The Dread of Damned

The room was cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the ragged rhythm of her breathing. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. I stepped inside, the faint creak of the door echoing like a distant warning. My eyes adjusted to the dim light instantly making everything clear to my gaze, drawn to the figure lying on the bed.

She was there, as I had left her, her body sprawled in a way that spoke of both exhaustion and submission. The weight of her heavy earrings pulled at her flesh, leaving faint marks that traced the contours of her skin like a map of ownership. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the only sign of life in the otherwise still room.

As I approached, her eyes snapped open—wide, alert, like a creature sensing danger. There was a flicker of something primal in her gaze, a mix of fear and anticipation. She didn't move, not yet, but her body tensed, ready.

"I missed you," I whispered, my voice low and deliberate, each word dripping with a possessive warmth. Her response was immediate, instinctive. She shifted onto all fours, her movements fluid yet subservient, like an animal conditioned to obey. Her tongue slipped out slightly, a silent gesture of submission as I closed the distance between us.

I reached out, my fingers tangling in the rough strands of her hair, pulling her closer until her face was inches from mine. "You've become such a good pet," I murmured, my tone both approving and mocking. Her eyes flickered, but she didn't dare look away. "It must be so lonely here," I continued, my voice softening as I sat on the edge of the bed, my hand trailing down to her chest.

My fingers found the cold metal of her nipple rings, and I tugged sharply, eliciting a sharp, pained moan that echoed in the stillness. She winced but didn't pull away, her body curling instinctively as she lowered her head into my lap. Her breath was warm against my thighs, her submission complete.

I stroked her hair with one hand while the other gripped her breast roughly, my fingers digging into her flesh as if testing the limits of her endurance. She didn't resist, her body trembling but compliant, as if she had long since accepted her role.

Pulling down my pants, I watched as she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to meet me. But I stopped her, my hand gripping her hair and yanking her head back. "Good pets ask for permission," I said, my voice firm, almost cruel. I held her chin, forcing her mouth open, her words muffled and broken under my grip.

"P-please," she managed to stammer, her voice trembling but obedient. A smile tugged at my lips as I released her, only to push her head down in one swift, unyielding motion. She took me completely, her throat accommodating me without resistance, as if her body had been sculpted for this very purpose.

I set a relentless pace, pulling her head back only to plunge her down again, each movement drawing a muffled sound from her. My other hand gripped her breast, twisting and pulling with a violence that made her throat constrict around me. The room filled with the sounds of her submission—the wet, choking gasps, the sharp tugs of metal against flesh, the low, guttural growls that escaped my throat.

When I finally came, it was with a force that left her shuddering, her throat working to swallow every drop. I pulled her head back, her lips stained and glistening, and slapped her cheek lightly. "Good girl," I said, my voice dripping with approval. A faint smile touched her lips, her eyes glazed but content.

"I have a gift for you today," I said, pulling her into my lap and positioning my dick between her thick meaty thighs. Her breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. "Would you like to see it?" I asked, my voice a low purr. She nodded fervently, her eagerness unmistakable.

The door swung open with a swift motion. Lucian stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the dim light bleeding in from the hallway. Behind him, he dragged something—no, someone—across the cold stone floor. The sound of chains scraping against stone echoed like a death knell. The girl's wrists were bound, her fingers twitching weakly as if trying to grasp at something that wasn't there. Lucina's grip on the chains was unyielding, his face a mask of indifference as he hauled her forward. With a single, merciless motion, he threw her into the center of the room. Her body crumpled like a broken doll, her breath hitching in a silent sob.

Lucina didn't linger. He turned on his heel and left, the door slamming shut behind him, sealing us in the suffocating darkness.

I raised my hand, and the air seemed to shiver in response. Silver chains materialized from the void, coiling like serpents through the shadows. They slithered toward the girl, wrapping around her limbs with a cruel precision. The chains tightened, lifting her off the ground until she dangled, her toes barely brushing the floor. Her body trembled, the faintest whimper escaping her lips as the chains glowed faintly, casting an eerie light that illuminated her face.

"Do you recognize her?" I whispered, my voice a velvet blade slicing through the silence.

The woman in my grasp stiffened, her breath catching. She knew better than to scream, to struggle, to do anything that might displease me. Her obedience was absolute, born of years of conditioning. She nodded, her lips trembling as she forced the words out.

"Who is she?" I asked, my hand sliding over her soft stomach, feeling the way her flesh quivered beneath my touch. I pulled her closer, savoring the way her body betrayed her fear.

"My daughter," she whispered, her voice steel wrapped in silk. "The reason I am here."

I laughed, the sound low and guttural, reverberating through the room like a predator's growl. My gaze shifted to the girl suspended in the air. She was young, her body slender but curved in ways that defied her age. Even the loose gown she wore couldn't hide the fullness of her chest, the swell of her hips. She was a masterpiece of vulnerability, a canvas waiting to be ruined.

With a single thought, I sent a surge of essence coursing through her. Her body jerked, her eyes snapping open as the darkness around her writhed and coiled. She couldn't see, couldn't hear—I had made sure of that. For days, she had been confined in a void, her world reduced to nothing but silence and shadows. She had screamed until her voice gave out, cried until her tears ran dry, and then she had simply… waited. Waited for whatever horror I had in store for her.

"Who is it?" she asked, her voice cracked and fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering. "Is someone there?"

I turned to the woman in my arms, her body trembling against mine. "Should I let her see you?" I murmured, my lips brushing against her ear. "Should I let her see the masterpiece of her existence? The reason you've endured so much?"

The woman nodded, her movements stiff and reluctant. She knew what I wanted—what I always wanted. Her pain, her fear, her submission. It was a game to me, and she was a player, willing or unwilling did not matter in my presence. 

With a flick of my wrist, the darkness receded. The girl's eyes adjusted slowly, blinking against the dim light.

The fun was about to begin.