SUBMISSIVES CULT

Chapter 13: The Bond of Blood and Breath

Dominic

The clock struck 4:15 a.m. as I tightened the straps on the Vampire gloves, the metal spikes glinting menacingly in the dim light. I watched Isla, her body a canvas of bruises and welts, each mark a testament to our shared dark desires. Her eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly with a mix of fear and anticipation.

The room was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, an intoxicating blend that heightened my senses. I moved towards her, my heart pounding with the thrill of what was to come. Each step felt deliberate, measured, as if the air itself was resisting my approach.

"Isla," I murmured, my voice a dark promise. "Will you trust me again?"

Her eyes met mine, and she nodded, her lips parting slightly as she drew in a shaky breath. "Yes, Master."

I could see the fear in her eyes, but there was something else too—a deep, unwavering trust that sent a surge of possessive pride through me. I reached out, the spikes of the Vampire gloves grazing her skin, leaving trails of red in their wake. Her body tensed, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

"Asphyxiation play requires absolute trust," I said, my voice low and commanding. "You must let go and trust me to bring you back."

She nodded again, her eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the pulse of her fear and anticipation, the delicate balance of power shifting between us. I wrapped my hand around her throat, the spikes pressing into her flesh just enough to draw thin lines of blood.

Her breath hitched, and I tightened my grip, feeling the thrum of her pulse beneath my fingers. The power surged through me, a heady mix of dominance and responsibility. Isla's eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting as she surrendered to my control.

"Remember," I whispered, "our safe word."

"Eclipse," she breathed, her voice barely audible.

I tightened my grip, feeling her breath hitch as I cut off her air supply. Her eyes flew open, wide and wild, as she gasped for breath. The spikes bit deeper into her flesh, drawing more blood. The sight of it, the scent of it, her struggles, her desperation, only fueled my desire.

As her face flushed and her eyes grew glassy, I loosened my grip just enough to let her draw in a shallow breath. The rush of air seemed to ignite something within her, a desperate need mingled with her fear. I could feel her body trembling, her heart racing beneath my hand.

The power I held over her in that moment was absolute, and it took every ounce of control to not lose myself in it. I tightened my grip again, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, her body going limp in my grasp. The line between pleasure and pain blurred, and I could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in her eyes. "This is my pretty girl. "

I released her just before she lost consciousness, my hand moving from her throat to cradle her face. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she drew in deep, ragged breaths. Her eyes were dazed, a mix of fear, relief, and something deeper—something primal.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear. "You did well, Isla. You trusted me, and you surrendered."

She nodded weakly, her body trembling in my arms. I removed the Vampire gloves, setting them aside before pulling her close. Her body was warm and soft against mine, the lingering scent of blood mingling with the heady mix of our desires.

I carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. I could see the depth of her trust in that gaze, a trust that was both humbling and exhilarating.

Aftercare was as crucial as the play itself. I moved to the small table by the bed, retrieving a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth. I dipped the cloth into the water, wringing it out before returning to her side. Gently, I began to clean the wounds, my touch careful and deliberate.

Each stroke of the cloth was an act of devotion, a way to soothe the pain I had inflicted. I cleaned the blood from her throat, her arms, her chest, taking care to be as gentle as possible. Isla's eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxing under my ministrations.

"You're safe now," I murmured, my voice soft. "I've got you."

She nodded, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I continued to clean her wounds, my touch firm but tender. When I finished, I applied a soothing balm to her skin, my fingers tracing the marks I had left. The act of tending to her wounds felt intimate, a way to reaffirm the bond between us.

Isla's eyes opened, and she looked up at me with a soft, vulnerable gaze. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You did beautifully," I said, my voice filled with pride. "You trusted me, and you were brave." The best whore I ever had.

She smiled, a soft, exhausted smile that tugged at my heart. I lay down beside her, pulling her into my arms. Her body fit perfectly against mine, her warmth seeping into my skin. I could feel her heartbeat, a steady, comforting rhythm that soothed my own.

As she drifted off to sleep, I held her close, my mind racing with thoughts of our future. The depth of my feelings for Isla was something I hadn't anticipated, a fierce, protective love that bordered on obsession. The thought of anyone else touching her, hurting her, was enough to ignite a dark rage within me. But the thought of being with anyone other than Isla was unbearable.

I tightened my hold on her, my resolve strengthening. I would protect her, no matter the cost. The bond we shared was too deep, too consuming to be broken by outside forces. I would do whatever it took to keep her safe, to keep her mine.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, I pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. "Sleep, my love," I whispered. "I'll always protect you."

With Isla in my arms, I felt a sense of peace, a calm that belied the darkness within me. She was my light, my reason for everything. And I would fight to keep her, no matter the cost. I held her warm with my body and put two cozy blankets over her body until it covers her shoulder. You wouldn't think she does the things she is doing. She is my holy canvas I am painting on.