June Of Doom Day 4

June of Doom Day 4

"Does that hurt?"

| Delirium | Hypothermia | Stabilisation |

CW: mentions of abuse and the tags above obvs

I wrote some caretaking whump this time cause sometimes we need nice things in life. This is also very short and not great cause I'm writing this in a tent at 1am.

...

Whumpee had become so cold they were no longer fully conscious. By the time Caretaker had found them, bloody and bruised in the woods, they were already frozen half to death.

They'd escaped Whumper, but at what cost?

Full of anxiety, Caretaker had settled them in a nest of blankets, placed a cup of hot chocolate between their blue, shaking hands, and set about treating their wounds. They bandaged the cut across Whumpee's head and placed plasters over the small cuts littering their arms and legs. Whumpee hadn't been able to tell them, but they presumed they were from running through the woods.

Whumpee was muttering as Caretaker tried to warm them up.

"Does that hurt?" Caretaker asked, pressing on a particularly harsh bruise above their clavicle.

Whumpee whined. "Please no. No more."

"Whumpee it's me, it's Caretaker."

"Please, I'll be good."

Caretaker did their best to stay calm, to focus on fixing up Whumpee instead of hunting down and killing Whumper. It was difficult, and every injury Caretaker encountered only added to their rage.

"Whumpee, I need you to tell me who it was. Do you know their name?"

Whumpee only moaned, gripping the cup as if it were a lifeline. They hadn't drunk a sip but wouldn't let go of the cup. Caretaker struggled to keep it together as they applied salve to the last of Whumpee's wounds, and managed to pry the cup from their hands to lie them down on the couch.

"Rest Whumpee."

Whumpee whimpered and gripped tighter to Caretaker's sleeve. but Caretaker managed to extricate themself and make it past the door into the kitchen before they broke down on the floor and sobbed.

Praise Whump

I'm a sucker for when the whumpee is so desperate for affection they'll put up with anything from the whumper, so I figured for my first post I'd write one of those. I'd appreciate any feedback you can give me :)

...

Whumpee crouched in the corner of the cold, damp cell. The chains around their wrists chafed the raw skin, yet they clutched them tight, like they were the only thing stopping them from fading into the shadows around them.

The door opened with a creak and a shaft of light filtered into the darkness.

Whumpee whimpered, both in relief and in fear, as Whumper strode into the room.

Despite their aching limbs, Whumpee hoisted themselves onto their knees, straightening their back as well as they could with their wounds.

Whumper smiled with approval. "Good," he said, crouching down before Whumpee, who had their eyes glued to the floor in front of them. They warmed at the praise.

"We're going to play a little, Whumpee," he said, lifting Whumpee's chin to face him. "Would you like that?"

Whumpee almost shuddered at the thought. They knew what play meant. It meant that knife. It meant pain. But if they did well, it also meant Whumper's praise. And they really wanted Whumper's praise.

Whumpee nodded, and Whumper smiled. He leaned down and began to unlock the cuffs, careful not to touch Whumpee's skin. He never touched them, not unless he was hurting them.

He was training them, Whumpee knew. And it was working. They were beginning to crave the pain, if only for the comfort of Whumper.

Whumpee stood on shaky legs, following a few steps after Whumper with their head down. When they emerged into the antechamber outside the cell, Whumpee's heart did a little leap. This was where they played. Where they got to touch Whumper, and hear him whisper praise. There were two other doors leading off of the chamber. One heading upstairs. One to the room where Whumpee was punished.

They shuddered at the thought of that room, doing their best not to look at the iron door.

Whumper sat on the chair in the middle of the chamber, watching as Whumpee sank to their knees before him. "You know what to do," he said, and Whumpee nodded. "Yes, Whumper," they said, rising again to gather the supplies from around the room.

They were quick in their work, grabbing the bucket of water and the cloth and placing them beside Whumper. They took the knife last. Long and sharp and sparkling, it had cut every one of the scars into Whumpee's skin. They lifted it with shaking hands and stood before Whumper, offering it to him.

"Good," Whumper told them, taking the knife, "come here."

Whumpee bit their lip to keep from sighing as they sat down on Whumper's lap, their hands quickly knotting themselves into his t-shirt. He was so warm, and Whumpee was so cold.

Whumper didn't give any warning as he began to slide the knife down their shoulder, shallow but still drawing blood. Whumpee whimpered, clutching him tighter. Whumper shushed them, one hand stroking their arm as the other drew the knife down across their spine. He was always careful not to permanently damage Whumpee. He needed them in good condition so he could keep playing with them.

Whumpee sobbed silently as Whumper carved up their back, praising and shushing them with every cut.

"You're doing so good, Whumpee."

"Shhh, you can do it," he would say, as Whumpee clutched onto his soft t-shirt and sobbed into his shoulder.

By the time he was done, Whumpee's back was little more than a mess of blood, but Whumpee almost didn't want it to be over. They wanted to stay in Whumper's lap, and feel his warm chest and soft clothes and hear his gentle praise.

Whumper carefully unknotted Whumpee's hands from his shirt and pushed him gently off. Whumpee whimpered at the loss of contact, but slid off of Whumper's lap and fell into a kneel before him. Whumper smiled. They were being so good.

Whumper stood and walked to the small sink against the wall, placing the knife there, before returning to where Whumpee knelt. He'd have Whumpee clean it later, as always. But first, he had to deal with Whumpee's back.

He needed Whumpee ready and healed for their next session.

He knelt behind them, and, using the cloth and water, washed off the wounds on Whumpee's back. Careful not to touch their skin. Careful that only the rough scratch of the cloth and the bite of the cold water were felt by the silent Whumpee.

When the wounds were clean, Whumper dressed them cleanly, then stepped away from them, and turned towards the room where he punished Whumpee. He strolled inside, shut and locked the door behind him, as he left Whumpee to clean and deal with the bloody mess in the room.

It was a warning. If Whumpee didn't do a good enough job, they would be joining Whumper in that room.

Or if they displeased Whumper by spilling the bucket of bloody water on the floor, like they just had.

"You know you need to be punished for this Whumpee?" Whumper told them as they knelt on the ground, ready to beg. But they knew it was futile, and just nodded.

June of Doom Day 15

"Please"

| Blindfold | Pressure Points | Scream |

Cw: Torture, The prompts above

...

Whumpee was terrified to the point of shaking. They tugged uselessly at their bonds as they heard the footsteps of Whumper circling them. They were blindfolded, unable to see a thing, and tied down to a table so they couldn't interfere.

"Whumpee, have you ever heard of pressure points?" Whumper asked, running their finger down Whumpee's arm.

Whumpee didn't answer. The next thing they knew, there was a sharp slice across their arm and they screamed.

"I asked you a question Whumpee."

They whimpered, then shook their head.

"They're these points on the body connected to nerves." Whumper's hand resumed its path, running gently down their side. "They can be used to release stress, or pain. But some..." Whumper's hand stopped on Whumpee's throat.

"Please," Whumpee whimpered, but they weren't even sure what they were asking for. Whumper didn't acknowledge it.

They leaned in close, so their breath ghosted Whumpee's ear. "Some cause pain."

They pushed down on the point on their Adam's apple, and Whumpee screamed.

June of Doom Day 5

"It's not as bad as it looks."

| Handcuffs | Swelling | Flinch |

Cw: The prompts above and implied torture.

...

Whumpee lay on the cold basement floor, in the middle of the room where Whumper left them, and sobbed. The cuffs cut into their wrists and their stomach throbbed from the bruises that littered it.

They hadn't seen Other Whumpee when they were thrown in, the corners of the room were too dark. And Other Whumpee had been asleep until the sobs of Whumpee woke them.

Once they'd shaken off the remnant of the nightmare, Other Whumpee pulled themselves from the ground to help Whumpee. They approached the shivering form slowly, reaching out to them as though they were a wounded animal.

"Hey," they said softly, their hand touching gently on Whumpee's shoulder. Whumpee flinched away.

"Sorry," Other Whumpee whispered. Whumper didn't like it when they talked. "I just want to help you. Can I look at your wounds?"

Whumpee curled further away from them, their eyes adjusting to the dark to take in the hunched form in front of them. Other Whumpee was bruised and battered, the fingers on their left hand bent at wrong angles, but their eyes were kind, their voice sincere as they spoke to Whumpee.

Whumpee eventually pushed themselves up from the ground awkwardly, and let Other Whumpee come over to inspect the wounds.

There were ugly and dark bruises beginning to form, and Whumpee's leg was swollen and tender.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Other Whumpee reassured as he pressed on a particularly bad bruise and Whumpee whimpered.

"You've no broken bones, no serious internal bleeding, you'll heal just fine."

Whumpee just nodded.

"What's your name?" they managed finally, their voice hoarse from screaming and sobbing.

Other Whumpee just looked away. "It's best if we don't trade names. It's easier for Whumper to use us against each other then."

Whumpee nodded hesitantly.

"Get some rest, I'll explain some more in the morning. There are ways to placate Whumper, ways to keep from getting too hurt. I'll teach you."

"Escape?" Whumpee managed.

Other Whumpee barked a laugh. "There's no escape from here, only survival."

June of Doom Day 18

"How long have you been like this?"

| Sleep Deprivation | Fall | Blanket |

Cw: Needle, the tags above, whumper-caretaker

...

Whumper didn't announce their entrance. They just let the creaking of the door scare Whumpee.

They stepped in and observed their captive, huddled against the wall, staring. Their eyes were bloodshot, their hands shaking as they watched Whumper.

"How long have you been like this?" Whumper asked, stepping over to where Whumpee huddled.

Whumpee didn't answer.

Whumper crouched before them. "Have you even slept?"

Whumpee only gave the slightest shake of their head in response.

"Tsk, can't be having that Whumpee. You need to sleep. I need you nice and rested for when I torture you."

Whumpee didn't move, didn't make a sound.

Whumper sighed, rose, turned, and left the room. Whumpee watched them go.

They returned not moments later hefting a blanket. They crouched by Whumpee again and pulled them off the wall, slotting the blanket in behind them and wrapping it around them.

"You're going to sleep now, Whumpee."

They pulled a syringe from their pocket and Whumpee's eyes widened, they suddenly began to struggle, tried to stand, but they were too weak, and they just fell straight into Whumper.

Whumper lowered them back down to the floor, using the blanket to hold their arms in.

"Don't worry Whumpee, I won't do anything to you until you wake up. It's no fun unless you scream," they whispered as they pressed the needle into Whumpee's neck and pressed in the sedative.

Whumpee tried to fight it, but they were already so tired, and soon they fell into a dreamless sleep, and Whumper rested them against the wall.

More Praise Whump cause this is the Good Shit

"I can't- please- I can't-"

"Just relax baby, you can do it."

"I can't, it hurts-"

"I know baby, but you're doing so well, you look so pretty like this. Just a few more."

The girl was strung up, quivering and clammy, her eyes covered by a blindfold, the only fabric on her. Her arms were cuffed to the ceiling, her feet to the floor, and she couldn't do more than hang as the man swung the whip back and it landed across her back, adding to the growing collection of red stripes.

"Please," she whimpered again, "why are you doing this? What did I do wrong?"

She was sobbing so much that the words came out blubbering.

He shushed her again, stepping up to wipe away her tears. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're doing so well."

This just elicited another sob from her. "But why," she managed to get out again.

He continued to wipe away her tears, tenderly, with the back of his hand.

"Because you look so pretty like this. It pleases me to see you like this. Don't you want to please me?"

She didn't answer, just hanging her head as he stepped back to crack the whip once more, and she screamed.