Moonslave

by Bruce McLachlan

‘Yes, your majesty?’ she replied, turning to face her ruler.

  ‘I thought I said another word would treble your demerits? You’ve just aired three of them. I make that an amazing two hundred and seventy demerits to work off,’ she grinned with spiteful satisfaction.

  The woman seemed to sag, almost fainting from discovering the level of strife she had just earned herself from being fooled by the queen’s malicious trick.

  ‘Advisors, take her to head slave Strafe for placement in level three bondage,’ the queen said cruelly, causing the other two of her operatives to fall in beside their doomed companion and escort her away.

  Thanos looked concerned at how cruel the queen was being. The poor girl had just earned herself a staggering twenty-seven hours in the most strenuous bondage, with the eager cane or whip of Strafe regularly haunting her flesh. Thanos had done a spell under the care of this woman, and knew just how imaginative and vindictive her positions were. He had almost been driven insane by the one time he had chosen to work off his demerits via level three, and that had only been for two hours.

  Taking his lead, the queen led him out of the throne room and to the upper levels, leaving her private domain 58

  so she might move amongst her guests. There was no need for guards; with Thanos on a lead behind her, walking erect, towering up like a slaughterous monolith, she was completely safe from the factions about her.

  It felt good to be protecting her, and it gave him an unequalled opportunity to stare at her gorgeous curves, wriggling against the vinyl skin with every sauntering step.

  The slaves she came across bowed deeply until on their knees. The vampire guests gave her bows of respect, and all others merely acknowledged her with a curt nod, seeing no real cause to show obeisance beyond a token amount.

  She stopped when she came across three lupine women, standing and talking, one of them resting a clawed foot on a hapless latex slave who licked and preened her fur with his tongue. The sight of the female werewolves pushed Thanos’ mind back to Corin. He had been making a concerted effort to forget about what he had done, but the vision of these brutal females brought his treachery back to plague him. He had betrayed her. He had let her be captured and now she was somewhere in the palace –

  bound, abused, suffering, being trained, her will faltering against the terrible deeds of her oppressors. Had she even known it was him who had offered her to such a fate?

  If the seneschal were using her, Corin’s screams would be pouring freely by now. She would of course come to enjoy her slavery soon enough, just as he had, but right now she would be resisting, defying them as all the indoctrination of the elders demanded. Would she be rendered subservient more quickly than he? After all, her long years of crusade in the city had clearly affected her. A release from it would speed her submissive cravings. But then again, perhaps such reviling of 59

  vampires, of the Wyrm, perhaps such old ideology and devotion would make her fight to the very last ounce of her strength, and only then would she give herself over to her desire and become the willing property of the queen.

  Would he even see her again? Would the queen replace him with her once she was trained, or would he find himself side by side with his sister, on their knees, collared and leashed, walking at the heels of the queen with eyes mesmerised by her salacious physique? Would the seneschal even permit this? Her jealousy had to be in a state of psychosis by now – two lupines and a brood vampire in her midst, vying for the queen’s fickle attention.

  What would happen to Kira? Maybe the queen lost interest in her already, or perhaps she was merely patiently awaiting a time where she could make use of her new recruit in the fullest. Had the stalking and capture of Kira been the prime interest for the queen, and now that she had recruited and captured the sparkling jewel that was Kira, its radiance had dimmed significantly?

  The thought of her made him start to grow erect once more, his length hungry to sink deep and fill her lithe form with his seed, watch her shriek in pleasure and pain as he took her.

  ‘Greetings esteemed members of the Shadow-Angels,’

  the queen said, drawing their attention. ‘I trust my hospitality is to your liking?’

  Thanos winced at the name, for he hadn’t recognised them as the beasts they were. The Shadow-Angels were a powerful splinter faction of the Dark Tribes – the lupines who had been corrupted or seduced into allegiance to the Wyrm.

  The amazon tribe was brutal and merciless, remorseless 60

  killers that even the other Dark Tribes feared. Due to a defect in their structure the females born from their tribe were stronger, faster and more agile than any other breed of lupine. But this had been gained by draining such characteristics from their menfolk. Shadow-Angel males were scrawny feeble specimens, kept as pets and servants to their females. The general inadequacies of their males made lesbianism a common trait, the women establishing relationships with each other in preference and using their male slaves only when the need to breed came to them.

  The women were sadistic, despising their menfolk, but their inability to successfully breed with any other tribe forced them to copulate with such lowly specimens, further stoking their resentment. Thanos had heard tale of these women abducting lupine, raping them for weeks, even months without relent, then killing them after unsuccessfully trying to break their cursed vicious cycle.

  Such dominance and an abiding thirst for cruelty had clearly been the lure that had brought them here.

  Ordinarily they butchered any vampire they came across, but the queen was a creature such as they, one whose connections across the globe might even be able to help them with science or sorcery, powers they had no concept of, let alone access to.

  ‘Exquisite,’ commented one of the black furred creatures, panning a glowing stare up and down Thanos.

  ‘Some of your women slaves are exceedingly adept.

  ‘Tell me though, your majesty, where did you come by this handsome pet?’ she stated softly, licking a fang in expectation, her words distorted by a bestial throat and a maw designed for howls rather than words.

  The other two women looked over her as well, the one resting on the male kicking him away and straightening up to her full height. Thanos felt his blood chill under 61

  their cumulative incandescent gazes.

  ‘This is Thanos,’ she replied flippantly, as though he were something of little consequence. ‘I captured him awhile back. Trained him, and now he serves me.’

  ‘A lupine of Gaia?’ purred their leader, putting a hand on her hip and regarding Thanos with new intensity. ‘And you trained him? Congratulations, your majesty, we have never managed such a feat.’

  ‘Not for lack of trying, mind,’ added one of the other females with a vicious chuckle.

  ‘Yes, you’ll have to give us the secret,’ said the third.

  ‘It’s a matter of patience, judgement, and the right raw materials,’ she replied with a smile, drawing him in close, bringing Thanos down into a crouch beside her. The women seemed even more threatening now. Already taller than he when he was standing upright, they were also far more robust, and now they seemed to loom over him like the heavens, their eyes sanguine stars against a black furred vault.

  ‘May we see what you have achieved, your majesty?’

  asked their leader, stepping forward and lifting Thanos’

  gaze with a hand under his chin, her claws locked under his snout.

  ‘Of course, Ghrethekk. Shall we sojourn to a playroom?

  I have time to spare and would enjoy spending it with you and your sisters.’

  ‘Lead on, your majesty,’ confirmed Ghrethekk, falling in behind as Thanos was led into the wings and to one of the private chambers catering to the appetites of the guests.

  62

  Chapter Four

  Standing still, Kira was almost oblivious to the slaves slowly sealing her within her new uniform. Instead, she was fixated upon the reclining form of the seneschal.

  Since the
y had emerged from sleep, the seneschal had changed into new attire, strolling into her closet and vanishing from view. The sound of slaves dressing her emerged for a few minutes, along with the occasional sharp crack of a whip upon their flesh. Then she had emerged transformed.

  A leather basque with a laced front poured itself down her curves. The garment was boned, turning it into a cousin of a corset, dragging at her waist, forming her already trim figure into a sumptuous hourglass.

  The suspenders of the garment snagged fine denier stockings, grabbing the black band and being pinned down under the slender cord of a leather thong. The scanty garment ran a single strip between her buttocks, splitting to ride over her hips and plunge back down to grant a tiny triangle of polished fabric.

  Perched atop skyscraper heels, the leather ankle boots were laced down the front with a buckled strap around the ankle. The attire had emerged from the closet wet with the saliva of fawning shoe cleaners.

  A leather headband swept her cascade of blonde locks away from her face, and her cosmetics had been heightened and darkened, giving her acute eyebrows, a melancholy glower, and dark, smirking lips.

  Leather gauntlet gloves rolled up to her biceps, leaving 63

  her ebony nails exposed. One hand clenched a carved ivory handle, the grip spitting forth the long woven strand of a crop.

  Immediately she had called for Kira to be turned into a maid, and the slaves bustled from other rooms to attend their mistress as she lounged upon the bed.

  Kira was squeezed into a new array of latex garments, the material hugging her limbs as they were sealed within the smothering folds. Thigh boots clutched her skin as a pair of buckled straps at the top of each leg were wrenched tight, causing her to sway for a moment on her high heels. The rings of her fetters were pulled through waiting slots, bouncing against her with every movement. Then a dress was brought forth.

  Opened at the back with a zip, she stepped into it and had the slaves pull it into place. The short skirt arose up her body and into a high neck, the long sleeves ending in incorporated gloves that sealed over every finger. The garment was zipped up, and the zip locked to her collar to prevent any hope of removal.

  For a brief moment Kira spotted a small hand computer, the device releasing a thin cable. There was a click as it was placed to her collar, and a few keys were tapped before it was removed and taken away.

  The last part of the outfit was a corset. After being placed within the loose tube of boned rubber she was laid flat on her stomach. As two slaves pulled her cuff rings through vents in the dress, another pair worked to pillage all slack from the lacing.

  Groaning in delight she marvelled at the exquisite feel of the tightening process, the escalating squeeze to her body, hauling her in, making her rigid, imposing greatly on her deportment. More and more of the lacing was drawn away, the two ends of the corset finally meeting 64

  at a point where her ribs ached and her stomach was crushed into a ridiculous plunging contour.

  The slaves helped her to her feet where she tottered, dizzy from the experience, the corset so tight she could barely breathe, and she counted herself fortunate that such a function was purely optional for her. Perhaps it was designed this way, to make it a chore to gather the breath required to air words, making it laborious so that the slave would only speak if necessary.

  ‘Attend her features, slaves,’ purred the woman, causing the small squad of enslaved latex-bound beauticians to begin a new order of work. One of the men dropped to all fours and the others seated her on his back, serving her countenance to easier attention.

  Her hair was carefully brushed through, tended with delicacy and care, returning the tumbling red curls to their lustrous state.

  Brushes and pencils danced before her eyes, highlighting her beauty, using the cosmetics only to reveal her allure more clearly. A subtle lipstick was applied, and they stepped back to admire their handiwork. She could see the awe in their faces, the satisfaction that they had created such a masterpiece, and with their regard she could see a prurient longing, a desire to use the client they had just so meticulously enhanced.

  ‘Come here, slave,’ commanded the seneschal. The other servants withdrew into their closet dwellings, awaiting the time they would again be called free. Kira heard soft clicks of metal once they had entered, and sounds of strain. The women and men were confining themselves willingly, as an act of trained obedience to the mistress of the house.

  Kira walked to where the seneschal reclined, the woman’s eyes boring into her, scanning her new attire 65

  and her features.

  ‘Very nice,’ she said with firm tones. ‘I think we’ll have you as my personal maid for now, slave. You’ll do as you’re told without hesitation, and obey my every command and whim, is that understood, slave?’

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ replied Kira.

  ‘Whenever I come into your presence or you into mine, you will kiss my boots as a mark of respect. Any failings will be met with immediate chastisement, and the allotting of demerits. And of course, you know what that will result in.’

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ she smiled, well aware that she would have the opportunity to choose her bondage – one of three levels of intensity to work off the total, to pay for her crimes with the currency that was her suffering. And now, it would be the seneschal applying it, and then conducting the retributive beatings during it. The realisation tempted her to transgress immediately, just to start the process.

  Since their passionate exchange she had not expected any favours, any undue consideration. She had gained that which she wished and that was enough for her; Kira was not greedy. Freedom from chastity, the elevation from pet status, and of course, the banishing of the seneschal’s envious loathing for her filled her most pressing needs; anything else was just icing on the cake.

  ‘Good, you can begin by fetching me a drink,’ she ordered, flopping onto her back. ‘Rhesus negative – in a glass.’

  Kira turned to depart and walked towards the exit, feeling wonderful, her steps light, and the compression of her form glorious to her debauched senses. It felt like every part of her was constantly being kept under control.

  ‘Wait, come here first, slave,’ corrected the seneschal, 66

  bringing Kira back to the edge of the bed, standing over her. ‘Turn around and bend over. I have one last addition for your uniform.’

  Kira wheeled and draped herself forward, placing her hands to her thighs, her back kept straight by the corset.

  The short skirt rose, almost unveiling her in full. The snap of gossamer latex resounded and the seneschal moved closer. Kira’s gaze fixed forward as she tried to guess and anticipate what was going to be done to her.

  She had a terrible paranoia that the chastity belt was coming back.

  Surgical gloves brushed her cheeks, lifting her skirt a little higher, revealing her opened buttocks. The fingers scooped free some lubricant and began to massage it into the opening, circling and stealing entry. Kira gasped, her mouth dropping open, the feel of the slippery digits sliding into her causing quivers to run her body. The seneschal worked the gel into her, driving back and forth, making the orifice amiable to a more substantial feeding.

  The hands withdrew and the tearing crack of the gloves being pulled off preceded another touch to her rear. The sizeable butt plug kissed her sphincter and started to ride in on a slow push. Kira started to pant, gasping for breath as the weapon commenced its advance. Flashes of discomfort arose as the cone continued to widen, pushing her flesh to its limits. The widest part of the implement was cleared and she gave a startled quiver as her rear gulped it in, pulling the plug until its flanged base pressed in the cleft of her rear.

  Using her muscles to chew on the thin stalk that kept her perpetually open, she let out a choked whimper as the crop slammed across her rear. There was a pause to let the fiery trench settle, and another was applied, crossing the first, marking her with a flushed X. With 67

  her mouth agape, K
ira paused for a moment, awaiting the effulgent heat to dwindle.

  The head of the crop appeared before her eyes and offered itself to her. Obediently she kissed it. ‘Thank you, seneschal,’ she whispered, the gratitude genuine, for she was being trained and disciplined by her goddess, and she could find no resentment for any treatment she would find under the guidance of this glorious vampire dominatrix.

  ‘There, now off you go, and if you remove the plug at any time I’ll punish you most severely for it, slave,’

  warned the seneschal, settling back into the luxurious folds.

  ‘Yes, seneschal,’ Kira replied, and moved forward, shakily pulling down her skirt onto the angry weals, the skin protesting such pressure.

  The portal gave a compliant click and slipped aside, swinging back to permit Kira’s passage. Clearly the computer had changed her collar code, making her a maid, allowing the sensors of the doors to recognise her as someone worthy of letting through. Where else in the palace could she freely go now that her castes had been changed?

  Heading to the kitchen she started to realise that she was actually free, that she could move around as she wanted. True, she was still compelled to wait on the seneschal’s whims, but there were bound to be times where she was left to her own devices. At last she had an opportunity to explore this vast domain that hid from the sun, which was replete with every vice imaginable –

  and many more that weren’t.

  An ecstatic skip carried her into the room, where she twirled through its centre and stretched her bound arms, her fingers straining against the tight sheaths of her 68

  gloves. Kira giggled, overwhelmed with her sense of joy, her heels clicking upon the tiles like the frenzied routine of a tap dancer.

  Looking through the chamber she marvelled at how precious this place was to her. It was here that she had nuzzled into the seneschal and gained her favour. A hand dropped down between her legs. She let it trail over her sex, just to affirm that she could do anything she wished.