The Dread of Damned-Chapter 151: Dirty

CONTENT WARNING 

The girl's eyes darted between her mother and me, wide with terror and confusion. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out—only a shaky breath that seemed to catch in her throat. The chains around her wrists and ankles glinted in the dim light, their cold bite a constant reminder of her helplessness. Her body trembled, her legs shifting slightly as if she were trying to find some semblance of comfort in her suspended state.

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But there was no comfort here. Only me.

I watched her closely, my gaze lingering on the way her big breasts rose and fell in shallow, panicked breaths. The loose gown she wore did little to hide the way her body betrayed her fear. Her thighs pressed together, her muscles tightening as if she were fighting against something—something primal, something inevitable.

And then it happened.

A dark stain spread across the fabric of her gown, starting at her thighs and creeping downward. The sound was faint, almost imperceptible, but in the suffocating silence of the room, it was deafening. The girl's face flushed crimson, her eyes squeezing shut as humiliation washed over her. A choked sob escaped her lips, her body trembling violently as the chains rattled with her movements.

I smiled.

"Look at that," I said, my voice a low purr that cut through the silence like a knife. "She couldn't even hold it in. How pathetic."

The woman in my grip turned her gaze to the girl—her daughter. Her eyes widened as she noticed the yellow liquid trickling down the girl's dress, pooling on the floor beneath her. Vampires didn't need to piss, but that didn't mean they couldn't. The girl's body had betrayed her, her shock and fear manifesting in the most primal way.

I tightened my grip on the woman's hair, yanking her to her feet. She stumbled, her breath hitching as I dragged her behind me, her knees scraping against the rough stone floor. When we reached the girl, I shoved the woman forward, sending her sprawling into a puddle of urine. She landed with a wet splash, the liquid soaking into her clothes and skin.

"No!" the girl cried, her voice breaking as she tried to turn away, her face burning with shame. But I wouldn't let her escape the scene. This was as much for her as it was for her mother.

I placed my foot on the woman's head, pressing her face into the filth. "How much more does she need to humiliate you in this life?" I laughed, the sound cold and merciless. I didn't need to give her instructions; she knew what was expected. Her tongue darted out, hesitating for only a moment before she began to lick the floor, her movements slow and deliberate. The girl watched in horror, her body trembling as another stream of yellow liquid splashed onto her mother's head.

I laughed again, the sound echoing through the room. My arousal was undeniable, my dick throbbing in response to the scene unfolding before me. The degradation, the power, the complete submission—it was intoxicating.

I stepped behind the girl, my hand sliding around her stomach. She stiffened under my touch, her breath catching as I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear. "You made my pet dirty," I whispered, my voice low and dangerous. I kissed her neck, feeling her flinch as my teeth grazed her skin. "Now, I need you to make me satisfied."

My other hand gripped her breast through the thin fabric of her gown, and I marveled at its size. She was lean, almost delicate, but her breasts were enormous, even larger than her mother's. They were a grotesque contrast to her slender frame, and I couldn't help but squeeze them harshly, relishing the way she gasped in pain.

"You see," I continued, my voice dripping with malice, "I don't like filthy things. And now, thanks to you, I have to clean up this mess." My hand moved to the hem of her gown, tugging it upward. "Shall we start now?"

The girl's body shook, her tears falling silently as she realized what was coming. Her mother, still on the floor, let out a choked sob, but neither of them dared to resist. They were mine, completely and utterly, and I intended to make the most of it.

The room seemed to hold its breath as I gripped the fabric of her dress, the sound of tearing cloth cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. In one swift motion, the dress was reduced to rags, and I threw the tattered remains aside, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Her body was pale and trembling, her skin prickling with goosebumps as the cold air of the room hit her. She stood there, naked and defenseless, her arms instinctively trying to move to cover herself as if forgetting that her hand was bound above her head.

"We do not wear clothes in this room," I whispered, my voice a low, menacing hum that seemed to reverberate off the walls. The words were a command, a reminder of her place, and she froze, her breath hitching as she realized there was no escape, no modesty, no dignity left for her here.

My eyes fell to her chest, where she had tied a cloth around her breasts, a feeble attempt at concealing herself. I smirked, the corner of my lip curling in cruel amusement. My nail, sharp and deliberate, hooked into the crevice between her breasts, and I dragged it downward slowly, savoring the way her body tensed, the way her breath caught in her throat. The fabric gave way easily, splitting apart as if it were nothing more than paper, and her breasts spilled free, their enormity almost comical in contrast to her slender frame.

They were gigantic, obscenely so, their size defying any sense of proportion. Her nipples were a soft pink, standing out against the pale expanse of her skin, and the weight of her breasts pulled them downward, the tips almost brushing against her hips.

It was a grotesque exaggeration, a genetic anomaly that made her mother's own considerable size seem almost modest by comparison. I couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of it, the way her body seemed to mock the natural order of things. Her own balance tipped forward as the chains clinked above her head keeping her standing uptight against the sudden pull of her breasts.

I reached out, my hand sliding beneath one of her breasts, and I lifted it, feeling the sheer weight of it in my palm. It was heavy, unnaturally so, and the sensation sent a thrill through me. She cried out, a soft, broken sound that only fueled my cruelty. My fingers tightened around her nipple, the flesh soft and yielding, and I pulled, twisting slightly as I did. A choked moan escaped her lips, a sound that was equal parts pain and something else, something she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Someone's sensitive," I whispered, my voice dripping with mockery as I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her ear. Her body shuddered, her knees buckling slightly, but I held her up, my grip unrelenting. I could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, and it only made me want to push her further, to see how much she could take before she broke completely.

My other hand moved to her opposite breast, my fingers pinching and pulling at the nipple there, eliciting another choked sound from her. Her tears fell freely now, streaming down her cheeks as she stood there, exposed and humiliated, her body betraying her in ways she couldn't control. I smiled, a cold, cruel thing, as I continued to toy with her, my touch both punishing and deliberate.

"You're going to learn your place," I murmured, my voice a dark promise as I released her nipples, only to grip her breasts again, squeezing them harshly. She whimpered, her body trembling under my hands, but she didn't fight, didn't resist. She couldn't. The chains, the room, the darkness—it all held her captive, just as much as my hands did.