#muzzled

[tightsweatyclothes]

[bounder-returns]

“Sorry about that, my wife does like to chat away. Now. Where were we, gorgeous?”

[whumpshaped]

concept: whumpee with a shock collar, except whumper uses it to program them into being affectionate and touchy and “sweet” until whumpee is terrified at a lack of physical touch and clings to whumper like they’ll die the second they let go. <3

and maybe if/when they get out of there, they’re shaking the whole time because whumper isn’t there to touch them!! and whumpee can’t ask caretaker to do it in their stead because good pets don’t ask for things. good pets sit there and take it. as they deserve.

- 🎉

tw conditioning, shock collar, electrocution, captivity, pet whump, intimate whumper, muzzled, dehumanisation

“Come on, sweet. I’m not asking for a lot here.”

Whumpee glared up at their captor, the muzzle making it impossible to cuss them out. They weren’t going to lay their head in that demon’s lap. No fucking chance.

“Nothing bad would happen to you,” they went on. “I would pet your hair, maybe, because I don’t think I can stand not to. But other than that? Nothing at all.”

Whumpee braced themself for the shock. They could withstand it. They had, for at least five times now. It wasn’t that bad.

“Okay, just one more thing, and then I’ll shut up and just shock you some more.” Whumper raised the remote, showing Whumpee the buttons. “You know there are multiple levels to this, right? And that you’re on level one right now?”

Okay. That… that didn’t cross their mind. Whumper must’ve seen their surprise, because they gave them a few more moments to consider their choice. When they didn’t comply, they sighed and turned it up a notch.

“Suit yourself.”

-

Whumpee had been glued to Caretaker’s side ever since the rescue. They were a shivery, trembling mess, babbling incoherently about how they needed Master, how they couldn’t go to prison, because they needed them, needed to be there in their lap, and at their feet, and in their bed, and under their desk. Wherever. It didn’t matter, so long as they got to touch them.

Caretaker let them babble, gently petting their hair whenever they broke down crying. It wasn’t the same. Caretaker didn’t have the remote. The collar wasn’t even around their neck anymore, not really, but they could feel it, the memory of the prongs digging into their skin and promising pain beyond comprehension.

They didn’t let Caretaker go anywhere without them. They were the clingiest pet, just as they’d been taught, and progress was very slow with all the panic attacks they’d been having whenever Caretaker tried to push them a little.

There was no collar to train them. No Master to tell them what was right and wrong. Only the maddening uncertainty of ‘I don’t know, Whumpee, I really think we should try again’.

They rubbed their bare neck, watching helplessly as Caretaker took a few steps away from their bed. They were cautious and slow, constantly murmuring praise as they went. They didn’t get to the door before Whumpee jumped out of bed and ran after them, collapsing at their feet in a sobbing, apologetic heap.

[ronanziriano]

hmp by jinguj

[azelnor]

Boys deserve to be gagged 😈

[deluxewhump]

the bahkauv: part three

Prev

CW: hurt, more hurt, no comfort yet but a glimpse of it. Brief verbal threat of noncon, pliers as torture device, muzzle, broken bones, ear and hand whump, nonhuman whumpee, burning alive, immortal/quick healing whumpee, slight language barrier, brief thoughts/ideation of death and mortality, multiple whumpers

Hunters camp (before):

At first, the hunters thought the Bahkauv was a vampire. It made sense, in the confusion of the moment. Vampires were far more common than its kind was anymore. That and it had fangs.

At the camp, they soon realized the Bahkauv was not a vampire. This revelation did nothing to protect it. Close enough, they said. It was still a non-human creature, and had a long history of attacking, robbing, and even killing humans.

The first day in captivity, nothing happened. The Bahkauv twisted and pulled at its restraints, trying to no avail to find some give in the ropes that bound it hand and foot. How naive it had been. It had no idea the depth of the hatred these humans had for it, and for the vampires they didn’t kill outright.

One of the hunters caught it trying to manipulate the knots and beat it with fists and boots before putting its first muzzle on its face. At first it had been angry, hissing and spitting at the hunter’s hands that were wet with its own blood. That got it a backhand that made its ears ring and its head ache. The bit was sharp and huge, shoved to the back of its throat so it gagged and secured so tightly it thought it would choke. Humiliated, it had shrunk against the clapboard wall and sulked.

Pride would soon be a forgotten luxury.

The next day, two hunters came for it, dragging it stiff and sore from its first beating out into the yard along with a couple of screaming vampires. The sun was climbing in the sky, which was why the vamps were screaming and carrying on so. It felt an intense gratefulness that it could not burn from the sun as they could. One of the hunters grabbed its muzzle and turned its chin to force it to look.

“You see that? You think you’re better than them, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

Another hunter joined the first. He had a mocking, self satisfied grin. “Let’s teach it a lesson in humility then. What are we waiting for? It was going to tear Byron’s throat out before we netted it.”

“Look at these. Is this fur?” the first hunter stroked one of the Bahkauv’s ears with the pad of his thumb. It shuddered at the unexpected touch. It was not affectionate, or kind, but it happened to be very gentle, and its ears were as highly sensitive as its sharp canines. It recoiled in disgust from the hunter’s hand— and its own reaction to it.

“It appears human when it’s not attacking. Except for a few details. The fangs are one. The ears. And of course it’s utterly vicious, despite being relatively intelligent. Can’t teach it a thing.”

“I bet I can teach it something,” grinned the first. It took the Bahvauv’s fur-lined ear between its forefinger and thumb again, this time pinching so tears sprung to its eyes and it bit back a surprised gasp of pain.

“Don’t be shy. Let’s hear a pretty little whimper at least. You’re going to make a lot of noises here.” The hunter pinched the sensitive skin and cartilage harder, his nails breaking skin beneath the soft layer of orange fur. The Bahkauv grit its teeth as best it could around the bit, and would not make a sound.

“No?” The hunter took something from the belt at his waist. Cold metal replaced fingers. Though the Bahkauv didn’t know it yet, it would come to know the word pliers very well. Such a simple tool, and so effective. Humans love tools— pliers and muzzles and fire. The teeth of the pliers bit down.

The Bahkauv screamed around the bit. It tried to pull away, but the hunter had it firm by the muzzle.

“There we go.” He gave the pliers a few sharp tugs, eliciting high pitched yelps. Its delicate ear was caught between the mean metal teeth like a fishhook.

“That was a healthy scream.”

“It’s an angry scream,” said the second. “That will change. If you take that thing clean off, you can dry it out and send it to your kids for good luck. Like a rabbit’s foot.”

It made an indignant sound, half-scream and haf-growl, saliva tinged with blood dripping from its muzzle.

“Well shit, that’s a good idea. I already ruined this one for now, it’s got a hole in it. I’ll get the other one.”

The hunter had been right that its silence wouldn’t last. It screamed as it was parted from its left ear.

—

It did not take the camp of hunters long to figure out that it regenerated itself quickly. Its ears grew back slowly, as did its fangs when they were later pulled. Everything that had a human appearance healed faster, though all the more painfully for it.

The first time they burned it, they didn’t know if it would survive. Neither did the Bahkauv. When it did, and its skin began to immediately repair itself, they were delighted. The Bahkauv was horrified. If that could not end its suffering, what could?

It was put back in its cell at dusk. It was unnatural for a creature like itself to dwell on death, but after being burned alive all morning and afternoon, over and over, with no more than an hours’ reprieve in between, it began to despair.

“Don’t cry,” crooned one of the hunters from the door of its cell. It scrambled into a sitting position, startled. It had thought it was alone.

“You were a favorite today. We all feel so much better for having played with you. A real morale boost. Look how quickly all that pretty hair has grown back. Your nature works hard to protect your disguise as human, doesn’t it? If I cut myself, the blood would clot and the skin would eventually knit back together. But not like you.”

The Bahkauv pressed its back tight against the wall as the hunter approached. This man was one of its torturers earlier that day— a younger one, not twenty five, tall and broad chested, with colorless blue eyes and close-shaved pale hair. He slipped a pair of pliers from his belt— the teeth were thick and blunt, not sharp like the ones they used to cut its ears. “And who knew you could speak? Do you understand, or did you just learn a few words like a talking parrot?”

The hunter squatted in front of it. Its heart pounded wildly, the staggering, paralyzing fear from the day returning and overriding its exhaustion. He took one of the Bahkauv’s hands in a strong grip. The pliers covered the first knuckle of its pointer finger, still pink and healing from the fire. It crunched down, shattering the first knuckle so it felt like gravel inside its skin.

It wailed, wildly trying to wrench its wrist from the hunter’s grip. It was so weak— like in a dream where it could not run or fight back. Healing and burning and healing again had sapped all its strength. Its anger at the hunters had long been replaced by desperation. Why did they want to hurt it so badly? How could it get the pain to stop? When it couldn’t, it stopped wondering why. It knew why. And this hunter was about to remind it.

“God, you sound like a person. You look human. That makes them hate you more, do you know that? It’s uncanny. Except for those devil eyes, you could be a boy of twenty summers, or less. Some of them even wonder if you’d be worth fucking. I think a lot of them wonder, and who could blame them? But no one wants to be the first to try it.” The pliers traveled to the next knuckle and perched there, waiting, on its freshly formed skin.

“No,” the Bahkauv whispered, tears flowing, saliva dripping from the corner of its mouth, raw and chafed from the bit that was always shoved to the back of its throat. “No. Pl-please.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Do you know those words? They’re the only ones you used all day. All goddam day, even in such unfathomable suffering. I could smell it every time your flesh melted, and still you only said no, and please. But do you understand?”

It was beginning to. Its own mother tongue was not human. But it had the same capabilities for language as the humans. More, even, and could infer with greater accuracy things the humans thought and felt as they spoke, which helped decode the words.

“A thing like you shouldn’t beg, anyway. It won’t work. You don’t deserve our mercy.”

Muscles flexed in the hunters thick, tanned forearm as he squeezed the plier handles together. Another crunch, and a second knuckle was destroyed under their powerful metal bite like glass broken inside a cloth sack. It shrieked so it thought its throat would tear open, pounding its foot uselessly against the wooden floor. The hunter narrowed his blue eyes as its scream tapered off into raw sobs, shaking its head no, over and over.

The pliers retracted and settled over its middle finger, on the first knuckle. The Bahkauv keened in dread, looking into the hunters face and finding not a flicker of regret or a glimpse of mercy. It knew hurting it entertained each hunter in different ways, but it pleased them all none the less. Each crunch of the tool was cataclysmic, and it was hard to imagine how at any point today it would have chosen this immediately to get the fire to stop, because now it did not think it could handle another crushed bone. And it had many more knuckles.

“Either way,” sighed the hunter. “Tomorrow we will burn you again, and see if you know any more words, little parrot.”

__

After they made camp, the three friends slept around the dying fire in their bedrolls. Francis tied a rope to his own waist and looped the other end around the Bahkauv’s collar so it slept six feet away from him. No more escape attempts. If it moved, he would feel it, and they both knew it.

The men slept. The Bahkauv tried to lie awake and alert, but its exhaustion was too great, and soon it slept too. The howling of wolves woke all of them in the wee hours of the morning. Disoriented, it leapt awake, scrambling along the length of its rope. In the hunters encampment, this would have led it to a solid wall it could press itself against, but now it led to Francis. It bumped into him and whimpered, waiting for a backhand or a cuff to the ear.

“Hey. It’s alright,” Francis told it gently in the darkness. Why were their voices so soft and blameless when they spoke to it? It had been waiting all day and now all night for the first blow, the first violence or pain from its captors, and still it had not come. It was like waiting for the pliers to crush another bone.

“They won’t come much closer. You’re alright. You’re safe with us. They sound kind of beautiful, don’t they?”

Stephan and Arthur got up out of their bedrolls to settle the horses, who were stamping their hooves and whickering nervously.

It hadn’t meant to crawl so close to its captor, but once again it was not punished for doing so. Something was different about them than the hunters, but it didn’t know enough about humans to assign much meaning to this observation. It was true the unmistakable sounds of the wolves had frightened it awake, and made the fine hairs on the back of its neck stand up. But it wasn’t afraid in the way it understood fear now. That kind of fear was reserved for humans, with their tools and fire and deliberate malice. But what a strange thing to say. Safe with us. Like they would protect it. It could not imagine humans as protectors.

Still, it slept closer to Francis til first light, with three feet of slack in the six foot rope.

-

Tags

@paperprinxe @whumpsday @i-eat-worlds @handsinmotion @stormchaser819

@annablogsposts @clickerflight @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud @scoundrelwithboba, @blood-and-regrets

[melt-in-the-sun]

i may have been inspired by a certain gifset

[aneu-rism]

i don’t know how to behave

[daddydicktampa]

[thatoneuserwho]

He has the vibes of a grumpy chihuahua who’ll tolerate being dressed up by his fav person

Completely inspired by these tags :)

[daddydicktampa]

[lipglossanon]

Thinking about hybrid Leons and muzzles.

For puppy Leon, you do it because his mouth is basically attached to your cunt 25/8. He begs to fall asleep suckling it, he begs to lick it good morning in the morning, and he begs to make out with it when he sees you after to work. Your clit is becoming constantly engorged, sticking out through your panties, and it’s /so/ sensitive. You tell Leon that he can still use his puppy cock with you, since you can never deny either of you the feeling of him knotting you, but he’s wearing a muzzle for a bit to make sure your clit heals a bit. He’s begging for anything else, he promises he’ll be a good boy and just suck on your pussy lips, just stick his tongue inside, you can’t deny him his favorite meal, please! But you know if you let his mouth anywhere near your pussy, he’ll suck your soul out your clit, and you would be too horny to stop him. So you have a pouty little puppy humping you like his life depends on it, his tongue trying to slip out through the muzzle to at least taste your skin but he can’t reach and he’s already to fucked dumb to understand why and he’s whining and whimpering and crying for a taste of you. Finally, you just grab your drenched panties and stuff them through the muzzle to get him to shut up, and he slobbers all over them like they are the only thing keeping him alive. Puppy needs a taste of you more than he needs to knot you, and that’s saying something.

For dog Leon, you have to do it because he can’t stop himself from biting you and honestly the wounds are getting a bit excessive since y’all fuck so much. Not to mention, you have an important event coming up with a lot of people, which makes Leon more possessive which means he gets more ruthless with his bites, breaking the skin to show off the indents of his teeth for days. You finally put your foot down with the muzzle, and say either he wears it to make sure he doesn’t bite, or you don’t duck until after the event is over. He’s pissed, wanting nothing more than to hold you down and put you in your place with his teeth holding the back of your neck, you’re his to fuck and mark as much as he wants. But you stay firm, telling him you won’t back down from this, that you will safe word out of the situation because the bites are starting to effect you physically and financially (since it will effect your job). He growls, more so at the fact he has to wear a muzzle because you don’t trust his self-control (rightfully so he reluctantly agrees) than you setting a firm boundary (he makes a mental note to tell you he is proud and happy that you expressed a boundary with him and that you were willing to use your safe word even when he seemed aggressive, because he may be driven by his instincts but he still loves you and needs you to feel safe and respected in this relationship). He’s mashing his teeth, snarling and trying to bite at you as he fucks into you violently. He’s cum twice but it doesn’t feel the same, nothing is satisfying if he can’t feel the give of your skin at his teeth, can’t taste your sweat on his tongue. His dirty talking is worse than it’s ever been now that he doesn’t have the ability to muffle it with your neck, and if you weren’t so knot drunk maybe you’d be more scandalized by it, but right now you’re only capable of cumming around your dog man’s fat dick

- 🐶

🐶 anon!! 🙌 🙌 😌 🙌 🙌

Oh my 🥴 🥴

Puppy Leon is so desperate 😩 😩 he just needs you so bad 😩

and dogman Leon being angry and snarling and gnashing his teeth while he fucks you? So hot 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 🤤

I love you 🐶 anon 😌

[linecrosser]

caution, he bites when angry (probably)

@the-scrapegoat mentionned muzzling, and I could not resist.

[azelnor]

Sporturo (pseudo recon) 1er jour à la maison.

Moufles en cuir, Bâillon Cho7 et scotch puis muselière.

[acecasinova]

Well at least somebody's finally chipped him! A feral dog vampire just loose in a city is dangerous for all involved... Luckily, Kindness is prepared for breaking in her new "project" and teaching Lazarus some basic tricks~