Moonspawn

by Bruce McLachlan

  ‘I’ve just finished changing some of the slaves around, and have been trying some new ideas,’ she said, clicking her fingers and having the wiry girl reach into the pouch and producing a cigar and a match that she obediently handed over. ‘Yourself?’ Running the wooden stem along the wood, the head erupted with flame and the woman placed the fat brown length to her lips before sucking in rapid mouthfuls, releasing them quickly to ensure the tip remained alight.

  ‘Not bad. That new slave the queen has had her eye on was brought in.’

  The woman released a final plume of grey smoke that billowed forth and dissipated before she removed the cigar from her lips. Shaking the match she extinguished it and extended her arm with a regal wave. The girl emerged beneath it and opened her maw, the match being dropped into the open cavern, extinguishing its heat with a hiss. The girl closed her mouth and swallowed the small stem, the stick clearly causing discomfort as it trailed 95

  down her throat. The woman smiled at the sight and clasped the cigar in crooked digits, the removal allowing her to speak more clearly.

  ‘And this is her? Not bad. What are you going to do with her, seneschal?’ she wondered.

  ‘As current head of the Pain slaves, I want you to take her for a while, teach her the usual neophyte rota. But she is not to find any relief, I want her kept frustrated while you use your inventions on her.’

  ‘As you wish, seneschal,’ she stated, placing the burning stem into her lips with a grin, taking a deep drag and then blowing a geyser of curling silver tendrils into the air.

  Kira closed her eyes with dismay at the revelation that she was again to be teased with torment and not granted any hope of release from her pent-up desires. And being assigned to the lot of a Pain slave did not sound too reassuring either, but she was property, it was not her place to question, just accept, and that in itself made her feel better. She no longer had any choice – she did as commanded.

  ‘By the way, expect an influx of Asian ghouls into your care,’ added Cassandra. ‘The Tsuki-Yomi Clan arrive later today.’

  ‘Already? How many representatives are coming here?’

  ‘We have various Wyrm covens, heads of the major houses, some demon hosts are coming in, it’s going to be insane to try and keep them all content.’

  ‘What’s the queen up to?’ asked the woman, reaching out with the cigar and holding it ready for a moment.

  She then absently tapped the end of the length and shed the ash, the girl having presented her open maw to catch the hot drizzle. It landed on her tongue and she winced, 96

  fighting to remain dedicated to her task either through lust or through fright. Again she made a revolted swallow once her startled organ had cooled the ash a little.

  ‘I have no idea. Maybe she is trying to appease them, allay any suspicions that she’ll come after them after the city is hers. Maybe she is forming alliances and pacts, getting ready for what’s coming.’

  ‘The apocalypse? She really believes it’s coming?’ she said, the revelation causing her to pause before taking another drag and letting the smoke roll within her mouth and impart its flavour before she expelled it.

  ‘The signs are all pointing to it. Whether or not it’ll occur, everyone seems to be getting ready for something big,’ pondered Cassandra, and then removed her feet from Kira’s back before continuing with her words.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to collect her in a few days or so.’

  ‘Anything I should know about her?’ questioned the trainer, looking from the seneschal to the slave.

  ‘I think she’s brood.’

  ‘Really? You’re sure?’

  ‘Maybe. It’ll be a while before we can see whether she turns in full.’

  ‘I’ve never seen brood before. Will she need special consideration?’

  ‘Not for a while, but she will if she becomes full brood.

  But for now I want it kept secret, I don’t want anyone to know what I suspect, is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, seneschal.’

  The head slave rose as well and went down on her knees to kiss the gloved hand of her superior. After accepting the homage, Cassandra stroked the soft mane of her servile, handed her the lead and then turned to 97

  depart, leaving Kira to the mercy of this new owner.

  ‘Come with me, slave, and we’ll get you all nice and trussed up before we start your education,’ she announced, pulling on the leash, the cigar lodged between her lips.

  Kira started to rise, only to have the woman shove her back to the carpet. ‘Did I say to rise? You will crawl, slave,’ she snapped harshly, and then yanked the leash to bring Kira forward. ‘You’ve just earned yourself extra punishment for that, slave,’ she stated, walking towards a door, leaving a thin trail of smoke, her rear tensing and stretching the firm red rubber sheath, mesmerising Kira’s starved vision. The girl scampered close behind, following to serve as Strafe’s personal ashtray.

  Presented to a door, the woman removed a small tab from the frame of the LCD and passed it over Kira’s collar. Looking back and replacing the object, Kira’s symbol appeared on the panel and the door started to shuffle aside. It was thick and solid, amply fortified to contain creatures of abnormal strength and to stifle their yowls.

  Drawn within, the chamber was small. Every surface was a mirror – the walls, floor and ceiling reflecting them in dozens of ever diminishing images. A fat candle lay in each corner, the flickering light rippling, making the refracted shadows and glow shift and move as though alive.

  A pile of latex garments was set to one side, and from the centre of the ceiling a heavy chain hung to waist height.

  The door was already starting to grind closed when the woman hooked a finger into Kira’s collar and brought her beneath the chain. She began her work with 98

  eagerness, her hands deft, her love of smothering slaves beneath rolls of latex brazenly displayed. As she worked Kira began to see her teeth elongating as they clamped to the cigar, her lust rising with her work.

  The girl shifted into the corner, remaining in a huddled crouch, watching for sign that she was to be summoned.

  In the mirrors of the chamber Kira watched herself being dressed. Thigh length boots were threaded onto her legs, compressing them, setting her atop absurd ballet boots. Next came a stern jacket, the sleeves ending in furled mittens. The garment was forced onto her, slotting her arms in the tight material, her hands entering the mittens, making her gather her fingers into fists and depriving her of all manual dexterity. The woman pulled her wrist rings through the slots, and continued.

  The back zip was pulled up, squeezing her within, her breasts slipping through two open rings. As the garment was tightened the hoops forced her breasts through, making them swell with sensation.

  A buckled strap was set between her legs to hold it down, and the final part was the forcing of a ball-gag over her lips, the large sphere spreading her jaws wide and keeping them there as the strap was buckled to the back of her head. With the basic uniform in position, the woman lifted Kira to her feet where she wobbled on the painful footwear, finding it hard to keep upright against their demands.

  The cigar was removed and she looked over her handiwork with a grin, blowing free a mouthful of smoke and presenting the cigar. The girl scuttled forth and positioned herself beneath, catching another ashen downpour before returning to her position in the corner.

  Slotting the dwindled stub back to her lips, the woman 99

  clapped her hands together and rubbed them, the latex squeaking before she recommenced her work.

  Folded at her middle, Kira’s arms were dragged around her thighs, and two fastenings by her armpits snagged her wrist rings, the locking clasps stopping her from straightening up, confining her to this extreme stoop, her arms wrapped around and hugging her thighs.

  Wobbling on her toes and heels, her rear in the air as her body draped down her thighs, breasts pressed against them, further straps were applied. The
wide elasticised bands of dense rubber rolled over the top of her thighs and the small of her back, helping to keep her in the stringent pose.

  Another of the secret pits was opened just behind her, allowing the woman to remove a length of black cable.

  The socket at the end snapped to her chastity belt, locking into place and feeding new energy into the toy.

  Swallowing as best she could, she felt the chain being attached to the base of the jacket, taking hold, stopping her from descending.

  Clicking her fingers, the woman pointed to the floor before Kira, causing the girl to trot over and get down on all fours, accepting the trainer’s buttocks onto her spine. The girl shuddered with pleasure at the feel of the latex smoothed cheeks resting on her, and ate another tap of ash while the trainer addressed Kira.

  ‘Now, we have some lectures for you, slave,’ she declared, rising and walking to the wall. ‘These will come in three parts. The first will be instruction as to what you are. The next will be a brief history of her majesty, and the last will be the most important – the rules and law of the queen’s domain.’

  Touching a section of glass wall, the pane pivoted and 100

  revealed three long canes of various thickness. Her gloved hand closed about one, the material rippling over her knuckles as she removed it from its hooks and closed the hidden compartment.

  ‘You are a vampire,’ she purred. ‘You were drained of life until it was almost extinguished, and then, by feeding you a large amount of her blood, the Malefic Kiss of her majesty turned you to us.’

  Wandering behind Kira, waggling the bamboo strut, she made it thrum against the air as its fibres were limbered up in readiness for their exercise.

  Kira watched the woman with wide eyes, craning her neck back to observe the many reflections that offered the woman and her own bound form from every angle.

  Taking another draught of the cigar, she washed the smoke about and tilted her head back, blowing some smoke rings. She watched them rise and fade, smiling at her success while she continued to speak.

  ‘We have existed since the dawn of time itself, and shall exist to the end of all things. We never age, we cannot be stricken by illness, and we can never truly die.

  Though we still feel pleasure.’

  Moving closer, she ran a hand down the metal band of Kira’s crotch band. As though in answer the device sprung into life, resonating within Kira’s womb, making her dance on tiptoe, skipping from one foot to the next as the intense flare of feeling started to pour back into her.

  ‘And pain…’ the woman chuckled, and thrashed through the air, slamming the cane across Kira’s rear.

  Instantly Kira jerked and let her scream spill around the gag as her legs gave out beneath her, leaving her momentarily suspended by the jacket. The rings at her 101

  breasts seemed to tighten, afflicting them until she dropped her feet back to the mirrored floor and helped alleviate the stress.

  ‘I shall now address some of the issues relating to your un-life. Your heart is your life,’ she stated, and applied the sceptre of chastisement again, crossing the previous, marking Kira’s rear with a flushed X, the skin rising into a raised trench, like the sting of nettles. Kira screeched and danced for the woman, the pain slowly withdrawing, letting her give herself back to the pleasure of the belt.

  ‘It is the organ that pulls the stolen vitality you imbibed through your veins, keeping the years you steal at bay, regenerating your body, giving you strength, stamina and speed beyond any mortal equal. We feed on the souls, on the essence of the living, drawing on it through the attachment to the physical form. Via the bodies of our prey we gain the energy that we use to sustain us.

  Drinking the blood is the quickest, easiest and most efficient way of doing this. While you feed, you will never age.

  ‘But without blood you will eventually lapse into coma, and finally, your body will die and you will start to return to your true age,’ continued the stern lecturer, adding another slash of her weapon. She caught Kira near the base of her buttocks, the join between thigh and rear where she was most vulnerable. Airing a squawk of suffering Kira drew her shins up, trying to soothe and protect the burning welt as she cried and tried to break free. The effects of the stroke started to again subside, and her feet slowly sank back down.

  The woman removed the cigar and checked its length before holding it out, making the girl accept another barren meal before it was restored to her lips.

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  ‘Damage to your heart will disable you, but we regenerate swiftly, and unless the organ is pierced by a non-conductive weapon that is left there to prevent restoration, you will recover. Thus stakes are the most lethal tool in the arsenal of our enemies,’ she said, and applied a pair of swift hacks, eating into Kira’s rear, making tears trickle from her eyes, tumbling out to spatter against the floor.

  ‘Sunlight will make you immediately assume your true age. The science we have levied to this matter has yet to determine why, for it is not UV, or radiation, it is some as yet undiscovered solar trait.

  ‘The effects are not limited to daytime either, for an extremely radiant full moon will have sufficient power of reflected sunlight to cause you pain,’ came the next revelation, and the cane came with it to make sure she kept her attention firmly to them. Grizzling, she tried to beg for mercy, but nothing intelligible could get through the cruel ball-gag.

  ‘Silver can be toxic to us, depending on your blood.

  The rest of the fables are conjurations we have cultivated and encouraged, to have enemies wield them in the hope of them proving useful and thus give our number an advantage. However, there is an exception. The myth concerning our inability to cross running water has some vague basis. Sea crossings and voyages are avoided by the paranoid, for should an accident occur our lack of need to respire gives us no buoyancy, and thus we sink until pressure crushes us, or we have to spend laborious hours trekking undersea towards land while dawn looms and threatens our destruction.’

  In the reflections of the mirror Kira could already see the earlier strokes deepening to a vibrant purple and some 103

  were already fading to a mottled yellow, her body erasing the contusions, working at a speed that made minutes into what ordinarily would take days.

  ‘The work of nature and man are not the only threats to our un-lives; the attack of occult forces will visit the most grievous damage to us, and I will tell you a little about them,’ she stated, and thrashed Kira’s rear again, beating back the tide of bliss the belt was conjuring. The rising relief and the session of punishment, the sight of the mistress, were all making the cane a more treasured companion, one she was almost welcoming.

  The woman paced back and forth as she spoke, the cane-wielding arm placed around her abdomen, the other crooked, her wrist limp to let the cigar dangle, leaving wafting trails as she walked and continued the lecture.

  ‘The Lupine. Lycanthropes, shape shifters, werewolves, they can summon forth the power of the earth, a power they deify and call Gaia. They use this energy to transform themselves through various stages towards that of a man-beast. They act as guardians to nature, and as such, will kill any vampire they come across as an affront to the natural order of things. Because we do not age, because we pilfer life to sustain ours, and because we expand our city empires at the expense of their lands, we are arch enemies. The corporations and businesses we control and use to protect and fund ourselves pollute their land in a conscious effort to weaken them, for in a direct conflict we are little match for such beasts.’ She stopped to launch a trio of harsh thwacks into Kira’s rear. They made her screech and shake, then as the flashing torment started to fade she was wriggling her rump, savouring the pain as the belt continued to play her innards like an instrument, 104

  conducting a song of ecstasy.

  The woman watched for a moment, drawing another drag of the cigar, holding it as she looked over Kira’s rear, and then expelled it to continue talking.

 
‘Their claws and fangs will cause trauma we find exceedingly laborious to heal, and they can prove fatal by disrupting our own sustaining dark force,’ added the trainer, teaching Kira’s rear another sharp lesson in pain, save that now she was inviting it, her hunger for the abuse being cultivated the longer the belt worked against her.

  ‘They also have a dark side to them. These fallen tribes of Lupine follow the Wyrm, an antithesis of Gaia, a power of malevolence they tap to conjure their transformations.

  They will attack vampire-kind just as readily. Some tribes call vampire houses allies, but only ones that have proved themselves to these dark brethren,’ and again the cane echoed its cruel signal through the room, making Kira sob, her legs shaking as she drank in the sensation, feeling the scorching warmth flow through her.

  ‘Then there are the Shaman. These are mortals who have assimilated the powers of manipulating the earth forces. These are forces derived from life, and thus are beyond our control. Shaman cults owe fealty to either Gaia, or the Wyrm, and battle constantly for supremacy.

  The Lupines prey upon either just as fanatically, deeming the use of earth force for acts of sorcery a violation against that which they seek to protect and honour.’ Again Kira relished the impact of the cane across her chastised rear, the first weals almost having vanished without trace.

  ‘Their spells can be devastating to us, but they are mortal and fall easily to vampire-kind. However, they can craft weapons of occult configuration, imbuing objects with power so they can harm us in the same way 105

  the natural weapons of the Lupines do. These artefacts again disrupt undead life force and can readily kill our bodies.

  ‘Should any of these methods result in the ending of your un-life, either through making you assume your true age once your body is too old to endure such years, or through the infliction of grievous trauma, you can be restored. Blood poured onto your remains will heal the flesh, giving you back the lost years until you regain awareness. The more years that you have been a vampire, the more blood is required to push them back and allow you to regenerate. At the present time your corpse will be little different to that of a mortal, and the affliction of your true age by the sun will not prove fatal, although the process will cause extreme distress. But as the decades pass, when you perish, the accrued years will reduce you in moments to that of a skeleton, or if you reach extreme age – dust.’ She finished with a final series of swinging underhand attacks that lifted Kira to her toes, crying out in delight and pain as she was savaged.