#psychological torture

[masterchef901]

This singular frame was worth my entire annual subscription

[swazilegend]

This is where the load buzzing in the background of Bisan and MoTaz's videos come from. This is psychological torture and this has been going on for years before Oct 7

[abhainnwhump]

Whumper, ripping off the last page of their calendar and tossing it to Whumpee's feet: That's another year, darling. And not a single person has found you. Give up, because your friends already did.

[morgue-nymph]

torturing girls is good for their mental health <3

[sapphicdesiress]

“Abandoned again?” Those cool words slipped through the darkness like a serpent’s forked tongue.

The hero sat in the center of the chamber, bathed in moonlight from the hole in the ceiling. Chains glinted around her limbs, allowing her to kneel but restricting any further movement. She looked into the shadow, frantically trying to find the viper in the shadows. “My team will come back.” A laugh, sweet as poison, filled the high ceiling. “Like they did last time?” The villain stepped into the gentle lighting, basking in the way the hero recoiled at the sight of her. 

“Last time was different.” 

Were the villain capable of pity, the hero would have earned it. “Is that what they told you?” 

Metal clinked together as the hero squirmed. “It’s true,” she insisted. 

A hum filled the room, low and sensual. “Forgive me for not believing you.” The slow, elegant footsteps of the villain took her along the moonlight’s edge. Too close for comfort, and yet far enough to give a false sense of ease. “Why don’t we play a game, hm?” The dark silhouette of the villain continued to idly pace around the circle of moonlight. “Perhaps you aren’t lying and your team will come for you.” The villain paused behind her captured prey. The hero turned her head, startled by the sudden silence. Amusement played on the sharp line of the villain’s onyx lips. “Call for me when you’ve decided they’ve abandoned you.” 

The hero’s silence was admirable but foolish. They both knew the hero’s supposed friends would never return. They expected the villain to let her go, as she had done time and time again, but what would they do when the hero realized they’d truly left her behind?

The villain left her alone in the chamber's silence. 

The moon gave way to the scorching sun as the hero remained. Brilliant rays bit back the darkness and warmed her cold, stiff limbs. But as the day wore on, the chains grew hotter. 

“Free me.” The hero’s voice rang in her ears like a murder of angry crows. 

The villain appeared in front of her, delighted at the visage of the squirming, sweaty hero. “And why would I free you?” Gorgeous eyes, so soft and pained, looked up at her. “Have they abandoned you?” 

“No.” The hero shifted, her skin red beneath the metal sitting on the flesh of her shoulders. “If you free me, they’ll show you mercy.” A bark of laughter burst from the villain. “Show me mercy? Me? Oh no, my dear, have they really convinced you they could beat me?” Her figure trembled with restrained laughter. “Sweet, delicate flower, they couldn’t kill me even in their dreams.” 

“They could!” 

“Then why haven’t they? Why do they keep leaving you like a sacrificial lamb? Hm?” 

“They don’t.” The hero bowed her head, unable to look at the sneering villain.

“I see your delusions remain intact.” A harsh sigh left her. “Very well. Call for me when you’ve realized they won’t come for you.” 

The sun loomed above her, slowly crossing the sky as it continued to scorn her beneath its brutal gaze. When dusk arrived, the door to the chamber groaned open. A silent servant shambled into the room with a bowl and a bucket. Calloused fingers pinched the hero’s nose until she was forced to open her mouth. Watery, cold porridge was forced down her throat—the villain already knew she’d resist any food or water offered to her. The chains were loosened enough to slide the bucket beneath the hero before the servant disappeared, offering her the illusion of privacy. Several minutes passed before they returned to fetch the bucket and tighten the chains. The hero had shifted onto her rear, allowing her to stretch her leg as much as her bindings would allow.

The heat of the day gave way to the prickling chill of night. Metal cooled, offering a reprieve from the angry throbbing along her shoulders. Relief turned into shivering. Alone, in the darkness of the chamber, she rocked from side to side, trying to do anything to keep herself warm. Fog swirled from her lips as she tried to blow warm air on her stiff, aching fingers. She remembered her team’s captain, how he’d gently cradled the hands of his lieutenant when she’d complained of the cold. The hero yearned for the care offered to each member of her team, and yet, she always found herself pulling her coat tighter, fighting the frigid night on her own. 

Soft, clicking footsteps echoed around her. “How’s my darling hero?” Her words were sweet and soft, but they cracked against her nerves like a barbed whip. 

“Cold.” 

“I can see that.” Behind her, the hero felt her enemy close in. Warm, delicate hands brushed through her unkempt hair, sliding down to gently rub the tension along her stiff jaw. “You could come with me. There will be a warm bath waiting for you and you can sleep wherever you’d like. I even have your favorite blanket in my guest room.” 

The aching fibers of her jaw relaxed beneath the villain’s painfully familiar touch. She closed her eyes, imagining the soft fur against her. The first time she had been left behind, she’d been offered a room instead of a dungeon. The villain, cruel and wicked, had offered her every luxury she possessed. The hero still didn’t understand why. “What do you want in return?” 

“The same thing I always want—for you to be honest with yourself and me. They don’t care about you. They never have and never will. You’re expendable. Something to be left behind when you’re an inconvenience. Look at you.” The villain’s touch disappeared as she moved in front of the hero. “Caught in a trap they could have saved you from, but why would they sacrifice themselves for you? Hm?” 

“They know you won’t hurt me,” the hero said. “You’ve let me go every time.” 

“And what if I didn’t this time?” The villain crouched down, her features etched skillfully with neutrality. “Do you think they’d try to set you free?” 

Uncomfortable silence fell over them. An entire day had passed since her team had disappeared. “They would come for me…” 

“And how long do you think they’ll wait?” 

The longest the villain had kept her for was three weeks before the hero had miraculously escaped. There had been no news of her team during her time with the villain, but when she’d returned, they’d said they’d searched for her. They wouldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know,” she said, though the words scraped against her heart with an iron claw. 

The villain regarded her for a long moment before standing. “I will come when you call for me, even when they won’t.” She stepped into the shadows, letting them consume her. 

Left only with the ache in her chest and the weight of the chains bearing down on her, the hero let the first of her silent tears fall. 

When the darkness lifted, the servant came again—their treatment as harsh and swift as before. 

The cycle continued for days. The hero’s skin, abused by the sun’s torment and the scorching metal, had blistered, and begun to ooze creamy puss. Discomfort had long since turned to incessant pain. Night and day offered her no reprieve from the isolation of the chamber. The villain had stopped visiting her, though the hero suspected she watched from the shadows. The phantom presence of her enemy offered the smallest comforts as she recalled the time spent with her team. They were always doting and caring when in need of her talents, but when there was nothing for her to do, they left her out of their conversations. At times, they were even annoyed when she spoke up. They’d never listened to her suggestions. She was an instrument for them to wield and discard until they needed her again. And now they’d left her behind. But they hadn’t just abandoned her. They’d left her helpless to the whims of their enemy—to suffer at the villain’s hand until she was released again. She was convenient to them. Something to swoop up when the villain was done with her and use again to their advantage. Had they ever truly needed her? Did they even like her? Did she mean anything to them? 

Nine days passed before the weight of the chains and her team’s betrayal became too much. 

The villain’s name had hardly left her tongue when she appeared from the shadows, as radiant as the sun and just as oppressively beautiful. “Why have you summoned me, little lamb?” There was no kindness in her smile, nor was there cruelty. 

“Everything hurts.” The hero looked up, her eyes hollow and dark from lack of sleep. The villain said nothing. She bowed her head, the movement pulling painfully at her blistered skin. “Let me go,” she whispered.

“You know my price.” 

The hero’s shoulders trembled, too tired to show any restraint. “I thought they’d come by now.” 

“Disappointing, isn’t it?” There was no empathy in the villain’s words, only thinly veiled disdain. 

“They should have come.” The hero’s lips trembled as she stared at the ground. “I would have come for them.” “You wouldn’t have left them behind.” 

“I don’t understand” Her voice tightened, dancing on the edge of tears. “They said they would come back. Every time I disappeared, they said they did but I was gone. Why haven’t they come back yet?” 

The villain lowered onto her knees, taking her sweaty head within her gentle grasp, coaxing her gaze up. “Because they do not see your value, sweet flower. They don’t see how hard you work or how much you care. All that matters to them is what they have to gain. You’re of no use to them when they have to save you.” 

“I could do better,” the hero whispered. “I could train. Be more careful. They wouldn’t have to save me.” 

A gentle thumb wiped away the hero’s tear, smudging the grime on her delicate features. “You know it would never be enough. They don’t see you as one of them.” 

“They used to.” The hero’s hands clenched, her nails slicing open the tender flesh of her palms. “They used to care about me.” 

“You don’t need them to care about you,” the villain said, her voice cool and calm. “Not when you have me.”

“You left me here to freeze and burn.” The hero yanked her head back with all the feeble strength she could muster. 

“For good reason.” Gentle hands fell away and waved over the chains. The villain murmured and the heavy bindings fell away. “You needed to see the truth.” The hero slumped forward into the villain’s arms. “I just wanted to be good enough for them.” 

“The problem was never your worth, lamb.” In one smooth motion, the villain swept the hero’s weakened body into her embrace, taking her away from the chamber. 

[whump-queen]

Make a whumpee beg for something they need so desperately, without any pointers on how their new whumper likes it.

Make them play trial and error.

It’s so much more humiliating that way.

‘Please—I don’t know how to please you—‘

‘Maybe I just like to keep you guessing.’

Make them scramble. Make them panic.

Make them throw darts at the wall until something sticks.

Let them sit and slowly suffocate in how much worse this is—That any sick, humiliating shit they do or say or offer is volunteered from their own brain, rather than something they’ve been ordered to do.

And when nothing makes the pain stop, watch them get desperate. Let them slowly splinter and crumble away until they’re begging for orders—forgetting entirely what it was they wanted in the first place. all they want now is to be told what to do, how to please you—anything to make it stop.

[gayshitanddadjokes]

You're trapped in a timeloop. Every day, you witness the same horrible car accident. It kills three people instantly. As you go through the timeloop, you start to figure out that you have powers. You have powers, and each time you witness those deaths you become more powerful. You investigate. Maybe you start with a wild rabbit or the 14-year-old family dog that's scheduled to be put down in a month. You find yourself apathetic to the act of killing it; it'll be back tomorrow. You confirm it, it being that each time you witness death you become more powerful. Tomorrow (the next today) you visit a hospital, track down all the terminally ill patients. You witness four people die. You don't become more powerful. What's the difference?

You realize eventually. The car that triggers the accident had been sabotaged by you. The woman who drives it is a total bitch and yesterday (many many todays ago) you slashed her tires. The mechanic fucked up when he was putting the new tires on. The deaths are, for all intensive purposes, your fault. You try again. You kill the family dog and feel the power surge in you. You watch a wild animal get torn to shreds in the woods and feel nothing.

After you know that, it's not a question of 'if'. It's not a question of morals or strength. It's just nine simple words: how long does it take for you to kill? It doesn't matter. They'll be back again tomorrow (today). The only people that will remember are you and whatever divine trickster is keeping track of your powers. And if your powers get strong enough, you can find a way out of here.

You use your powers to kill, which makes your powers stronger, which means you can kill more, which makes your powers stronger, which means you can kill more, which makes your powers stronger, which means you can kill more, and ouroboros consumes himself.

You never escape. You get to the point where you can move mountains with the flick of a wrist but you're not strong enough to escape. Not strong enough to see tomorrow (not today not today not today) because that was never an option. You are a god among what are nothing but human sacrifices living the same instant of unfathomable power over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and

Anyway I'm pretty sure I just developed a Greek afterlife torture. Hades hmu.

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

Whumper makes whumpee hold a tape measure (and they have to hold it the whole time)

Whumper grabs the hook and pulls, taking their steps backwards slowly, until the blade is at max.

Release

[tightsweatyclothes]

At the very least, the corset and puffed sleeves and dress comes off before she is locked into her cage at night, but the frills are still there to remind her that she is a maid, a constant discomfort that she can never take her mind off of. If her owner wishes to stop her from sleeping, there is the spiked belt, with protrusions which do not allow her to lie down or lean back, or a single spiked metal hemisphere locked to the middle of the cage floor, and the cage is so small she cannot avoid bumping into it no matter how she tries to get comfortable. A horizontal bar in the middle of the cage, too, suffices to keep her from finding any comfort, too low for her to lie sideways, pressing against her thighs when she tries to sit up. Each scream of frustration is rewarded automatically by a tightening of her collar for five minutes. The night is endless, and she prays her owner will let her sleep tomorrow night, at least.

[abhainnwhump]

Defiant Whumpee with the ability to see the future is stuck in captivity. They see their future self broken and conditioned without any fight left in them. No matter what they choose, they will always end up as Whumper's pet. The question is just when and what will do the trick.

[cyberwhumper]

Vina knows they're doing something awful in the other room. The screams are deafening, reverberating on the walls and surrounding him like a heavy blanket, leaving nowhere to run and hide. The utterly empty room feels like a specially designed acoustic chamber, the echo so intense he swears he couldn't hear his own thoughts at all.

He can't see what's happening, and he's sure that's completely by design. They wake him up in the middle of the night, pull a bag over his head, and drag him there with practiced efficiency. There was no way they weren't doing this to countless others as well. One could only wonder what they imagined, deep within the vortex of noise, that could be happening to their loved ones on the other side of these very walls?

He's tried multiple times to assuage it. When the screams die down, he positions himself against the grates and soothes it, hoping the small point of connection will grant him the mercy of allowing Dog to hear him. He's not sure it does. But it makes Vina feel better anyway. He's never thought to ask it directly, after everything was said and done and they were returned to their shared cell, both visibly worse for wear, if it could hear him. If it had ever.

In those moments they barely spoke, instead seeking comfort in each other for hours on end. And then everything was right in the world again. Even if Vina was ultimately talking to himself, he was still doing his best to console it, to talk to it just in case it could hear him. Just in case it ever felt it was truly alone.

The screaming resumes, and Vina returns to his spot in the corner. Covers his ears. Curls around himself.

Waits for the screaming to stop so he can comfort it again.

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump //

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[justbreakonme]

Whumper who ties whumpee down and forces them to listen to recording of their own torture sessions at a blasting volume for hours, leaving them sobbing with a splitting headache and the sickest form of fear in their stomach.

[the-lady-maddy]

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