, dropping them in a pile on the floor. As they stepped into the shower, they kept their eyes firmly ahead, not wanting to see the lines of purple hues decorating their entire body.

They were quick in showering, immensely aware of the time limit they had been given. Water dripped from their hair as they grabbed a towel from the shelf, quickly wrapping it around themself. They went to reach for their old clothes, but noticed they were gone.

Bee’s heart nearly stopped in their chest. Had- had Friend come in?

Their suspicion was only confirmed as they noticed a stack of fresh clothing by the sink.

Bee pushed the thought from their mind. The shower curtain, they reminded themself. Friend couldn’t have possibly seen behind the shower curtain.

With a deep breath that didn’t help to relax them at all, Bee finished drying off, and changed into the clothes.

YIKES this took me a while to write. I kept taking breaks and getting distracted I’m sorry evil anon

Oh, Bee is not having a good time at all.

masterlist

Cw: torture, caning, blindfolds, soap whump (it makes sense if you read it), gagging, noncon touching, restraints, hair pulling

Bee screamed as the cane cracked across their back for what had to be the hundredth time. The sound was muffled, never making it past the duct tape covering their lips.

They choked as a bit of soapy saliva made its way down their throat. The taste was awful and bitter, burning their mouth. They coughed, wheezing as they tried to breathe, but the air seemed to stick in their nose, never reaching their mouth.

Friend chuckled as they choked, their entire weight falling on their wrists as they struggled to cough. Terrible sobs wracked their small frame, tears soaking through the blindfold covering their eyes.

They- they didn’t deserve this! Bee wanted to scream, to beg and plead. They had messed up! They wouldn’t do it again, they promised! Just- just make it stop!

Friend almost wished they could see Bee’s eyes. The terror that must have resided in them would have been beautiful, the tears welling up and running down their flushed cheeks would have only made them more adorable.

Yet, it was much more fun when they didn’t know where the next blow would strike.

Friend circled them, careful to not let their heels click against the concrete floor, as they searched for their next spot of attack.

There.

Friend’s eyes settled on their legs. Oh, that would hurt like a bitch. A grin curled across their lips, and they pulled back the cane, before cracking it hard against Bee’s knees.

They hit them again, across the stomach. Then again, against the backs of their thighs. Again, and again, and again, Friend didn’t hold anything back. They relished in Bee’s muffled screams and sobs, in their trembles.

Friend was almost tempted to cut away their shirt. To see the bruises and welts rise along their skin. But that was too much work. And they were having too much fun to stop and go grab a knife.

“This is the first and last time you disrespect me,” Friend said in between deep breaths, as they cracked the cane across Bee’s ribs. “You understand that, you stupid mutt?”

They cried out through the tape, frantically nodding their head as they twisted and struggled futilely to get away from the pain. Friend glanced up, a feeling of satisfaction crossing their face as they saw Bee’s wrists, rubbed raw from the ropes and dripping with blood.

Friend hit them once more, a nice hard strike to their lower back, before they dropped the cane. It clattered to the dirty cement floor loudly.

“You’re lucky I’m being so merciful,” Friend hissed, as they approached Bee, and began to untie their wrists. Warm blood made the ropes even more difficult to untie, but Friend had practice, and was able to do so with ease.

They grabbed Bee’s hair before their knees could buckle, forcing them to either put their weight on their scalp or stay upright. Their hands flew to the tap covering their mouth, but Friend smacked them away before they could pull it off.

“Ah, ah,” They reprimanded, sharply tugging Bee’s hair. “I didn’t say you could do that. Come on,” Friend glared at them with disgust, before wrenching them towards the basement steps.

Ugh fineeeeee. Only because you asked so nicely.

(I actually love writing this lmao. I feel like since I don’t have a word count I need to meet it takes a lot of the pressure off writing this so I can focus on hurting bee and only hurting bee)

I really said that and then delayed the actual torture even more didn’t I.

Masterlist

Cw: manhandling, restraints, torture tools, blood

“Please,” Bee cried as Friend dragged them down a rickety set of wooden stairs, into the dark basement below the old house. “I’m sorry, please!”

They didn’t care anymore. Not about their dignity, not about the humiliation. They would beg if that’s what it took for Friend to not hurt them. They couldn’t take it. They couldn’t take it! “Please!”

“Shut up,” Friend hissed, slamming them back against the cement wall. Pain exploded through Bee’s skull as their head cracked against the surface, stars exploding in front of their eyes. They stood there, dazed for a moment as Friend flicked on the basement light.

Bee blinked, then again, an awful feeling settling into the pit of their stomach. Bile stung the back of their throat, the flimsy dinner they had had the night before threatening to make an appearance. This- this couldn’t be real. They must have hit their head really hard, and blacked out or something. This had to be a dream. A sick, twisted, nightmarish dream.

“This is my favorite room in the house,” Friend grinned, grabbing Bee’s arm, wrenching them to the center of the room. They tripped, their bare feet scraping against the old bloodstains on the floor. “Can you guess why?” They hissed. Bee nearly gagged as the rancid stench of their breath hit their senses.

Bee didn’t answer.

Friend just laughed, and forced Bee’s arms up, fixing their wrists in pre-tied knots. Friend was taller than them, by a good six inches. They were able to tighten the ropes with ease, before pulling the rope so they were standing on their tip-toes, swaying back and forth haphazardly.

Bee squeezed their eyes shut as Friend turned to face the wall. Torture instruments, all kinds of them hung from hooks and sat on shelves. Knives, whips, tools of all sorts. Just the sight was nauseating. They couldn’t bare to watch as Friend surveyed the walls

“Oh, you know what,” Friend turned away from the wall. “I have a better idea,” They announced, before dashing off up the stairs.

*dramatic gasp* no no whumper would never abandon their dear whumpee. I guess you’ll just have to read it and find out

prev. next

Cw: noncon drugging and touching

The drive seemed to drag on for years. By the time Whumper pulled into the driveway of their destination, they were about ready to bash their head against the wheel.

Whumper let out a groan as they blinked hard, their pupils dilating. Dusk had already fallen, the few remained streaks of daylight painting the sky a deep golden hue. It would’ve been pretty, had the sky not been obscured by a thick canopy of leaves.

Whumper climbed out of the car, their joints popping as they stretched for the first time in hours.

They craned their neck to the side, letting out a breath of relief as it cracked. The stiffness eased slightly as they circled around to the back of the car, slightly unsteady on their feet.

Whumper sighed as they popped open the trunk. They had made the right decision adding ten milligrams, Whumpee was still knocked out. Luckily, too. Whumper didn’t know how they would react meeting their… friend.

Whumper hefted their limp form into their arms, swaddling them in the blanket like a baby. With the dried drool streaking their chin, Whumpee might as well have been in diapers.

Whumper chuckled at the thought, and closed the trunk.

The dirt drive crunched under the heavy soles of their boots, as they made their way to the front door of the old house.

When Whumper realized that they had to… go away for a bit, their first and only concern was Whumpee. They certainly couldn’t have left them at their house, no.

But Friend… Friend would understand. They hadn’t talked in a while, but Whumper knew they could trust them.

After talking for hours over the phone, they finally had a plan. Friend would watch Whumpee while they were away, for a price, of course. Whumper was fine with them having their fun, as long as Whumpee had all ten fingers and toes when they returned.

Whumper kicked the rotting wooden door lightly, one, two, three times.

What? They didn’t have an open hand to knock with.

They heard footsteps within the house, and the clicks of multiple locks being undone, before the door flung open.