Moonslave (13 page)

Her folded legs were pulled tighter together, locked into their position by numerous coils. A single line flipped up, snaring her collar and bending her forward, doubling her up, drawing her into a painful stoop.

Her arms were grabbed and pulled back, the strength of the conjuration’s defeating her with ease. Her elbows were pulled together behind her, and more tendrils slithered down to bind her wrists before the summoned manacles flashed around her waist, wringing her midsection and keeping her firmly pinned into the confined ball.

She felt movement about her throat, and slimy passage across her cheeks before the lines poured into her throat, wriggling down, swelling and stopping up her maw as she gurgled and flung her head about. The eels of smoke used her fight to gauge her resistance, tightening their grips a little more in order to defeat her in full. Then the softness of the bonds vanished as they ceased moving, petrifying, becoming solid like stone, imprisoning and leaving her helpless and bound before the duke.

With a smile he looked over his arcane handiwork and then settled into a kneeling position, closing his eyes and regulating his breathing, slowing his pulse and respiration, sliding into a deep trance.

A few minutes later Kira thought she saw movement 104

in him, a shimmer like heat haze rising from his body, an unseen spectral presence drifting from his body and fading further out of her view.

Left in enforced silence Kira started to strain against her bonds, her body succumbing to aches, of being held in the twisted pose and unable to budge even the slightest.

Whimpering against her gag, her only distraction was playing her muscles against the butt plug, spitting it out a little and swallowing it, a meagre pastime that did little to alleviate the boredom and distress of her confinement.

But it was still a pleasure to the darker recesses of her mind; the knowledge that she was in bondage because she was a slave, that she had submitted to his desire and he wished her to be bound thus. It helped ease her resentment.

The hunger for blood was starting to grow again within her. The longer she remained in bondage the more powerful and pressing the appetite became. The silence of the room started to gather new clarity, the sound of the duke’s pulse, the beat of his life, pushing that which she needed around his veins.

Staring at him, her mouth watering, she began to fight more urgently against her bonds as the hours trailed by.

All she needed was a little, a small amount to sate her, to take the vicious razor edge off her thirst. She was sure he wouldn’t mind. If only she could get free. But her delirious efforts found no success, making her all the more heinously frustrated at her incarceration and the distress in her body.

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The queen shifted in her throne, considering what to do, resting a hand on a fist before rising up and speaking to the seneschal.

Cassandra stood before her, holding an electronic notepad, ready to jot down her decrees and implement them for the illustrious vampiress. It was hard to concentrate. Cassandra not only had her reservations about leaving Kira to the duke, but also the queen’s image was distracting her greatly. Sometimes she thought the queen did this deliberately to tease her most elevated servant, to hold a resplendent icon before its worshipper and never let it be touched.

Standing aloof, the sublime curves of the vampire queen were encased in skin-tight leather, the garments created to fit her with precise comfort. The black polished jacket was a one-piece garment, with stern shoulders and her emblem set on the upper arm in the manner of military insignia. The sleeves descended into gloves and after a high collar it opened into an oval that exposed her cleavage, its depth allowing the most furtive peek at the aureole of her nipples.

The hem dropped as two suspenders, the buckles grabbing her thigh boots, the arch between the two front fastenings allowing a glimpse of her leather thong. Her white locks tumbled down from behind her regal and sinister crown. Dark shades about her eyes emphasised her cold composure, while similar grim cosmetic work served to render her eyebrows and lips ready assistants 106

to an even more callous temperament. Whenever she dressed in such belated styles, Cassandra found herself enchanted by the darkness of her enslaver’s image, by the danger present in surrendering to one so malevolent.

‘Send word to the directors of Turan incorporated. Let them know that they may be facing hostile takeover bids from other west coast operations. You know Christos’

major holdings, pass these over as the most likely candidates. Assure them of my complete support and protection, and remind them that I will not tolerate wavering fealty.’

‘Yes, your majesty,’ said Cassandra, tapping the details onto the pad, the distraction from staring at the queen making her wonder how Kira was doing under the duke.

She hoped nothing happened to change her slave. After finding the truth within the girl, Cassandra did not want her altered in any way. In future she would make sure little Kira was kept under more strict containment, and in privacy. The very thought alone had her grinning subversively, pondering all the new positions she wanted to see Kira’s elegant form twisted into.

‘Have the clan departed?’ asked the queen.

‘Yes, your majesty, they left at sunset. They have agreed in full to the other stipulations in the treaty.’

‘Excellent. Now, what of the sects?’

‘Only one so far. Grandmaster Malekith of the bloodlords has refused a meeting, or even the opening of a dialogue.’

‘A predictable response. He seeks power for himself, I doubt he will negotiate or accept a pact. Mortals can be so fanatic.’

‘Shall I despatch Thanos to slay him, your majesty?’

she offered.

‘No, not yet. The bloodlords are of no real 107

consequence. I have no pressing interest in their holdings.

But just to be sure, have one of our cover agents report in and debrief. If there’s anything up Malekith’s sleeve I want to see it well in advance. Has there been any word from Kitjana?’

‘Sources have revealed that her sanctum was attacked a number of weeks ago by a concerted effort of the shamans of Gaia. Orders of the earth serpent and dragon were involved, and perhaps some from the swan. After all, their head, Eire, is said to have died in an earlier assault on Kitjana’s haven.’

‘The whole trinity in an assault? They must still be pursuing this ridiculous crusade to thwart their prophecy.’

‘It appears so, your majesty.’

‘Any other news on this matter?’

‘No, your majesty. The details are sketchy and there have been some wild and contradictory rumours, but nothing substantial. What are your wishes?’

‘Send an offer of assistance to Kitjana if she still lives.

In addition, just to let the shamans know we are still about, deliver a relevant animal – bitten and drained of blood – to each of the main temples of the trinity, and let’s say, oh, each of the next nine strongest sects. Use my shadow-walkers to have the carcasses placed on their altars without detection.’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

‘Anything else, seneschal?’

‘The matter of the lupine, your majesty. I have had her in containment, with electro-stimulation since she was brought in. What are your wishes, your majesty?’

‘Well, I think I should perhaps pay her a visit. Send a letter of thanks to the duke for his participation in the capture, see to these other matters, and then you may pleasure yourself as you see fit.’

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‘Thank you, your majesty,’ she replied humbly, bowing down and kissing the toe of the queen’s boot, a charming haze trickling through her thoughts as she considered the form of Kira, bound and tied, servicing her and revelling in her erotic subjugation.

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The heavy vault purred open on a lazy swing, unveiling Corin at the heart of the chamber, revealed by the bright spotlight. Splayed, penetrated, sodden with a fevered sweat from the long and arduous process of erotic teasing and diabolical denial, she had not been able to sleep.

Locked to his full wolfen form, Thanos scampered at the boots of the queen, being led on a thick chain into the dark perimeter of the room. It was a little eerie not to be disturbed by the sight of his sister in such stringent and lewd travail; instead, he found himself envying her the attention she was about to receive from his goddess.

He would have traded places with her in a heartbeat.

The queen was still in her leather uniform, the rigid black hide tight upon her magnificent form, emphasising, protecting, and enticing with its polished midnight folds.

Threading his leash through one of the rings by the door she left him crouching in the corner, bathed in the darker shadows, his identity concealed from the desperate eyes of the other lupine.

With hungry eyes he watched the queen stride into the room and walk along Corin’s length, letting a hand trail out and run along her damp skin. Lifting the captured moisture to her lips, she sniffed its panicked bouquet and smiled, unveiling her fangs.

‘Mmmm, just right,’ she said softly, and wiped the salty waters across her tongue. ‘Positively overflowing with frustration…

‘I am the queen,’ she stated, and moved out of the 110

light, her body being swallowed by the darkness as she reached to the wall and opened a concealed cabinet. ‘You belong to me, slave, and to prove this fact I’m going to use your body to amuse me with its suffering. If you are wise you will dedicate yourself to finding pleasure in this.’

‘Please, let me go,’ whimpered Corin, her abdomen jerking with the shocks that pleasured her so but made her insane with the refusal of climax. ‘Please, I’ll leave the city and never come back, I swear to Gaia.’ She was steadily losing her defiance, Thanos could see that well enough. The long hours spent in bondage, sweating within rubber, dwelling on having been tainted with vampire blood, and treated to such pleasures, was shattering the bastion of her dissonance, opening a route to surrender.

The queen did not respond, she merely took out a curved knife, the wicked blade catching light on its edge as she sauntered back to Corin’s spread-eagled physique.

‘Damn you, let me go!’ Corin roared, throwing herself against the bonds, her damp hair flopping with her desperate bid to break free. Again she tried to don a form that would allow her to break free, the rubber croaking as the body within rippled and grew. ‘I’ll kill you all for this, vampire filth!’

On cue the collar erupted into life, throwing blazing arcs of voltage into her, far less kind than the arousing rod sheathed in her belly. Squealing, her change faltered and faded, making her eager flesh settle back into that of a normal woman.

The queen turned from her approach and went back to delve into the cupboard, gathering a gag.

‘This can’t be happening – this
isn’t
happening,’ Corin wept.

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‘Hush, puppy,’ grinned the queen, forcing the large stubby gag into her mouth, taking advantage of her captive’s despair. The soft phallus-shaped length was crammed in, the metal plate which held it pressing to Corin’s lips, the rubber coating of the interior acting as an efficient airtight seal. The moulded rectangle ran below her nose and cupped her chin, then threw out several stern leather straps that held the plate in inviolable place. With detached effort the queen started to fasten them in place, hauling them tight to the lupine’s skull, stopping up her mouth with a fake manhood.

Corin’s eyes were wide as she gurgled and fought to spit out the gag before it was fully established, but with her jaws spread wide and her maw swollen with a plastic phallus she could do nothing. Her teeth ground on the trespassing shaft but could not puncture the soft device.

Her breath started to snort through her nostrils as she found it impossible to sneak air over her insulated lips.

Belts were thrown up to cross her cheeks and connect at her crown, while others ran around her head and over her ears to lock together and seal her cries and words behind a wall of steel. Gasping through her nostrils, Corin’s gloved hands clawed for her bonds, fighting to get her arms lose so she could pull the horrid thing from her face. Her fight to escape escalated when she caught sight of the knife, the queen lifting and letting it waft across her offered torso, the spotlight catching strobe pulses on the shimmering length of the weapon.

The tip descended and picked up the base of her girdle before running along, parting the material as it slowly swept up. The queen enlightened her prisoner as she did so, addressing her with a calm, grim aura, like the stern teacher of a dry subject.

‘The collar you wear is not just to keep you from 112

changing form without permission; it has other functions as well. I can activate whenever I wish, like so…’

Her hand brushed her choker and Corin hollered into the gag, jerking as a brief wash of chastising shock was thrown into her. The queen released the concealed switch and the captive sagged, breathing deeply, exhausted.

‘The longer you defy the collar by changing form or trying to break it the more powerful the intensity of the shock becomes. Eventually it will prove fatal. Also, the collar is linked to my own life. Should I be destroyed, should the beat of my undead heart end, then the collar will activate. You will be drawn through ever increasing agony, paralysed by it until it gathers to such a level that it will kill you,’ she revealed, the blade clearing the neck and then with two deft diversions cut the shoulder straps of the garment.

‘In addition, while within the palace you are safe.

Should you step outside its perimeter without permission, the collar activates. The further you go, the more severe its reprimands, until you either return, or you perish,’

she stated, and unlocked the fastenings of the plugs.

Switching them off, the queen smiled as Corin choked with their removal, the final loss of them dragging at her dry skin, all natural lubrication gone from the duration of her teasing. Placing the devices back in their cupboard, the queen replaced the knife and selected a small black tackle box. She opened the lid and then peeled back the cut folds of rubber to reveal Corin’s naked torso, her chest coated in a slick sheen of perspiration, rising and falling with frightened wheezes, her belly quivering from angst.