Hate & Heaven | 18+

Triggers & Warning

Psychological Manipulation

Mention Claustrophobia & Nyctophobia

Emotional & Physical Distress

Gaslighting & Psychological Abuse

Horror Themes

Highly distressing content ahead. If any of the above warnings trigger you, please proceed with caution.

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"I wanted to hear, my name from this pretty mouth of yours," he demanded, his voice a dark caress that sent chills down her spine. She looked at him, confusion swirling in her eyes. "Your... name?" she repeated, her voice thick with disbelief.

Dimitrio nodded, the smug smile never leaving his face. "Every time you think of escape, every time you think of fighting me, I want your body to remember who you truly belong to." His hand reached up, tracing the line of the handcuffs to pulse point her wrist, his finger against her skin like a cold brand of ownership. "Say it," he urged, his eyes darkening.

Nakshathra searched his gaze, her own eyes filled with a tempest of emotions - anger, fear, and something else she didn't dare to acknowledge. "I- I don't know your name," she said, the words a feeble protest against the storm of his dominance.

Dimitrio's smile grew even wider, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Ah, so the little bird doesn't know her cage," he taunted, his hand moving to cup her cheek. His thumb stroked her skin in a gesture that was almost tender, belying the cruelty in his voice. "My name is Dimitrio Valentzas," he whispered, his breath fanning across her face. "Remember it, for it's the name that will haunt your dreams and own your reality."

Her heart raced as she took in this new piece of information. Four months of captivity and she had never asked, never cared to know. To her, he was merely a devil, a symbol of her nightmare. His hand lingered on her cheek, the warmth of his skin in stark contrast to the cold steel of the handcuffs.

Dimitrio stepped closer, his thumb brushing her bottom lip gently. "But now," he murmured, "now, you do know. And you will use it." His eyes searched hers, looking for submission, for the acceptance of his dominance. "Call me by my name, little rebel,"

Nakshathra's teeth clenched at the endearment, but she found herself unable to resist the command in his tone. "Dimi-" she started, the name catching in her throat like a thorn. His eyes lit up at the sound, his hand moving to trace the curve of her jaw.

"Dimitrio," he corrected, his voice a low rumble. "Say it again."

Nakshathra gritted her teeth, but complied, her voice filled with venom. "Dimitrio." It was the first time she'd uttered it aloud in the four months she'd been with him. His smile grew wider, more triumphant than ever before.

He leaned in, his nose grazing hers. "That's better," he said, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. His hands found the zipper of her sleeveless gown, and with a slow, deliberate pull, he sent it gliding down her back, the fabric whispering against her skin. She shivered, not from the sudden coolness but from his touch, the way it seemed to burn through her, a stark reminder of his power.

"Why are you..." she began to protest again, but he placed his finger on her lips, silencing her. "Sshh," he murmured, his voice a velvet whisper that seemed to resonate in every part of her being. "No more words," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. His words were a command, a gentle silencing of her protests.