Moonspawn

by Bruce McLachlan

‘Your majesty,’ stated the seneschal, and bowed deeply until she had dropped to one knee. With the creak of latex the guards followed the motion. Unwilling to cause offence, Kira copied them all, waiting there until she knew whether or not she should rise.

  ‘Arise, my most trusted seneschal,’ she announced, her voice rolling through the air as an irresistible wave, her very voice a force of utmost influence. ‘Come and join me.’

  Cassandra straightened and strode up the steps to stand at the right hand of the woman, pivoting on a heel and fixing her stare down at Kira.

  ‘Guards, you may stand at ease,’ attested the woman, leaving Kira the only one still humbled.

  ‘Welcome, Kira, I trust you have found my hospitality to your liking,’ said the vampire ruler.

  ‘Yes, your majesty,’ replied Kira.

  ‘Then stand up and show us the results,’ requested the queen.

  Kira looked up with a start to find the woman grinning with wicked intent. Her eyes flitted to the seneschal, the pet, and then the man nearby. The thought of standing nude, on such display, was more than daunting.

  ‘If you wish to insult me with your refusal, I shall have my guards do it and then have you thrown back out on the street,’ warned the woman, her tone light but deadly serious. She was no longer the lover who had come to her that night, not the saviour who had rescued her on the rooftop. Here she was empress of the city, and here she could not be questioned.

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  Standing erect, Kira locked her eyes to those of her queen and opened the belt, staring at nothing but the captivating eyes of the woman. Opening the folds she let the smooth curtain slip down her arms and puddle about her feet. She stood defiant of the stares, refusing to try and cower or conceal herself.

  The queen smiled, her eyes winking with satisfaction before she too joined the rest of the throng in assessing Kira’s new appearance. A faint and deep growl reached the outermost extent of Kira’s hearing, a sound of longing that slipped the throat of the beast.

  ‘Steady, Thanos, you’ll frighten her,’ stated the queen, petting his head while the incarnadine eyes of the creature widened as they bored into Kira’s revealed frame.

  Cassandra shifted uneasily as she examined Kira, something about her appearance setting the woman on edge, her hands furling into fists.

  ‘And what do you think, Duke Khardekk?’ she asked the man in the expensive suit. ‘Is she not a fine addition to my house?’

  ‘Indeed she is, my queen,’ he replied. ‘I take it the Malefic Kiss has been given to her?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What is your intention for her?’ he asked, an edge of lascivious thirst slipping through his words.

  ‘You want her for yourself? Is that the truth of it, my dear duke?’

  ‘Who could resist such a temptation? I have not seen Maleficence bring out such a beauty in at least a century.’

  ‘Maybe some day, duke. I have plans for this nubile young vampire.’ She arose from her throne, stepping forward and letting the two males shift forward, clipping the wide shouldered cloak to her, the voluminous folds 51

  trailing behind as she descended the steps, the rubber trickling down like molten coal.

  ‘Of course, that all depends on her decision, doesn’t it?’ she stated.

  ‘You are giving her a choice, your majesty?’ quizzed Cassandra with a start, taken aback by what Kira assumed was an unprecedented offer.

  ‘Yes, though I think I am confident in the reply, no matter what I say. Isn’t that so, my little Kira?’ She beamed, reaching up one of her talons and hooking it under Kira’s chin, lifting her gaze before trailing the cold dagger down and through her cleavage, the chill metal making her shiver.

  ‘Now, if you agree to become my subject, you will also become my slave. My realm is vast, and I have numerous guests and many more slaves. These may use you, they may abuse you, but you will always be mine.

  Time means nothing to our kind, and should you agree, you will spend eternity knowing what it means to be my property,’ she declared, and continued with her speech as she paced around Kira.

  ‘There will be pain and hardship, but there will also be pleasure. If you agree, you will know both in abundance. But before you answer I will enlighten you further. If you agree, you will be taken away and prepared for service by my seneschal. She will see to your initial training, and she may well be cruel if you do not perform as her expectations demand. Your will shall be superfluous. Whatever you say, whatever you regret, it will matter not. You shall have submitted yourself of your own choice, and there will never be any retreating from that decision. Have you any questions before you decide?’

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  Kira turned and met the eyes of the queen, her lips trembling with eagerness, but there was something she needed to know first, to reassure her that she was doing the right thing.

  ‘What if I refuse your offer?’ she asked.

  ‘You will be released to continue your existence on the surface world,’ she stated flatly. ‘You will take your chances with the herds, the hunters, and the rivals.’

  Kira knew she wouldn’t stand a chance in the normal world. Here she would be protected and loved, taught to please the queen. She did not know what the details might be, but she was eager to learn. The sight of the other slaves had awoken an interest, kindled a perverse desire to be forced into these lots, and she knew what answer she had to give.

  ‘I want to be your slave,’ she declared.

  ‘You are sure?’

  ‘Yes, your majesty.’

  ‘Then we shall seal our bargain with a kiss,’ she revealed, and as Kira moved forward, puckering her lips, the woman stepped back and pointed to her booted toes.

  ‘No, not there, here,’ she stated.

  Kira smiled with satisfaction and folded onto her knees, crouching before the ultimate ruler of her fate and placing devoted kisses to the footwear. The taste of the latex upon her lips would be her comfort in the time of training she was about to face.

  ‘Take her away, seneschal,’ the queen ordered, her smile wide, her face filled with delight as Cassandra marched back down the steps.

  ‘Guards, bring her here,’ she commanded, and instantly strong arms grabbed Kira’s biceps, bringing her to her feet and marching her roughly towards the side of the 53

  room. All trace of civility had gone the moment the words of acceptance left her lips. She was a slave, and was to be treated as one.

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  Chapter Five

  Taken to a section of wall, the woman placed a hand to it and with a sudden groan the stone blocks started to swing inward, the secretive portal opening onto a bleak corridor.

  The passage was painted blue, with neon strip lights overhead and a lush black carpet. Led down the corridor Kira observed other doors set in the walls, the black featureless slabs reflecting her as a distorted ghost while she was driven deeper into the bowels of this domain.

  The seneschal slapped her hand to the wall beside a door and the portal whirred aside, exposing a plain chamber beyond, a set of cabinets placed against one wall. Carried in, she was taken to the centre of the room and released. She slouched immediately, rubbing her upper arms, the grip of the sentries having been fierce.

  ‘Return to your posts, guards,’ ordered the woman.

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ they humbly replied, bowing deeply and then withdrawing together.

  ‘Assistants!’ exclaimed the keeper of the queen’s servants, and at this mere verbal demand four panels on the wall opposite the cabinets suddenly revolved, revealing four bound forms.

  They could have been women, but they could have been either gender for there was no flesh to be seen to confirm which they were. They were like rubber golems, creatures forged from the smooth impermeable material that seemed to be so prevalent in taste in the queen’s ranks. Were these fellow Nosferatu, or something else?

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  Were they mortal? If so, such sweltering folds would be even more u
nbearable. But even to those without body heat, they would be terribly restrictive and uncomfortable.

  A catsuit of the fabric encompassed every aspect of them, enclosing arms, hands, and head, the hood offering two tiny eyeholes, their faces a little overlong and telling that they were radically gagged beneath. Another pair of vents at the nostrils let them wheeze softly through the openings, revealing that these were not fellow undead, they were some other sort of being. Could they be mortals?

  Holes at the wrists let their rings emerge, so that the restraints could be used even through the dense fabric.

  A larger collar had been set over their normal displays of ownership, and like a neck brace it kept them up and to attention, unable to move.

  A brutal corset compressed them into an absurd hourglass, crushing them before a hobble skirt squeezed their legs together, dropping to their ankles where a vague glimpse of their leggings remained before the incorporated high-heeled boots took over.

  Each of them was held in place by metal bands that emerged from the walls, pinning them down. The bonds flashed across their wrists, neck, thighs and waist, leaving them unable to get free as they languished in their dismal storage compartments.

  ‘You, furniture duty!’ she snapped, pointing at one of the anonymous forms, and simultaneously all the bands jolted back into their housings, freeing the serviles.

  The rubber spectre shuffled forward with tiny hampered steps and then settled onto her hands and knees before the seneschal.

  Used as a seat, the slave remained motionless as the 56

  woman settled into her back, crossing her thigh booted legs and reclining slightly, her crop across her lap.

  ‘Now Kira, before we start your lessons, we had best get you ready and into your lot,’ revealed the seneschal.

  ‘The first part of your initiation will be the addition of your basic uniform. Once applied, these items will be with you for the rest of your existence and will mark you as the property of the queen.

  ‘Perform the fitting,’ ordered the woman, and the slaves started to shuffle across and past Kira.

  Opening a cabinet they removed collar, fetters and cuffs, the items prepared in readiness for Kira’s enslavement.

  ‘Present your wrists,’ commanded the woman, and Kira lifted them to receive their decorations. The solid cuffs were in two halves, each having a slot and a notched lock protruding from one side. It was clear that once the barbs were slipped into the waiting housing and closed, the only way to gain freedom from the shackles would be to destroy them. The foam rubber interior was closed about each of her joints, and the moulded items locked to her, the fit absolutely perfect so that it gripped firmly and could not be removed. The four rings around each jingled as she shook them and put her hands by her side, readying to gain her slave collar.

  The restraints for her feet were identical, and two of the women awkwardly settled by her ankles to snap them in place.

  ‘Lift your hair,’ ordered Cassandra, and as she complied the steel band was fitted in place by the third woman, encircling her neck, marking her forever as a slave.

  ‘Also, until you are deemed trustworthy not to interfere 57

  with the property of her majesty, you will be kept enforceable chaste,’ she added, glaring at Kira.

  ‘Put her in the belt,’ she said, and the controlled servant who had applied the collar scampered back to the cabinets to retrieve a set of polished steel bands.

  With a worried expression Kira watched as the intimate incarceration was prepared. What would chastity do to her if she were held in this sexual slavery? To be constantly aroused and tormented and denied was perhaps the worst torture she could conceive of. But what could she do? There was to be no denying this imposition.

  The jaws of the waistband were opened and enclosed around her. A shove had it snap shut, compressing her waist and resting on her hips.

  The same woman responsible for this then lifted her hands, saving her comrades the extreme difficulty of rising to help her. Producing a short length of chain with locking clips at either end, she threaded it through the ring at the back of Kira’s collar. The women beside her took her wrists and started to fold them up her back, presenting the ringlets on the cuffs to the waiting anchors.

  With her arms contorted and her shackles resting at her shoulder blades, the locks captured them, keeping her in this vexing pose, unable to do anything save wiggle her fingers and shrug her arms from side to side.

  Once this restriction was applied, the other pair used deft fingers to locate hidden panels in the floor. These small pits flipped up their lids and the women drew out clips that were affixed to stout chains. The holes paid out slack and with a snap, the hooks were set to her ankle bands.

  Immediately there was a cranking grind of movement from within the pits and Kira was alarmed to see the 58

  chain being devoured by them. With some panicked tugs she wrenched at her collar and feet, trying to get free, but there was nothing to be done.

  The slack was lost and her feet were slowly drawn apart, spreading her legs as she toppled and swayed, the third woman remaining to assist her should her balance fail completely.

  Spread wide, Kira wriggled impotently as fingers brushed her rear, applying a gelatinous sludge, greasing her rear and womb. With squeaks of shock she felt the fingers slide in, the latex smoothed digits lubricating her both inside and out. The hands were warm, the body heat and its long companionship with the rubber had left the latex contrasting Kira’s own cool flesh. These women were not Nosferatu.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she protested, worried at what was to follow.

  ‘Hold!’ berated the woman, rising from her seat and walking behind Kira. She tried to look over her shoulder to see what was being done, but any attempt affected her balance too greatly.

  There was a hum of displaced air being thrown around a speeding stalk, and Kira released an agonised screech of shock. A searing line had been placed across her rear, connecting both buttocks, filling them with fire.

  The assistant before her grabbed her shoulders before she fell, her equilibrium crippled by the fierce stroke.

  ‘What was that for?’ she complained, and then screeched again as another stroke was applied.

  ‘Stop, please, stop!’ she wailed, and then screeched as a third truculent hack sank into the soft flesh of her rear, rippling the tissues and filling them with harrowing.

  ‘What do you want of me?’ she wailed, sobbing, tears 59

  running down her cheeks as she battled vainly against her bondage.

  Again she yelled as she was punished, gritting her teeth, leaning into the arms of the assistant and weeping onto the woman’s warm rubber skin.

  ‘Are we finished?’ commented the seneschal.

  Kira was too beset by the havoc in her rear to answer, a failing that served her well as the reason for the attack was divulged.

  ‘You speak only when given permission or addressed.

  And when you do, you refer to me as seneschal. All others of stature shall be lord, or lady.’

  Again the crop scorched her rear, making her jerk and croak with misery.

  ‘Understand, slave?’

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ she grizzled.

  ‘Much better, now continue with the fitting,’ she demanded, pacing back before Kira, and before re-seating herself on the other humble slave she treated the servant to a virulent hack, the broad sweep and ferocious strike offered so it would eat through the absorbing folds of the latex. The slave flinched and a moan slipped through her hood, her eyes remaining tightly closed for a long minute as she rode the storm of pain.

  The two women below her shuffled inward and set the crotch band in place, whereupon Kira felt the two slim rods aiming inward into her womb and anus. With a brutal shove the device rammed upward. The staffs slammed into her and the rubber interior clapped between her legs.

  Lifted from her feet by their strength, the chains stopped her ascent and the band slipped its
teeth into the awaiting holes. With clicks they were grabbed and she dropped back onto her feet.

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  Gasping, she tried to bite back her words, the petition of its removal riding through her thoughts. It was terribly tight, crushing her abdomen, but this had to be because of her splayed pose; once she was free of it the belt would be less strenuous. And besides, she had to be quiet; she had to be a good slave, to accept her training. It was what she had to do in order to once more be with the queen. She had to be perfect, to gain a position close to the queen, so she would never be apart from her again.

  With the creak of her latex garments Cassandra arose and strolled before Kira, the assistants withdrawing and leaving her standing alone, spread by her bondage, her abdomen flicking with pangs of distress. Her arms were aching from their warped configuration, but even with stern hauls she could do nothing to break their containment.

  Kira looked slowly up, her gaze moving across the firm thigh boots of her captor, the fishnet, the strip of latex concealing her crotch, the corset compressing, worn like armour to protect from submissive slaves like her.

  Longing flashed through Kira’s dead heart as she crossed Cassandra’s breasts, dreaming of touching the mesh-sheathed mounds, to hold them, to grovel and kiss the inviting black painted tips. After this alluring vision, she turned to meet the woman’s gaze.

  Cassandra’s eyes were cold, intense, locked to hers, a thousand motives and thoughts rushing through her mind.

  The woman was most agitated, that much was certain, but why? What had Kira done? Had her disobedience irked her already to a point where the woman was furious with her performance?

  A hand reached up, the midnight stems of her fingers grabbing Kira’s chin and holding it tightly. She was being 61

  scrutinised, her face studied as the woman concocted rationales, plotted and schemed, setting down paths and avenues to explore or thwart. It was a scary but strangely reassuring notion, to have her life set down in stone for her, taken away and left in the utter command of another, subject to whimsical twists and turns.