THE POSSESSIVE BLOODLINE

Content Warning: 

This story contains themes of moral ambiguity, arson, torture, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, somnophilia (non-consensual), graphic sexual content, forced captivity, drugging, suicidal ideation, breath play, smoke shotgunning, blasphemy, BDSM, drug use, and group sex.

He fisted my hair as I gagged on his length, careful not to make a sound. We were in a renovated university classroom.

“What a good way to start your freshman year, princess,” Jaxon murmured, lifting my chin with a finger.

I rolled my eyes in disgust — and he thrusted harder in response. Typical fucking dickhead.

“Hey—” I gasped, trying to pull away. He slammed my head down with a full palm to the back of my skull, robbing me of breath.

I choked, shoved him off, and wheezed, “Fucking stop that.” My mind reeled.

I twisted my hand and grabbed his crotch—hard.

“Bitch—!” he yelped.

“Yes, I am,” I smirked, “and you’re not the only boy in town.”

I turned to leave, but he laughed, devilish and amused.

“You do know that turns me on, Bishop Princess?”

I slammed the door in his face. “You’re a masochist, Jaxon.”

Out in the hall, students bustled to their morning classes. I didn’t even know my schedule, but who gave a shit?

Skipping the first day wouldn’t kill anyone.

I passed by a full-length mirror in the lobby, posed like a Winx fairy, and smoothed out the wrinkles on my black-and-white checkered skirt — creased from that early morning blowjob. I brushed off my white cardigan, fixed the little black bows, and stepped closer to retouch my lipstick.

“Tada,” I said to myself, fluttering my lashes. My green eyes gleamed under the lights. Platinum blonde hair? Immaculate.

I didn’t look like a Bishop. Not with my ginger-brunette foster family. The most corrupt, narcissistic, power-hungry political clan in the city. The only good thing they ever did was adopt a pretty girl like me. I giggled at the irony.

Then the bell rang.

I wandered near the school’s trophy display. A crowd of freshmen rushed around me. I grinned, shoved the glass stand, and watched it shatter.

“Goddamn! That was a rare one! Move out of the way!” a security guard shouted, panicking. While he scrambled, I slipped out through the side exit.

“Inx!”

I froze. Rosetta Bledgers—my childhood best friend. She looked... different.

“Oh hey,” I stammered, backing toward the gate. “Long story short, I need to be somewhere. Let’s catch up soon?”

A hand grabbed my waist — and not in a romantic way. I hit the wooden doors behind me, hard.

Damon Chevre. Fucking perfect.

“Not so fast,” he said, brushing a strand of hair off my face. “And watch your head, honey.”

“That’s a late remark for my head, Dummy Damon. Fuck you.”

I’d hated him forever. His family was the Bishops’ political rival, and last year, they engaged us. Engaged. For Pete’s sake.

My head throbbed from the impact. Worse than Jaxon’s assault. What a kinky start to the day. I groaned.

“Ingrid—”

“Shut the fuck up. Let me go,” I snapped. “Just this once.” I locked eyes with his ocean-blue stare. “Please.”

He released me.

Like a stray cat breaking free, I ran. No pause. No breath. No goodbye.

“Ingrid, wait!” he shouted behind me. “We’re blockmates! Reach out tomorrow!”

I hopped into my Uber, ignoring him. I was so stupid to forget I was enrolled in Political Science — our families’ way of shaping us into their image.

Not me.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“The City Club,” I replied.

A disguised entertainment joint. A lair of the Grey Society.

We drove past the town’s edge. I leaned back, earbuds in, blasting Life After Anger by Empathic — my anthem. I wasn’t the prim-and-proper university girl they wanted.

I was built for something... wilder.

We reached the haunting iron gates. Cold air hit my skin. Excitement buzzed through me like static. This place was chaos incarnate. Where I belonged.

Inside, the music switched to Criticize by Adelitas Way. Strange choice for clubbing. Must be some roleplay scene happening below. I smirked.

This club was as twisted as I was.

Red and purple lights pulsed. It was daylight outside, but in here, time was a myth. My people were nightcrawlers.

A man approached — red belt straps across his chest, shirtless, a living statue.

“Rick,” I whispered, teasing his ear.

He grinned. “Welcome home, Miss Grey.”

He led me upstairs. Blood-red walls welcomed me back. My sexy bunny costume waited, draped like a trophy.

I had a show tonight.

Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams echoed in my room.

They called me a hostess. But in this world, I was royalty — the only daughter of Alice and Dominic Grey. Legends of deviance.

I had spent years playing princess in that suffocating Bishop estate. But here? Here I ruled.

Rick moved closer, his hands at my waist. “Welcome to the Grey Society,” he said.

“Miss—” he hesitated.

I silenced him with a kiss — hungry, wild. A kiss drenched in bloodlust.

I’d just turned twenty. This empire is mine now.

He carried me through the halls, our lips fused. The music shifted to Sick by Adelitas Way — eerie how our DJ always knew the vibe.

We entered the designated room: red lights, a bathtub, toys lining the walls.

“What’s your kink?” he asked, casual as asking my favorite color.

I giggled. “Breathplay.”

His laugh was deep and lazy — made my legs weak. “Play with the devil, then.”

Everything was new to me... but it felt like home. Like I was built for this.

He ran the tub and grabbed my bunny fit. As I changed, he stood behind me, hands on my throat, watching me dress in the mirror — black thong, matching bra, glittering mask, and bunny ears.

Things escalated.

Fast.

I was underwater. Legs dangling over the edge of the tub. He was inside me — pounding, hard, unrelenting.

This was breathplay. Literal life and death.

I trembled as seconds passed. My lungs burned. He yanked me back up by the throat.

“Breathe, baby girl.”

“That’s just a warm-up,” he whispered. “Breathplay’s more than drowning. It’s water, smoke... or my seven-inch dick.”

He kissed my forehead.

“Even if I have to revive you every time... we’ll try them all.”

And he looked at me like I was the only sin that ever mattered.