Moonslave (8 page)

‘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

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 they 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, Kira 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.

Opening one of the few cupboards she quickly found an array of suitable crystal goblets, set one on the counter, and danced back to the refrigerator. Looking through the various blood types on offer she finally found the vintage required, and poured a generous measure into the glass.

Replacing the rest of the store she grabbed the goblet and returned with haste to the bedroom.

The seneschal was up and heading to the door as she entered. Recalling her orders, Kira settled onto her knees, holding the glass up and kissing the pointed boots of the seneschal while the woman removed the glass from Kira’s hand.

‘Come with me, slave,’ she stated, marching past, taking a sip from the goblet as she went.

Upon entering the lounge two maids in identical uniforms to Kira appeared, marching through and to the feet of their owner, kissing her boots and each receiving a sound stroke of the crop, which they softly thanked her for.

Stepping before a laptop the seneschal lifted the LCD

cover and activated the device. As it booted up she clicked her fingers at Kira and pointed beside the table.

Kira got down on her hands and knees, her submissiveness somehow accentuated by the plug and the corset, their constant influence making her even more 69

eager to obey and revel in her slavery.

The seneschal indicated one of the high-backed chairs, and anticipating her needs one of the maids pulled it out, turning it slightly to the side to face Kira.

Settling into it the seneschal lifted her legs, crossed them and placing her booted feet onto Kira’s corset.

Holding the glass in one hand she offered it to the nearest maid, using her as a living tray, and the freed hand took the crop, allowing the other to dance upon the small keys.

The chirping sounds of touch-tone dialling filtered from the device, the seneschal making contact with others beyond the palace.

For several hours the two slaves remained in these positions. The seneschal studied and typed sporadically, taking the glass for occasional refreshment. The other maid remained unoccupied.

Kira remained still, blissfully content with her lot, serving to bear her owner’s feet and being treated as such a lowly caste. Even when her arms and legs began to ache from retaining this singular position for so long she did not move, intending not to irk her owner or make her question having released her from the caste of a pet.

Another number was dialled, and this time a voice answered. Kira detected changes of light coming from the screen, suggesting a video feed in addition to the audio.

The image of archaic dwellings and gothic mansions, ancient rituals and spooky attire for vampires had been created by the image of the palace Kira had seen. But they had not denied themselves the benefits of high-tech accoutrements.

‘What?’ demanded a gruff voice with more than a few hints of a Russian accent to it.

‘I take it I’ve caught you at a bad time, Volodia,’ the 70

seneschal said with lightness in her voice.

‘Not really. Your government’s stepping in on one of my ventures. If I don’t get them stopped it’ll fuck everything up. The last thing I need are watchdogs.’

‘Military hardware again?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got buyers lined up around the planet.