Standing on one leg, her hands pinned in the air, a blindfold was tied about Kira’s eyes, plunging her into darkness, and she assumed she had been set in her bondage position. A sigh of relaxation spilled from her lips, glad that she was not being afflicted further.
When she felt the woman tying more rope around her other boot, creating a similar harness, Kira was straining to see through the tight blindfold, to try and spot what the woman was doing. Surely she wasn’t going to be placed in suspension? That level of abuse was only for the most severe level of justice. What was she doing?
Was she disobeying her own rules? Kira started to fret, worrying that she was going to be confined in the air, and she knew that such a fate would be a dreadful one.
The cuffs she wore were inadequate for such a mission, and would dig into her as she dangled, kindling the most distressing pains.
Kira wanted to petition mercy, to ask what her owner was doing, maybe even just to remind her that this was not what she’d asked for. But she had to keep quiet, if she complained, if she showed disobedience, the position might be compounded with spiteful additions.
The rope was drawn out and threaded through one of the low rings on the wall, and the seneschal started to draw Kira’s leg out. The heel dragged at the carpet and her breathing quickened as her balance was eroded.
The woman stopped and tied off the rope, leaving the ankle directly below the cuffed wrist. The position was 196
awful, and Kira grimaced as she tried to get used to it, to tell herself that she should be revelling in this. But it was horribly difficult and panic was setting in; panic that she would be left like this. She prayed that her demerit tally be low, for she couldn’t take much of this in silence.
‘Your first period will be serving time for speaking without permission. Namely, when I was punishing Thanos. There were two distinct counts, but I shall be generous and just punish you once for it.’
‘Thank you, seneschal,’ said Kira with gratitude, bringing a smile to the woman’s lips, as though she had not expected Kira to agree.
When the weapon struck Kira’s inner thigh the leg bucked against the rope, and she choked a cry. The use of the weapon confirmed she was in level two, but the furthest reaches of it as far as Kira was concerned, almost meriting redefinition as level three.
The crop slapped its leather hoop to the other side of her thigh, making her sob. Unable to move, only squirm seductively in her bondage, Kira was served up to her chastisement.
The seneschal paced relentlessly about her, laying down a slow and methodical application, dropping the crop to her hips, her thighs and her rear, torrefying Kira’s skin with its hot kisses until she broke off her battery.
‘Think on your place here, slave,’ she snapped. ‘You speak only when addressed or given permission, understand?’
‘Yes, seneschal,’ muttered Kira, and then squawked as a swipe caught the base of her rear. As she shuddered, letting the storm subside, she heard the door shut and was left to herself and her ordeal. Standing in the enforced darkness she pulled at her restraints, well aware that they 197
were immobile. The gnaw of the cuffs into her wrists was becoming intolerable. Her extended leg began to ache similarly, the perching on top of heels at such an angle proving distressing to her feet.
The pain of the position started to rise, making her gasp and pull, trying to find some way of alleviating it.
She could grab the chains and help ease the crimp into her hands, the digits already tingling with pins and needles from the impediment to circulation. But when she did it lifted her up and carried her to tiptoe, making the position even harder on her leg, and making her arms heat with the strain of holding her up. Muscle fatigue started to continue to rise, eating away her strength until she had to give up and hang loose again. Having let her wrists recover it was time to slump indolently, to give her leg a tiny portion of slack and find a shade of ease.
Again and again she went through this routine, finding it harder each time and the rewards less discernible. The general ache in her physique overwhelmed any relief.
Her bound leg throbbed from being kept cooped up, and any struggle to give it some hint of life only made the crotch rope scrape at her sex.
She wanted to cry out for help, to call for mercy, but she had to hold on. What sort of slave would she be if she broke only moments after being placed in the punishment she herself had earned?
With her head dropped back she gasped and continued to pull and drag, seeing if there was a way to unravel the plexus of rope, to get a leg free, just to alleviate the mayhem being heaped upon her. But the ropes were secure, and her long struggle and twisting did nothing save frustrate her and provide a few minutes of distraction from her trial.
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How many demerits did she have? What else had she done? Speaking without permission was her first crime, but how many others had she unwittingly perpetrated?
Half an hour ended when the seneschal strode back in and stood before Kira. ‘You are now going to serve a duration for breaking out of your uniform and damaging the property of her majesty,’ she decreed, taking a new weapon from the wall. ‘I know you were attacked, but that is no excuse.’
The black rod was thin and flexible, the tip spilling out dozens of slender rubber strings. She began to swing up into Kira’s pudendum, the underhand swipes gently delivered, but searing in their effects because of the sensitive flesh it targeted. Hot shocks leapt through Kira’s womb, making her whimper and writhe. The seneschal applied a dozen strokes, launching them into Kira to have her gasp and whimper until she had been deemed punished sufficiently.
‘You will respect the property of the queen. Aggression will not be tolerated. You are here to serve. We have warriors, we have assassins, we do not require slaves to adopt the traits required of these castes,’ stated the woman, and again left Kira to dwell on her crime.
How she wished Thanos were here, to make love to her again, to let her feel his raging sex pounding into her. It had been an experience of superlative delight that was burned into her mind. She didn’t know whether it was love or just obsessive lust, but there were other things that attracted her to him. He too was besotted with queen, just as she was to Cassandra, who in turn treated them both to her contempt. Also, they were trophy pieces, set apart from the other denizens of the palace.
Her hands and feet were numb by the time the seneschal 199
next entered, her body wracked by shudders of distress.
She couldn’t take any more, she just couldn’t.
‘Now, slave, the next part of your punishment is for that episode with Thanos. I don’t know exactly what went on, but for concealing it from me I am going to give you a full hour to think about your felony.’
The crop began to attack Kira’s breasts with skimming touches, sending hot flashes through the flesh, making the orbs bounce and sway as Kira struggled. She mewled in shock as she was spanked so cruelly, the rest of her body being further pained by the bondage as she fought the restraint.
With Kira’s breasts pulsating with havoc, the woman ceased her maltreatment and reached out, cupping one of them in her gloved hand, massaging it with admiring gentleness.
‘You will always tell me the truth. You will not hide anything from me, slave. I own you, I own everything about you, even your memories and your deeds. If I want to know something, anything, you will reveal it without hesitation, distortion, or exaggeration. Is that understood, slave?’ she said, her words becoming severe, and her caress became a fierce pinch towards the end of her speech. The clamp of leather digits made Kira whimper and scowl, grinding her teeth in endurance.
‘Yes, seneschal.’
Kira weighed up her choices as the woman strode for the door. Should she speak? Should she ask for mercy?
It was sorely tempting. Yes, she had to, it was worth the risk. She was sure that if she applied herself to pleading in earnest, the woman would take pity on her.
Opening
her mouth, she was stopped as the door closed, her frightened meditation on the subject having made 200
her miss the opportunity. Cursing her weakness she started to sob as she continued to hang, her body filled with mayhem.
The hour that passed was like a year, every second drawn out by her continuing and rising pain. It was purgatory she couldn’t bear, and her pledge to be utterly obedient from now on was made with all her conviction.
She couldn’t face this again. Her mistakes had been accidental, but if she’d only been aware of the severity of the demerit sessions, then she was sure she would have remembered and evaded making these errors.
Just as the bondage was eroding her sanity and making her delirious, the door opened suddenly.
‘Please, seneschal, please, I can’t take any more! Show mercy, I’ll be good, I’ll never disobey you again, I’ll do anything,’ she stammered, tears soaking the blindfold.
Kira let out a yell of pain as the crop stung her inner thigh. The weight leant to the stoke made her head roll back as she sobbed, the pounding welt continuing to make itself known to her in great clarity.
‘I was coming to set you free, slave, but since you have opted to speak without permission, I can see you need more time to learn your lesson.’
‘Seneschal, please,’ she sobbed, distraught at the prospect of more time in this hell.
‘Okay, you’ve just earned yourself another demerit, taking it to another hour in here. Do you want to go for one and a half, or will you do as you’re told?’
Kira snapped her mouth shut, her lips quivering as she bit on her words, fighting to keep silent, her body wailing for her to continue, to plead, to seek freedom, lie, do anything she could to get free. But the seneschal was merciless, and would continue to extend Kira’s sentence 201
as long as she refused to show complete obedience.
The seneschal listened to Kira’s hesitant reticence for a short time, tempting her to continue, a tease she refused.
‘Good,’ she stated flatly, the clink of wood on wood sounding as she gathered some anonymous implements for use. ‘Now, slave, instead of a beating, I’m going to give you something to help you remember for every second of this next hour.’
The taste of leather came to Kira’s lips as the woman took hold of them, pinching them together and pulling out a little before capturing them in a peg. The compression squeezed them tight and held them shut.
Again the seneschal squeezed her lips before laying another peg in place, the second resting against the first.
Another was set on the other side and Kira moaned, the bite of the pegs as they crushed her lips making her sob, unable to open her mouth and release her cry.
A fourth and fifth caught the last edges and sealed the corners of her mouth, stopping her from doing anything save groan in futile rasps.
The cold pound in her flesh started to grow more stern with every passing second, and she wondered how she was to endure this for a full hour. The seneschal stepped away and deserted her, the stabbing thumps of sensation in her lips now rising to rival the keen ache that plagued the rest of her form.
The hour she spent in bondage was the longest hour she had ever known, and she wept tears of dismay as she was left to face it alone. Slowly she grew more used to the pegs, feeling only a slow heartbeat through her crushed flesh, making the bondage position the far more terrible of the two to endure.
Eventually, after her eternity of travail, the door opened 202
and the seneschal stepped before her. Hands brushed her blindfold and it was taken away, revealing the woman still clad in her police uniform. Kira looked across the shimmering latex and the crisp shirt, aching to kiss and fondle it, enslaved by her beauty and unrelenting sadism.
‘Have you learned your lesson, slave?’ she quizzed.
Kira nodded weakly, offering her agreement as best she could.
‘Very well, we’ll see if you have or not,’ she decreed, and removed one of the pegs. Kira released a murmur of pain as the flash of returning circulation made her scowl.
Another came free, and another, each loss being announced with the same nova burst of distress.
Licking her dry lips, she sucked in each one and mulled over its aching membranes, comforting them in her mouth.
The seneschal leant down and opened the ropes at her foot, setting it free. With a maximum effort Kira tried to bring it under her, but it would hardly move, so used had it become to this single position.
With several hissing drags she managed to get it under her and with a shove she managed to take up some of her body weight, letting a little relief enter her strangled wrists.
The woman opened the crotch rope, releasing it, letting Kira’s foot plummet and drop beside the other. Wobbling on her heels, it further aided in standing upright, to wait patiently as the woman inserted keys and simultaneously popped the locks of her wrist cuffs.
Her fainéant legs folded under the new weight, unable to handle it. She collapsed into a twisted ball, her hands and legs resounding with prickling riots of restoration.
Holding them to her she wept in a pitiful fit.
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The boot of her tyrant stepped before her eyes, and obediently she leant forward and kissed its smooth leather surface. Now she was free she felt wonderful. The alleviation of such stress threw her to a new high, the act of merely being loose such a contrast to her pain that it was an intense pleasure.
‘Thank you, seneschal,’ she muttered with genuine appreciation, glad to have been trained, in having been shown the error of her ways and rededicated to obedience.
‘Good, slave,’ she said softly, letting Kira adore her footwear as strength slowly returned to her limbs.
Lapping at the soft leather, Kira rolled her tongue up and down the firm calves, down the heel, encircling the towering dagger as the woman loomed over her like some avenging seraphim of darkness.
‘Now let’s get you back into your uniform,’ she stated, applying a leash to Kira’s collar and walking away, towing Kira from her position on all fours.
Scampering in her wake, Kira’s eyes were locked to the image of the walking Seneschal, her mind seething with possibilities of what she wanted to do. To lap at the latex stems of her legs, to be smothered under that glorious rear, to suffer pain as she had just endured, just to earn the right to take a single lick at her sex.
The latex was mesmerising as its stretched lines tilted one way, then another. The fabric of the skirt rolled upon her muscles, her legs taut with her bold strides beneath the black shell that was impermeable to Kira’s touch.
The rigid lines of her skirt and the authoritative attire added to her already imposing regnant.
Leaving the discipline chamber they entered the passage beyond, where they saw a maid with dustpan and broom, grooming the carpet with attentive effort.
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Sealed in a latex catsuit, a skirt revealed through its tightness the bulges of her chastity belt. A short hobble chain connected her ankles, and she was perched atop ballet boots to make her lot more difficult. A white apron and matching head-dress completed the attire. Her features were emphasised by dark shades, and her long blonde hair was tied into a rigid plait that was itself tied with red ribbon, the only hint of colour to her monotone appearance. She stopped as soon as she saw the seneschal and adopted a humble kneeling pose, her head lowered in respect.
The woman paused and extended a boot, letting the slave kiss the toe. A lick of the crop sank into her rear, making her whimper as the seneschal continued to pass, applying capricious spite to keep the girl dedicated to her job. After a moment of tensed recovery she went back to her task, watching Kira from the corner of her eye.
The main room was exposed to Kira once more, and at the clapping summons of the seneschal the males once more emerged.
‘Yes, seneschal?’ they said, bowing again and kissing her boots with reverence.
‘Put this slave in her chastity belt, and install a new
pup uniform,’ she ordered, moving back and settling into one of her nest-like chairs, lounging to watch the process unfold once more.
Again Kira beheld the steel confines of sexual incarceration, her eyes closing with dismay at the sight of it.
Lubrication was applied, and as she stood still and accepting of the will of the seneschal, they applied the waistband, and then pressed the crotch band into place, 205
making her cry out at the feel of its entry.
A latex uniform was brought out, and again the males started to put her in the sleeves and stockings, sliding her into the garment, locking it in place, stealing away her manual dexterity and trapping her on her knees.
When they withdrew from her she was again a latex-bound canine, but one considerably more broken-in than before.
Kira looked up with adoring eyes as the seneschal slithered from her nest and walked around her quaking pet, studying her, confirming that all was in place before again taking up the leash.
‘With all that commotion and distraction I never made it to my meeting,’ she revealed, speaking more to herself than her pet. ‘The head slaves will still be waiting, though; they would not dare leave until I arrive.’
With a tug to the lead Kira was drawn out of the room, scampering on her knees. Shown through the labyrinth she was delivered to a set of double doors, the portal spreading itself to reveal a meeting room. The bleak walls of the heptagonal chamber were barren, but in each corner a female slave was strapped inverted into the angular shallow. With their arms stretched out before them so that fingers could just graze the floor, their heads were sealed within tight hoods, a pipe spilling from the mouth and snaking into the wall. Other than their cuffs and collar, they were naked save for one final and functional addition.
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