Moonslave

by Bruce McLachlan

  Flicking her head up Kira saw her seneschal leap from the divan. A spherical plasmic cloud of reds and blacks poured bolts of power inward, the lightning issuing from the air and converging on a single spot. The air rippled and shook under the punishment of the streaks, slowly turning, gathering more speed until it was a tornado of colour and light, then the mystic gale broke away, dying instantly and revealing a group in the eye of the storm.

  The seneschal bowed deeply as a mark of welcoming and respect, and Kira’s jaw dropped open as she saw the sorceress Kitjana for the first time in the flesh.

  Her jagged crown of jet rolled with her mane of red hair, the shade almost unnatural in its shocking hue. Her sapphire eyes shone like stars, full of amusement and dark intent, bathed in hidden power and knowledge.

  Serpentine earrings of silver dangled from her lobes, her features acute and severe, but of a beauty that was easily the equal of the queen. Clad in a silken cloak she flung open the dark folds with a theatrical gesture, revealing herself to the crowd in full.

  A strapless bra embraced her torso, pressing her breasts together, forming a cleavage that had Kira aching to settle her features within. Intricate silver studs tipped the cups, and within the cleft of her assets hung a crystal as she had seen on the duke and all the shamanic followers of the Wyrm. The silver chain supported a clear crystal in a 178

  thorned embrace. The artefact pulsated with a black and diabolic power, the esoteric creation throwing consuming lines of shadow across her divine physique. A thong of the same burnished fabric hooked straps over her shapely hips while flinging loose suspenders to snatch the black band of fine denier stockings. Regal patent thigh boots clutched to the contours of her succulent legs, setting the already imposing female atop skyscraper heels, the silver metal daggers carved with swirling patterns.

  Behind her were several aberrations that may have once been men and women, but were now contorted parodies of their former shapes. Exaggerated of size with overlong limbs full of talons and wriggling cilia, the beasts were muscular and plated with sections of rough carapace, perfecting their image as guardians. Some had extra tentacles, or limbs that ended in serrated bone claws or wicked sets of pincers, the extra arsenal of natural weapons complementing their murderous visage.

  ‘I bid you welcome Lady Kitjana, may your time here be joyous,’ stated the seneschal as Kitjana stepped forward, lingering trails of acrid steam clinging to her billowing cloak. ‘The property of the queen is at your disposal.’

  A set of claws reached forward from behind her and removed the garment, allowing her to simply walk from it, entrusting it to her monstrous servants. ‘Thank you, seneschal, I see that all are here…’ she began, turning her elegant gaze across the scene, acknowledging those she knew and accepting their bows and nods of fealty in response.

  ‘Except for my Dana… where is she?’ enquired the woman, taking subtle delight in Cassandra’s sudden tensing scowl, the familiarity with which she had addressed her beloved queen greatly riling the seneschal.

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  ‘Her majesty will no doubt attend shortly, my lady. If you would care to take your divan I—’ began the seneschal, indicating with her hand the allotted seat, but Kitjana again deliberately interrupted, dismissing her with casual indifference.

  ‘Later, I shall acquaint myself with those who are actually present first, seneschal,’ she stated, and walked off towards the other divans, greeting more personally those she knew well, leaving Cassandra virtually trembling with rage, her eyes flashing with resentment.

  ‘As my lady wishes,’ she spat, the woman already oblivious to the response Cassandra’s etiquette and station demanded she make. ‘Let the entertainment commence!’ she snapped, and with a huff of choler, Cassandra turned on her heel and marched back to her divan.

  From the walls doorways opened up, stretching to let new flocks of people wander in and set up. The men and women arranged engines of restraint, and other erogenous devices, strapping down gorgeous slaves to be abused and tormented in ingenious ways, a spectacle for the crowd.

  Fire dancers cavorted about the displays of algolagnic vice, juggling their brands, performing astounding feats of gymnastics. Shows of martial skill were also on offer.

  Lethal combatants, enhanced by their undead status gave a more barbaric brand of entertainment to those who wished to enjoy the captivating show of combat ability and physical prowess.

  The seneschal climbed up and dropped into the softness of her divan. Kira edged cautiously forward and kissed her boots, the act of obeisance failing to distract her owner as she continued to regard Kitjana with bubbling loathing. ‘May I get something for you, seneschal,’ she 180

  softly offered, hoping to ease her beloved owner’s strife.

  ‘Did you hear me ask for anything, slave?’ she barked sharply, making Kira flinch and retreat slightly. Tears started to well in her eyes from being scalded so, her wish being only to placate Cassandra’s wrath, instead she had only succeeded in annoying her further.

  The seneschal saw Kira’s appalled reaction and her subsequent vain efforts to hide her distress, so she lifted herself, putting her hand to the face of her property and regarding her with an apologetic expression. ‘Massage my shoulders, my sweet slave,’ she said, unable to break her rigid shell of dominance by openly apologising, instead extending her regrets as best she could.

  Kira offered a weak smile, sniffed back her sadness and crawled behind the woman as she sat upright, draping her arms over her knees, exposing her back to her servant.

  Taking hold of the rubber-coated muscles and the mesh-sheathed shoulders, Kira began a gentle squeezing and rubbing.

  ‘Mmmm, that’s much better, slave,’ purred the seneschal, closing her eyes and drifting on the results of the tender care. ‘Once I’ve seen to the guests we’ll have to spend some time together, my little Kira. Would you enjoy that?’

  ‘Yes, seneschal, I’ll look forward to it,’ she said honestly, working her thumbs along Cassandra’s spine as her fingers continued to massage her neck. ‘Just you, me, and my demerits.’

  ‘Hungry for some discipline are we, slave?’ smiled the seneschal, letting her head loll forward for a moment before it jumped back up, her senses having detected something. ‘The queen!’ she exclaimed with glee, vanishing from beneath Kira’s hands and jumping back to the floor. With the sudden loss of her charge, Kira 181

  dropped forward onto her hands, recovering her balance.

  With a sneer of anger her fingers curled into the fur, her jaw wriggling with rancour. Yet again the queen had stolen her love from her. Cassandra leapt at every glance and word of the queen, forsaking Kira every time she opened her lips. Kira’s resentment of the vampiress was starting to turn into actual hatred. It was a highly dangerous emotion to bear, one that could well destroy her, resolving her to either eradicating it or hiding it exceptionally well, but it was consuming her from within.

  If she did not love her owner so, she would try and find a way to strip away Cassandra’s seneschal status, to make them both slaves again. They would be equal and together, unseen and unnoticed, placed where the queen could not affect them with duty.

  A plan formed through her red haze of fury, and with a smile she considered how to take the title of seneschal for herself, not to rob her beloved of it, but to swap places, and make sure Cassandra was at her beck and call, not the queen’s.

  No sooner had the seneschal’s heels touched the floor than a section of wall parted to allow the powerful vampiress a means to march majestically in. Still dressed in her comprehensive latex garment, polished shoulder-pieces now adorned her shoulders. The metal sections of armour ascended to peaks and were studded with a rim of dark gems. These shoulder-pieces held a long flowing cloak of black silk, the shimmering veil trailing behind her as she strode forward.

  Scampering on all fours on either side were Thanos and Corin, the lupines in wolfen form, their fur groomed and preened for the occasion.

&nbs
p; As she walked the assembled guests bowed and nodded as their fealty decreed, the queen barely replying to their 182

  shows of reverence. The entertainers grovelled, abasing themselves for her pleasure. The seneschal bowed and kissed her toes with reverence, the queen barely acknowledging the act before rising onto her divan and settling into its comfort. Thanos and Corin ascended beside her, settling into feral crouches, their glowing crimson stare panning across the audience. Many eyes were upon them, the shocking appearance of two trained lupines at her heels being an event of no small distinction.

  Impressed gasps and subdued mutters of gossip suddenly rolled through the hall, the guests succumbing to the very result the queen had desired.

  Kitjana made her way back and ascended into her own seat, her monstrous abominations taking positions about the throne, regarding the lupines with uneasy stares.

  The seneschal moved back and returned to Kira, letting her faithful and devoted servant continue where she had left off. But even though the woman seemed to be watching the rest of the hall, Kira saw her studiously keeping track of her neighbours, trying to listen in on what was being said between the two salacious females.

  Every suppressed glance Cassandra made to them raised the temperature of Kira’s bitterness until finally she squeezed harder than she should have, attacking a tender muscle to break off the seneschal’s gaze. She knew what the result would be, but she wanted the seneschal with her, not the queen.

  ‘Ouch!’ Cassandra yelped. ‘What is wrong with you, slave?’

  ‘I’m sorry, seneschal, I—’ began Kira with worried apology.

  ‘Sorry doesn’t cover it by far!’ she hissed, grabbing Kira by the hair and dragging her down onto her front, defeating her half-hearted wriggles of resistance. ‘You 183

  think you can treat me like that and not be reprimanded?

  Well, you’ve just earned yourself more demerits than you can even contemplate, slave!’ she barked, swinging a leg over, dropping her buttocks onto Kira’s shoulders, using her folded legs to squeeze inwards, pressing Kira’s arms to her sides, keeping her trapped beneath her.

  She was overwhelmed by the feel of latex legs compressing, controlling her, the smooth soft buttocks crushing her body, keeping her down as the seneschal called forth one of the entertainers.

  ‘Give me that!’ she snapped, her fury at Kitjana’s disrespect and the queen’s indifference seeping out, turning itself to the chastising of Kira.

  Kira closed her eyes, aware now that she was to be the vent through which the seneschal exorcised her bilious temperament. She didn’t mind; it made her feel that she was serving her seneschal, assisting her in alleviating her mood.

  The seneschal snatched the cane from the male and cast it up over her head. The bamboo strut howled down and sank into Kira’s rear, imparting searing agony upon her. Kira wailed, struggling under the woman, fighting her entrapment as the seneschal continued her assault with manic verve.

  ‘You think you can manhandle me?’ she growled, targeting Kira’s thrashing thighs.

  ‘No seneschal, please!’ she howled, tears running down her face, her hindquarters alive with utter distress. ‘Show mercy! It was an accident, I swear!’

  ‘I’ll teach you to be more careful, slave!’ ranted the seneschal, slicing into her with all her might, her legs squeezing, crushing Kira’s torso.

  ‘Please, seneschal,’ she wailed, accepting another trio of vindictive hacks.

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  ‘I elevated you from being a pet and this is how you repay me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, please, seneschal, I’ll never—!’ Her words ended as they ascended to a squeal with the affliction of more scathing strokes.

  ‘You think a few licks covers your crime?’ yelled the woman, continuing her revenge with gusto.

  Kira hollered beneath her owner, receiving her retribution in full, questioning having performed her plot but not regretting it for an instant.

  When the assault stopped Kira was laying slack upon the divan, sobbing softly, her body exhausted. The seneschal removed herself from Kira’s back, stretching her weary arm and setting the cane aside.

  ‘Thank you, slave, I needed that,’ she whispered into Kira’s ear and kissed her while softly rubbing the welt smothered rear of her property.

  ‘I only want to serve you, seneschal,’ grizzled Kira.

  ‘And you did,’ comforted the seneschal, wiping away her slave’s tears. ‘And as always you excelled.’

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  Chapter Ten

  Thanos looked over to Corin to see his sister glaring at several other members of the assembly, locating regions where her loathing had failed to be diminished by slavery.

  She still had old enemies, quarters of power that had offended or crossed her. The old hates died hard, and she was obviously dwelling on them as she studied the crowd.

  It had been almost unbelievable to see how quickly Corin had been attuned to the will of the queen. A concentrated regime of torment and erotic teasing, indoctrination tapes, and of course his presence to show her how well the whole system worked had turned a defiant wilderness warrior into an adoring pet of her greatest nemesis.

  ‘So how has the world been treating my favourite witch?’ asked the queen, regarding Kitjana.

  ‘A few setbacks of late, but in the end it all worked out,’ the woman replied flippantly.

  ‘Do tell,’ encouraged the queen, snapping her fingers to call over one of her maids. The woman pulled herself up onto the divan and looked meekly down in anticipation of her orders.

  The queen opened her legs and gave a brief indication downward. The maid shuffled forward and lowered her face into position, locating the concealed slit that provided access through the walls of latex. The sounds of lapping and soft moans of delight emerged from the mop of blonde hair between the queen’s legs, and both 186

  Corin and Thanos regarded the humbled servant with envy.

  ‘Of course, but first, shall we see to some entertainment for me as well?’ she quizzed.

  ‘Anything you wish,’ replied the queen.

  ‘Well, your male pet seems to be ready for action,’ she said with a voluptuous purr, her eyes scanning Thanos, his arousal by the lesbian act before him plain. ‘Mind if I see what he can do?’

  ‘By all means,’ answered the queen, and reached forward, unclipping his leash and pointing to the neighbour.

  ‘Obey her, slave,’ she ordered, and Thanos looked to see the woman beckoning him with a crooked digit.

  Swallowing for courage, Thanos made his way over and through the wall of beasts guarding the woman. Moving up onto the divan, he found her already stripping off her briefs, revealing her shaven sex to him.

  ‘Come here, slave,’ she smiled, a twisted leer creeping around the corners of her lips as she lifted a hand in his direction. A small sparkle of darkness curled in her palm and from its heart spat a line of barbed chain. The new leash snapped claws to the D-ring of his collar and allowed her to reel him in with more substantial control.

  She grabbed his rigid length and massaged it in a callous grasp, making Thanos wince, but the roughness also served to continue feeding his arousal.

  ‘Not bad,’ she murmured as her efforts brought Thanos to full size, and then using her hold as a mooring she steered him into herself leaving nothing to his control.

  Thanos moaned as he slid into her, the warm flesh swallowing up his hungry shaft. ‘Mmmm, delightful,’

  commented the witch, stretching herself against the soft fur, squirming in a heady haze as Thanos sank into her 187

  in full.

  Holding himself up by his arms, Thanos commenced his ravishment with dilatory haste, working slowly, savouring the moment, unsure when he would get another chance.

  With a chuckle, the sighing woman beneath him placed her fingers to his nipples. Thin tongues of energy curled around her forearms, racing around and to her fingers, forming contorted skeletal clamps, the demonic mannequins snapping
serrated teeth to his mamilla.

  Dribbling out a grunt of shock Thanos stiffened, the woman drawing back, paying out new wires of barbed black metal from the implements. Then, pulling down the cups of her bra she exposed her breasts and conjured another set of clamps, linking the two of them, making every thrust and pull apply new strength to the sprung implements, increasing their havoc.

  ‘That’s it slave, nice and easy, I don’t want you finishing prematurely,’ she warned with a grin, draping herself back as her breasts were pulled to points by Thanos’

  movements, the two of them succumbing to the throbbing arctic pound of the compression.

  The effects were swiftly seeping into the surrounding tissue like a cancer, spreading tendrils forth as they stored the hidden sensation, saving the reservoir until the clamps were removed. Yet both of them thrilled at the minor pain, letting it accentuate the pleasure.

  ‘Does he meet with your approval?’ asked the queen.

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Kitjana with sultry tones.

  ‘So, about your recent tribulations?’ continued the vampiress, closing her eyes and succumbing to a twitch of response to the labouring tongue between her legs.

  ‘Well, I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but the trinity decided to pay me a little visit. I say, the trinity, 188

  but in fact it was only the other two, because the Swan met an unfortunate end when they assaulted my haven earlier.’

  ‘Someone said you captured their head – Eire?’ asked the queen, enclosing a hand about the maid’s hair, rotating the girl’s features into her loins.

  ‘And a fine slave she made too,’ answered Kitjana, pulling at the chains, causing both of their nipples to stretch as Thanos continued to thrust deep into the woman, his fiery eyes fixed upon her with wonderment.