#i can't tag rn aghh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-whumpy-little-heart · 4 years

Text

Persistence - 7

@badthingshappenbingo square “Public Humiliation” requested by: Anonymous

(white dots are requested, red dots are filled. Request with an ask, specific story or character optional)

Wow. It’s been a minute or two, but I’m back from the land of schoolwork and stress! If you need to catch up or read previous parts, this story now has a masterlist!

Tag list (dm or ask to be added or removed, especially since it’s been so long): @whump-tr0pes, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doitforthewhump, @shameless-whumper, @endless-whump, @theycomeinthrees

CW: creepy whumper, noncon (nonsexual) touching

“I-I didn’t, it wasn’t, my fault… it h-hurt and I-”

“-need to learn how to cooperate through pain, you mean.” Percival cut him off and finished the sentence for him. “I know that’s hard for you, but following orders is of no use if you can’t do it whenever I need you to. So, dear, that’s what we’re going to work on right now.”

“Lucky for you and that lovely voice of yours, I’ve brought you some fresh water to drink before we go. Boiled from seawater of course, but made specially for you,” Percival said, head held high like he should be winning some kind of award for his supposed kindness.

He pulled Floyd’s head up from the table as far as he could and cradled it with one hand, holding a cup up to his lips with the other. His captive shrunk back, eyeing it warily, and he sighed.

“Obviously you’d never know if I put anything unsavory in this, but there’s no reason to refuse it. Not like you have a choice in the long run... I either force this down your throat, or you drink it and be grateful for my generosity.” he said, pushing the water back up. After a moment, Floyd opened his mouth to accept it.

After a moment of letting it settle in his mouth, he was relieved to see that Percival really hadn’t done anything to taint it. Or, if he had, it wasn’t something he could taste. He swallowed quickly, opening again and greedily gulping down the rest of the water. When another full cup came right after, Floyd downed it halfway before Percival took it away. He whined from the back of his throat, and the other man chuckled.

“There you go. And now you say…?”

“...thank you.” It was still raspy and nearly inaudible, but the cup came back and he drank the rest of the water to the sound of gentle praise from his captor.

It wasn’t nearly enough to satiate his thirst, but it was something to cling on to in hopes that he might earn more. Percival finally let him off the table after that, loosening straps to reveal reddened wrists. It was a small reprieve in the big scheme of things, but it was nice to be rid of some discomfort even for just a moment. He rolled to sit up, but sore muscles protested, the brunt of his efforts the past day just setting in.

Percival stood above him with the leash once again in hand, clipping it onto the metal ring of his collar and tugging at it.

“Come on, up you go. In light of recent events, I’ve decided that you and I are going for a walk after all. Not a proper one, not yet, but I’m sure you’ve been itching to stretch your legs.”

Floyd sat up unsteadily, arms shaking when he used them to prop his upper body up. It got worse when he tried to roll on to the balls of his feet, nearly losing his balance multiple times before he was able to stand. He leaned carefully against the table as he stretched each limb, trying to alleviate some of the soreness from the previous night.

A harsh tug on the leash sent Floyd stumbling forward before he was ready, forced to either get his feet under him or fall face first to the floor. Percival strode forward faster than wobbling legs could carry him, and he limped uncomfortably just to avoid being choked. They managed to make it out to the hallway before he really started lagging behind.

“Benedict, sweetheart, what’s the matter? You do know I’m terribly busy, and if you keep walking so slowly I’m going to assume you don’t respect my time.” He laughed like it was funny, and Floyd cracked a bit at that. In his right mind he wouldn’t have fought back, but maybe if he could just defend himself for once...

“I-I can’t go faster-” he said, but Percival spoke right over him, not batting an eyelash at the protest.

“Oh, you poor boy. Fine, then. If you want to take your time that badly you’d better get on your knees.” He went rigid at that, dignity defensively taking the reins. “I told you to kneel, Benedict.”

A sharp yank down on his leash punctuated the biting words, choking and pulling him forward. Floyd’s knees buckled and hit the floor hard, pulling a gasp from him that he breathed out in a snarl.

“Now crawl,” Percival commanded, tugging so hard that the collar pressed into the back of his neck, but his captive still refused to move. Nails and knees scraped against the wooden floor as the leash won over his undernourished, exhausted body. When he realized it would only be more difficult to resist at this point, he hesitantly leaned into a step, and the sheer relief at the loosening tension only fueled him to take another.

“That’s it,” he praised, “my good little pyro, there you go Benedict.” And Floyd flushed a bright rose color at the patronizing encouragement, but his resilience had run thin. He shuffled slowly through the dust and grit on the floor, only speeding up at insistent tugs on the lead.

In the hallway around him, a few crew members strode by, making casual conversation with Percival as if Floyd wasn’t even there. One in particular stared down at him and made a comment about, “how cute that new one is! How long do you think it’ll last?” And though he already thought he was going to hurl at hearing that--and he certainly would have, if he had anything in his stomach, at least--he felt the urge twice as strong when his captor just gave an ambiguous shrug and continued on.

When they finally exited the cabin, Floyd expected to see the darkness of night after he’d spent all day tied up and kneeling, and definitely had not gotten a full night’s sleep when he fell unconscious. So when the bright summer sun hit him at full force, he hissed and squinted his eyes shut against the assault on his senses. He brought hands up to shield his watering eyes, but the pull on his leash was back and he didn’t have time to stop himself before the sheer force tilted him off balance and he fell.

Floyd turned his head to the side at the last moment and his temple took the brunt of the impact, dull, rattling pain exploding into a burning ache as he sprawled out defenselessly on the splintering wood. He was quickly hauled forward and scrambled to get his limbs back under himself.

“Nonessential shifts dismissed from work!” Percival called out above him, “Be back at the next bell, or join me at the bow for a show, if you prefer.” The smile was evident in his voice, and Floyd could see the front of the ship quickly approaching through his teary, blurred vision. A small crowd of spectators gathered around, poking, prodding, and kicking at him as he crawled.

Throbbing knees carried him the last few feet to where Percival was waiting and directing other members of the crowd. The leash came off, but suddenly Floyd’s hands were taken from under him and wrenched above his head, and other arms pulled him forward to the bow. The wood stretched out in front of him above the sea, and tight grips looped his arms around it. Rough ropes cinched around his wrists and wrapped around metal loops, pulling him farther off the deck.

When they reached for his ankles, he panicked. He flailed, shouting and seething as he realized what they were going to do to him. A swift backhand across the face stung, stunning him along with the subsequent punch to his midriff. He stopped kicking long enough for his ankles to be secured around the bar, effectively suspending him.

Floyd’s core was tight and sore as he tried to hold himself up and retain any dignity, but it was proving impossible. Gradually, under the amused watch of the pirates behind him, he sagged against uncomfortable bonds and stared down into the churning ocean waves below.

That’s all that was here. It was him, the ocean, and his shoulders and thighs that were certainly about to be pulled from their sockets. He guided himself through a series of shuddering breaths to shut out the world for however long he could, closing his eyes, but flinching violently when a hand clamped around his calf.

“You still with me, Benedict?” Percival’s voice, rough and deep, cut through his concentration and Floyd elicited a startled gasp. Aches and pains returned tenfold without the unsteady haze, and raucous laughter of Percival’s crew returned to the forefront of his mind.

The fact that so many people were watching him, half naked and vulnerable, already weak from torment, and surely about to suffer further, made him want the ropes to fall away and let him tumble into the hungry abyss of the sea.

“Come on, sweetheart; pay attention or you’ll never make it down from there.” he sang a chastising melody, and Floyd nodded, if only because of the blatant threat in his captor’s words.

“I- hhh, I’m listening,” he said, voice small and shallow. Breathing was difficult with the collar’s weight still around his neck, and speaking even more so.

“Ah, I’m glad,” Percival squeezed his leg in a false display of comfort. “Look in front of you at those ropes. You may not be able to see it from your fortunate position, but they’re suspending a bucket of seawater above you. Once you burn those ropes, you can come down. But until then you’ll be our little figurehead, won’t you?”

“I don’t- please, I can’t even use this, I don’t know how to do magic, or what I...I...”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have resisted when I tried to help kindle your flames earlier then, hm?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but it hurt and- I’m just sorry okay? I can- I can work harder, just please tell me what to do.” Deep breaths punctuated short phrases as Floyd spoke. Despite his shame at asking, he wasn’t going to get through this without help.

“Mmh, as intoxicating as your pleading is, Benedict, I do have a commitment to uphold. Just… think warm thoughts.” The smug satisfaction in his voice was infuriating, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Floyd set himself to the impossible task. The faster he could finish this, the sooner he could get out of this awful predicament. He focused inside himself, reaching for that vague feeling he had felt when Percival was searching for his magic earlier. When the other pirate did it, it felt like a violation. But now, he felt almost at ease with himself when he sensed the magic somewhere deep in his gut, coiled and docile.

He reached for warmth and found it there, still just as it had been left. A twitch of his fingers brought it to life, and he focused hard on spreading it through his body.

A sudden pain slashed through his thigh and he cried out in agony, wailing against the stinging sensation of a knife’s cut. Fingers smoothed over the wound and he wanted to scream when Percival spoke.

“Oh, look at you figuring it out! There’s definitely a bit of fire running through those veins yet…”

Floyd set his jaw and tried to get back into that introspective headspace, but it seemed like every time he grabbed hold of his power, another cut would slice through his skin. Different hands every time, pressing deep, heavy wounds into his back or long, shallow ones across the backs of his thighs. A few buried themselves into the soles of his feet, wrenching howls from deep within him. Laughter from the gathered crowd reminded him constantly of his audience, all lusting after his blood.

“You know, the longer you take to finish, the more cuts you’ll have open for that water to dribble into. Just thought you might like the reminder,” Percival commented after a while. He was dehydrated, and delirious from blood loss and lack of sleep combined. Every aching joint and muscle was telling him to just pass out and avoid the suffering, but every subsequent cut jerked him awake with further discomfort and unwanted awareness.

Magic flowed within him like the tide, rushing in and flowing right back out until finally he held a firm grasp on it. His skin was slick with sweat, the water his body didn’t have beading on his forehead and arms, and driven to burning temperature by the sun alone, but he still felt the sparks when they erupted from his fingers. Knives struck against his skin, but Floyd buried deep into his focus and opened his eyes.

In front of him, the rope holding the water held tight against the bow, but it was tense. Going off of instinct alone, he gestured lightly with his restricted hands and stared a hole into the pole where the rope looped around. Sparks burned brighter and hotter against his skin and, in a blink, the rope had caught fire. It was much higher up than he intended, but Floyd felt a tiny pang of joy at actually having managed it. He held the fire as steady as he could, channeling more power into it so it would burn faster and finally get this over with.

It was only after the fire spread across the entire rope, nearly catching on the bow, and one point finally broke that he remembered what awaited him when it finally burned through.

He heard the bucket flip above him, felt the splash of water, and it was fine, and clean, and cool against steaming skin.

But then it was acid.

He felt every individual cut as it lit up and he arched his back against the sensation of sizzling and searing pain. And he wailed, drawn out and desperate, tears spilling and breath hitching, only making him cry out harder. The ropes around him slid back, loosening and hands were pulling him back onto the deck, but the moment he felt wood under his feet he collapsed against it.

He keened when Percival knelt down and used his bleeding back as a support, and choked it into a whine when emotion tightened his throat. He’d never felt so weak and disgusting in his life. He was crying and sniveling on the ground, not even able to kneel or cower away as the stifling heat of the crew crowded around him, watching him devolve and break.

“...so proud of you, Benedict,” Percival’s soft laughter was low in his ear, fingers pressing over his back and into his hair. One looped around the collar and pulled it back until he raised his head to make eye contact. “You’re gonna make such a good mage for me, aren’t you? Just for me, that’s right…”

Somewhere just beneath the surface Floyd desperately wanted to shake his head no, no, please no... but he settled for dry heaving onto the floor next to him before blacking out.

Next part

58 notes · View notes