SUBMISSIVES CULT

Chapter 9: The Price of Betrayal

Isla

The small room was dimly lit, a single bulb casting a stark, flickering light over the sparse furnishings. Dominic's eyes burned with a mixture of anger and lust as he backed me against the cold, stone wall. My heart pounded in my chest, a heady mix of fear and anticipation swirling within me.

"You think you can tease me like that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can flaunt yourself in front of Callum and get away with it?"

"I...I didn't mean to," I stammered, my voice trembling.

His hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. "You belong to me, Isla," he said, his voice a menacing whisper. "And you need to be reminded of that."

I shivered, the intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through me. Despite the fear, I could feel a dark desire building within me, my body responding to his dominance. Dominic reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black knife, the blade glinting in the dim light.

"You need to understand what it means to be mine," he said, his voice soft but laced with danger.

He pressed the flat of the blade against my cheek, the cold metal sending a shiver down my spine. I gasped, my breath hitching as he slowly trailed the knife down my neck, the sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Do you feel that?" he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. "That's your punishment, Isla. The reminder that you belong to me and no one else."

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. The knife continued its journey, grazing over the neckline of my dress. Dominic's other hand moved to the fabric, tearing it away to expose my bare skin. The sound of the ripping material echoed in the small room, heightening my senses.

"Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with contempt and desire. "So beautiful, so fragile. But you need to learn your place."

He pressed the knife against my chest, just above my heart. I could feel the sharpness of the blade, the threat it posed. My breath came in short, shallow gasps, my fear and arousal mingling into a heady cocktail of sensation.

"Don't move," he commanded, his voice stern. "Don't even breathe unless I tell you to."

I nodded again, my heart racing. Dominic's eyes darkened with satisfaction, and he began to move the knife lower, tracing a line down my stomach. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and I had to fight to keep still, to obey his command.

"Good girl," he murmured, a hint of approval in his tone. "You're learning."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "But you need more, don't you? You need to be truly humbled."

With that, he moved the knife away and wrapped his hand around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my breath hitch. I gasped, my eyes widening as he exerted his control over me. The sensation of his hand on my throat was intoxicating, a mix of fear and excitement that left me dizzy.

"Feel that?" he whispered, his grip tightening slightly. "That's your punishment, Isla. To be reminded of who owns you, who controls you."

He held me there for a moment, his eyes boring into mine, before loosening his grip just enough to let me breathe. I took a shaky breath, my body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

"You need to be humiliated," he said, his voice low and commanding. "To truly understand your place."

He released my throat and stepped back, his eyes still burning with a fierce intensity. "Strip," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. I hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability of the act making me pause. But the look in his eyes left no room for defiance. Slowly, I removed the remnants of my dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor. I stood before him, exposed and vulnerable, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and arousal.