Her eyes drifted to the empty wine bottle on her desk, then down to her hand. Her palm didn’t sting like it had last night. In fact, the deep gash she’d carved there was… almost gone. Just a faint, pink line remained—like a paper cut already half-healed.
She frowned, flexing her fingers. She could’ve sworn it was deeper. It had bled a lot. Hadn’t it?
Maybe it really was all just some bizarre, wine-soaked nightmare—the ritual, the blood, the woman with the burning kiss who vanished. She snorted softly. What were the odds she’d actually summoned a deity? And one that wanted her as… a pet?
The memories burned in her mind, refusing to be ignored. Iris shook her head, willing them away. She didn’t have time for this—not with her first class in less than an hour and a dozen other tasks to tackle before she left. She forced herself into her morning routine: a cold shower to shock her senses awake, a hoodie pulled over damp hair, instant ramen clutched like a lifeline, hoping it would calm her queasy stomach and dull the hangover.
Her movements felt mechanical, as if she were living in someone else’s body. The hollow ache behind her eyes remained, grounding her just enough, but a tighter, sharper dread gnawed at her gut, curling around her heart.
She told herself it was just the hangover and pushed the feeling down as she stepped out of her dorm room. Just as she began to lock the door, the dull buzz of her phone sparked a new jolt of anxiety. She braced herself for the worst.
Midterm grades. No doubt mailed home earlier this week. And Iris was close to failing. She knew it would make her uncle angry. After all, it was in his best interest that she stayed in school
To her relief, when she pulled out her phone and saw the name flashing on the screen, it wasn’t Uncle Mark. A soft smile tugged at her lips—Ray, followed by three hearts. Her shoulders relaxed, and for a moment, her hangover didn’t feel so daunting.
“Good morning, Ray,” she answered, her voice already warmer. She needed his energy this morning.
“Iris! I miss you. When are you coming to see me again?” His voice was as bright as ever—cheerful and eager, like he’d been waiting all night just to say that.
She laughed quietly. “I was there the day before yesterday. You know I’ve got school and work. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to spend every day with you.”
“But I’m so bored here by myself. Plus, I want you to meet the cute new nurse at the hospital. He has the dreamiest brown eyes.”
“You say that about every cute guy you meet,” she teased. “Why don’t you ask him to keep you company while I’m away?”
“Because you’re more fun.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, it made her chest ache.
“Anyway, are you heading to class now?”
“I am,” she said with a sigh. “Sadly, I can’t miss any more this semester.”
There was a pause, and his tone shifted. “Are those guys still bugging you?”
Her smile dimmed.
“Of course not,” she lied. “I’m in college now. They backed off after the first week. We’re all adults, right? It’d be crazy if they were still picking on me.”
That couldn’t have been further from the truth.
In high school, it was just two boys mocking her clothes and her hair. The cruelty had evolved since entering college. The boys had started rumors—said she was a homewrecker, an animal abuser. And some of the girls had joined in.
Everyone seemed to believe the rumors
They whispered about her when they thought she couldn’t hear. Sometimes they didn’t bother whispering at all.
But she let them. She had to. If she fought back, she could get expelled.
And then… she’d be sent back to her uncle’s house. Be forced into becoming his slave again.
She couldn’t let that happen.
“Well… okay.” Ray didn’t sound convinced. But he wouldn’t push. He never did. Iris never talked about what really bothered her—not when it might upset him. Not after he got sick.
He had enough to deal with already.
“Anyway,” Ray said, voice perking up again, “come spend the weekend with me. I’m being sent home again, and my apartment is so lonely.”
Relief flooded her. Thank god he dropped it.
“I’ll do what I can, Ray. I’ve got work this weekend,” she said. Her shifts at the bar were long, and studying filled the rest of her time.
“You can stay here while you’re not working,” Ray offered. “I’ll cook for you, we can watch horror movies—and if you need to study, I’ll give you space.”
He really was lonely. Just the hospital and his empty apartment.
Guilt bloomed in her chest.
“That sounds nice. I’ll be there,” she promised, just as the door to her classroom came into view. “I’m sorry, I can’t chat longer—my class is about to start.”
“Okay. Love you, Iris. Keep your head up.”
She smiled. He always said that.
“I love you too, Ray,” she said softly, before ending the call and slipping her phone into her pocket..
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Iris made it through her first two classes without a single comment or stare—but the quiet felt unnatural, almost… like a trap. She hadn’t had a peaceful morning in weeks, and the sudden calm set her on edge.
But she didn’t have time to dwell of it. Not with the mountain of classwork looming over her. A few hours of calm was a gift she couldn’t waste.
She was just reaching the library steps when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
One glance at the screen sent her stomach plummeting.
Uncle Mark.
The name alone made her sick.
Her fingers hovered over the decline button. She could let it go to voicemail… pretend she hadn’t seen it. But that would only make things worse. Sooner or later, she’d have to face him.
She forced a smile into her voice trying to sound sincere. “Good morning, Uncle.”She hoped playing nice would lighten his mood
“Good morning? Ha! You’ve got to be kidding me.” His voice was low, cold and dangerous. “Do you know what I got in the mail today?”
Her throat tightened. “No… what was it?” She lied, already bracing for the answer. Midterm grades. It had to be.
“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed for you? I could’ve let the state throw you into foster care, but I took you in. Out of the kindness of my heart. And this is how you repay me?”
Her grip tightened on the phone. Her pulse thudded in her throat. “If you sent me to foster care,” she muttered before she could stop herself, “you wouldn’t have gotten any of my mother’s money.”
A long sharp pause. Then: “You ungrateful little bitch.” he hissed the words dragging into her like a blade.
She flinched. If he had been in front of her she would’ve received a slap. She knew better than to talk back. She should just let him rant and be done with it. But sometimes… sometimes she couldn’t help it. The way he talked about “saving” her like it was some noble act made her sick.
“Get your grades up by the end of the term,” he continued, speaking slowly, voice low and deliberate “or you’re coming back home. And don’t think I’ll tolerate you slacking under my roof –I’ll make sure you don’t forget who owns. you.”
Cold dread wrapped around her like chains, muscles tensing with each word. Each threat. Her istincts told her to run, to hide. She couldn’t go back there. Not again.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
But he still had her mother’s grimoire—among other things. As long as he held that, he held her. Not to mention the threats to frame her seemed all too real. There was no
escaping him. The throb in her ankle on rainy days reminded her of the price she’d pay if she tried.
“Do you hear me?” he asked, each word a crack like a whip.
“Yes, sir,” She whispered, voice trembling.
“And don’t you ever talk back to me again. Maybe I’ll have you home this weekend. Teach you a lesson about respect. Make you understand your place.” He grumbled. Sometimes she wondered if he enjoyed using her as a punching bag.
Her chest tightened and nausea twisted in her stomach. “Please… please let me stay. I have a lot of homework to do. I don’t want to bother you—I’m sorry, Uncle.”
He ignored her pleas. “I want a copy of your grades every Monday. If they’re not improving, you're moving back in. End of story.”
“…Y-yes, sir.” her voice cracked.
The line went dead.
Iris stood frozen on the steps, phone still pressed to her ear. Her hands were trembling.
She took a deep breath. Then another.
She couldn’t let this break her. Couldn’t let anyone see her weakness. Not here. Not now.
She shoved her phone into her bag, pushed open the library doors, and made a beeline for the far corner. She dropped into a chair at an empty table and opened her math textbook with shaking fingers.
She needed to focus. Needed to study. Because failure wasn’t an option anymore—not when the alternative was going back to that hell.
The equations blurred at first, but eventually, the familiarity of the numbers brought a strange calm.
She was halfway through the assignment when a quiet thump startled her.
A small stack of papers had been dropped onto her book.
Iris blinked and looked up—then gasped softly.
It was her.
The woman from the nightmare… the kiss.
She was real. Iris had somehow convinced herself she wasn’t.
And now she was sitting calmly across the table, one leg crossed over the other, as if this were perfectly normal. Her eyes were no longer the icy blue from Iris’s nightmare, but the same threatening demeanor radiated from her. the same beauty . The same danger.
“Our contract,” the woman said smoothly, resting her elbow on the table. Her voice was velvet and steady—impossibly calm. “Go ahead. Read it.”
Iris’s eyes dropped to the papers. She picked them up slowly, half-expecting them to vanish in her hands. But the paper was real—warm, like it had just come off the printer. Thick. Cream-colored. Official-looking.
“Oh… um…” she mumbled, scanning the front page.
“It’s just formality,” she said, voice smooth. “You belonged to me the moment I marked you. This only puts it in writing—what I own, what I permit you to have, and what I’ll take if you disobey. I suggest you don’t give me reason.”
Iris didn’t answer right away. She gave a small nod—just enough to acknowledge what the woman had said. Her face stayed still, carefully blank, but her fingers tightened around the edge of the page.
There was no backing out. She knew that kind of finality. It felt the same as when Uncle Mark locked her up and muttered threats through the door. Except this wasn’t home. And this woman wasn’t Uncle Mark. She was something else. Something unknown. Maybe worse.
Iris didn’t know how to act around her, so she defaulted to what she knew: quiet, calm, emotionless.
She looked back down at the contract, blinking hard to clear the fog creeping in behind her eyes. The words were plain, oddly professional, but something about them made her skin crawl. Still, she kept reading.
Then she froze.
One line snagged her breath.
She looked up, forcing her voice to stay level. “You want me to move in with you?”
“Of course,” Lilith said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What kind of pet lives apart from her master? You belong to me now. You’ll move in tonight.”
“I—I have work,” Iris said weakly.
Lilith’s eyes gleamed, her voice dipping into something silkier—sharper. “Not anymore. You won’t need a job. I’ll take good care of you.” She leaned forward, her words meant only for Iris. “And I don’t like the idea of you running around unsupervised.”
Iris’s cheeks burned. She glanced around nervously, heart hammering in her chest, praying no one had overheard. People already thought she was strange—this wouldn’t help. The quiet library seemed suddenly stifling, the faint rustle of pages and distant footsteps sounding like echoes in a cavern closing in around her.
She forced herself to look down again, but her fingers shook as they hovered over the contract. The paper felt heavier now, like it weighed down her very soul. The words were cold, clinical—eerily formal for something so personal. The vague language was deliberate, like a web spun to trap her in ways she couldn’t yet see.
A chill slithered up her spine. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, but inside, dread was creeping, slow and relentless.
- The Mistress may taste, take, or command the signee’s blood without notice or refusal, regardless of circumstance.
- The signee’s blood shall override all prior covenants. Any previous pacts, protections, or sanctities shall be rendered void upon this sealing.
- The Mistress reserves the right to alter the signee’s physical form or appearance as she sees fit, whether for utility, preference, or punishment.
- The Mistress holds the right to summon the signee to her side at any time, without restriction or delay. Distance, sleep, or personal will shall not hinder this call.
- The signee shall not enter into any new magical bonds, oaths, or contracts without the Mistress’s express approval.
- Pain, injury, or affliction inflicted by the Mistress may not be treated, undone, or interfered with by any healer, physician, or magical intervention without her consent.
- The signee shall reside under the Mistress’s roof within one day of this contract’s sealing, and remain housed there for the duration of the bond.
- The Mistress shall provide the signee with a weekly payment of $2,000 USD, disbursed every Monday. Use of these funds is left to the signee’s discretion, barring direct contradiction of contract terms.
Iris stared at the last lines. “Two thousand?”
“Is that not enough?” Lilith leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “I can give you more, if you like.”
No, no—it’s just… that’s a lot,” Iris stammered. That was enough to live on… enough to quit her job and maybe soon be out of Uncle Mark’s clutches.
“So your name’s Lilith then?” she asked, not really wanting to dwell on the other terms.
“Here, I go by Lilly. But at home, you’ll call me Mistress Lilith. Or just Mistress. Understood?”
Iris hesitated. Just another order she’d have to follow…
“…Yes,” she said finally.
“Well, are you going to sign?
She opened her pencil case and pulled out a black pen. Before the tip could touch the page, Lilith reached across the table and took her hand.
“Not with that,” she murmured, turning Iris’s palm upward. A chill ran through Iris as the woman pressed her thumb to the dark, ornate ring on her finger.
There was a sharp sting—like a needle prick.
“Ow!” Iris yelped, jerking her hand back as a bead of blood bloomed on her thumb. “What was that for?”
Before she could instinctively put it in her mouth, Lilith caught her wrist, firm but careful.
“It needs to be sealed with blood,” she said evenly, then guided Iris’s thumb to the paper.
The parchment seemed to drink the blood. Iris winced but didn’t resist.
“You could’ve warned me,” she muttered once Lilith let go.
Lilith didn’t reply. She silently pricked her own thumb—no flinch, no hesitation—and pressed it beside Iris’s mark. The blood melted together forming a dark red heart.
The paper burst into flames.
Iris jolted back, nearly knocking over her chair. Her heart leapt into her throat as smoke curled upward—and vanished. Just as quickly as it had started, it was gone. No ash. No scorch marks. Just empty space where the contract had been.
She looked around wildly, but no one else in the library even glanced her way.
“Our contract is now officially sealed,” Lilith said, extending a hand. “Now, give me your hand.”
Iris hesitated, then extended her hand—confused, cautious, still in shock. Lilith took it gently, her fingers cold against Iris’s skin. She leaned in—too close—her breath ghosting across Iris’s knuckles as she brought the thumb to her lips. Her eyes never left Iris’s. Then, slowly, she licked the blood away.
The burning followed. Just like before. It bloomed under Iris’s skin, sharp, searing— like she was holding her thumb over a candle flame.
Iris’s face flushed crimson—not from the pain, but the embarrassment. The burning was sharp, but it barely registered compared to the heat crawling up her neck. She tried to pull back “What are you doing? Someone’s going to see us—” She whispered under her breath through gritted teeth.
Lilith tightened her grip. “Let them. You’re mine now, remember?” Her voice dipped, teasing and possessive. “Besides, they’re all far too busy to notice anything important.”
She released her with a smirk, as if she hadn’t just upended Iris’s entire reality.
Iris yanked her hand back, trembling. She cast another glance around the library. Still no attention. No witnesses. The room buzzed softly—pages turning, students murmuring, the distant whir of a printer about five feet away. Normal life continued all around her, blind to what had just happened. She was stepping into another cage, and no one even noticed.
She needed to get out.
“I… I have to get to my next class,” she said, the lie thin and frayed in her throat.
Lilith gave a small nod, like she was humoring a child. “Of course. Run along, pet.”
Iris didn’t wait. She snatched up her things and fled the library, her heart pounding, the ghost of Lilith’s touch still burning on her skin.
Lilith watched her run off. She was oblivious to how much Lilith already knew. Her pets next class wasn’t for another hour. The lie was clumsy, insulting. But Lilith will let it slide. For now. She’ll have plenty of time to break that rotten habit of hers.
Her eyes fell to her copy of the contract. Iris’s blood glistened slightly, drying at the edges, seeping into the fibers of the paper. Her heart thrumbed with excitement. The mark from yesterday had been one thing but this. This was proof. Physical.Legal. Binding. A bond that couldn’t be severed not in this realm and not in her own.
Iris was hers now.
She had wanted to posses her since the first time she saw her. Soft chesnut hair catching the light, shining like honey. Emerald green eyes sharp, steady, even as her classmates tore into her. She remembered how the way Iris held her expression still, almost unchanging, even when struck. That quiet defiance had intrigued her.
She had kept watching the strange girl. Even when tried not to stare her eyes sought out Iris. Her little obsession. This thin, frail girl who against all odds held strong and steady against the storm of her tormenters.
Lilith wanted her closer. Wanted to possess her. Wanted to feel her pulse quicken beneath her finger tips. To see those defiant eyes flicker, with fear, excitement, anything but that maddening indifference. She wanted to shatter that mask of hers. Watch it fall piece by piece.
Her fingers tapped against the contract a faint smile curling on her lips.. Iris’s scent lingered in her nostiles. Sweet, like cinnamon and vanilla. A scent she now possessed.
Lilith wanted all of her. Every smile. Every frown. Every breath.
And she always found a way to take what she wanted.