The women of the Obsidian Fang emerged again, and as they thanked the seneschal they locked their inhuman eyes to Kira as she dwelt behind her owner, showing that they had not forgotten her. Even now they were still interested in exploiting her for their sensual recreation.
More and more attendees emerged and were furnished with slaves and greetings. Vampire houses were 167
announced, shamanic sects of the Wyrm, tribes of dark lupines, representatives from every quarter of power in the land that could appreciate decadence and depravity.
They stemmed from across the globe, representing every portion of human heritage – proud Asian nobles, bold American tycoons, defiant European aristocrats, mighty African chiefs, aloof Middle Eastern sheikhs, and gaunt Russians whose head, Volodia, she had already heard Cassandra conversing with. No doubt his invitation to this event was designed to augment his ties with the queen, especially with the upheaval his people were readying to implement on the world.
Of all the new arrivals, none disturbed her as greatly as a duo that stepped through the portal near to the end of the rota of people. One was clad in a full catsuit of leather, a studded harness laid over the closefitting polished hide. Gloves coated his hands, and heavy boots were buckled to his feet. A mask that covered his entire head hid his features. It depicted a snarling wolf effigy, the copper surfaces encrusted with gems and flowing lines of strange bizarre script. The seneschal addressed him as Deil.
The other was a little taller and more muscular, his body entombed within a latex suit, with a matching harness and a different mask to his partner. The crescent moon mask was a leering horrible sight, the sneering features of the crooked visage joined by fangs and acute ears, with veins of rage throbbing at the temple. This man was introduced as Mammon.
As they passed by, taking their slaves with angry yanks to their leashes, Kira froze as their hidden eyes fell to her for a moment, a terrible hunger in them making her dread ever being left at their mercy. There was something innately dark about them, an evil presence that agitated 168
her soul and filled her with anxiety. For a short time after she was plagued by their residual aura, the two men tainting her mind’s eye even as more guests arrived to show themselves as wanton arrays of perverse indulgence.
The last of the slaves fell in with a sect of shaman called the Eldritch Claw, and the seneschal indicated to the warriors beside the portal. ‘Close the defences,’ she ordered, causing a pair of the murderous goliaths to step back through the rift, their bodies vanishing into thin air. A moment later that same spot gave a startled shimmer and then settled.
‘Seneschal?’ asked Kira, looking at the sealed gate and the empty chamber about them.
‘Yes, slave?’ replied her owner, marching towards the hall with Kira in tow.
‘What about this Kitjana?’ she asked, aware that the duke was obsessed with this woman and thus deducing it was she that was to be the primary guest of the feast.
‘Where is she?’
‘She will use her own means to achieve entrance,’
scowled Cassandra.
Kira chose to drop the topic, as the name of the woman irked her owner greatly. There was obviously some sort of animosity between the head of the queen’s house and this most honoured of guests.
The muscular ring unfurled and granted them access, the hall now resplendent with the sounds of life and enjoyment. The guests reclined on their soft divans, being tended by their slaves, the serviles serving as cushions or footrests, while others were being made to perform on each other or the guests. Some were being tormented, others were sent off to gather food and drink for their charges.
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Clearly anything was available to the denizens of the hall, for other modes of slave were being brought in –
pets and furniture, harem slaves, all served to the licentious whims of the preternatural gentry that dwelt there.
Kira was led to the side of the circle, where three divans remained unoccupied. Two were vast and sumptuous, with purple fur and a spinal column that reached up at the back, swinging ribs out in an ascending triangle, offering a throne-like appearance to the twin seats.
The seneschal stepped up onto the ordinary version, hauling Kira with her. Kira settled into the glossy fur, the living hair sensuous and delightful to her skin as she sank into the giving depths of the large organic cushion.
It was comfort beyond anything she had known before.
The seneschal reclined, lying on her back, propping herself up on her elbows and looking across the menagerie of obliquity all about them. ‘Pleasure me, slave,’ she snapped, giving a jolt to the leash and parting her legs a little.
Kira formed into a ball, her hands taking gentle hold of the seneschal’s fishnet-smothered thighs and then burying her face between her legs. Nuzzling into the rubber thong, she stroked and probed with nose and tongue, working through the thin material, unsure whether to risk moving it aside or drawing it down to permit easier access. Her owner was in a fickle mood.
She was enjoying herself, and her post, but exterior political machinations were putting a melancholy edge to her temperament.
Kira stared lovingly across the fabric-coated torso of her gorgeous oppressor, following the ravishing latex curves. Cassandra closed her eyes, her head lolling to one side as she delighted in Kira’s attention, letting the 170
cunnilingus take away some of her stresses, the slight obscuring of feeling through the latex drawing it out for longer. ‘Good, slave,’ she purred, her fingers stroking the soft fur.
‘Seneschal, when is the queen intending to make an appearance?’ grumbled a female voice after Kira had been working slowly and relentlessly for a lengthy time, her own libido and hunger rising with every lap. ‘Or is she declining to attend her own party?’
‘I apologise for any delay, Hyrthuz,’ replied the seneschal with dreamy tones, setting her legs wider, the thigh boots brushing against the fur as she exposed herself more promiscuously to Kira’s attention and perhaps suggesting that her slave should escalate the affair.
Kira straightened a little, unable to resist temptation any longer. Using her left hand to pull aside the obscuring curtain of rubber, opportunity was gained for her right hand to slide fingers through the slit in the mesh bodystocking and into the seneschal’s sex. The vampiress arched a little with a gasp, Kira’s dextrous toils playing her loins and conducting symphonies of euphoria.
‘But her majesty will probably not appear until the guest of honour has taken her place,’ she added, indicating with a dip of her head the empty divan beside the vacant neighbour which obviously belonged to the queen.
Kira glanced aside, the momentary glimpse catching the eye of the inhuman guest, and like a shy child she threw her eyes back to her seneschal.
The demon woman was kneeling on the arms of a latex-clad maid, her splayed thighs pressing naked loins into the female’s features, smothering the girl as she performed valiantly against the cruel impositions of Hyrthuz and her companions.
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Pinned down, the maid wriggled as another of the devil women kept her taloned fingers locked about the hapless slave’s ankles. Holding her legs up and apart, stretching them exceptionally wide, the hircine sorceress employed a dark strap-on phallus to pound into the sex of the maid, thrusting with severity. Small gurgles of pleasure and pain seeped through the muffling loins of Hyrthuz, the girl assailed by sensation.
The third member of their party simply reclined beside them on the expanse of the divan, a second maid kissing and suckling on the female’s breasts, attending the albino leopard patterned flesh with diligence.
The demonic woman held a dressage whip, the long weapon allowing her to deliver flicking swats to the rump of her slave, the arbitrary sadism only escalating the arousal of the maid serving her.
Their third maid simply knelt to one side, her hands folded on her lap, her eyes kept low as she awaited inclusion or an order to bring her to life.
&nbs
p; The woman released a string of complex words, the soft clicking and hissing syllables causing the others to smile. The other woman addressed her compeers in response with a similar unintelligible speech, their private language like a sibilant chattering.
‘Isn’t that the same little filly you were towing through the palace?’ wondered Hyrthuz, being the first to speak in English after their swift hidden discussion.
‘Yes, she is my personal maid, Kira.’
‘The brood?’ asked Hyrthuz, a wide grin revealing her banks of slender teeth.
‘The same. You like her?’
‘I’d like to fuck her,’ she snapped with crass hunger, using such a phrase to aim it at Kira and trouble her with worry.
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‘Help yourself to an orifice,’ smiled the seneschal, watching as Kira’s eyes widened with dolour.
‘Thank you, seneschal, I think I shall,’ replied the diabolic female, rising from her seat, the slave girl gasping new breaths to recover, her face wet with the juices of the succubus. The other woman dropped the captive legs aside and flopped beside the girl, clamping a hand over her mouth, dragging the back of her head firmly into her chest, the other steering the strap-on into the untouched anus of the maid. A jerk of motion had the length fill her, and she choked against the muting hand. The devil girl started to thrust, opening her hands, letting the slave suckle on her malformed fingers, treating them to a display of mock fellatio as a forked tongue lapped and ran along her neck.
With a spry leap Hyrthuz jumped from one divan to the other, her landing causing a rippling disturbance to wash through the structure. Stepping boldly forward, her hands danced before her loins, her fingers crackling with a malignant power, the thin arcs of radiance pouring into her flesh, altering it, sculpting it like clay and encouraging prolific growth.
The seneschal pulled at the lead, towing Kira’s face in nearer to her loins. Once it was sufficiently close she let go and reached forward, enclosing a hand into Kira’s hair, to force her mouth tightly against her clitoris.
‘Present yourself, slave,’ she commanded with a soft voice, drinking again of Kira’s flitting tongue.
With concern, Kira did as she was told, trusting herself to the rule of her seneschal. Shuffling her knees back she lifted her rear, her knees slightly apart.
‘Mmmm, now that’s quite a sight!’ complimented the woman. The two-fingered hands of the beast took hold of her buttocks and ran along them, testing the surfaces, 173
examining her more physically after her visual assessment of Kira’s merits. ‘Very nice,’ commented the female, and with a tug Kira’s underwear was drawn down, exposing her in full to the bizarre and fell form.
A warm tip laid upon the base of her spine, and moving back the woman trailed the rigid length through the valley of her rear. As it was about to fall free she shoved forward, drilling into Kira’s belly. The sudden rude filling of her womb by a massive penis made her jump in response, hurling a startled wail into her seneschal’s tracts. The acute sensation continued, the woman having sorcerously changed sexual organs, creating a monster of a manhood that pounded into Kira. Her eyes flashed wide, her mouth working in fits and starts, her senses scrambled by the sheer volume she was accepting. Even Thanos had not proven this titanic a burden.
The thrusts lifted her knees from the divan, the tip pushing to her very limits, and the size of the intruder by no means distracted from its skill. It was being used with an expertise that would have had her in bliss had it been a faction of the size, but coupled with perfect dimensions and sterling skill she was almost losing her mind from the rhythmic stab deep into her.
Her head jerked up as she howled, the talons of the woman having drawn apart further, pulling at her cheeks and sliding thumbs against her, etching two shallow grooves, the sudden pain exquisite in its intensity. During her yell she clapped her hands to her own breasts, squeezing them, massaging them as her song merged with the multitudes of groans and cries that spilled through the air of the hall, forced from dozens of stressed throats.
Taking advantage of Kira’s unauthorised break in duty, the seneschal nimbly flipped over onto her front, casting 174
her legs wide, the tendons of her inner thighs taut as she offered her rear to Kira’s moist lips.
The hands of the female went to new work, her left grabbing Kira’s hair in the seneschal’s stead, the other reaching under to play Kira’s clitoris with the back of a nail. The grip in her hair forced her face into the milky valley of the seneschal’s rear, her lips kissing the smooth sphincter of her owner. Her tongue spilled recklessly forth, sliding in, the ring tightening against the organ, making Kira fight to keep going as the demonic lover continued to dig deeply into her. Forcing her tongue in as far as she could, Kira threw it back and forth in imitation of meagre penetration, the slippery saliva dripping from her chin, the scent of the seneschal’s sex rising as thin lines of fluid started to mark the fur beneath them.
The female started to draw out her attentions, slowly gliding her full shaft into Kira until she met resistance and then hauled back with more speed before conducting another leisurely drive. Kira moaned with every plummet into her, the penetration making her quake and realise now that the other succubus was not wearing an imitation phallus. It was not an artificial construct being driven into the sobbing maid beside them, but a conjured embellishment of real flesh and blood.
Kira’s hands deserted her breasts and reached to the seneschal, continuing her play of the woman’s loins, her fingers working into the humid sex of her owner as her tongue continued to feast on her rear. Kira could feel herself building towards climax in leaps and bounds.
Every thrust brought her closer and closer, her body shaking as it tried to ready itself for the maelstrom.
‘No, not yet, slave,’ warned the demonic partner, continuing her relentless drives, aiming into new regions 175
to tax every part of her insides. ‘Don’t dare come before I let you!’ Kira tried to defeat the will of her body, to make her mind the more decisive force. ‘That’s it. Good girl. Now keep yourself under control,’ ordered the woman, flicking Kira’s clitoris, her other hand reaching down and snagging a nipple ring, manipulating the jewellery to tease her further.
‘Please, please let me have permission,’ Kira whimpered into her seneschal’s loins, her mind burning with need, unable to hold back the inevitable any longer.
She felt as though she were going to detonate. She had to orgasm, she could not hold on any longer, she just couldn’t.
‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, slave!’ berated the woman, clamping both hands to Kira’s breasts, compressing them spitefully, the wicked talons adding to the severity of the embrace. In addition she rotated and gouged with her length, using it as a weapon to have Kira cry out in sorrow.
‘I’m sorry, my lady, I’m sorry, I’ll hold on,’ she grizzled, her words panted through locked teeth, the venom having washed back her exaltation.
The hands became instantly gentler, toying with her teats as the length returned to a more satisfying method of insertion, restoring her undeniable ascent towards fulfilment. Between filling her mouth with her owner’s rear, her hands burrowing into cool, inviting sex, and being thrust callously into, Kira had no hope of obeying such orders for much longer.
‘Okay slave, now,’ growled the woman, breaking into thrashing drives. ‘I said now!’ she roared vehemently, the last drives causing Kira to break into wild throes, her body torn by exquisite ecstasy, carried upon the thrusts.
Her hindquarters seemed to liquefy, the burning battering 176
ram of a penis grinding into her, drawing out more pleasure than she would have ever thought possible, and screaming into her owner’s womb, the vibrating pitch of her holler carried the seneschal over into orgasm, the two of them riding a crest of delectation.
As soon as the seneschal had been fully pleasured the woman grabbed Kira’s hair and hauled back, removing her from the plate of her mistr
ess, bringing her onto her knees. Upward thrusts continued to lift her up, stealing her breath, a lump in her throat, her arms being tightened from within by flashes of tension. A two-fingered hand clamped across her face, holding her head back, her body resting against the woman as the penis continued to batter her womb, her membranes feeling as though they were aflame. The other slapped to her stomach, pressing in to feel the shuffle of movement deep within her; the rounded tip of her phallus as it migrated within Kira.
The woman cast her off like a soiled garment, dropping her to the divan beside her owner, and screaming in rapture Kira almost fainted from the intensity removal brought. Laying curled into a ball, holding tightly to herself, her limbs spasming, her insides shaking, Kira battled to weather the hurricane of sensuality whirling within her.
‘Kiss,’ came a voice, and she managed to open her tear-filled eyes enough to see through a distorted pane of water and bear witness to the object of her ravishment.
Obediently she moved her head forward and kissed the head of the flushed length, before dropping back into her recuperative state.
‘Good girl,’ commented Hyrthuz, the raging shaft retreating, being absorbed into its owner and restoring her previous gender. ‘A fine specimen, seneschal,’ purred the woman, sliding over and exchanging a kiss with the 177
vampiress before rising and returning to her own divan.
‘Did my slave enjoy that?’ asked the seneschal, running the back of her hand over Kira’s temple, and while accepting the touch Kira pulled up her underwear, but before she could answer there was a shrieking cacophony of sound, a merging of tears and rupturing splits that polluted the air, paining the ears with screeching treble and bone-rattling bass.
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