SUBMISSIVES CULT

Chapter 12: The Dawn of Devotion

Isla

The mansion was shrouded in a heavy, predawn silence. The clock on the wall ticked with a rhythmic precision, each second dragging painfully into the next. I lay on the bed, my body an aching tableau of Dominic's dominance from the night before. The marks on my skin were still raw, each throb a reminder of the brutality that had claimed me.

At precisely 4 a.m., the door to my room creaked open. Dominic's silhouette appeared in the doorway, his form darkly and imposing against the dim light. He moved with a calculated grace, every step purposeful and loaded with intent. The room seemed to contract around his presence, the air growing heavier with each passing second.

"Isla," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within me. "It's time again. I know, it's the third time. Do your best on today's last test."

"Negotiation of rules and expectations is crucial," he said. "We need a safe word. I want you to use it if things become too much."

I nodded, my throat tight with a mix of fear and submission. "Understood. The safe word is 'Eclipse.'"

I tensed, bracing myself for what was to come. The previous night's punishment had left me in a state of both physical and emotional exhaustion. Dominic's eyes, dark and unyielding, conveyed a promise of more to come. He approached the bed with a small, ornate box, its surface decorated with intricate, dark symbols.

He set the box down with a deliberate motion and opened it. Inside were tools of torment, each one designed to inflict pain and assert control. The sight of them made my heart race with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Dominic reached into the box and retrieved a red-hot needle, its tip glowing ominously in the dim light.

"Remember," he said, his tone almost tender, "this will hurt. But so does love."

He pressed the needles to my inner arm, the metal searing through my flesh with a white-hot intensity. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a blinding flash of agony that made me cry out. Dominic worked with methodical precision, creating a series of small, burning dots on my skin. Each puncture was a searing brand, embedding the mark of his control into my flesh.

The scent of singed skin filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of my blood. The pain was relentless, a sharp, throbbing agony that seemed to consume me. Dominic's focus was unwavering, his eyes dark and intense as he carved his mark into me. The sensation of the hot metal against my skin was both brutal and oddly intimate, a stark reminder of my submission. I loudly screamed my lungs out, while yI knew he was hard as fuck.

Once he finished with the needles, he set it aside and picked up the Dragon's tail. This was no ordinary whip; it was a cruel instrument of punishment with a broad, triangular piece of suede that tapered to a point. Dominic held it up, letting the leather sway ominously. The sight of it made my blood run cold. This kind of fear I never felt before, making my inner thighs dripping wet.

His voice laced with dark amusement. "Are you ready?"

Before I could respond, the whip cracked down, its sting biting into my skin with a brutal force. The pain on my ass was immediate and unrelenting, a searing line of agony that made me cry out. Each stroke of the Dragon's tail was a reminder of my subjugation, the leather lashing against my flesh with a precision that left no room for escape. I tried. Belts are the absolute worst, I had a similar "punishment" long before. It opened traumatic wounds to. He knows. That's his way of keeping and bounding me to him.

The sound of the whip slicing through the air was accompanied by the wet slap of leather against skin. The room filled with the symphony of my cries and the whip's impact, a cacophony of pain that Dominic seemed to relish. The Dragon's tail left deep, angry welts on my skin, each one a brutal testament to his dominance.

Dominic's breathing grew heavier as he continued, his eyes dark with a savage satisfaction. He paused occasionally, his gaze fixed on the marks he had inflicted. The sight of my suffering seemed to fuel his intensity, his movements becoming more forceful and controlled.

When he finally stopped, Dominic set the Dragon's tail aside and reached for another set of instruments: a pair of Vampire gloves. These were leather gloves with metal spikes embedded in the palms, each spike glinting with a cruel promise. He slipped them on, flexing his fingers with a predatory grace.

"These," Dominic said, his voice a low growl, "are for later.

His eyes roamed over me with a hunger that made my heart race. The thought of him tasting my heart, feeling its warmth and sweetness, seemed to ignite a dark, primal hunger within him. His gaze was predatory, almost as if he was imagining something even more horrific.

"Your pain," he murmured, "is part of the fantasy. A consuming fantasy that I crave."

Dominic's eyes shifted back to the Vampire gloves. The sight of them, the metal spikes glinting with a cruel promise, made me shiver and whine. He picked them up with a deliberate slowness, each movement calculated and menacing. The gloves were a tool of both pain and control, and I knew that the next stage of his domination was about to begin.

He approached me with the gloves, the metal spikes pressing lightly against my neck. Each touch was a mix of fear and anticipation, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy in the air. Dominic's gaze was dark with a primal hunger, his intentions clear in the way he looked at me.

As he prepared to continue, my mind raced with a mix of dread and twisted excitement. The boundaries of our relationship were being pushed further than ever before, and I could only brace myself for the pain and submission that lay ahead. The night was far from over, and the promise of more dark, consuming fantasies loomed heavy in the air.