⛓CULT LEADER⛓
Drops of blood gushed from her lips, it was not her own blood, and the pieces of flesh embedded in her teeth reminded her of it, but panic invaded her, she felt a strange pain. Nausea, sweating and disorientation were some of the symptoms she felt, but even so, she determined to get on with her task.
―Do you think you can break up with me just like that? ―blow after blow lashed his chest, fist after fist, with her body on top of him. She inadvertently stained her dress with the blood that ran down her mouth― Look what you did, you made me stain my favorite dress.
From Frida's mouth came a thunderous laugh, Martin felt panic, he felt true terror. He couldn't explain how a quiet dinner was ending in an attack from which he didn't know if he could get out alive, it was the first time he saw his girlfriend in that state.
Frida and Martin were an ordinary young couple, nothing out of the norm, they met through dating apps and once they met, they had a strong connection that made them both uninstall their apps and stop looking for a partner; they felt they had found true love.
Martin was a young man with a white complexion, brown hair and a bushy beard, with a chubby, cuddly look that attributed a lot of charisma to his persona; he was charming, with a clean look and a permanent smell of baby cologne. He was a sweetheart of a person, very close to his family and with an immense connection to animals, especially his little Dalmatian, who was only about ten months old. Martin was, in short, quite a sweetheart at twenty-four years old and 5'6" tall. A great catch.
On the other side of the relationship was Frida. She was a young girl, only twenty-one years old, with a huge, charming smile. She had the grace of a thousand nymphs and the subtlety of a fairy. She was beautiful, blessed by the gods themselves with beauty and rage. A fierce black hair, a subtle mole above her lip and deep green eyes would make anyone fall at her feet. Of course Martin was no exception; no one could resist the incredible Femme Fatale that was Frida, sensual, tall and with an exceptional personality.
The relationship was unusual, yes, but it was charming nonetheless. They would have casual dates in some little known café where they would talk about music, movies and old stories; they were dying to know every detail of each other's souls. On some occasions, they would indulge Frida and go for a late-night motorcycle ride, at high speed and with large quantities of vodka ingested. They were different, of course, but they would make it work, because they wanted it, because they loved each other.
Of course, differences soon followed. Martin didn't like Frida's friends, who didn't hesitate to "jokingly" hit on Frida, regardless of whether Martin was present or not. Frida used to get a little bored with her current boyfriend's quiet lifestyle. Despite the arguments, they always solved everything in bed, where they had an undeniable chemistry and used to be two completely different people.
One fine day, after a heated argument in the middle of the café where they used to meet, Frida suddenly got up from the table after Martin uttered the horrible words:
―It's not working out between us ―sentenced the tender character, with crystallized eyes and trembling voice. Frida stood up dryly, knocking over some things on the table, among them a coffee, steaming and bitter, just like her at that moment.
―You, Martin, you will regret this ―and with that said, Frida retreated in high heels out of the establishment, with a lump in her throat and a flaming wave of hatred and resentment growing inside her.
It was three days before the devastated Martin, the one who had been left speechless in the café, ashamed and lonely, heard from Frida again, who sent him a text message summoning him to a dinner at her apartment, she said in the text that she wanted to have a reasonable conversation where they could make their points and end things for the well being of both of them.
Nothing could be further from the truth, because deep down Frida was clinging to their five month relationship, she needed it to be six, six months of dating, no less, no more.
When he arrived, he was in his tender rocker-boy clothes that only added to his tenderness. She invited him in; they made themselves comfortable at the dining room table, where she offered him a glass of wine, to which he cordially accepted. After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence, he dared to speak.
―Frida, the best thing to do is to leave things here, moving forward will hurt us both and I'm not willing to let that happen ―she just listened silently, with a small silhouette of a smile and a stunning red lipstick that gave her a lot of sensuality and distracted Martin―. Look at us, we've been arguing and having sex for weeks now, in a vicious cycle that destroys us.
―I can tell from your face, from the nervous sweat on your forehead, from your gaze, that you want me, that you want to do it, at least one last time ―Frida spoke with a very sexual tone, sliding her hand gently down her chest and down her abdomen, moaning between words and looking straight into Martin's eyes―. So I have a proposition for you. Let's keep the title of "boyfriends", just as an excuse to fuck like pigs, for at least one more month, while we decide better what to do.
―It's n-not the best thing to do ―stammered poor Martin, who was falling little by little into the charms of the Machiavellian and sensual Frida, whom he was determined to finish for his mental health―... I must go, never to hear from you again, nor you from me ―sentenced Martin and bit his lip internally, trying to hide his nervousness.
―Your mouth says something, but your body says something else ―said Frida, looking at Martin's bulging pants that were beginning to grow. She took advantage of this and began to move slowly in the poor young man's direction, one hand on her breast and the other down her abdomen, leaving Martin silent and swallowing dryly. Finally their lips met in a shy, but at the same time, wild and lustful kiss. She placed her hand on his cock and he jumped up, placed his hands on her shoulders and subtly pushed her away.
―I told you, Frida, this is not the best. I'll leave ―Martin said one last time, which made Frida go crazy, who kissed him again, but this time with such intensity that she bit him hard, very hard. So much that she tore off a piece of his skin and he stifled a scream. He pushed her once more and lost his balance. They both fell to the ground, but she was quick and got up, got on his stomach and looked him straight in the eyes. Martin could see the madness in her gaze, she had lost her mind.
―Do you think you can break up with me just like that? ―She kept beating his chest, with blood coming out of her mouth. With that blood she stained her dress― Look what you did, you made me stain my favorite dress.
Martin was terrified, because deep down, he knew he wouldn't dare hurt her, but she... he was sure she was about to hurt him very badly. In a strange turn of events, the door rang with a sharp knock, someone was knocking and he felt a small spark of hope. For some reason, Frida made him feel in extreme danger, he knew she was like a fire, but not just any fire, she was a forest fire. Frida held his face tightly, looked him in the eyes and said:
―Don't you dare move, or you'll be in serious trouble ―she squeezed his cheeks with her long, red, pointed nails and released him, heading for the door.
Martin was afraid, but he didn't dare move, his survival instinct would be off, but he left all his hopes on the person who had arrived. But nothing could be further from the truth, he heard several footsteps heading towards the kitchen again, this time it was multiple people, and from the "click, clack" he knew it was heels.
He looked up slightly and fear gripped every corner of his soul. They were multiple tall, dominatrix-like women, resembling Frida's style, all wearing heavy makeup and leather clothing. One of them was carrying a briefcase, another pulled handcuffs from her leather coat. He closed his eyes tightly, let himself cry and arranged himself at their mercy. He heard the voice of Frida, who had sat on his stomach.
―I asked you nicely, but you left me no choice. You will obligatorily be with me, either with kisses, sex or the tortures that excite me so much, but you will serve the six months by my side. Ah! A detail I never told you is that I am the leader of a cult of dominatrix women, and you are part of a sacrifice we will make, there is only one month left for the invocation to take place.
Poor Martin was doomed to a long month of torture before he could even taste the sweet taste of death. The sounds of chains and metal coming from the briefcase of one of the women made his blood run cold and tears flow from his eyes like a waterfall. He had already resigned himself to being in the hands of his girlfriend, the cult leader.
🩸LÍDER DEL CULTO🩸
Gotas de sangre salĂan de a borbotones de sus labios, no era sangre suya, y los pedazos de carne incrustados en sus dientes se lo recordaban, pero el pánico le invadĂa, sentĂa un dolor extraño. Nauseas, sudoraciĂłn y desorientaciĂłn eran algunos de los sĂntomas que sentĂa, pero aun asĂ, se propuso seguir adelante con su cometido.
―¿¡Crees que puedes terminar conmigo asĂ como asĂ!? ―golpe tras golpe azotaban su pecho, un puño tras otro, con su cuerpo encima de Ă©l. Sin querer manchĂł su vestido con la sangre que corrĂa por su boca― Mira lo que hiciste, hiciste que manchara mi vestido favorito.
De la boca de Frida saliĂł una risa estruendosa, Martin sentĂa pánico, sentĂa el verdadero terror. No se explicaba como una tranquila cena estaba terminando en un ataque del que no sabĂa si podrĂa salir vivo, era la primera vez que veĂa a su novia en ese estado.
Frida y Martin era una pareja de jĂłvenes comĂşn y corriente, nada fuera de la norma, se conocieron por medio de aplicaciones de citas y una vez que se conocieron, tuvieron una fuerte conexiĂłn que los hizo a ambos desinstalar sus apps y dejar de buscar pareja; sentĂa que habĂan encontrado el amor verdadero.
Martin era un joven de tez blanca, cabellos castaños y una frondosa barba, con un aspecto gordito y tierno que le atribuĂa mucho carisma a su persona; era encantador, con un aspecto limpio y un permanente olor a colonia para bebĂ©s. Era un amor de persona, muy unido a su familia y con una inmensa conexiĂłn con los animales, en especial con su pequeño dálmata de apenas unos diez meses de edad. Martin era, en resumen, todo un encanto de veinticuatro años y 1,68 metros de altura. Un gran partido.
En la otra parte de la relaciĂłn estaba Frida. Una joven muchacha de tan solo veintiĂşn años de edad, con una sonrisa enorme y encantadora. TenĂa la gracia de mil ninfas y la sutileza de un hada. Era hermosa, bendecida por los mismĂsimos dioses con belleza y rabia. Una feroz melena negro azabache, un sutil lunar sobre su labio y unos ojos profundos y verdes hacĂan que cualquiera cayera a sus pies. Por supuesto que Martin no fue la excepciĂłn, nadie podĂa resistir a la increĂble Femme Fatale que era Frida, sensual, alta y con una personalidad excepcional.
La relaciĂłn era poco usual, sĂ, pero no dejaba de ser encantadora. TenĂan citas casuales en algĂşn cafĂ© poco conocido donde hablaban de mĂşsica, cine y viejas historias; morĂan por conocer cada detalle de sus almas. En algunas ocasiones, complacĂan a Frida y se iban de paseo en moto a altas horas de la noche, a mucha velocidad y con grandes cantidades de vodka ingeridas. Eran distintos, por supuesto, pero harĂan que funcionara, porque ellos lo querĂan, porque se querĂan.
Claro, las diferencias no tardaron en llegar. A Martin no le agradaban los amigos de Frida, quienes no dudaban de propasarse, “en broma”, con Frida, sin importar si Martin estuviese presente o no. A Frida solĂa aburrirle un poco el estilo de vida tranquilo de su actual novio. A pesar de las discusiones, siempre solucionaban todo en la cama, donde tenĂan una quĂmica innegable y solĂan ser dos personas completamente distintas.
Un buen dĂa, luego de una discusiĂłn acalorada en mitad del cafĂ© donde solĂan encontrarse, Frida se levantĂł de golpe de la mesa luego de que Martin pronunciara las horribles palabras:
―Lo nuestro no está funcionando ―sentenciĂł el tierno personaje, con los ojos cristalizados y la voz temblorosa. Frida se levantĂł en seco, tumbando algunas cosas que habĂan en la mesa, entre ellas un cafĂ©, humeante y amargo, como ella en ese momento.
―Tú, Martin, te arrepentirás de esto ―y dicho aquello, Frida se retiró con grandes taconazos fuera del establecimiento, con un nudo en la garganta y una flameante ola de odio y resentimiento creciendo en su interior.
Pasaron tres dĂas antes que, el devastado Martin, aquel que habĂan dejado con las palabras en la boca en la cafeterĂa, avergonzado y solitario, supiera algo de Frida de nuevo, quien le mandĂł un mensaje de texto citándolo a una cena en su apartamento, ella decĂa en el texto que querĂa tener una conversaciĂłn razonable donde pudieran exponer sus puntos y terminar las cosas por el bienestar de ambos.
Nada más alejado de la realidad, porque en el fondo Frida estaba aferrada a su relación de cinco meses, ella necesitaba que fueran seis, seis meses de noviazgo, ni menos ni más.
Cuando Ă©l llegĂł, estaba con sus tiernas ropas de chico rockero que solo le atribuĂan más ternura. Ella lo invitĂł a pasar, se pusieron cĂłmodos en la mesa del comedor, donde ella le ofreciĂł una copa de vino, a la que Ă©l cordialmente aceptĂł. Luego de unos incĂłmodos minutos de silencio, Ă©l se atreviĂł a hablar.
―Frida, lo mejor es dejar las cosas hasta acá, avanzar nos dañará a ambos y no estoy dispuesto a que eso pase ―ella solo escuchaba en silencio, con una pequeña silueta de sonrisa y un despampanante labial rojo que le daba mucha sensualidad y distraĂa a Martin―. MĂranos, llevamos semanas que solo podemos discutir y tener sexo, en un cĂrculo vicioso que nos autodestruye.
―Puedo notar en tu cara, en la sudoraciĂłn nerviosa de tu frente, en tu mirada, que me deseas, que quieres hacerlo, al menos una Ăşltima vez ―Frida hablaba con un tono muy sexual, deslizando su mano suavemente por su pecho y bajando por su abdomen, gimiendo entre palabras y mirando directo a los ojos de Martin―. AsĂ que tengo una propuesta para ti. Mantengámonos con el tĂtulo de “novios”, solo como excusa para follar como cerdos, al menos un mes más, mientras decidimos mejor que hacer.
―N-no es l-lo mejor ―tartamudeaba el pobre Martin, que caĂa poco a poco en los encantos de la maquiavĂ©lica y sensual Frida, a quiĂ©n estaba determinado a terminar por su salud mental―… Debo irme, no volver a saber de ti, ni tĂş de mà ―sentenciĂł Martin y mordiĂł su labio internamente, tratando de ocultar su nerviosismo.
―Tu boca dice algo, pero tu cuerpo dice otra cosa ―dijo Frida, dirigiendo la mirada al abultado pantalĂłn de Martin que empezaba a crecer. Ella tomĂł ventaja de aquello y se empezĂł a acercar lentamente en direcciĂłn al pobre joven, con una mano en su pecho y la otra descendiendo por su abdomen, dejando a Martin callado y tragando en seco. Finalmente sus labios se unieron en un tĂmido beso, pero a la vez, salvaje y lujurioso. Ella posĂł su mano en la entrepierna del muchacho y Ă©l dio un salto, posĂł sus manos en los hombros de ella y la empujĂł sutilmente.
―Te lo dije, Frida, esto no es lo mejor. Me irĂ© ―dijo una Ăşltima vez Martin, lo que hizo enloquecer a Frida, quien volviĂł a besarlo, pero esta vez con tanta intensidad que lo mordiĂł con fuerza, mucha fuerza. Tanta que le arrancĂł un pedazo de piel y Ă©l ahogĂł un grito. La empujĂł una vez más y perdiĂł el equilibrio. Ambos cayeron al suelo, pero ella fue rápida y se levantĂł, se montĂł sobre su estĂłmago y lo mirĂł directo a los ojos. Martin pudo notar la locura en su mirada, ella habĂa perdido los cabales.
―¿¡Crees que puedes terminar conmigo asĂ como asĂ!? ―Golpeaba seguidamente su pecho, con sangre saliendo de su boca. Con aquella sangre manchĂł su vestido― Mira lo que hiciste, hiciste que manchara mi vestido favorito.
Martin estaba aterrado, porque en el fondo, sabĂa que Ă©l no se atreverĂa a hacerle daño, pero ella… Ă©l estaba seguro que ella estaba a punto de hacerle mucho daño. En un extraño giro de eventos, la puerta sonĂł con un golpe en seco, alguien llamaba y Ă©l sintiĂł una pequeña chispa de esperanza. Por alguna razĂłn, Frida lo hacĂa sentir en extremo peligro, Ă©l sabĂa que ella era como un incendio, pero no como un fuego cualquiera, ella era un incendio forestal. Frida tomĂł su rostro con fuerza, lo vio a los ojos y le dijo:
―No te atrevas a moverte, o tendrás serios problemas ―apretó sus cachetes con sus largas uñas rojas y puntiagudas y lo soltó, dirigiéndose a la puerta.
Martin tenĂa miedo, pero no se atreviĂł a moverse, su instinto de supervivencia estarĂa apagado, pero dejĂł todas sus esperanzas en la persona que habĂa llegado. Pero nada más alejado de la realidad, escuchĂł varios pasos dirigirse de nuevo a la cocina, esta vez eran mĂşltiples personas, y por el “click, clack” sabĂa que eran tacones.
AlzĂł un poco la mirada y el miedo se apoderĂł de cada rincĂłn de su alma. Eran mĂşltiples mujeres altas, con un aspecto de dominatrix, semejantes al estilo de Frida, todas con maquillajes pesados y con ropa de cuero. Una de ellas traĂa un maletĂn, otra sacĂł unas esposas del abrigo de cuero. Él cerrĂł sus ojos con fuerza, se dejĂł llorar y se dispuso a su merced. EscuchĂł la voz de Frida, que se habĂa sentado sobre su estĂłmago.
―Te lo pedĂ por las buenas, pero no me has dejado otra opciĂłn. Obligatoriamente estarás conmigo, ya sea con besos, sexo o las torturas que tanto me excitan, pero cumplirás los seis meses a mi lado. ¡Ah! Un detalle que nunca te dije es que soy la lĂder de un culto de mujeres dominatrix, y eres parte de un sacrificio que haremos, sĂłlo falta un mes para que se lleve a cabo la invocaciĂłn.
El pobre de Martin estaba condenado a un largo mes de torturas antes de poder siquiera probar el dulce sabor de la muerte. Los sonidos de cadenas y metales que provenĂan del maletĂn de una de las mujeres hizo que su sangre se helara y que de sus ojos brotaran lágrimas cual cascada. Ya se habĂa resignado a estar en manos de su novia, la lĂder del culto.
🔪CREDITS🔪
The material used in the banner was taken by me, my friend authorized me to use her image and I was in charge of editing it with my Samsung J7 2016.
El material usado en el banner fue tomado por mĂ, mi amiga me autorizĂł a usar su imagen y yo me encarguĂ© de editarla con mi Samsung J7 2016.