SweetDamnation's Profile at Vampire Rave.

My Mentorship

My Coven

The cavern pulsed with the breath of ancient tongues, firelight weaving shadows like spirits on the walls. The scent of burning resin and iron filled the air, thick and intoxicating, a hymn to something far older than gods. At the heart of the circle, carved deep into stone and fate alike, knelt his one—bare, trembling, waiting.
His.
The black-furred goatman loomed above her, a monolith of darkness and hunger, his eyes twin embers smoldering with possession. Clawed hands, precise and reverent, traced the sigils onto her tender skin, painting her in sacred ink and whispered spells. His horns framed a face of both nightmare and devotion, a beast carved from dominion and desire.
"Be still, my one," his voice was velvet smoke, curling around her, binding her in sound. "Tonight, the world will know what it should have always known. You belong to me."
A shiver ran through her, delicate as a ripple on black water, her body pressing deeper into the cold stone as if to root herself in the moment. She was his offering, his altar, his most exquisite prayer given form. And in her trust, in the quiet surrender of her breath, she sealed the pact before the first words of power left his lips.
He pressed his clawed fingers into the symbols etched onto her thighs, her belly, over her heart—branding her beyond mere flesh. Magic, ancient and hungry, seeped into her veins, twining around her essence. She gasped, spine bowing, the heat of the ritual sinking deep, a kiss of agony and bliss entwined.
"Good girl," he purred, his voice laced with something both cruel and worshipful. "Feel it. Let it bind you."
The sigils smoldered, pulsing in time with her racing heartbeat, alive beneath his touch. He bent, inhaling her scent, tasting the salt of her devotion, the quiver of her mortal fragility. His forked tongue traced over the markings, sealing them, pressing his will into her soul like molten gold into soft wax.
A final mark. His.
He took her chin between his claws, tilting her face to his, his gaze a storm she could drown in. "Say it. Let the darkness hear you."
Her lips parted, her breath a song of submission. "Yours. Always."
The cavern trembled as the final lock fell into place, the bond forging in fire and fate. She was his now—woven into his power, a thread in the tapestry of his will. No force in heaven or hell would break what had been written into her skin, into her bones, into the marrow of her being.
And he would never, ever let her go.

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