For @amonthofwhump Twelve Days of Whumpmas! Day One-Tied to a Tree
Sunny and Star with Hunter Bianchi. Starts in pain, ends in a little bit of comfort. :)
CW: referenced caning, pet whump, BBU, masochism-ish (not sexual), starvation, derogatory language, referenced consensual sex, referenced noncon, bonded whumpees, Romantic whumpees, forced kissing, implied future noncon, shaming whumpee for “being ugly”, marked as nsfwhump just in case, ends in comfort
The grounds of Mr. Bianchi’s estate sprawl on for seemingly miles, endless acres of grass and trees and wildflowers. Star feels trapped and isolated in the vast expanse, overwhelmed.
She rolls her shoulders as much as she can, despite the ropes binding her. Her back is burning from the ruthless caning she took yesterday, the good kind of burn, the kind that makes heat pool in her stomach, makes her want to rub her welts and cuts up against the bark of the tree she’s tied to, just to feel the pain, the pleasure. They’re the same thing to her now. But she’s stuck, bound to a tree in Mr. Bianchi’s personal forest. Her arms are tied behind her on the other side of the tree trunk, her feet are spread apart and tied in place. She’s been out here all night, shivering in her thin, skintight black leggings and baggy light blue sweater. Now, in the dull energy of midmorning light, the cold has settled into her joints, making her whole body stiff and her nose red. She’ll be punished if she’s not pretty and flexible when Mr. Bianchi wants her.
Her shoulders burn with tension, and Star twists around, searching for relief that doesn’t come. It never comes, she never gets relief, she’s always tied up and punished and hurt because she looks so fucking good like this. Because she’s meant to be someone’s angry, customized slut, and what else do you do with a stupid whore?
She’s so fucking stupid to be thinking about silly things like that. If she could just relax, mutt, stop trying to use your brain, it would all be better.
The sound of crunching leaves slams Star back into the present, and her breathing quickens as she searches for the source of the noise.
Mr. Bianchi steps out in front of her, Sunny in tow. At first, Star’s heart swells when she sees Sunny, dressed in the same black leggings and a light yellow sweater, but when she’s sees the specific way he’s limping, like his hurt is coming from the inside, she wants to scream. She left him alone last night, he had to take Mr. Bianchi all alone.
Mr. Bianchi takes a sip of of coffee from his white ceramic mug. “Have a nice night, Starshine? I sure did.”
Fuck you, she wants to yell. But she can’t, her training won’t let her. “Mr. Bianchi—” She licks her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “I am sorry, sir, please forgive your stupid mutt.”
Sunny, hunched over, nods slowly in agreement.
Mr. Bianchi smirks. “What are you sorry for, pet?”
“I’m sorry for stealing food. I’m a greedy, selfish mutt and I won’t do it again. I deserve much worse of a punishment than this, Sir.”
“Glad spending the night outside finally made you think rationally. As much as you can, all those brains got fucked out of you. I paid for a stupid slut, didn’t I?”
Star stares at the ground, her bottom lip trembling. Stupid, stupid pet. She stole the food for Sunny because Mr. Bianchi starves both the pets so they’re skinny and weak, and Sunny is already too thin.
“Untie her,” Mr. Bianchi says to Sunny.
Even though it’s forced comfort, Sunny’s hands on Star is instantaneous relief. When all the ropes are pulled away and left coiled on the forest floor, and Star falls forward, completely boneless, he catches her in his arms. She nuzzles into his shoulder, whining as feeling struggles to return to her body. Sunny knows just what to do. He presses his thumb into the sore muscles where her shoulders meet her neck and she keens in bliss.
She only ever wanted to help. But they both end up hurting for it, bound, gagged, under a whip, on bedsheets. They’re meant to hurt.
She has to show her gratitude. She wants to show it, wants it more than she wants her heart to keep beating. Tilted back in Sunny’s arms, she presses her lips to Sunny’s. He reciprocates, pushing against her and holding onto the back of her neck.
She thinks she’d love him regardless, if they were Mr. Bianchi’s property or not, if they weren’t just pets but real people. She loves him now, and it feels real, feels steady.
And she has to show it, she has to be good. It’s always been like this, always will be like this, her and Sunny and the sex and the pain. It’s like this now, she moans into his lips as he digs his fingers into a welt on her shoulder blade. She loves him. She needs him to live.
It is there in this facsimile of love that Mr. Bianchi smiles, perfect white teeth and full of malice. Star’s heart drops.
She’s stupid, stupid mutt, stupid slut. Because after all, she and Sunny are pets, nothing more. Pets can’t love, pets aren’t people She and Sunny are objects, pricey fucktoys with heartbeats. Pretty things, always spreading their legs for the handlers or Mr. Bianchi or each other.
Star thinks of the times she and Sunny fucked each other without instruction, because they could, because they needed to. They got caught sometimes, and punished for it. That never stopped them, though. They need to be with each other.
“Both of you, inside now. Make me some fucking breakfast.”
Sunny stands both of them up and tilts his head like a confused kitten. “What would you like me to make for you, Sir?”
“You can make me some bacon and egg. I’ll want Star underneath the table with me.”
Star takes a shaky breath and nods. “Yes, Mr. Bianchi.” She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want this. She wants Sunny. She wants to be alone with him. But she doesn’t have a fucking choice, she’s a pet. And she knows what happens if she tries to say no.
Mr. Bianchi gives Star a disdainful look. “Go put on some makeup. I don’t like ugly pets.”
Star feels like she’s being crushed, being killed. She’s a failure, she’s a bad pet, she’s a mistake. Mr. Bianchi spent money on a broken toy, if he wasn’t so benevolent, she would have been put down.
Sunny’s hand on her lower back is the only thing that pulls her out, that stops her from hyperventilating. “I’ll get her ready for you, Sir,” he says softly.
“Good. Make it snappy.” Mr. Bianchi walks over to both pets. There’s something soft in his gaze, something like kindness, like he’s about to praise them for something. The pets look eagerly up at him with wide eyes. Mr. Bianchi shakes his head and clips a silk leash on Sunny’s collar, then Star’s, and starts walking away, tugging at the leash so his pets will follow.
Mr. Bianchi’s not looking back, and it’s there in the forest that Sunny grabs onto Star’s hand and squeezes. They’re both scared. They’re both tired and hungry and confused. His emotions hum through her and hers through him.
It’s there in the forest, with the sound of cracking leaves and squirrels scurrying in the treetops, that Sunny whispers in her ear, quiet enough so only she can hear, “I think you look pretty just the way you are.”