روايات وقصص ضمن Dominitrix

"String him up." Rose and Slut collected him and hung him from one of the suspensions on the ceiling. "What the fuck is all this shit?" Jack asked. "What kind of fucking perverts are you?" "I'm a dominatrix, and I train submissives for other dominants," Mistress Dark said. "These are the tools of my trade." "Yeah? Well as far as I'm concerned, you're all a bunch of sicko's and I'm doing my wife a favor by taking her away from all this shit."

Every time he looked at me, I felt like I belonged to him. Too many things were wrong. And I was doing all of them. Yet a part of me didn’t want to stop. A few minutes later, the phone rang. “Aurelian Group, this is Crystal. How may I help you?” “I need to schedule an appointment with Axel.” A woman’s voice came through the line. “May I have your name?” I heard her sigh, clearly annoyed. “I’m already registered. Alexandra Rimet.” Of course. I remembered her—the rude woman who had shown up without an appointment.

I tapped the screen, and the words appeared, stark and unyielding. Val Rhen. Dominion: Solas. Rank: 20.

Scott rested his hand on his chin, thinking. “Well… I know why.” I looked to Teddy who squeezed my hand in reassurance. The whole room looked at me waiting. “Dominic’s Wolf is named Dominion, and according to… Nix… he isn’t supposed to be here.” The room went deathly quiet, everyone staring at me like I sprouted a second head. “Psh, hahaha!” Theodor Senior began to laugh, and laugh hard at me. “Goddess, Heath’s daughter’s a wack job!”

One unread message on her secure, hidden account. Domica, the screen name read. Mistress. Queen. Goddess. She logged in. The interface was sleek—velvet black with deep crimson accents. The Velvet Room was an online lounge, exclusive and encrypted, where anonymity was law and reputation was everything. In this world, she wasn’t Dominique. She was Domica. Mistress of the Room. Crusher of men. Queen of pain and praise. Tonight, two subs had messaged her for a session. She scanned their bios, fingers idly tracing her lips. One begged to be degraded. The other wanted to be ignored while she humiliated someone else. They both paid well. They both bored her.

It reached out a long, slender hand, its nails hovering just centimeters from her throat. "You are the key to the vault," the creature continued, its eyes swirling with a hypnotic, intoxicating violet. "The Council has decided that the Silver Thorn will no longer be a weapon of the Church, nor a plaything for Vesper. You will be our witness." The iron door finally buckled, the metal shrieking as it was peeled back like tin foil. Dominic stood in the threshold, his black robes billowing, his face twisted in a mask of righteous, terrifying fury. He held a high-frequency sonic emitter, a weapon he clearly intended to use to wipe the archives clean of every living thing”human or otherwise.

"You sold your soul to Julian for cheap power, and now you have nothing left." "I just need what is inside that safe!" Dominic screamed, swinging the iron bar wildly in the air. "Your father owned the syndicate! He built their routing systems! The secondary key inside this wall gives me immunity! Give it to me!" Alexander stepped forward with terrifying speed. Before Dominic could swing the metal bar again, Alexander grabbed Dominic's wrist, twisting it hard until the bar clattered against the floor. With one powerful push, Alexander slammed Dominic against the cold stone wall, holding him tight by his neck.

“She used to say power doesn’t collapse.” “It just changes the rules of inheritance.” That line lingered. Because it didn’t sound like theory. It sounded like something learned from experience. The First Trace Bryan’s voice came through the secure line. “Dominic. I found something tied to your mother’s archived research.” Dominic didn’t respond immediately. Then: “What kind of research?” A pause. “Private governance frameworks. Restricted corporate succession models. Something called Blackthorne.” The name didn’t land like a revelation. It landed like recognition of something already half-remembered.

The First Session Cassandra entered the dimly lit room with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. She had arranged this meeting with Chad, a professional Dominant, in secret, determined to explore her deepest fantasies at last. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she saw him sitting in a high-backed chair, his tall, muscular frame outlined against the shadows. He regarded her coolly, appraisingly. "Good evening, Cassandra," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "You're punctual. I like that."

My claws tore a deep, jagged shred into the leather fold of my tunic as the console screen before me violently hemorrhaged its data. Selene swiveled from her workstation, her throat emitting a wet, desperate snarl before she slammed an empty horn of wolfsbane onto the slate counter. “The Northern Dominion just deployed a parasitic blood-lock on their master ledger, Ebu! The moment my digital scent brushed their Cayman mirror, the ancestral proxy-nodes began tracing my bloodline straight back to Shadowfang Manor!”