Moonslave
Page 9
One of them leaned in and stole one of her tears, catching it on a shifting finger and running it across her pointed tongue with a smile. Then, as quickly as they had come, the women stepped back into the seas of shadow still shifting across the floor, their bodies vanishing into it. Only their eyes remained – fixed to her before they too closed, letting the tides of darkness retreat.
Huddled on the floor, Kira’s body was alive with feeling. Wiping her eyes, she arose and crawled over to him, settling in beside the naked form of the warlock.
He felt her settle and placed a hand into her hair, guiding her in to nuzzle beside him where he stroked her gently, his eyes closed, his features slack, his chest rising and falling with deep gasps. It was strange to see breath being so needed. To Kira it was rapidly becoming a forgotten function, one she could barely even recall.
‘Did I please you, lord?’ she asked, wondering if she had lived up to his expectations. Since coming to the palace, since losing her life, she had been possessed by carnal intent. Sex and sensation were never high on her 90
list of priorities, but she had no idea how much she had been missing with her abstinence. Upon her death a world of possibilities, of new experiences, had been opened to her. She wanted to see everything, to feel it all, to do things with creatures and people no mortal had ever conceived of.
‘Most definitely, Kira,’ he chuckled, a smile broadening his lips.
‘May I ask you something, lord?’ she questioned, wondering if perhaps she should continue, afraid she might offend him, because she wanted to know about his art and was unaware if there were some binding code of secrecy about it.
‘Go ahead,’ he replied lightly.
‘How do you do this magic? What is it? What’s the Wyrm?’
‘There are two powers of nature. They are the source of life, of everything. In its simplest terms, Gaia is life, the Wyrm is destruction. The fight between Gaia and the Wyrm is necessary and eternal, for without the Wyrm, nothing would end, stagnation would set in, there would be no change, no evolution, no learning, no advancement.
And if the Wyrm ruled, everything would be shattered and consumed.’
‘Then why seek Gaia’s destruction?’ she wondered, seeing no sense in such a goal. It would be like trying to destroy the world, a self-defeating objective unless one wished to die with it.
‘Not I, little Kira. I like things the way they are. But many are more fanatical. The Flesh Dancers are a carnal sect devoted to pleasure for its own sake, dedicating to one facet of the Wyrm. Others though are more military and radical. The sects that follow paths of destruction, greed, and carnage seek ascendancy, to destroy Gaia and 91
let the Wyrm run free. They hope for a world of anarchy and chaos where they will thrive.’
‘And you tap this energy?’ she asked, her hand reaching out and enclosing his shaft, the flesh wilting in her fingers, warm and throbbing with a rapid pulse, one so different to her own lazy metabolism.
‘Very astute, Kira. Yes, through will and use of runes, talismans and charms, we gather that energy from the realms of the Wyrm and mould it, using it to affect reality and alter the physical world.’
‘And only the living can do this?’ she asked again, examining his length, taking the opportunity to take a close and prolonged look at such an organ.
‘The powers of living energy can only pass though that which lives. A creature beyond destruction and life cannot,’ he replied, knowing the reason for her question and confirming that the vampire was forever denied access to such arcane feats.
‘Now, I need a bath,’ he concluded. ‘Come and assist, slave.’
He revealed a bath chamber, the white tiled room bearing a raised tub in the centre, the large jacuzzi-like structure bubbling with warm waters, pre-set and ready to attend them. Set on shelves to one side was assorted toiletries, soaps, sponges, oils and lotions. Next to it were racks of luxurious towels, everything scented by the small censers hanging from chains in the corners, their grey lines of scent mingling with the shifting fog banks of steam that ruled the humid air.
The duke stepped up and put a toe in the water to test it. Finding it satisfactory, he slid down into the shimmering pool, sinking to his neck. ‘Aaaah, yes,’ he drawled contentedly, ducking his head under and rising again, trickles running his face, his hair slick against his 92
head.
Locking his arms along the sides he reclined and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of the hot waters as they swirled and lifted the sweat from his body. Kira almost felt envious. She didn’t sweat any more, she didn’t know whether she would if she ever got hot enough through exertion, or whether it was just not possible. It was not something she particularly missed, but the pleasure of sloughing off perspiration in a hot bath was a delight she would have liked to experience again, and she felt herself pining for this ridiculous chore.
‘Attend me, slave,’ he uttered softly, beads of moisture forming on Kira as her cold body attracted condensation.
It almost looked as though she were sweating, perspiring profusely from the humidity of the room.
Walking to the shelves she took out what she required, knelt before the pool and sank them into the water. The heat of the waters poured into her flesh, radiating inward, inspiring a shudder from her.
Kira began to work the soap across his skin, attending him with humble devotion. It brought a smile to her lips to perform thus, to be someone’s body slave, to clean them, stroke their form. It was pleasing to attend the duke thus, but what she would really prefer would be to handle her seneschal. It was a foolish daydream and hardly likely simply because, like her, the seneschal did not perspire.
But then again, perhaps it was not so fanciful a notion after all. Vampires would be soiled by their environment just like anyone else. They had to wash some time. She herself would probably need a bath soon.
Her hands wafted across his bare form, foamy trails being left behind as the soap moved in small gentle circles, the sponge following behind. The necklace swayed and rocked upon the tides, the crystal surrounded 93
by refracted lines of darkness, projecting its radiance into the pellucid waters.
Watching her from the corners of his eyes, the duke seemed fascinated with her form, his eyes rarely leaving it, glazed and obsessed, as though mesmerised by an exquisite masterpiece. Was she really that attractive? It was not something she was used to – the adoration of males.
Letting her hands explore and cleanse at the same time it was an excellent excuse to trace his whole body, to know that she had felt every part of him. When she reached between his legs she found him rigid against the turbulent waters, the feel of her gently working across him having stoked his appetite once more.
The act of cleaning started to change, and instead of lathering his length she started to work her hand upon it, slowly masturbating him. A hand reached out behind her, slowly rolling up and down her back, her rear, her thighs. The duke’s eyes were closed, his head lounged back.
With unhurried effort she continued to pleasure him, one arm in the water, clasped to his eager length, the other continuing to roll soap or sponge across him, a sensual massage to compliment her more carnal labours.
‘Come in with me, slave,’ he uttered softly, almost as though in his sleep.
Rising, Kira slipped into the warm waters, the heat engulfing her, feeling even harsher to her because of the radical difference to her chill skin. Kneeling before the inert form of the duke she reached forward and enclosed his penis once more, continuing where she had left off, studying the relish carved distinctly into his features.
On a whim she leaned in, letting her head drop below the waters, settling down and swallowing him once more.
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With her lips closed upon him she clutched to him to fight off her buoyancy and the steady shove of the bubbles rolling across her skin, tickling her with furtive caresses.
Her hair flowed around her like the limbs of an octopus, riding
the random eddies of the pool, a wreath of dark red lines that swayed and danced about the sight of his shaft in her mouth.
Breathing out through her nose she released a steady plume of silver bubbles, emptying her lungs into the geysers of air being released all around her. Letting herself sink she remained at the bottom of the pool without effort, hibernating as bubbles poured across her from every direction. As an aquatic creature she lurked beneath the waves, her lips fixed to him, her head dropping down and hauling back, her cuffs and fetters scratching at the tiled interior.
Occasionally she removed herself from him, to kiss and nibble at his thighs, to suckle on his toes and make him quiver, her hand maintaining the rhythm in the absence of her mouth. Kira felt the familiar tensing of his frame, his shaft throbbing, becoming more solid against her deft tongue. She pulled back, finishing him with some slow shuffles of her hand, her gaze peering through the clouds of bubbles in anticipation.
Cloudy streams poured from the tip of his penis, speeding away and being dispersed on the whirling tides.
The image was one that amused her greatly, the sight of it so eerie. Continuing with a few more pumps of her hand she treated him to the full banquet of orgasm, and then slowly rose up, her face emerging from the surface to regard a face sated and smiling.
‘Dry me, slave,’ he said, out of breath, recovering a semblance of awareness, dazed by the pleasure.
Kira stood up, her frame rising from the waters, her 95
skin flowing with streams that dripped from her, unveiling her physique to him in full, drawing him from his enervated coma. His eyes seemed to delve into her, marvelled by the image of the vampiress he had free reign to use in any way he wished.
Stepping out she removed a towel, leaving wet footprints to and from the shelf as she opened the soft folds and presented them to accept the duke’s body. With a groan of effort he arose and ushered himself into the awaiting blankets, Kira enveloping him and then rolling the absorbent materials across his body, soaking up the water.
Once she had finished she replaced the towels and knelt before him, awaiting his next command.
Switching off the jacuzzi, the waters settled, the ventilation of the room siphoning out the steam, improving vision. The duke sat on the edge of the pool, running a tongue along the upper wall of his teeth as he watched Kira. ‘Perform for me, slave,’ he commented.
Kira did not look up, keeping her gaze lowered, her wet hair hanging about her, the waters that had drenched her still setting loose their thin tails of steam.
Almost of its own accord a hand shifted across her thighs and between her legs, her thighs parting in her kneeling stance, granting her easier access. Not only had she been trained to obedience, she herself craved it, thus her body now replied with willing, precise haste. The only cause she had to pause or deliberate was to purposefully gain punishment.
A fingertip rose between the folds of her sex, touching her clitoris, starting to rub softly back and forth before breaking into small swirls. Closing her eyes Kira left herself to the pleasure, a delight spiced with the subtle humiliation of being made to enact such a private matter 96
for the eyes of another.
Wallowing in this powerful arousal she shivered and continued, her shoulders quaking, rising a little, rocking her belly against the air as her hand worked within. Her lips peeled open, her tongue pressing against her lower teeth as she panted softly.
‘Now, you will ask permission before you come, slave,’
he stated, his face enthralled by the display. ‘Is that understood?’
‘Yes, lord,’ she replied softly, glad that he was still controlling her, regulating her pleasure, making her ask to even feel it.
The duke watched as she started to strain more and more to keep still, the rapture swelling within her womb making her writhe on her knees, gasping softly. She was on the very verge of release, and her words spilled out with her need. ‘Lord… may I come?’
‘No,’ he said flatly.
Conditioned to obedience, Kira removed her hand and grabbed her thighs, sinking her fingers into the flesh, paining it greatly as she scowled, teetering on the verge of orgasm and being forced to deny herself.
The explosive result of her onanism started to withdraw, trickling away, making her settle, her frustration rampant.
‘Begin again,’ he commanded, his entertainment being in seeing her wracked by pleasure and the effects of such denial. He knew her libido was thundering after her punishment, her bondage, her repeated sensual acts with him, and he was taking great delight in further pouring fuel onto the flames.
Again Kira started her performance, teasing her erect clitoris, stroking her lips, sighing and panting as she worked herself to orgasm, and on the very verge she again 97
pleaded for release, her words desperate. ‘ Please, lord, please may I come,’ she whimpered, her head flopping forward, hiding her face with a cascade of damp hair.
But again the duke was not about to end his amusement.
‘No, not yet, slave… maybe next time.’
Sinking down she threw her head back, flinging her hair away, the wet strands slapping across her back as a soft whip. With teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut she struggled against her instincts. For a moment her obedience faltered, her hand lingering, considering continuing, in stealing the last few whirls that would sate her hunger. But what then? He would punish her, that much was certain, and it was something she was not wholly opposed to, but then he might betray her rebellion to the seneschal. Not only would Kira be devastated to have disappointed Cassandra, but also, she was running the risk of losing her newly gained position. She had experienced too much already as a maid to risk being demoted back into the realms of a punishment slave, or a pet again.
With her arm tensed, fighting the orders of her mind, she forced the limb back and shuddered through the harsh withdrawal symptoms of deprived orgasm, and once he was sure she had slipped far enough from her goal, the duke commanded her again.
‘Continue, slave,’ he grinned, slipping from his perch and circling her humbled form.
Kira started afresh, praying that this was the time she would be permitted to finally end her frustrations. Closer and closer she drew, her finger moist with water and the wetness of her ravenous sex.
The duke knelt behind her, reaching around, one hand locking under her chin, lifting it to place the back of her head into his shoulder. The other wove in and cupped 98
her assets, squeezing them, teasing the nipples with the lightest of brushes.
Gasping with bliss she nuzzled into him, his body supporting hers, ready to feel her orgasm, as though he could somehow steal some of it for himself, soak in the feel of a woman’s rapture through unbroken contact with her.
Snatching brief influxes of air Kira’s eyes rolled back, her hand trembling, and again her words emerged, this time dripping with sincerity and pleading. ‘Please, lord, please let me come,’ she whined.
‘Yes, slave, you may,’ he stated.
Barely had the words left his lips than Kira was spasming in his hold, her body bucking against his arms as she groaned aloud, and as her body was beset by orgasm she cried out, unable to hold in such sensations and still keep quiet. The dancing finger made her insane with delight, and sagging into his arms she slouched back, bathed in internal warmth, her thoughts soft and fuzzy, her body twitching with a random fit upon occasion, dazzled by the bliss.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she mumbled.
‘Good slave,’ he commented, stroking her wet hair.
‘Now dress yourself and bring me my clothes,’ he instructed, removing himself from her and rising.
Kira almost collapsed, her body drained of tension by the onanism, but she gathered her senses and mustered some effort, fighting her way back onto her feet. Walking to the door with shaking steps, it opened for her and let the cool arms of the room beyond envelop her, stripping off the heat her body had acquired but which could not easily support.
The soft carpet tickled her soles, and once she was alone in the chamber where she had suffered the delights 99
of the sorcerous duke she began to gather his shed attire.
As she lifted his jacket, her mind reliving the experiences that had unfolded here, his wallet fell out. Kira held it for a moment in contemplation, looking across the plain leather surfaces, wondering what lay within, what secrets, what revelations. Looking over her shoulder to check that he was still not present, she opened it, and failed to find anything within that would distinguish the man from any other mere mortal treading the concrete halls and roads of the surface world.
Tarnivelle Khardekk, a twenty-seven-year-old director of primary operations for Korin Enterprises, a massive multinational corporation Kira was well acquainted with.
The company controlled numerous businesses and was often referred to in news and media. Quite what his job description meant she was not sure, but she could guess it was a front to make him blend with the mortal herd.
A range of elite credit cards, several unmarked security cards with magnetic strip and barcode, a parking permit, and a few high denomination bills were all that existed.
A picture fell from the lining as she turned it over, looking for anything else. It was a woman of astonishing beauty, a loveliness of similar captivating allure as the queen. They had different features but the same transfixing glow that made the eyes of the viewer stick to them, never tiring of studying the perfect countenance.
A crooked crown of jet held back a mane of red hair, the striking shade almost artificial in its brightness. Her piercing blue eyes were like diamonds, boring through the representation. Silver serpent earrings dangled from her lobes and a silken cloak sheathed her tall frame.
Behind her was a wall of contorted grotesque forms, travesties of humans, bloated and distended. The mutated merging of beast and nightmare peered out through 100