Moonslave

by Bruce McLachlan

  Obediently, Kira restored her gaze to the sheets, moist patches of her tears before her.

  The indention of the seneschal settled between her wide legs again, the woman moving back into position. Hands touched her rear, opening her buttocks, revealing her tender sphincter. A sphere about an inch and half in diameter leant itself to the opening and was slowly pushed 46

  in. Her anus started to stretch wider and wider, little flickers of distress spilling through the opening.

  ‘Seneschal, oh please, mercy…’ she whimpered, knowing she could take more, but it felt good to whimper.

  ‘Almost there, slave,’ she crooned, applying more strength until the widest part of the ball was pushed past her opened sphincter. ‘Just a little more, you can take it.’

  With a choked moan Kira felt her rear swallowing the orb, gathering it in until the muscular ring was holding to a thin cord. Instantly she broke into rapid gasps, her breath rushing in and out on pants, her mouth wide, her eyes fluttering from the experience.

  ‘Are you ready for another, slave?’ the seneschal asked, placing the next ball on the string to the flexing orifice.

  ‘Oh yes, seneschal,’ she purred, her hands taking fists of the sheets, holding them as reigns while the next was pushed into her.

  It was a most unexpectedly delightful feeling, the opening of her rear, the slight pain as the widest part sought access. But the most glorious chapter of the insertion was when the seneschal let go and her own rear hungrily devoured the orb, hauling it in and pressing it against those already stationed within.

  ‘You want the next one, slave?’ the vampiress asked, Kira’s arms tense as she pulled at the material of the bed, her knuckles white.

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ she confirmed, her buttocks clenching, chewing upon the inserted orbs, the cord starting to slip in, drawing in the next as she was meticulously stuffed. This time she gave a little opposition, just to have it defeated. Squeezing her ring she sought to barricade her insides, defend them from more invasion.

  47

  ‘Resist all you want, slave,’ commented the seneschal with a wry smile, knowing the opposition was half-hearted. ‘You can’t deny me.’

  A slow and relentless shove dragged open the orifice and Kira released a drawn subdued squall, her teeth clenched tight, her squeeze serving to wrench the orb into her.

  ‘One more, slave,’ the seneschal revealed, and placed the last to Kira’s rear. Again she offered her defiance, trying harder this time, an act to which the seneschal merely aired a knowing chuckle and added a sudden driving stab, making Kira’s rear jerk as the sphere settled in with the others.

  The seneschal took hold of the metal hoop to which the cord was fastened and began to give little tugs. The string of beads pulled at Kira, teasing her sphincter from the inside. Shivering on the sheets, her legs wriggling, Kira moaned and pulled her arms in under her, her fingers grabbing her collar, desperate for any sort of handhold against such play. With an invidious smirk she manipulated the last sphere and strained, spitting it out, aching to feel the process of insertion again.

  ‘Bad, slave,’ purred the seneschal, and Kira let out a shocked squeak as a heavy smack landed on her rear. A moment later another followed, and another, the seneschal conducting a swift spanking as payment for the misdemeanour.

  ‘Back we go,’ she muttered, stopping her chastisement and pushing the orb back in, watching as Kira craned her head back, her eyes clenched shut, a silent howl frozen on her lips as she relished the sensations being heaped upon her. With a swift knot the seneschal applied a length of thin cord to the hoop, and looped it back through a riveted ring within the cupboard before 48

  returning to Kira.

  Turning her charge over she cast Kira’s legs apart, opening her sex to the ravishing dildo once more, save that now, by pulling on the cord in her grasp, the reversed length could tug at the inserted string of beads.

  Once again Kira’s wrists were grabbed, the seneschal moving into position and then making her groan as she was mounted again, her abdomen flicking with numerous bizarre and new sensations.

  To stifle her song the seneschal dropped in and started their passionate kisses once more, the deft tongues weary from their prolonged marathon, but too beset with licentious attitude to pause for recovery. Diving into Kira, the harsh attention had her squeaking with rapture, a bucking bronco beneath the stabbing thrusts of the seneschal, the soft dildo incapable of committing any harm even with such callous use.

  Kira could feel her climax engulfing her, spreading through her body and tightening her flesh in anticipation of what was sure to be an apocalyptic event.

  ‘Tell me when you are going to come, slave,’ ordered the seneschal, her words firm as she gave spry tugs to the cord, the length sliding over the wall ring and reaching back up into Kira’s insides.

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ she promised, almost being carried over into final release. Her panting groans started to accelerate, her body starting to shudder in fits, her arms fighting the hold of her owner. On the very verge of release the next flurry of drives set loose her howl of utter rapture, the scream mixing three words into its keen singular tone.

  ‘Now, seneschal… now!’

  The woman released Kira’s wrist and punched slowly forward, the steady drive causing the row of spheres to 49

  start to jump from her, dragging them out in two seconds, a sensation infinitely beyond pleasure or pain. The spheres jumping from Kira seemed to magnify her orgasm, passing it through a lens that increased it in magnitude a hundred fold. Kira flung to attention, her arms stretched out, her legs taut, her body lifting from the bed by hands and soles, carrying the seneschal atop her. A piercing yowl thundered from her throat, the note beyond any mortal construction. Her fangs shone in the dull light, her eyes flashing with new intensity, the red glow becoming a fire that sent leaping motes of energy from her stare, the tiny particles of her unholy power drifting up and fading like cinders upon the thermals of a bonfire.

  All vitality seemed to wash away on the tide of complete bliss, making her drop back down and sag.

  Giving up on breathing she languished on the bed beneath the seneschal, the dildo still sheathed deep within her.

  Flashes of tension spiralled down her limbs, making her jerk on occasion in her moments of dazed recovery. She was barely aware of her surroundings, filled with the most wondrous sense of inner peace, the bed a halcyon grove in which she lay slumbering.

  ‘Good, slave,’ purred the seneschal, stroking Kira’s hair, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

  Kira’s rear throbbed from the effects, her sex grabbing at the dildo in random fits as she recovered her senses.

  ‘I’m proud of you,’ the seneschal added, slowly pulling free, making Kira light up with new activity. Choking in gasps she doubled up as the dildo fled, the slightest motion bringing out savage shades of the orgasmic detonation that had torn through her. She had never felt anything like it, the closest approximation the brutal love she had made with Thanos, save that the addition of a 50

  sudden extraction of anal beads had taken it infinitely higher.

  ‘Thank you, seneschal,’ she muttered, her consciousness on the verge of a faint.

  The hand of her owner soothed her head, enveloping her in slender arms, the woman cuddling up to her, cradling the tight ball that was Kira. ‘Sleep, my sweet slave,’ uttered the seneschal, the soft words causing Kira to drift into the most contended slumber she had ever known. ‘Rest well. You have earned it.’

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  Chapter Three

  Standing before her throne, bedecked in her cloak and crown, Thanos saw the queen snarl irritably as she spoke.

  It was a sight the trio of robed advisors beside her also spotted, the three women withdrawing a few steps, their hooded features hidden by heavy folds of black.

  ‘I have made my decision, Lord Christos,’ growled the queen, making the Californian vampire flicker with rage, his upper lip trembling, his f
angs emerging. ‘It is final.’

  ‘Excuse me, your majesty, but Turan Incorporated is one of the last obstacles to the consolidation of the great houses of the West Coast. No one house can stand in that path!’

  ‘Do not presume to give me threats, Christos. Turan is mine. It’s board belongs to me, I control it, and I will not relinquish control just because some upstart colony takes a shine to it!’

  ‘We will not tolerate this obstinate impediment!’ roared the vampire.

  ‘Mewl all you wish, Christos, Turan stays in my fist, take care you do not get swatted by it.’

  The middle-aged man was clad in a dark suit, his slightly receding head of dark hair swept back, his eyes like ice. His gloved hands clenched to his mahogany cane, the silver head shaped with bat imagery in a classic mockery of the cliché.

  The six younger vampires of his entourage tensed behind him, their eyes flicking about, seeking the guards, 52

  assessing vantage points, readying for conflict. The group had been old vampires even when they first set sail with the colonists to take the Americas. Even by vampire standards they were extremely powerful, centuries of un-life having honed their combat skills, built muscles of iron and hides resilient to all but the most lethal attacks.

  They knew they could well defeat the queen’s troops, and maybe the queen herself, and the denial of their wishes was tempting them to take by force that which diplomacy had failed to achieve.

  Thanos stepped forward from the shadows about the throne, his massive form stamping against the stone.

  Moving before the queen he descended several steps so as to block any route to her while still allowing her to be seen. Letting his lips curl back he revealed banks of deadly fangs, the fulgent radiance in his eyes lighting up with new intensity at the prospect of combat, and the placing of threat to the queen. Lowering into a fighting stance he balanced himself and lifted one set of claws forward to block with, and curled the others back, the muscles rippling in preparation of punching the wicked talons through the first vampire to make a pre-emptive move.

  The vampires before him turned their eyes in his direction, the orbs full of ancient loathing borne from an innate fear of his kind. They were proud and arrogant, filled with their own sense of power.

  Thanos snarled, releasing a low growl of animus, his fur standing on end, making his monstrous form seem to swell even more. Instantly the ancient lord faltered in his resolve.

  The vampire had lived for so long that it was all he knew, making death a terrible concept. Thanos had seen this trait before in particularly ancient vampires. Christos 53

  was addicted to his life, and could not risk losing it.

  Against the queen and her troops he had a fair chance of victory, but with a lupine bearing down on them he knew that Thanos alone would decimate them.

  Suddenly one of the front ranks charged forward with a yell of hatred.

  ‘Yanosh, no!’ bellowed Christos with alarm.

  Thanos chuckled grimly as the impetuous youth launched at him, seeking access to assassinate the queen.

  There was a blur of motion, Thanos’ tendons like steel cables, his empowered arcane form making him whirl with a celerity that far eclipsed the vampire’s, whose body was snatched from the air, there was a flash of fangs and his decapitated head struck the stairs and started to roll back down them, bouncing, depositing a smudge of red with each landing.

  Without pause Thanos decided to give them a full display of his ferocity, and as a rabid harvester he gouged into the body, shredding it, his claws pouring through its anatomy as though it were warm butter. Body parts and chunks of the vampire rained down about him, pitter-pattering with soft squelches to the stone, a bloody drizzle staining the air, painting his fur a matted gore-soaked crimson. In the merest instant the body was an unrecognisable collection of tiny moist morsels and riven gristle.

  The last portion fell at his feet, sliding down the steps, the meat clinging to the stone. Thanos threw out his arms, flicking his claws forth as he unleashed a bellowing roar of anger, strings of thick blood swinging from the deadly talons. The sanguinary song of the lupine made every vampire in the hall flinch and back up a step, filled with instinctive terror.

  Levelling his stare back to the diplomatic party, Thanos 54

  started to walk down the steps with threatening precision, blood dripping from him in clinging strands, not one piece of the vampire remaining larger than a pebble.

  ‘Your majesty, I apologise most humbly for the rash actions of my subordinate,’ Christos stated quickly. ‘I ask for your forgiveness and mercy, supreme queen.’

  Dropping to one knee he bowed his head, offering himself as an easy target, trying to defuse the situation with such a display of relent else he be killed just as surely as if he could see the attack coming.

  ‘You take responsibility for your party, do you not, Lord Christos?’ she stated equably, and with her words Thanos continued his approach, an executioner approaching a block upon which all the visiting heads rested.

  The residue of the vampire began to desiccate with soft crisping rustles, turning to ashen powder, falling from Thanos as he walked, the remains being assaulted by the stolen years of un-life, restored to their true appearance.

  ‘I do, your majesty, and I can only beseech your clemency in this matter,’ he said without inflexion, keeping his tone respectful, hiding his bitterness at having to grovel thus. ‘Your decree has been issued, I shall comply, I am deeply sorry for having dared offend you with my questioning of your will. I offer you my existence, your majesty.’

  ‘It was a simple error of judgement, Lord Christos, a mistake which your party has paid for with the blood of one of its members. His remains – such as they are –

  shall be interred here until such a time as I see fit to release them to permit his resurrection, other than that, we shall call the matter to a close.’

  ‘Your generosity is boundless, your majesty,’ stated the ancient lord, bowing even more deeply as the rest of 55

  his force similarly abased themselves.

  ‘You may leave my presence now,’ stated the queen, her voice regal and powerful, letting the vampire know he was lucky to be leaving the hall with his hide intact.

  ‘Avail yourselves of any hospitality you and your party wish before you depart, Lord Christos. And I hope our next meeting will be a more cordial affair.’

  ‘As you wish, your majesty,’ he replied, and withdrawing at a stoop, they removed themselves from the throne room, the group under escort from several of the queen’s guard. The lift doors boomed shut, sealing off the chamber and declaring that they had privacy once more.

  ‘Have that gathered up and placed in the vaults,’ she ordered, causing several maids to emerge with brooms and pans, brushing the powder together and placing it in urns for storage. It was imprisonment for a vampire, the taking of the remains and storing them, preventing anyone applying the required blood to restore them to activity.

  In a few decades, providing Christos did not further agitate her, he would probably be sent the remains. If of course, he did not behave, the urns would be sealed, weighted and dumped in the deepest crevasses of the sea, or in a suitably active volcano for a far more lengthy sentence.

  Thanos brushed his claws through his fur, shaking to fling the last clinging dust from his pelt. Turning, he regarded his queen with adoring eyes, and after a moment she looked down to her faithful servant.

  ‘Come here, slave,’ she commanded, and clicked to her assistants. The two men moved forward and relinquished their charges before removing her cloak.

  Taking the leash and the large bullwhip she gathered in the woven black leather folds, the serpentine length being 56

  formed into coils that thinned to a wicked tip. Clutching the thick handle with its silver skull pommel, she held the captured hoops and clipped the lead to Thanos’ collar.

  His eyes were fixed to her form, aching with longing.

  Her perfect b
ody gleamed in the pale light of the living chandeliers. Her torso was naked, her breasts open and on display, the sight of them making Thanos ache to just touch them.

  Her arms were sealed within gloss opera gloves, the polished material coating each digit. Gloss leggings hugged to her, a zip from the front hem dropping through her crotch and rising to the back hem. The midnight hose descended, following her contours until they entered ankle boots, the short zipped footwear fitted with spiked bootstraps.

  ‘Are there any more of these ridiculous grizzling idiots?’ she asked testily.

  One of the advisors produced a ledger, scanning down the lists and reading from them. ‘Three petitions for aid from various indigenous houses. A meeting with the Glass-Nomads sect concerning residency in the city. Four individuals seeking employment in the palace. Two requests for—’

  ‘Enough!’ she interrupted ferociously, then sighed, calming her tones. With a flick of her head she tossed her cascade of white hair over her shoulders and looked to Thanos, regarding the towering beast that she had enslaved and trained. ‘Reschedule them all,’ she stated, a small smirk tickling the corners of her black painted lips, a wicked glee that Thanos was overjoyed to see because it was aimed at him.

  ‘But, your majesty, these are—’

  ‘You’ve just earned ten demerits for questioning me, slave,’ she huffed irritably, bringing the woman to 57

  immediate silence. ‘Say another word and I’ll treble it…

  ‘Good. Now, I am the ruler of this realm, and I’ll not be a slave to the grovelling petitions of others. Affairs of state do not concern me, in fact, they have been grating on me all night. I require diversion. If these matters are so important, deal with them!’ she snapped, causing the trio to begin walking down the steps and heading out of the throne room.

  ‘Susan?’ she stated, calling the attention of the advisor that had angered her.