Moonspawn

by Bruce McLachlan

  The girl was wailing in distress as Thanos took hold of 217

  her hips and rubbed his stiff length in the cleft of her rear, teasing her with it. She clenched with all her might, trying to deny him, but he merely smiled and placed his thumbs to the soft cheeks. With a forceful drag he parted the barricades and nuzzled against her sphincter.

  ‘Open wide,’ he mused, and forced his entry, making her gasp and snort, writhing as she was lifted to tiptoe by the trespass.

  Thanos began a dilatory molestation, savouring the feel of her tight anus squeezing in bursts to his intruding shaft.

  He dreamt of it being Kira, but for now he was satisfied with this slave’s opening.

  In moments the girl was changing her tune to one of delight, her fears allayed, her relish in being so massively filled turning her from a quailing wreck to a writhing slut, begging for more. She cried out with a mixture of pleasure and pain, stretched to her limits by his length.

  Quickening his pace, he reached around and groped at her breasts, his hot breath rasping across the cold skin of her neck. With a hissing growl he launched his seed into her, treating himself to further thrusts to drag out all his bliss as the girl shook as though being electrified.

  Pulling free, her rear clung to him until it was able to close, the interior slick with his semen.

  Turning about with a sigh of satisfaction, he patted the smooth head of the male. ‘You’ll find entry easier now, my friend,’ he derided, and sat back down.

  The male continued to stay well back, keeping the chain stretched tight while the girl rested against the plinth, panting. With his goal lubricated it was even more unlikely to find release, and besides, Thanos’ presence still kept him at bay.

  ‘Maybe you need some help?’ purred the lupine, and 218

  lifted himself up, moving towards the male. The vampire tried to escape, pulling at the chain, the girl refusing to move, her body a dead weight he could not shift.

  Thanos snatched him and pulled him close, turning him around and keeping one arm locked about the male’s neck, his strength vastly superior to the undead while he wore this powerful anatomy.

  ‘We lupine can be generous, as well as lethal,’ he chuckled, and grabbed the male’s shaft in a vice grip. ‘I’ve pleased your partner, it’s only fair I do the same for you.’

  The vampire bucked, whimpering softly as Thanos began a savage masturbation, throwing his fist back and forth, the squeeze defeating the thickness of the rubber.

  Despite the pain, despite the fear, the vampire was soon squirming against the wall of fur behind him, his eyes rolling back with delight that he would at last find climax.

  The feel of having full control over the male’s pleasure and the reigns of fear Thanos held over him started to seduce the werewolf. The feel of this power had him swelling with lust once more, making him hungry to take the sense of might further.

  ‘No, not yet,’ purred Thanos, stopping the stern shuffle just before orgasm. The vampire pushed his hips against the fist, trying to acquire the last movements that would end his frustration.

  A talon danced at the rear of the suit, opening a hole, and steering himself in, Thanos fought for access. As he drove through the frantically barricaded buttocks he found the sphincter tight, almost virginal, but it was clearly just a façade. The decadence of the palace made the denizens within heedless of gender, they sought only pleasure, and thus, the vampire was resisting just to feel himself be defeated. And Thanos was happy to oblige.

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  ‘Come on, you can take it, you know you can!’ he growled, letting the pain being visited onto his length by using it as a weapon increase his savagery, the rear fighting his will.

  ‘There we go,’ he hissed with his success, finally sliding in. The vampire screeched with silent pleasure into his gagging hood, his anus being stretched, the lupine stuffing his rear with a vast intruder, lifting him to tiptoe.

  The feel of such acute penetration made the male quake in spasming fits, his delight prevalent over the shock of such trespass.

  Riding back and forth, Thanos’ hips rocked to churn the male’s insides. So as not to deny the male his full quota of bliss, Thanos once more grabbed the vampire’s shaft and started to pound upon it, the brutal onanism conducted with spiteful virulence that only stoked the male’s libido further.

  ‘Are you ready to be filled like your girlfriend there?’

  he asked viciously. ‘Well are you?’ Thanos growled when there was no response, and thrust harshly.

  The force carried the vampire from his feet, holding him in the air, mounted on a werewolf’s length, spitted by it, his booted feet kicking at the air. The male spasmed, the hidden hints of his mouth stretched wide with his shriek of violated pain and absolute pleasure.

  Dropping him back down, Thanos slammed him against the plinth next to the girl and continued stabbing harshly, bringing out another pain-enhanced orgasm for himself, his spare hand fixed to the cross section of forearms. The feel of the penetrated slave fighting impotently against him was massively arousing – the subjugation of another through strength, even though it was a secretly willing defeat. The squeak of the slave’s 220

  latex body against the stone as he struggled joined Thanos’ hissing breath as he started to ride deep, a warmth spreading through his shaft, the feel of explosive release beckoning. Thanos stiffened, slowing his rate as he poured a new wash into the rear of the slave. The spine of the slave jerked, the injection of warm seed into him shattering his paltry rebellion with delight.

  Once Thanos had captured all his bliss he left himself inserted and sped the rhythm of his hand. Watching as the male shook with harrowing and pleasure, he felt the small grips of the slave’s sphincter to his embedded shaft, the squeezes of response to the uncaring attention, the gratitude of such an enactment of playful molestation.

  The vampire was resisting him, trying to avoid succumbing to the encouraging hold, sneakily attempting to best Thanos, to have his resistance broken. He clearly wanted to end his all-consuming frustration, he wanted to feel the rhapsody of climax, but his need for punishment was more driving after the sodomy. Thanos smiled and played along, adopting stern tones of authority over his subject.

  ‘Don’t think you can deny me, corpse!’ he scowled, increasing the ferocity of his hold, increasing his haste, a wide smile peeling back his lips, his hot breath washing over the head of the latex-bound vampire slave. ‘Give it to me! I want to feel this dead flesh come!’

  The sodomised servile jerked with spasms at his own release, filling the sealed sheath of his penis just as his own anus had been tainted.

  ‘There we are… happy?’ Thanos mocked, patting the slave’s head before he strolled away, withdrawing from the male, causing him to arch back with the shock of its sudden flight from his tender membranes.

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  Pulling back his lupine form, Thanos restored an ordinary visage and set off to attend the queen, leaving the giddy serviles to relish the memory of their use and the sight of their eternal partner being similarly taken.

  He strolled the passages by memory, the route so well known he barely needed to keep his eyes open. Thinking heavily on Kira, he entered the throne room and marched behind the huge chair of his owner.

  Touching the wall, a section gave several muted clicks and swung open, exposing the secondary chamber beyond. A vast vault door dominated one wall, waiting to accept his palm, his retina, and a sensor scan before allowing him in, the queen guarding her most private sanctum with fanaticism. She had not reached her current longevity by being careless.

  With booming tones the locks were drawn back from where they drilled into the walls, ceiling and floor, and the polished metre thick portal started to glide back.

  Stepping through, he settled onto his knees, regarding the white corridor that stretched forward, the walls hidden by red drapes, the ceiling a curling fresco of spiralling designs.

  The enslaver of Thanos entered the hall at
a brisk march, and without word rapidly clipped a leash to his collar before towing him in her wake. Scampering on all fours, he wondered if she knew about Cassandra’s attack upon him, and though he ached to inform, he knew that by speaking aloud he would only bring even harsher retribution upon himself.

  He barely saw the lush domain that was her home, his gaze so mesmerised by the tyrannical overseer. Her abdomen was gripped by the sheath of a latex mini-skirt, a vest top displaying her breasts beneath a smothering 222

  layer of gleaming rubber. Shoulder length gloves turned her arms into smooth rods, and fishnet stockings, the suspenders peeking out from under the hem of the skirt, rolled down her legs to enter stiletto-heeled ankle boots.

  He was fascinated by her. When she was with him he could do nothing to resist, she had seen to that, her training having cultivated this obsession.

  A door opened and he was led within. The bleak chamber bore some sparse furnishings, and was already occupied by two female slaves, who each hung from the ceiling by a single ankle. The sex, anus and mouth of both women were stuffed with candles to provide illumination.

  The queen brought him beneath the two widely spaced cuffs hanging from chains in the centre of the ceiling and pulled up a chair. Sitting down, she crossed her legs, the creak of her clothing making Thanos ache to caress himself.

  ‘Lick,’ she ordered, and Thanos jumped forward, dropping to his knees, his tongue spilling out to adore her boots, his mind heady with the pleasure of serving her thus.

  ‘I can see that your time with the clan has not eroded your libido any, slave,’ she commented, flicking a glance to his raging length.

  ‘Well, if satisfaction is your goal, I am currently dispositioned to grant you it. Does that please you slave?’

  she asked, lifting his chin from his task so she might see his face.

  ‘Yes, your majesty,’ he simpered, his smile wide. His hand strayed over to enclose the hard rod, the taste of two vampire rears having failed to dwindle its voracity.

  ‘No, not like that, I have a different method for you, 223

  slave,’ she smirked, letting him know full well that it was to be a punishment rather than a reward.

  ‘Stand up, slave,’ she crooned, causing him to rise, trembling slightly.

  With her possession standing, she arose from her chair and sauntered over, her body slithering within the latex skin, graceful and alluring. Reaching up, she presented his wrists towards the cuffs and then slipped them through. With a squeeze they locked in place, the heavy reinforced bands designed to house the most distraught struggles of mortal or supernatural beast. As the queen bound him her latex skin brushed his body, making him start to stiffen further as the smell of her reached his nostrils, kindling his lust, turning his sex to a pillar of stone.

  The queen continued her restraint, walking to the wall where she flipped a concealed switch. Immediately the chains started to retract, being drawn in, hauling him from the floor, the metal shackles stretching his arms wide and leaving him hanging cruciform in the air.

  The ascent stopped, and the vampiress took a bundle of slender cord and some other objects from a small table as she watched Thanos dangle by his wrists, his toes unable to even brush against the floor.

  The queen knelt down, released her cache where he could not see it, and began to use the slender cord to tightly bind his legs together, forming them into a single meshed stalk. The criss-crossing lines pulled in the skin, squeezing it in a choking hold.

  Tying a lead cylinder about his ankles, she placed yet more strain upon his already throbbing arms. Thanos scowled slightly and kept his head lowered, watching her from under a furrowed brow as he strove to endure.

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  She moved closer and let her hand stray to his collar, clicking on the lock, depriving him of the option of chancing into a form more able to resist her.

  Putting her fingers to his lips was the unspoken command for him to lick them. He obeyed with fervour, breathing heavily because of the strain of being so cruelly stretched and suspended.

  Watching with a licentious expression, she had her servant suck the digits, treating each one like a small latex phallus.

  ‘Would my slave like a gag?’ she asked, pulling her fingers slowly back, making him strain forward to continue until he could no longer reach them.

  ‘Yes, your majesty,’ he whispered.

  ‘My slave impressed the clan, so he deserves a reward,’

  she commented, and stepped back.

  Thanos stopped breathing and stared awe-struck as she smiled illicitly and reached up under her dress. Pulling down the thong she stepped from it and lifted it, presenting it to his mouth. He flashed his jaws wide to gather the material, but his efforts were blocked with a finger across his lips.

  ‘No, not yet… first, smell,’ she stated softly, and then gently placed the fabric across his nostrils, holding it there, letting him drown his senses in the smell of her and the rubber aroma set upon it.

  Thanos closed his eyes and quaffed deep snorts, breathing out through his mouth, sucking in every portion of the scent he could before it was lowered and stuffed into his mouth.

  Leaving it there without further addition she stepped back. Both knew he would not let it fall, his tongue too eager to taste it, to keep it as a trophy.

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  Taking hold of his penis, she lifted the swollen member and cupped her hands around the testicles. Anxiety and fear glistened in his eyes, and he winced as she squeezed them. The vice-like grip rose in ferocity and he wriggled, making the weights dance, and the pain in his stretched frame heighten. Rasping through the gag he looked to her with imploring.

  ‘All that exercise has made you sweat, and smell. I think a little perfume to mask it is required, don’t you, slave?’ she pondered maliciously, Thanos well aware of what she planned from painful experience.

  Maintaining her hold, the queen picked up a bottle of cheap aftershave, and ignoring the dismal stare of the slave, began to liberally sprinkle it onto his scrotum, massaging the burning fluid in.

  His shrill cries were stifled by the gag, but his pain manifested itself in intense quivering. It felt as though his groin were soaked in petrol and alight, and no matter how much he fought, the waves of fire continued to bore into him. Yet he was in ecstasy from it, solely because he was suffering for the queen. Once she had been mistress, now, with the city hers, she was his queen, or even his goddess, the deity he worshipped but could not possess, only amuse.

  She took a cane from the wall and began to lambaste his buttocks and thighs, casting his suffering to new levels. Thanos could not help but struggle, and this made his situation worse, causing panic to rise as he thought his wrists might dislocate from the abuses visited upon them by his own involuntary throes. No matter how many times he was caned he could never remain impassive towards it. The weapon and the skill with which the queen deployed it always befuddled any hope of quiet stoical 226

  endurance.

  After a dozen severe strokes the queen stopped and his body became languid from overexertion. The queen smiled and ignored his fatigue, caressing his burning groin until he was erect again. She recommenced the masturbation with swift strokes, making him moan, inflicting pleasure with each shuffling movement.

  Despite the torment, he was being tended by the queen, her rubber-sheathed hand handling this act, and his instantly rekindled frustrations could see a means of escape. With a squeal of suffering he finally came, his penis raw and tender, misty orbs spilling from the end as he shuddered in his bonds, his head thrown back, his mouth sucking on the intimate gag.

  After milking him dry of all she could gain, the queen moved back and placed her chair before him, settling into it and watching him dangle.

  The regal and all powerful vampiress simply sat there, his eyes locked to her gorgeous latex-smoothed body.

  For another fifteen minutes he was left to hang and dwell in the stringent bondage pose, his eyes teased cruelly with her
salacious physique.

  Thanos kept himself dedicated to this study, following every line and curve, aching to lick them, to grovel at her feet and drink in the taste, texture and smell of her.

  Such diversions easily made him ignorant of the stress of his bondage, the ache in his arms, the pain that grew in his hands and his wracked legs.

  Standing up, she wandered over and released the cuffs, sufficiently pleased with the extent of his torture. He collapsed to the floor, his arms throbbing as circulation returned.

  ‘Come, slave,’ she ordered, and had him drag his 227

  weighted and bound legs, shuffling after her on his hands.

  Led through into her bedroom, the empty chamber held only the vast altar upon which she slept. The circular mattress was supported in a cradle of curling towers that reached inward overhead like clawed talons, a nest of organic black spires, covered in winding veins and crooked thorns. A single aperture permitted entry onto the satin sheets, the perimeter dotted with pillows.

  Thanos stood and watched with glee as she settled on the edge of the mattress and laid back, propping herself on her elbows, her legs dangling over the side.

  ‘Take them off, slave,’ she whispered, watching him from beneath her brow.

  Settling on his knees before her, his erection throbbing with heat and desire, his hands brushed the patent smoothness, his fingertips gliding on the material.

  Reaching in, he drew down the zip, the soft cackle as it descended churning his thoughts with rampant licentiousness.

  ‘We’ve found your big sister, slave,’ she mused, watching him as he worked. ‘Little Corin has been most anxious to find you.’

  Once the zipper reached the bottom he reverently cupped toe and heel, drawing gently to let the footwear slip from her stockinged foot.

  ‘She’s been searching relentlessly, suffering great hardship in this personal quest. Even her elders have forsaken her. She’s alone, desperate, miserable.’