Tahlia
The chain rattles every time I breathe.
Collar cutting into my throat, wrists blistering under cuffs, ankles pulled wide and raw. I can’t move. I can’t hide.
And he knows it.
He kneels at the foot of the bed, hook resting on the chain between my ankles, eyes locked on me like he’s already digging my grave. His shirt is ripped, chest streaked with blood—my blood, his blood, ours. He looks ruined. And holy.
“You whispered forever,” he says, low, steady, the kind of calm that makes me want to scream. “Now we finish it.”
He pulls something from the box.
A blade. Short, sharp, gleaming. Not the hook. Something worse.
My pulse kicks wild, rattling the collar. “No—”
He smiles, sharp and reverent. “Yes.”
The blade drags down the inside of my thigh, slow, teasing, slicing shallow until blood wells hot. I jerk, but the chains drag me back down. He leans forward, lips sealing over the cut, sucking until copper coats his mouth.
My scream shatters the silence, but he drinks it in like it’s the vow he’s been waiting for.
“You bleed, I drink,” he murmurs, licking the wound clean. “That’s how forever works.”
The blade rises again, kissing my other thigh. Deeper this time. The chain rattles. My back arches. My tears burn.
He laughs, low, guttural, blood smeared across his lips. “Your body’s the contract. Your blood signs it. And when I’m done—” he presses the blade to my chest, right over my heart, “—the world will know you were never yours.”
I choke, voice cracking. “You’ll kill me.”
His forehead presses to mine, his breath ragged, desperate, filthy. “No, little fairy. I’ll make you immortal.”
The blade kisses my skin again, not hurried—never hurried. He drags it down the line of my ribs, slow enough for me to feel every sting, shallow enough that he knows I won’t die. Not yet.
The chain rattles with my gasp.
Blood beads, trails down my side, soaking into the ruined sheets. His mouth follows the blade like it’s scripture—tongue hot, lips reverent, sucking until copper coats his teeth.
“You bleed beautiful,” he rasps, breath hot against the cut. “Every drop is a vow you don’t have the courage to say.”
My wrists jerk against the cuffs, metal biting deeper, but I can’t stop trembling. The collar chokes me when I try to arch away. He laughs, low, guttural, dragging the blade back up between my breasts until it rests against my sternum.
“You think words matter?” His eyes burn into mine, feral, worshipful. “No, little fairy. Flesh remembers. Blood remembers. Forever remembers.”
The blade tilts, pricks, a shallow line above my heart. He watches the bead rise, red and trembling, before leaning down and taking it into his mouth. His tongue lingers, lapping, savouring.
I sob, the sound breaking against his lips as he kisses me, blood from my chest mixing with the taste of his tongue. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until my throat strains.
“Open,” he growls. The blade rests against my jaw as his fingers force my mouth apart. He spits my own blood onto my tongue, his smile sharp as I gag on the heat.
“Swallow.”
I choke, tears spilling as the metallic burn slides down my throat. He watches every shudder, every gasp, his eyes alight with ruin.
“That’s the vow,” he whispers. “Not paper. Not ink. You and me, bound in blood.”
The blade clatters to the floor. His hands rip at his belt, trousers falling open, cock hard and slick with his own blood. He climbs over me, the chain rattling as my body jerks under his weight.
The collar digs deep when he grips it, holding me still, forcing my eyes to his. “Say it,” he demands, thrusting once, brutal, the sheets tearing under us. “Say forever.”
I choke on a scream, back arching, tears streaking my face. My body betrays me again, clenching, wet, traitorous.
His mouth crashes to mine, swallowing the sob, his cock slamming deeper, harder, each thrust timed with his filthy whisper: “Forever. Forever. Forever.”
Blood smears between us—his, mine, ours. My body burns, cut and bruised and broken, but he fucks me like he’s carving eternity into my flesh.
The chains rattle. The collar bites. My voice shatters.
And somewhere in the ruin, in the filth, in the agony—my lips form the word without meaning to.
“Forever.”
He groans, savage, triumphant, spilling inside me as if the word itself unlocked him. His hand fisted in my hair, his teeth at my throat, his cock buried to the hilt—branding me from the inside out.
The shrine is gone. The cage is ruin. The blood is everywhere.
And forever is real.
He doesn’t stop when he spills.
His hips grind into me, slower now, deeper, pushing his release further inside as if he can brand me with it. My body quakes under him, muscles spasming, cuts stinging, every nerve raw.
The chain rattles with each shallow thrust. The collar bites when he yanks me up by it, dragging me against his chest. Blood smears between us, sticky and hot, streaking his skin where I clawed him, marking me with every drop that falls from his wounds.
He pulls free with a guttural groan, cock wet and dripping, and smears himself up my stomach, across my breasts, painting me in him. His blood and mine mix on his hand as he drags it down my throat, forcing my mouth open.
“Drink it,” he snarls, shoving his fingers between my lips, wet with seed and iron. “Our vows don’t end with words. They end with you swallowing what I give you.”
I gag, throat burning, tears streaking, but he doesn’t let go until I choke it down. His smile is sharp, feral, reverent as he watches my throat convulse.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking my cheek with the back of his bloodied hand. “Now you’re mine in every way that matters.”
The blade is back in his hand before I can breathe. He drags it slow across my stomach, shallow enough to sting, deep enough to bleed. I sob, arching against the cuffs, but he only presses harder, until the blood runs.
Then he dips his fingers in it and smears it over my breasts, across my mouth, down between my thighs.
His eyes blaze with fevered devotion. “A wedding dress in red.”
He shoves two blood-slick fingers inside me, pumping slow, filthy, obscene, as if he’s grinding the vow deeper into my body. My pussy clenches, traitorous, shuddering, pulling him in.
He laughs low in my ear, his teeth grazing my throat. “Even your body prays to me now.”
The chain rattles, the collar bruises, the blade kisses fresh skin, and I drown in the ruin he makes of me.
And when his cock thrusts back into me—bloody, messy, brutal—I can’t stop the scream that rips my throat raw.
“Forever.”
He doesn’t untie me when he’s finished.
He doesn’t even try.
The cuffs bite deep into my wrists, the collar heavy on my throat, the chain pulling taut with every shallow breath I take. My body trembles, slick with blood and seed and sweat, a canvas he’s already ruined a hundred times—but this time feels different.
This time, he looks at me like I’m complete.
His bloodied hand strokes down my cheek, smearing crimson over my lips, marking me with the same reverence he’d give to holy water. His smile is wild, unhinged, but there’s worship in it too. Worship so twisted it makes my stomach lurch.
“You look perfect,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “A bride in chains.”
I shake my head, choking on a sob, but the collar jerks me back into place. His eyes gleam darker at my resistance.
“Altar,” he growls, pressing me down against the bed, pressing his hand to my chest like a priest sealing his scripture. “This is the altar. This bed. This cage. These scars. Every scream, every cut, every bruise—it’s the ceremony. And you swore the vows yourself.”
Tears sting, hot, blinding. My thighs are sticky with him, my chest smeared with both our blood, my stomach carved and painted in red. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t hide.
He reaches for the chain at my ankle, tugging it tighter, testing the tension, the clink of iron loud in the silence. Then he leans down, lips brushing mine, tasting my tears, tasting himself on me.
“You’ll stay here until the word isn’t whispered,” he rasps. “Until it’s screamed. Until you beg me for it. Until you choke on it in your sleep.”
He kisses me once, hard, teeth cutting my lip, blood spilling fresh down my chin. Then he pulls back, smearing it with his thumb, eyes locked on me like I’m scripture written just for him.
“You said forever,” he whispers again, softer this time. “And forever means I’ll never let you go.”
He stands, finally, the bed rattling, the chain clinking, the camera above humming back to life with a red blink. Watching. Recording. Witnessing.
And he leaves me there—cuffed, collared, spread and bleeding, a bride in ruin laid out on her altar.
Forever.