My first submission for the Whumpetition on Tumblr based onthe prompt: Don't Let Them See You Cry.
Content Warnings: whump of a minor, corporal punishment - spanking, paddling, humiliation, forced nudity in public, implied lewd intent towards a minor, probably something else I'm forgetting to mention.
Featured Whumpee: Young slave Killian
Liam had told him to mind his tongue. Had warned him that their new captain wouldn't be as amicable as the last. Their previous captain, though gruff and stern, had at least felt a twinge of compassion for the boys over the fact their father had been willing to trade them for a mere rowboat. No such sympathy would be afforded them on this new vessel, with this new crew and captain who saw them only as property. Liam had told him that the captain would be looking for an opportunity to set an example, and Killian had given him one.
Too young to receive the corporal punishment a true member of the crew would receive, Killian was expected to drop his trousers on deck, lay himself over the captain's knee, and be spanked before the entire crew. It was a humiliation as much as a means to establish in a young sailor's mind the kind of pain he might receive tenfold if such behaviors rooted themselves in his character as he grew into manhood. To stand vulnerable, naked from the waste down, in front of a group of men was bad enough, the fact that his brother was there, forced to watch from the front of the congregated crew made Killian ball his fists in determination.
He wasn't going to give any of them the satisfaction of his cries.
"Over m'knee, boy," the captain commanded as the bosun placed a broken off paddle from an old oar in his hand.
Killian draped himself over the man's lap, his gaze fixed on the freshly scrubbed deck he and Liam had cleaned earlier that day.
"Head up," the bosun snapped before yanking a fistful of Killian's hair and wrenching his head up, forcing him to face one half of the assembly while the other watched his pale backside become increasingly reddened from the series of smacks he was about to receive.
"Keep count. Aloud."
The order was given just before the slap of the paddle hit his rump, causing Killian to grunt and bite down on his lip before firmly stating, "One."
His nostrils flared in response to the second strike. "Two."
The paddle gave little warning when swung through the air before connecting with its target. Killian had little time to prepare before the next sensation of its surface cracked against his skin.
"Three."
A fiery sting radiated off his arse making the fourth smack feel as though the captain had traded the plank of wood for a branding iron. Once again, Killian dug his teeth into his lip in order to hold back the cries gathered in the back of his throat, but was forced to croak out a Four, when a reminder wallop was delivered upside his head by the bosun.
The searing spread down his legs and through his lower back, mirroring itself in both heat and intensity in the corners of his eyes where tears began to form.
"Five."
He wasn't going to be able to sit for the rest of the day.
"Six."
Perhaps, not even the next.
"Seven."
A welcomed numbness started to settle itself over his lower extremities.
"Eight."
But it did little to alleviate the aching throb of bruising that had started to form.
"Nine."
Killian sniffed. His voice had become shaky and hoarse from pain, but he hadn't given in yet.
"Ten."
Without warning, the captain shoved Killian off his legs, landing him hard on the surface of the deck with his pants tangled at his ankles. Out of some unknown instinct, Killian balled himself up, drawing his knees to his chest while wrapping them up in his arms. The strain the position put on his battered backside did not override the comfort it provided him, even though it was fleeting.
"On your feet for the captain!" the bosun ordered, pulling Killian up by his ear.
"You'd do well to remember this lesson the next time you think of back talking me, boy," the captain said when Killian was finally on his feet. "Now put yourself right, and get back to work."
Wincing, Killian bent over to pull up his trousers. The crew dispersed with a few lewd comments and whistles as they passed, but he forced himself not to dwell on their unsettling meanings.
"Go below and take a minute," Liam said when he finally made it to his brother's side. "I'll start on our next task if you need to go somewhere and have a cr-"
"I'm fine, Liam," Killian bit out. "I won't let any of them see me cry."
"They won't." Liam placed a hand on his shoulder and held his gaze firm. "You didn't let them, and neither will I. I'll cover for you, little brother."
"Younger brother," Killian huffed. "And I said I'm fine. Let's just get back to work."
Gingerly, Killian made it through the rest of the afternoon and evening, accomplishing all that was set before him. He'd kept his vow. None of them ever saw him cry. Only the shadows that danced along the hold's wall, cast there by the light of the stair lantern at night, ever had the satisfaction of Killian's tears.
