Tags: dolls/witches, hard kink, breath control, blood, smoking, knives, bondage, d/s
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“P-p-please?” A puff of smoke leaves her mouth, dispersing into many single curly threads before vanishing without a trace into the rooms’ mist. She drops a bit of ash from her cigarette before looking down, an expression of deepest disdain written all over her face. And there it sits. A shy, timid little thing, longing and pleading all over it. Watching her, waiting with uneasiness for a reply, an answer, anything. She sighs. When she moved here and created herself she swore an oath, to in exchange for her powers answer every little things plea for entry into her mansion, to at least give it a chance. And so she let it in, had it brought to this room, had it sit down and walked up to it, questioning it, watching it. Leading up to these words. Yes, she had sworn that. But she certainly wouldn’t just take any little thing. “Open your mouth” she says and gets down in front of it. Watching its face, its eyes never leaving hers, her free hand reaches for its neck, thumb and finger pressed into its cheeks while the others press into its throat. She smiles, watching its breath getting shorter, faster, then inhales with a deep, long breath from her cigarette before blowing the smoke right into its mouth. In a quick move she presses her hand over its mouth and nose and, leaving her cigarette in a nearby ashtray stands up, grabs its hair with her now free hand, forcing its head upwards. She smiles as it tries to cough, watching it struggle, watching its eyes, paralysed, before slightly opening two fingers, giving room for a small, very small path to breathe through. “This is all you will need at the moment. Now” she gets closer, her own breath tickling its now red and sweaty face “you said you want to be mine, right? Just nod”. It nods. “Good. I could see the longing in your eyes from the moment you put your worthless feet onto my grounds. But they all come here, yearning for a place, craving to belong. So many silly little things poor souls. Are you a silly little thing? Or do you have more, do you truly know what it means to be mine? Just whimper.” She laughed out loud, so desperate, so intense was its whispering that she couldn’t control herself for a moment. “Yes, I see. You are eager, that at least is true.” She lets go, turning her back towards it as it gasps for air, its whole head moving in rhythm. Snapping a finger she shackles its arms and legs against its chair before grabbing both her cigarette and a knife that lay next to it. She turns back, squatting in front of it this time, closing in on it. Her knife against its throat she takes another tug at her cigarette before blowing smoke right into its face, watching it. Observing its eyes, its mimic, its whole expression and emotions. But it wasn’t fear, wasn’t terror or panic that engulfed it. It was longing. Pure, desperate longing. She smiled. Finally, another one. It had been a while. “Beautiful” she says, slowly and gently stroking her knife along its neck, a gentle caressing, soft and careful yet dangerous and leaving no doubt of its power, its grip and control. “Speak what’s on your mind, come on, don’t be shy.” “P-please … make me yours … take me … it longs … it wants … blood … breath … yours … please …” “Wonderful.” She smiles again and gets up. Extinguishing the cigarette she walks behind it, one hand once again forcing its head upwards, its eyes into hers, while her knife once again crawls slowly up and down. “Now, if you mean what you said, every word of it, then tell me again, clear and with conviction.” “It-it-it” “Say it, say it loud and clear, or leave if you don’t mean it. It is your choice to make, yours alone” she says, her voice not even raised but still piercing through the room like deadly arrows. “It wants to be yours, yours alone. It wants to give, to give everything, every single inch of it. All of it, yours. It wants to belong, only belong, forever belong.” “Then give” she says, pressing her knife into it, cutting, drawing it towards her, watching the blood stream down it, touching its skin as she pictures a brand new body for it, slowly transforming every cell of it into a shiny, seemingly fragile but easily repairable new being entirely.
It needed a bit of time, they always did, but it came to, eventually. Lying on the floor with its face upwards it looks at itself, a puddle of blood next to it, covered in red runes and symbols, slowly coming to terms with what happened. She stood next to it, her fingertips both red and crackling with sparks, her mouth still showing drips and lines of sticky red blood. “Oh, it’s not over yet.” She smiles, undressing herself, presenting her lean, perfect body to it. “Now that you’re here I’m going to have a bit of fun with you” she said, before getting down on it for real.
She woke up the next day smiling. Getting up she let herself be dressed. Something dark red with black ornaments, something special. Giving orders for breakfast she went down, taking a few books with her to continue her work while she waited. As she walked through one of the corridors she saw it, deeply engulfed into its newfound chores, an expression of bliss on its face. She smiled. There were still a few marks left on it. She would remove them eventually but for now they were a reminder, both for it as well as for her. What a beautiful, useful thing.
What a beautiful, useful addition to her collection.
END
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Quoting an entity I cherish: please do judge