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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.