Queen and Thanos | Moon slave 2 | vampire bdsm stories

The woman straightened with a scowl that faltered and faded as Kira started to diligently tickle the tender morsel.

Her hands clamped to the sides of the fridge, squeezing the bag she had selected. The seneschal’s legs shuddered beneath her as Kira delved deeper, using every strategy she could, everything the queen had taught her and what she had seen work so well on Corin.

‘Oooh, bad pup,’ the seneschal murmured, her fury evaporating.

Kira kept her eyes wide, intending not to miss any of this close examination of the owner she so adored but who had only ever despised her as another rival for the queen’s attention.

‘ Bad pup, ooh so naughty,’ she groaned, her head lolling back, her mouth dropping open as she sighed and clenched more forcefully to the metal fridge, making it shiver and start to dent inward with the pressure of her inhuman strength.

The taste of the seneschal was like nectar, and Kira let the flavour wash through her. It was the feeling of servicing the person she adored so much, a person of power and cruelty who had presented her to the most rigorous ordeals, who had set her in this uniform and kept her as a lowly beast. Obsession seemed somehow inadequate to describe her feelings towards the sublime female; it went beyond that.

‘Yes, oh yes, that’s it, pup,’ she purred, feeling Kira give a few playful nips before returning to a steady flitting kiss. ‘Such a skilful tongue,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I hadn’t realised you were so well educated, my little pet.’

A gloved hand reached across Kira’s head, holding it, keeping Kira straining forward into the humid zone under the skirt, kissing and licking, the woman wet with desire.

The sight of the seneschal, arched back, her shirt tight across her, her rear hovering before Kira’s eyes, wreathed in latex, the smell of it as strong as the scent of her sex, it was the most intoxicating thing Kira had ever seen.

Such an angelic vision drove her on to new heights of achievement in her cunnilingus, making the seneschal shake and moan with pleasure.

‘Slaves!’ the woman roared, her words making Kira flinch with their urgent severity, and a moment later a pair of maids burst through the door, still carrying their cleaning brushes and brooms. Both were sealed within a comprehensive catsuit that hid hands, heeled feet and head. Apertures for their mouths were loaded with ball gags, their visors were mirrored, and small white aprons encircled their rubber corseted waists. Unable to affirm their subservience with words they dropped to their knees before her, their hidden eyes no doubt wide at the shocking sight of the puppy attending their owner.

‘Get this slave out of that uniform!’ she barked, making them scuttle forward and start to remove the latex bonds from Kira’s form.

Continuing her attentions, she kept her act unbroken, afraid that if she stopped the woman would change her mind and re-condemn her, and add numerous other punishments for her snatching of such liberties. She had not cared what the seneschal might do to her when she first reached in to try and appease her, but now Kira had been taken aback by the woman’s response and she saw a way out for herself where previously there had been none.

This could be a turning point in her slavery, an elevation to a new and more fulfilling caste, maybe even the removal of the chastity belt. The very thought of such freedom had her fixating her every thought on how to 32 please the seneschal, the light at the end of the tunnel reaching her gaze, which until now had been firmly lost within the gloom of embittered slavery.

The gloves and stockings were dragged free, her flesh sighing with relief at finally being set loose of the stifling layers. If she had been mortal, or even a ghoul, she would probably be a mass of pruned flesh by now, soaked with sweat.

The leotard opened up and she was forced to break contact to allow it to be removed. The leash was unclipped and the hood and tight garment slipped from her body.

‘Wait,’ snapped the seneschal, putting her hand to Kira’s forehead, stopping her from returning to continue.

A pang of concern swept through the slave, worried that she had broken the mood and was now going to be chastised for it.

The seneschal snatched the leash from a maid and clapped it back into place on Kira’s bared collar. With a yank she pulled, making the edges sting Kira’s throat and bring her back to her feet.

The seneschal looked deep into Kira’s eyes, trying to read whether her slave was genuine in this matter or not, wondering if it was just a ploy to exploit and appease her owner. The only thing on Kira’s mind was adoration of her tyrant, and she hoped that this was all the woman beheld. This seneschal was centuries old, she could see truth in the minutiae of others, things even the most practised mortal liar could not hide.

The seneschal reeled her in and embraced her, placing her lips to those of Kira, letting her tongue emerge and meet that of her slave. The exchange deepened and flared with new passion, the two letting their hands wander and explore the flesh of the other, groping so that they 33 might know every detail of their partner as completely as they knew their own.

Kira felt the gloved digits of the seneschal moving up and down her back, before cupping her buttocks, squeezing each cheek, then her breasts, appraising the sculptured physique of her property.

Kira in turn let her hands wander. At first she was cautious and slow, unsure of whether she would be permitted to do this, her fingers brushing lightly against the tight latex skirt of the woman, feeling the impermeable polished sheet.

A hand grabbed her wrist and steered it up to a breast, leaving it there, giving Kira permission to act. The stark shirt was not all she wore, and Kira could feel a gloss bra beneath the material, covering the delicious breasts she had worshipped from afar for so long, and had dreamed of touching like this.

Once Kira had savoured the sensation long enough the seneschal grabbed the flaps of the shirt and yanked, sending buttons dancing across the tiled floor of the kitchen. Stripping it off she revealed her pale torso, the bra being one with buckled straps flinging over her shoulders, its plunging design revealing her breasts almost in their entirety along with her deep and glorious cleavage. A silver necklace bore a small key; her only jewellery save her perpetual collar.

Tugging off her gloves she placed a hand into Kira’s hair, raising it to her crown and using it to pull her face into the offered valley. Nuzzling between the pale soft mounts, Kira kissed lovingly and smelt the subtle perfume of her skin.

The necklace was ripped off and the key started to fumble at her belt, trying to seek the release slot. Kira sobbed with delight as she felt the locks spring open, 34 casting the accursed device of sexual incarceration from her. The dildos slithered free with a clench and strain of her sphincters, and the rigid band clanged on the floor to be joined a moment later by the waistband.

Thus Kira was left solely in her collar and set of cuffs, jewellery she was far less hateful of.

The seneschal flung her cap aside, the whirling hat being caught by one of the maids, the two of them now kneeling to one side, watching with hunger as the affair continued to inflame upon itself.

Slipping off her skirt, it fell about the seneschal’s ankles, and lifting one foot from it she used the other to throw it away, leaving her only in her stockings, collar, bra and tall boots.

Dragging down with the leash she brought Kira back to her knees, her hands clasping the ankles of her owner’s leather boots as she looked up with awe into the face of her beautiful tyrant.

Grabbing the back of a chair the seneschal pulled it out from the table and sat on it, splaying her legs and inviting Kira in.

With an innocent smile Kira lowered and traced her fingers along the latex thighs, feeling the flesh tightly submerged beneath. Her face settled at the knee and licked along, the rubber spreading its spicy tang through her mouth as she painted a wet line before crossing onto skin. Slotting between the closing thighs, the woman grasped with the limbs, holding Kira tight between them.

As Kira adored the woman with a playful tongue, one of the seneschal’s hands ran through Kira’s hair. The other reached beneath her bra and began to play her nipples, the gloss rippling with the play of digits beneath it. The seneschal’s head was drooped back, gasping as Kira continued to delve deep, using her tongue in 35 imitation of a phallus before returning to flit and kiss, suckle and nip.

‘Give me that, slave!’ she ordered, pointing to one of the maids, and then to the dropped bag of vitality. The maid shuffled forward, her body shaking with desire, the erotic display driving her mad with need as she handed over the store. Opening the nozzle the seneschal leant back and tipped it, squeezing it gently to let a thin trickle emerge onto her cleavage. The dark lines of stolen life started to wind down her skin, following the gradient towards her loins, Kira’s eyes wide at the sight heading down towards her.

The thin rivers connected and started to gather speed as more was dribbled onto her. The lines cleared her navel, forming a small pool there before travelling on to Kira’s lips, a lethargic waterfall of pilfered life.

The taste of mortal essence was amazing, sending a jarring throe of power through Kira’s body. She moaned in her own relish, making the seneschal air choking gasps as her tongue found new enthusiasm from the sudden influx of force.

The cocktail of the seneschal’s damp sex and the feed of vitality had Kira lapping up the slow flow, stealing everything the seneschal bestowed her. Rising, Kira started to devour the rest of the trail, following the proffered path up towards the woman’s breasts, her hands dropping to replace her tongue’s work.

Her fingertips circled upon the stiff nugget of flesh, the other hand stroking moist labia, tickling and teasing with glee, the hands possessed of their own automatic skill, almost moving without her influence or will.

The seneschal pulled down the cups of her bra, using the furled material to lift the assets for easier attention.

Kira accepted them immediately, letting the tip of her 36 tongue brush each point, her set of four fangs exposed, the glow of her fiercely raging eyes setting their aura onto the seneschal’s pale flesh.

‘Ah, my sweet brood,’ marvelled the seneschal upon witnessing the credentials of Kira’s status.

With a grin Kira began moving in and swallowing up the whole summit, treating each in turn. The feel of them growing harder against her suckling attention was glorious, the taste of raw life seeping into her body adding a wonderful spice to the deed.

The leather and latex coated legs of the seneschal locked about Kira’s back, holding her tight, keeping her in place as she dedicated herself to the pleasure of the seneschal. The weeping bag was lifted higher, letting a few drops spatter her neck and tight collar before the seneschal held it over her own lips, drinking deep of the contents, and when a flickering orgasm bored through her she started to quaff, crushing the bag in a fist, causing it to leak beyond her capacity to drink of its contents.

Streams of red ran down her cheeks and throat, drawing Kira’s hunger, a lure she could not resist, the molten ruby streams sparkling, entrancing her, seizing control of her by her eternal thirst.

Rising, the latex thighs slipped against her, making her shiver before she let her tongue roll up her owner’s throat, across the defined cheeks of the seneschal to her lips.

A lapping attention stole more of the spilt life, the woman also licking her soaked lips before their tongues brushed and chose to return to their intricate dance.

Kira’s hands took hold of the offered breasts, her thumb circling the teats, playing them as her fingers absorbed the feel of the soft skin.

The seneschal reached up under her slave, dropping 37 the drained bag, the lingering dregs more than enough to occupy them for now. The freed hands gathered beneath and skipped across Kira’s breasts, causing her to gasp at the tenderness before the woman began to apply more substantial caresses.

The legs unfolded from her back, and the seneschal dropped aside, sprawling onto the floor, dragging Kira with her, restoring the same position on the new territory of the tiles.

On her knees, Kira was leant over the woman she loved, kissing her wildly, her hands helping themselves to the arrays of breast, obsessed with their feel.

The seneschal returned the tease of nipples, and lifted a leg between Kira’s. Putting the knee to her own ribs she then reached down again, letting her booted shin slither between Kira’s parted legs. The feel of the polished hide riding through her sex, slithering with her ample lubrication had Kira throw her head up and cry out, the shocking detonation of long denied pleasure crippling her for a moment with its intensity.

‘Yes, slave, that’s it, let it out,’ crooned the woman as the shin started to ride back and forth, buffeting her clitoris, making Kira sob and fight to stay still, the pleasure almost too much to take.

To be handled by such a goddess, one for whom Kira’s most fervid and generous fantasies never permitted her to surpass merely licking her boots, was a treasure beyond all others. Kira felt as though she should be expecting to wake up at any moment, to snap out of this impossibly grand dream.

With a sudden pull and push of limbs the seneschal rolled, reversing their positions. Hands grabbed her wrists and pinned them down, the woman holding Kira against the tiles, her eyes full of desire.

Kira gave little struggles to prove her helplessness and then arched her spine, her mouth open with a silent wail as a latex-sheathed thigh slid between her legs and started to shift with small piston moves, stroking her with its cool surfaces.

‘Oh seneschal!’ she wept, trying to lift her arms, giving a deliberately lost fight against her owner’s grapple.

‘You want me, slave?’ whispered the woman, lowering her head slightly. Regarding Kira from under a furrowed brow, the seneschal licked her lips like some ravenous predator awaiting permission to begin the devouring of its prey after a prolonged hunt.

‘Please, seneschal, I love you, I want you more than anything,’ Kira whimpered, her words full of beseeching, desperate to be believed, the stroking of her sex by the smooth latex a truth agent she could not resist.

‘You want to be mine forever?’ she uttered, pressing more sternly and then returning to the gentlest tickle of her loins. ‘You want to grovel at my heels, beg for the slightest touch of my flesh?’

‘Yes!’ she howled with urgency. ‘Yes, make me yours!

I’ll do anything you want, seneschal!’ There was a flash of fangs and needle teeth broke the skin of her neck.

Kira screamed in ecstasy, the delight of being so mercilessly penetrated, of having her vitality stolen by her owner, of having her most beloved seneschal stealing her strength with a piercing kiss.

Taking a swift draught of Kira’s essence, the woman broke away and seemed to recoil, shaking, overwhelmed by sudden intense spasms as she continued to hold the panting donor down.

‘Oh, it’s… it’s…’ she began, the words slipping over her quivering lips before she flung herself into an animal howl, casting her head up, her jaws stretched wide, a 39 shriek of utmost bliss spilling from her throat, shaking the air. The effects of Kira’s blood were so powerful that it had almost overcome her with the sheer savagery of the energy sent though her body. By draining Kira’s life she had unwittingly accessed a soul reborn with kinship to the most primal vampires, the lords of their kind, those arcane beings first tainted by the curse in its most virulent form.

The woman went slack upon her for a moment, shaking, almost seeming on the verge of overdose. Then, slinking back, she pulled herself away, kissing down Kira’s front, the brush of her lips a glorious feeling, the wound on Kira’s neck already sealing itself.

Kira’s eyes fluttered closed as she felt the seneschal slip between her legs, pushing the naked thighs further apart and nestling within. The woman’s tongue was slender and pointed, dextrous and educated through centuries of long service to the queen.

The warm flashes were astounding, causing Kira to throw her arms out and scratch at the tiles, her legs stiff, her stomach muscles jolting to attention, making her buck under the delving tongue. In the corners of her eyes she could see the maids, their tensed forms ferocious with appetite, hungering to do something other than sit in the malediction of chastity and observe such a debauched display of indulgence. Kira did not need to see their camouflaged eyes to tell that they were wide, tear filled, with the pupils like wells of darkness as they fixed to the sight before them.

The seneschal arose, licking her lips, lifting a breast and serving it to Kira’s wanton sex. The nipple slipped through her labia, the hard teat gliding along as a prow, and after skipping off her raised clitoris the seneschal continued to tease with it. The feeling of the breast 40 committing this deed, tickling and filling her with the most delicious bursts of sensation, was almost too much to bear, and Kira almost wished she were restrained so she would not have to fight to stay still.

With a sigh of satisfaction the seneschal employed her other breast, her spare hand now reaching down, a raised finger clawing through Kira’s buttocks and squirming into her rear, tickling her innards, ducking back and forth as a tiny and frenetic phallus.

‘Tell me again, slave,’ she growled through a hungry grin. ‘Tell me how you regard your owner.’

The fact that Kira adored her so had clearly been a complete surprise, and she wanted to have it confirmed again and again. ‘I love you, seneschal. I’ll do anything to please you, to make you happy. I never want to see you upset,’ she cried, the words slipping free without any thought; unfiltered, unconsidered.

‘Is that why you disobeyed?’ she purred, the words clearly not an accusation, just a playful threat to have Kira continue her confirmations. ‘Is that why you dared to lick me? Your owner?’

‘I had to do something, seneschal. You’re so beautiful, so perfect, and you were so angry. It was worth risking your wrath to try and make you feel better, seneschal. I know I’m not the queen, but I can try and please you. I’ll do whatever I can,’ she mewled, another finger joining in, the paired digits offering more substantial play.

‘You think my lust for her is absurd, don’t you, slave,’ she stated rather than questioned, for Kira had seen her reactions, had been subjected to the jealous rage, and Cassandra wanted to know what Kira thought of it.

‘No, seneschal,’ replied Kira, moaning as she felt the finger return, joined by another to slide through her labia, sheath themselves in juice and then slide into her rear. ‘I 41 had the same feelings, but I gave them up.’

‘Gave them up? You dropped a set of such intense feelings just because it suited you? I doubt that very much, slave,’ coldly stated the seneschal, spreading the three fingers to have Kira unleash squeaks, the pitch raising even higher as the nipple danced swift swirls on her clitoris.

‘I could have pledged myself to being the queen’s, but I’ve seen what that’s done to you and Thanos, what it would do to me, what it’ll do to Corin. I… I…’ Kira was suddenly stumbling on her words, second thought pausing her as she reconsidered her revelation.

‘Speak, slave,’ said the seneschal, and removed the breast, restoring her tongue instead, the soft bites to Kira’s genitalia making her croak and continue with speed, the words forced out.

‘I want you!’ she cried, the words dragged out, the confession plain. ‘I want you, instead. I want someone who’ll not desert me, get bored with me. I know you hate me because of the queen’s interest, but seneschal, I don’t want her, I want you.’

The seneschal stopped suddenly, frozen by the words, thrown from her interrogation by the results. ‘I… I didn’t hate you, slave,’ she offered, her voice shaking slightly, the realisation that her irrational jealously had so acutely affected someone. Even though she had treated Kira with nothing but contempt, she was startled to find that this gorgeous creature, a brood vampire, had merely loved her without reservation despite her unjust sadism.

‘Please, seneschal, don’t,’ Kira sobbed, her back lifting, creating an arch held aloft by shoulders and buttocks as the seneschal rubbed a breast against her, and added a fourth finger to her trespass. ‘I know you did. I’m sorry, seneschal, I never meant to make you angry with me. I 42 just wanted to try and impress you, to make you not hate me, I wanted you to be cruel, I wanted to be yours, and when you were beating me and tormenting me it made me feel that I was.’

‘All those things I did to you out of envy,’ pondered her owner. ‘Yet still you loved me anyway?’

‘I wanted you to treat me that way because you wanted to, not because of some vendetta,’ stated Kira, taking hold of her own breasts, playing the nipples.

The seneschal returned to feast on the sex of her slave, her tongue working deep, her fingers rocking gently back and forth, making the resistant flesh more amiable to the penetration. ‘Come with me, slave,’ she said without inflexion, grabbing the hoop of Kira’s collar and pulling her up to her feet.

Kira said nothing and merely complied, her body light, wafting upon air as she was led out of the room.

‘Clear up that mess, slaves,’ snapped the seneschal to her maids, the door whirring shut as Kira was taken across the lounge to the other door. The unknown portal opened to a new destination for Kira, showing her a brief passage, a door in each wall, with another located at the end. The sheet obediently drew aside at their approach, revealing the bedroom of the seneschal. The room was a deep vibrant purple, mixing the coldness of a blue with the fury of a wild red to create a luscious hue. Carpeted in thick black, halfway across three steps led up to raise the second portion of the room. Each angle of the steps was fitted with a string of optic cable that glowed with sombre radiance, revealing the steps more clearly in the purveying gloom of the interior. A yard-wide path had been left around the sunken square pit that served as Cassandra’s vast bed, the one-foot drop reaching her large inviting mattress. With bright satin sheets of lush blue 43 and striking red it was the most eye-catching part of the room, with similar pillows and a ring of small lamps set in the wall, casting a dull crimson glow across its surfaces.

The rest of the room bore a walk-in closet on each wall of the lower area, the doors being tinted mirrors.

Other than these primary furnishings the room was empty, following the minimal style the seneschal seemed to prefer.

Drawing her slave up the stairs by the collar, the seneschal swung Kira down onto the covers, the mattress sinking beneath her, incredibly soft, more like a giant cushion than a sprung mattress.

The seneschal sat on the lip of this luxurious pool of material and colour and unzipped her boots, removing them, remaining in her stockings as she prowled onto the bed and closed upon Kira. Hauling her in the woman again demanded kisses, and Kira became like fluid in her grasp, melting into the embrace, overwhelmed. Their lips started to explore wider, running across neck and collar, cheeks, suckling on earlobes, using every portion of skin to draw pleasure from.

Pushing Kira down the seneschal straddled her face, sliding into place, the latex-sheathed thighs lowering into position to engulf Kira. Throwing her tongue back to the task, she shook as hands massaged her breasts and then started to move down, the seneschal flopping forward and burrowing in to give mutual oral attention.

The two stroked and clasped each other, drowning their senses in a banquet of flesh. Kira pawed at the seneschal’s firm rear and thighs, the feel of the smooth skin and tight latex adding immeasurably to her arousal.

The seneschal had her hands spill up and down Kira’s legs, the softest skimming touch tickling the skin, sending 44 flickering jolts through her anatomy. A hand leapt aside, touching the raised step about the bed, turning a panel and exposing a small cabinet, the bed surrounded by an arena of hidden stores.

The seneschal lifted away from Kira, letting her gasp for new breath, the situation seeming to demand such an unneeded consideration for air. Licking her lips she looked up, her body charged with a raging libido. Her eyes rolled with glee as she saw the seneschal slipping a harness about her girth. The leather straps were placed about her thighs and waist, presenting two ribbed jelly dildos in opposite directions. The inward facing implement was threaded into the seneschal, the vampiress quivering with its insertion as she tightened the straps further into position, ensuring enough slack to guarantee a decent amount of manipulation. With the crotch plate set in place, the black ribbed rod that spilled forth bobbed as she made her way back to Kira.

Taking one of Kira’s wrists she pulled her over, flipping her onto her front before descending upon her back, clapping hands to her wrists and holding tight. Kira’s mouth draped open as she was trapped beneath the body of the seneschal. The soft pliant length was dragged across her rear, rubbing her buttocks, the pliant gel-like sculpture vibrating as it clung to her skin.

Drawing aim, the seneschal used her feet to help splay Kira’s legs, pulling them apart and then settling between.

With a few prods she pushed the head of the dildo to Kira’s sex and started to push. The ribs pounded Kira’s tracts, the rod sliding deep, filling her acutely. Moaning aloud with rapture, her body started to shudder as the hips of the seneschal bumped her rear. ‘ Yes, seneschal, take me,’ she begged, pulling her arms against the fierce strength of her owner, her cheek pushing into the soft 45 folds of the bed, burying her face as she quaked with rhapsody.

The seneschal began her leisurely thrusts, drawing almost to the point of extraction before gliding back in, stuffing Kira with the gentle length, its soft tip pressing against her limits. Her pace began to gather speed, accelerating slowly, Kira’s tracts heating from the rhythmic intrusion, a glowing presence seeping out through her body. The ravishing was amazing, more so for the source delivering it to her.

The seneschal broke into random paces, her coherent rate distorted as orgasm gouged through her, the dildo riding against her bringing out rushes of ecstasy. Kira writhed, her bare body a luscious sight to the dominatrix riding her, holding her down, keeping her under control as she was penetrated. ‘Does my slave want to taste something new?’ whispered the seneschal into Kira’s ear, her voice racing upon adrenaline and lust.

‘Yes, yes, seneschal, do whatever you wish, I am yours, I’ll do anything for you,’ blurted Kira, the words driven out by the slow sinking plunge of the phallus.

‘Then stay still,’ she ordered, placing kisses down Kira’s neck and back. With a sudden flight the dildo fled, the abrupt loss throwing a wild spasm through Kira as the seneschal rolled to the wall once more.

‘Eyes down, slave,’ she warned, spying Kira covertly looking around to try and see what she was retrieving.

Obediently, Kira restored her gaze to the sheets, moist patches of her tears before her.

The indention of the seneschal settled between her wide legs again, the woman moving back into position. Hands touched her rear, opening her buttocks, revealing her tender sphincter. A sphere about an inch and half in diameter leant itself to the opening and was slowly pushed 46 in. Her anus started to stretch wider and wider, little flickers of distress spilling through the opening.

‘Seneschal, oh please, mercy…’ she whimpered, knowing she could take more, but it felt good to whimper.

‘Almost there, slave,’ she crooned, applying more strength until the widest part of the ball was pushed past her opened sphincter. ‘Just a little more, you can take it.’

With a choked moan Kira felt her rear swallowing the orb, gathering it in until the muscular ring was holding to a thin cord. Instantly she broke into rapid gasps, her breath rushing in and out on pants, her mouth wide, her eyes fluttering from the experience.

‘Are you ready for another, slave?’ the seneschal asked, placing the next ball on the string to the flexing orifice.

‘Oh yes, seneschal,’ she purred, her hands taking fists of the sheets, holding them as reigns while the next was pushed into her.

It was a most unexpectedly delightful feeling, the opening of her rear, the slight pain as the widest part sought access. But the most glorious chapter of the insertion was when the seneschal let go and her own rear hungrily devoured the orb, hauling it in and pressing it against those already stationed within.

‘You want the next one, slave?’ the vampiress asked, Kira’s arms tense as she pulled at the material of the bed, her knuckles white.

‘Yes, seneschal,’ she confirmed, her buttocks clenching, chewing upon the inserted orbs, the cord starting to slip in, drawing in the next as she was meticulously stuffed. This time she gave a little opposition, just to have it defeated. Squeezing her ring she sought to barricade her insides, defend them from more invasion.

‘Resist all you want, slave,’ commented the seneschal with a wry smile, knowing the opposition was half-hearted. ‘You can’t deny me.’

A slow and relentless shove dragged open the orifice and Kira released a drawn subdued squall, her teeth clenched tight, her squeeze serving to wrench the orb into her.

‘One more, slave,’ the seneschal revealed, and placed the last to Kira’s rear. Again she offered her defiance, trying harder this time, an act to which the seneschal merely aired a knowing chuckle and added a sudden driving stab, making Kira’s rear jerk as the sphere settled in with the others.

The seneschal took hold of the metal hoop to which the cord was fastened and began to give little tugs. The string of beads pulled at Kira, teasing her sphincter from the inside. Shivering on the sheets, her legs wriggling, Kira moaned and pulled her arms in under her, her fingers grabbing her collar, desperate for any sort of handhold against such play. With an invidious smirk she manipulated the last sphere and strained, spitting it out, aching to feel the process of insertion again.

‘Bad, slave,’ purred the seneschal, and Kira let out a shocked squeak as a heavy smack landed on her rear. A moment later another followed, and another, the seneschal conducting a swift spanking as payment for the misdemeanour.

‘Back we go,’ she muttered, stopping her chastisement and pushing the orb back in, watching as Kira craned her head back, her eyes clenched shut, a silent howl frozen on her lips as she relished the sensations being heaped upon her. With a swift knot the seneschal applied a length of thin cord to the hoop, and looped it back through a riveted ring within the cupboard before 48 returning to Kira.

Turning her charge over she cast Kira’s legs apart, opening her sex to the ravishing dildo once more, save that now, by pulling on the cord in her grasp, the reversed length could tug at the inserted string of beads.

Once again Kira’s wrists were grabbed, the seneschal moving into position and then making her groan as she was mounted again, her abdomen flicking with numerous bizarre and new sensations.

To stifle her song the seneschal dropped in and started their passionate kisses once more, the deft tongues weary from their prolonged marathon, but too beset with licentious attitude to pause for recovery. Diving into Kira, the harsh attention had her squeaking with rapture, a bucking bronco beneath the stabbing thrusts of the seneschal, the soft dildo incapable of committing any harm even with such callous use.

Kira could feel her climax engulfing her, spreading through her body and tightening her flesh in anticipation of what was sure to be an apocalyptic event.

‘Tell me when you are going to come, slave,’ ordered the seneschal, her words firm as she gave spry tugs to the cord, the length sliding over the wall ring and reaching back up into Kira’s insides.

‘Yes, seneschal,’ she promised, almost being carried over into final release. Her panting groans started to accelerate, her body starting to shudder in fits, her arms fighting the hold of her owner. On the very verge of release the next flurry of drives set loose her howl of utter rapture, the scream mixing three words into its keen singular tone.

‘Now, seneschal… now!’

The woman released Kira’s wrist and punched slowly forward, the steady drive causing the row of spheres to 49 start to jump from her, dragging them out in two seconds, a sensation infinitely beyond pleasure or pain. The spheres jumping from Kira seemed to magnify her orgasm, passing it through a lens that increased it in magnitude a hundred fold. Kira flung to attention, her arms stretched out, her legs taut, her body lifting from the bed by hands and soles, carrying the seneschal atop her. A piercing yowl thundered from her throat, the note beyond any mortal construction. Her fangs shone in the dull light, her eyes flashing with new intensity, the red glow becoming a fire that sent leaping motes of energy from her stare, the tiny particles of her unholy power drifting up and fading like cinders upon the thermals of a bonfire.

All vitality seemed to wash away on the tide of complete bliss, making her drop back down and sag.

Giving up on breathing she languished on the bed beneath the seneschal, the dildo still sheathed deep within her.

Flashes of tension spiralled down her limbs, making her jerk on occasion in her moments of dazed recovery. She was barely aware of her surroundings, filled with the most wondrous sense of inner peace, the bed a halcyon grove in which she lay slumbering.

‘Good, slave,’ purred the seneschal, stroking Kira’s hair, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

Kira’s rear throbbed from the effects, her sex grabbing at the dildo in random fits as she recovered her senses.

‘I’m proud of you,’ the seneschal added, slowly pulling free, making Kira light up with new activity. Choking in gasps she doubled up as the dildo fled, the slightest motion bringing out savage shades of the orgasmic detonation that had torn through her. She had never felt anything like it, the closest approximation the brutal love she had made with Thanos, save that the addition of a 50 sudden extraction of anal beads had taken it infinitely higher.

‘Thank you, seneschal,’ she muttered, her consciousness on the verge of a faint.

The hand of her owner soothed her head, enveloping her in slender arms, the woman cuddling up to her, cradling the tight ball that was Kira. ‘Sleep, my sweet slave,’ uttered the seneschal, the soft words causing Kira to drift into the most contended slumber she had ever known. ‘Rest well. You have earned it.’

Standing before her throne, bedecked in her cloak and crown, Thanos saw the queen snarl irritably as she spoke.

It was a sight the trio of robed advisors beside her also spotted, the three women withdrawing a few steps, their hooded features hidden by heavy folds of black.

‘I have made my decision, Lord Christos,’ growled the queen, making the Californian vampire flicker with rage, his upper lip trembling, his fangs emerging. ‘It is final.’

‘Excuse me, your majesty, but Turan Incorporated is one of the last obstacles to the consolidation of the great houses of the West Coast. No one house can stand in that path!’

‘Do not presume to give me threats, Christos. Turan is mine. It’s board belongs to me, I control it, and I will not relinquish control just because some upstart colony takes a shine to it!’

‘We will not tolerate this obstinate impediment!’ roared the vampire.

‘Mewl all you wish, Christos, Turan stays in my fist, take care you do not get swatted by it.’

The middle-aged man was clad in a dark suit, his slightly receding head of dark hair swept back, his eyes like ice. His gloved hands clenched to his mahogany cane, the silver head shaped with bat imagery in a classic mockery of the cliche.

The six younger vampires of his entourage tensed behind him, their eyes flicking about, seeking the guards, 52 assessing vantage points, readying for conflict. The group had been old vampires even when they first set sail with the colonists to take the Americas. Even by vampire standards they were extremely powerful, centuries of un-life having honed their combat skills, built muscles of iron and hides resilient to all but the most lethal attacks.

They knew they could well defeat the queen’s troops, and maybe the queen herself, and the denial of their wishes was tempting them to take by force that which diplomacy had failed to achieve.

Thanos stepped forward from the shadows about the throne, his massive form stamping against the stone.

Moving before the queen he descended several steps so as to block any route to her while still allowing her to be seen. Letting his lips curl back he revealed banks of deadly fangs, the fulgent radiance in his eyes lighting up with new intensity at the prospect of combat, and the placing of threat to the queen. Lowering into a fighting stance he balanced himself and lifted one set of claws forward to block with, and curled the others back, the muscles rippling in preparation of punching the wicked talons through the first vampire to make a pre-emptive move.

The vampires before him turned their eyes in his direction, the orbs full of ancient loathing borne from an innate fear of his kind. They were proud and arrogant, filled with their own sense of power.

Thanos snarled, releasing a low growl of animus, his fur standing on end, making his monstrous form seem to swell even more. Instantly the ancient lord faltered in his resolve.

The vampire had lived for so long that it was all he knew, making death a terrible concept. Thanos had seen this trait before in particularly ancient vampires. Christos 53 was addicted to his life, and could not risk losing it.

Against the queen and her troops he had a fair chance of victory, but with a lupine bearing down on them he knew that Thanos alone would decimate them.

Suddenly one of the front ranks charged forward with a yell of hatred.

‘Yanosh, no!’ bellowed Christos with alarm.

Thanos chuckled grimly as the impetuous youth launched at him, seeking access to assassinate the queen.

There was a blur of motion, Thanos’ tendons like steel cables, his empowered arcane form making him whirl with a celerity that far eclipsed the vampire’s, whose body was snatched from the air, there was a flash of fangs and his decapitated head struck the stairs and started to roll back down them, bouncing, depositing a smudge of red with each landing.

Without pause Thanos decided to give them a full display of his ferocity, and as a rabid harvester he gouged into the body, shredding it, his claws pouring through its anatomy as though it were warm butter. Body parts and chunks of the vampire rained down about him, pitter-pattering with soft squelches to the stone, a bloody drizzle staining the air, painting his fur a matted gore-soaked crimson. In the merest instant the body was an unrecognisable collection of tiny moist morsels and riven gristle.

The last portion fell at his feet, sliding down the steps, the meat clinging to the stone. Thanos threw out his arms, flicking his claws forth as he unleashed a bellowing roar of anger, strings of thick blood swinging from the deadly talons. The sanguinary song of the lupine made every vampire in the hall flinch and back up a step, filled with instinctive terror.

Levelling his stare back to the diplomatic party, Thanos 54 started to walk down the steps with threatening precision, blood dripping from him in clinging strands, not one piece of the vampire remaining larger than a pebble.

‘Your majesty, I apologise most humbly for the rash actions of my subordinate,’ Christos stated quickly. ‘I ask for your forgiveness and mercy, supreme queen.’

Dropping to one knee he bowed his head, offering himself as an easy target, trying to defuse the situation with such a display of relent else he be killed just as surely as if he could see the attack coming.

‘You take responsibility for your party, do you not, Lord Christos?’ she stated equably, and with her words Thanos continued his approach, an executioner approaching a block upon which all the visiting heads rested.

The residue of the vampire began to desiccate with soft crisping rustles, turning to ashen powder, falling from Thanos as he walked, the remains being assaulted by the stolen years of un-life, restored to their true appearance.

‘I do, your majesty, and I can only beseech your clemency in this matter,’ he said without inflexion, keeping his tone respectful, hiding his bitterness at having to grovel thus. ‘Your decree has been issued, I shall comply, I am deeply sorry for having dared offend you with my questioning of your will. I offer you my existence, your majesty.’

‘It was a simple error of judgement, Lord Christos, a mistake which your party has paid for with the blood of one of its members. His remains – such as they are – shall be interred here until such a time as I see fit to release them to permit his resurrection, other than that, we shall call the matter to a close.’

‘Your generosity is boundless, your majesty,’ stated the ancient lord, bowing even more deeply as the rest of 55 his force similarly abased themselves.

‘You may leave my presence now,’ stated the queen, her voice regal and powerful, letting the vampire know he was lucky to be leaving the hall with his hide intact.

‘Avail yourselves of any hospitality you and your party wish before you depart, Lord Christos. And I hope our next meeting will be a more cordial affair.’

‘As you wish, your majesty,’ he replied, and withdrawing at a stoop, they removed themselves from the throne room, the group under escort from several of the queen’s guard. The lift doors boomed shut, sealing off the chamber and declaring that they had privacy once more.

‘Have that gathered up and placed in the vaults,’ she ordered, causing several maids to emerge with brooms and pans, brushing the powder together and placing it in urns for storage. It was imprisonment for a vampire, the taking of the remains and storing them, preventing anyone applying the required blood to restore them to activity.

In a few decades, providing Christos did not further agitate her, he would probably be sent the remains. If of course, he did not behave, the urns would be sealed, weighted and dumped in the deepest crevasses of the sea, or in a suitably active volcano for a far more lengthy sentence.

Thanos brushed his claws through his fur, shaking to fling the last clinging dust from his pelt. Turning, he regarded his queen with adoring eyes, and after a moment she looked down to her faithful servant.

‘Come here, slave,’ she commanded, and clicked to her assistants. The two men moved forward and relinquished their charges before removing her cloak.

Taking the leash and the large bullwhip she gathered in the woven black leather folds, the serpentine length being 56 formed into coils that thinned to a wicked tip. Clutching the thick handle with its silver skull pommel, she held the captured hoops and clipped the lead to Thanos’ collar.

His eyes were fixed to her form, aching with longing.

Her perfect body gleamed in the pale light of the living chandeliers. Her torso was naked, her breasts open and on display, the sight of them making Thanos ache to just touch them.

Her arms were sealed within gloss opera gloves, the polished material coating each digit. Gloss leggings hugged to her, a zip from the front hem dropping through her crotch and rising to the back hem. The midnight hose descended, following her contours until they entered ankle boots, the short zipped footwear fitted with spiked bootstraps.

‘Are there any more of these ridiculous grizzling idiots?’ she asked testily.

One of the advisors produced a ledger, scanning down the lists and reading from them. ‘Three petitions for aid from various indigenous houses. A meeting with the Glass-Nomads sect concerning residency in the city. Four individuals seeking employment in the palace. Two requests for—’

‘Enough!’ she interrupted ferociously, then sighed, calming her tones. With a flick of her head she tossed her cascade of white hair over her shoulders and looked to Thanos, regarding the towering beast that she had enslaved and trained. ‘Reschedule them all,’ she stated, a small smirk tickling the corners of her black painted lips, a wicked glee that Thanos was overjoyed to see because it was aimed at him.

‘But, your majesty, these are—’

‘You’ve just earned ten demerits for questioning me, slave,’ she huffed irritably, bringing the woman to 57 immediate silence. ‘Say another word and I’ll treble it…

‘Good. Now, I am the ruler of this realm, and I’ll not be a slave to the grovelling petitions of others. Affairs of state do not concern me, in fact, they have been grating on me all night. I require diversion. If these matters are so important, deal with them!’ she snapped, causing the trio to begin walking down the steps and heading out of the throne room.

‘Susan?’ she stated, calling the attention of the advisor that had angered her.

‘Yes, your majesty?’ she replied, turning to face her ruler.

‘I thought I said another word would treble your demerits? You’ve just aired three of them. I make that an amazing two hundred and seventy demerits to work off,’ she grinned with spiteful satisfaction.

The woman seemed to sag, almost fainting from discovering the level of strife she had just earned herself from being fooled by the queen’s malicious trick.

‘Advisors, take her to head slave Strafe for placement in level three bondage,’ the queen said cruelly, causing the other two of her operatives to fall in beside their doomed companion and escort her away.

Thanos looked concerned at how cruel the queen was being. The poor girl had just earned herself a staggering twenty-seven hours in the most strenuous bondage, with the eager cane or whip of Strafe regularly haunting her flesh. Thanos had done a spell under the care of this woman, and knew just how imaginative and vindictive her positions were. He had almost been driven insane by the one time he had chosen to work off his demerits via level three, and that had only been for two hours.

Taking his lead, the queen led him out of the throne room and to the upper levels, leaving her private domain 58 so she might move amongst her guests. There was no need for guards; with Thanos on a lead behind her, walking erect, towering up like a slaughterous monolith, she was completely safe from the factions about her.

It felt good to be protecting her, and it gave him an unequalled opportunity to stare at her gorgeous curves, wriggling against the vinyl skin with every sauntering step.

The slaves she came across bowed deeply until on their knees. The vampire guests gave her bows of respect, and all others merely acknowledged her with a curt nod, seeing no real cause to show obeisance beyond a token amount.

She stopped when she came across three lupine women, standing and talking, one of them resting a clawed foot on a hapless latex slave who licked and preened her fur with his tongue. The sight of the female werewolves pushed Thanos’ mind back to Corin. He had been making a concerted effort to forget about what he had done, but the vision of these brutal females brought his treachery back to plague him. He had betrayed her. He had let her be captured and now she was somewhere in the palace – bound, abused, suffering, being trained, her will faltering against the terrible deeds of her oppressors. Had she even known it was him who had offered her to such a fate?

If the seneschal were using her, Corin’s screams would be pouring freely by now. She would of course come to enjoy her slavery soon enough, just as he had, but right now she would be resisting, defying them as all the indoctrination of the elders demanded. Would she be rendered subservient more quickly than he? After all, her long years of crusade in the city had clearly affected her. A release from it would speed her submissive cravings. But then again, perhaps such reviling of 59 vampires, of the Wyrm, perhaps such old ideology and devotion would make her fight to the very last ounce of her strength, and only then would she give herself over to her desire and become the willing property of the queen.

Would he even see her again? Would the queen replace him with her once she was trained, or would he find himself side by side with his sister, on their knees, collared and leashed, walking at the heels of the queen with eyes mesmerised by her salacious physique? Would the seneschal even permit this? Her jealousy had to be in a state of psychosis by now – two lupines and a brood vampire in her midst, vying for the queen’s fickle attention.

What would happen to Kira? Maybe the queen lost interest in her already, or perhaps she was merely patiently awaiting a time where she could make use of her new recruit in the fullest. Had the stalking and capture of Kira been the prime interest for the queen, and now that she had recruited and captured the sparkling jewel that was Kira, its radiance had dimmed significantly?

The thought of her made him start to grow erect once more, his length hungry to sink deep and fill her lithe form with his seed, watch her shriek in pleasure and pain as he took her.

‘Greetings esteemed members of the Shadow-Angels,’ the queen said, drawing their attention. ‘I trust my hospitality is to your liking?’

Thanos winced at the name, for he hadn’t recognised them as the beasts they were. The Shadow-Angels were a powerful splinter faction of the Dark Tribes – the lupines who had been corrupted or seduced into allegiance to the Wyrm.

The amazon tribe was brutal and merciless, remorseless 60 killers that even the other Dark Tribes feared. Due to a defect in their structure the females born from their tribe were stronger, faster and more agile than any other breed of lupine. But this had been gained by draining such characteristics from their menfolk. Shadow-Angel males were scrawny feeble specimens, kept as pets and servants to their females. The general inadequacies of their males made lesbianism a common trait, the women establishing relationships with each other in preference and using their male slaves only when the need to breed came to them.

The women were sadistic, despising their menfolk, but their inability to successfully breed with any other tribe forced them to copulate with such lowly specimens, further stoking their resentment. Thanos had heard tale of these women abducting lupine, raping them for weeks, even months without relent, then killing them after unsuccessfully trying to break their cursed vicious cycle.

Such dominance and an abiding thirst for cruelty had clearly been the lure that had brought them here.

Ordinarily they butchered any vampire they came across, but the queen was a creature such as they, one whose connections across the globe might even be able to help them with science or sorcery, powers they had no concept of, let alone access to.

‘Exquisite,’ commented one of the black furred creatures, panning a glowing stare up and down Thanos.

‘Some of your women slaves are exceedingly adept.

‘Tell me though, your majesty, where did you come by this handsome pet?’ she stated softly, licking a fang in expectation, her words distorted by a bestial throat and a maw designed for howls rather than words.

The other two women looked over her as well, the one resting on the male kicking him away and straightening up to her full height. Thanos felt his blood chill under 61 their cumulative incandescent gazes.

‘This is Thanos,’ she replied flippantly, as though he were something of little consequence. ‘I captured him awhile back. Trained him, and now he serves me.’

‘A lupine of Gaia?’ purred their leader, putting a hand on her hip and regarding Thanos with new intensity. ‘And you trained him? Congratulations, your majesty, we have never managed such a feat.’

‘Not for lack of trying, mind,’ added one of the other females with a vicious chuckle.

‘Yes, you’ll have to give us the secret,’ said the third.

‘It’s a matter of patience, judgement, and the right raw materials,’ she replied with a smile, drawing him in close, bringing Thanos down into a crouch beside her. The women seemed even more threatening now. Already taller than he when he was standing upright, they were also far more robust, and now they seemed to loom over him like the heavens, their eyes sanguine stars against a black furred vault.

‘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.

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.

Trouble is, most of them are not what you might call pals of your country.’

‘Well, I could have a word with her majesty. All it would take is a call, and I can guarantee favourable results.’

‘You’re sure? There’s a lot of support for it over there.

Public opinion’s been up their arse about this.’

‘The public are cattle. We’ll have words with the editors we own, put a scandal with a soap star on the front covers and they’ll be so enthralled we could outlaw breathing eating and sex and they won’t notice.’

‘I’d owe you big for this, Cassandra.’

‘And as part of the favour I need to know what your plans are concerning the premier.’

‘None as of yet.’

‘Come on, I know you must be readying someone to take his place. Unless you make the current one a ghoul, he can’t last much longer. We need to know what to do about our holdings out there.’

‘Well, our great houses have been toying with the notion of dropping one of the generals in.’

‘A full blood vampire? And a military one? You’re kidding, right?’

‘No. We’ve actually had backing for the idea from houses across the world. Seems everyone misses the cold war. We don’t want it back, but we could do with lowering the temperature a little, politically speaking, that is.’

‘How far has this been planned?’

‘Well, the easiest route we can see is to stiff the capitalists for all the money they’ve leant us. We borrow more, use it to kick out their people and seal our borders again. A professed return to staunch communism should have a nice chill in the air.’

‘Chill? It’ll be a blizzard.’

‘Come on, Cassandra, don’t you miss it? All that secrecy and paranoia, the tight reigns of throttled information. We were so free back then. Christ, the Net is the biggest threat to us yet. A million mortal idiots tapping away, blabbing about every suspicion they’ve got, hacking into this, monitoring that, it’s getting harder to hide ourselves. In the cold war, do you really think they would have let this technology slip out as unregulated as it is? It’s time we got our prey fearful again. When they’re trying to ban the bomb, looking for spies or sweating at the prospect of nuclear conflict and the Red Menace, they’re not peeking in the shadows looking for us.’

‘I guess, but it’s a bold step. You’ll need to make sure it’s airtight. This could backfire, big time.’

‘We’re working out the wrinkles. There’s a summit meeting in Siberia later this year. All the great houses are coming; maybe the queen would like an invite. I’m sure I could finagle one.’

‘Finagle away, Volodia. I’ll speak to you later.’

‘Good night Cassandra,’ replied the man, and the connection was terminated.

Switching off the system, the seneschal rose from her position and walked to the middle of the room, stroking her chin in thought, pondering the words.

Kira never ceased to be amazed at how entrenched the forces of supernatural status were. The queen basically had full reign over media, law and crime, and she was 72 unable to be discovered, touched, even threatened. And now it seemed the whole fate of the world was planned and plotted, controlled from the shadows. All the conspiracy theories that abounded, all the fears about the powers that be, Kira couldn’t believe that they were not just incorrect; they were vastly inadequate to cover the true scope of the truth.

‘Slaves, in a line, lift your skirts,’ the seneschal snapped, taking hold of the crop and flicking it at the air, the tip rocking with her motions.

The two maids stepped down and turned around, leaning over, legs pressed together, head lowered, hands on their knees once their gloved fingers had hoisted their latex skirts. It was a precarious position; one that meant any response to the crop would probably have them fall over.

Kira joined them, shoving with her arms, throwing herself upright and onto her knees, the corset preventing her from rising normally. She descended the steps and copied the pose in full, opening herself to random chastisement.

The seneschal flicked the weapon through the air, catching a rear and stinging it with a sharp crack. She continued the sadism, punishing her possessions for no other reason than because it suited her current mood.

Kira bit her lip as she was afflicted, the searing kiss making her stiffen and fight to keep her balance. The other women were making no noise; she had to strive to be the same. Holding to her cries she felt the crop slam to her thrice more, the seneschal punishing them all before stopping, imparting a few welts to keep the slaves company and remind them of their station with the dull thud in their flesh.

‘Slave, come with me,’ she commanded, beckoning 73

Kira forth. ‘The rest of you, back to work,’ she growled, causing the others to lower their skirts and scamper away into the rest of the dwelling, returning to the chores they had been set.

Restoring her skirt, Kira walked behind her owner as she left her chambers and returned to the winding paths beyond. All around slaves were cleaning and handling duties, scuttling back and forth, ferrying things required of them. Punishment slaves ambled past, confined and abused within their arduous uniforms, staggering under the stresses imposed upon them, making Kira all to glad to have finally escaped such a placement.

Passing through the area of guest wings, Kira found the place of the visiting clan vacant, their lounge quiet and empty, being cleaned and polished by a team of slaves. She was a little sad to find them gone; she would have liked to actually see them. All she had to remember were sights of the nuns and the vague silhouettes of those who owned them in the audience.

Her eyes covertly lodged on a trio of women that passed by. A leather loincloth hung around their waists, the small panels of material dropping to a point between their thighs, covering from front to back. From the waistband of this garment dropped suspenders, grabbing fishnet stockings that plunged into leather thigh boots. Other than these token garments they were naked. They were not slaves of the palace, for they bore no collars, but it was not this that caught her attention, it was their very physique.

Their mouths were wider than normal, armed with banks of needle fangs. Two prongs emerged from their brow, the small stubby horns rising to wicked points, their eyebrows lifted, perched high by the drag of this contorted visage. Their ears ascended to points, the lobes 74 lost, the length of them fitted with numerous silver rings.

Their hands had fused, two fingers merging to leave them with a pair of large melded digits, a curved talon pouring from the combined summit. Their toes had followed the same path, and they walked on the balls of their feet, their legs gradually adopting the initial stages of a goat-like structure. It was as though they were turning into devils.

Their skin was pale, almost white, but colour remained in the form of a mottled leopard pattern, the soft purple markings distinct, and clearly not the work of tattoos.

‘Greetings, seneschal, I trust your night is going well,’ stated the lead female as they passed.

‘Thank you, Hyrthuz, I am currently on my rounds, but hope to have the rest of the night to myself afterwards.’

‘We would be honoured to have you attend our quarters.’

‘The sect of the Obsidian Fang honours me with such an offer. I shall most definitely accept, time permitting,’ replied the seneschal, giving a polite nod to them before they reciprocated and wandered off.

Looking over her shoulder Kira walked after the seneschal, studying the women from behind. They had to be witches, ones that had been warped from their allegiance. Why had the Flesh Dancers not been affected so radically? If anything, their change had increased a natural beauty, not created a bestial allure. It was hard not to dwell on the visage of the witches, for even changed though they were, they were still beautiful, and Kira wondered what it would be like to be their carnal partner.

One of them glanced back, feeling Kira’s inquisitive stare on her. She smiled and let a forked tongue spill out and flap in her direction, tickling the air before sliding 75 back in. Then her eyes flashed with black light, the opaque radiance spilling into the air as small trails that faded a few seconds later. ‘Such a fine little specimen,’

said a voice that entered Kira’s mind, declining use of her ears, echoing through her thoughts, distinctly depositing the feel of something hot and insidious within her skull. ‘We’ll have to taste you, my sweet morsel.’

Startled, Kira faced forward, following and pretending as though nothing had happened, the sweaty imprint of an alien presence still distinct in the canals of her psyche.

The sound of raised voices drew the attention of the seneschal and she looked into a side passage, one of those that led to various playrooms and other halls of diversion and recreation. Duke Khardekk was biliously responding to one of the lupines. The towering black furred beast was leaning down, jabbing a clawed finger at him as he retorted with a booming growl. Both were conversing in a deep, almost animal dialect, a language the lupine was well suited to, and which the duke, with his command of flesh, was admirably coping with.

‘Is there a problem, gentlemen?’ asked the seneschal.

The two stopped immediately and looked to the new arrivals. Pausing, each glanced back at their verbal sparring partner and straightened up, the duke tugging at his lapels and then preening his tie.

‘Apologies if we caused concern, seneschal,’ calmly replied the duke. ‘We were merely debating some theological matters.’

The lupine gave a grunt of confirmation, cast a glare back at the duke and wandered off, giving a bow that was little more than a dip of his snout to the seneschal as he passed her by.

The duke walked over, watching as the lupine entered the main corridor and vanished from view. ‘Ah, I do so 76 love a good argument,’ he commented with amusement.

‘I can think of better people to incite than the pack leader of the Soul Barbs, Duke Khardekk,’ advised the seneschal.

Noticing Kira, the duke turned his attention away from the passage and to her, his eyes running up and down her curves. ‘All part of the fun, my dear seneschal. But tell me, is this the slave I so recently saw as a pup at your side?’ he quizzed with raised eyebrows.

‘I decided to change her caste,’ she replied, declining to reveal the actual circumstances of Kira’s reprieve and subsequent evolution.

‘I can understand why. She is exceptionally beautiful.

She would have been wasted as a pet. Did you have one of my Flesh Dancers add a hex or two to her, or is this natural?’

‘Partially. The Malefic Kiss was responsible. The anatomical changes can sometimes bring out what lay buried beneath mortality.’

‘Indeed. To lose such a creature to death would have been a crime in itself. May I borrow her for a while?’ he asked brazenly, a smile raising the corners of his lips, a flash crossing his eyes.

‘I’m not sure, duke, she’s very inexperienced,’ replied the seneschal with hesitation, unwilling to desert Kira.

‘Oh, I’ll be careful,’ he stated, trying to allay her fears.

He could see that the seneschal was not concerned for Kira’s safety, instead, there was a greater force at work behind her hoarding of the slave girl.

‘I’m still not sure—’ began the seneschal, only to be interrupted as a male puppy slave scampered around the corner and to her feet, dropping an envelope and then kissing the boots.

‘Pick that up, slave,’ she ordered, and Kira folded with 77 difficulty to retrieve the paper, the duke’s eyes never leaving her, watching her move against her uniform with potent appetite rising in his glare.

‘I have to attend the queen, if you would excuse me, duke,’ the seneschal stated. ‘Could I ask you to look after my servant until I return?’ she added.

‘It will be a pleasure, seneschal,’ he beamed, and with a last look to Kira, the woman wandered off.

Kira could have stayed with her, but the vampiress was going to see the queen. Although the seneschal clearly didn’t want to hand Kira over to the duke, it was also obvious that her owner did not wish to reveal her to the queen either, just in case her interest returned and Kira was removed from the seneschal’s care. It had been a calculated move, but one her owner was not overly happy with.

‘Well, my little slave, shall we find somewhere more appropriate?’ he pondered, rubbing his chin and examining her with new intensity, assessing her merits and conjuring acts to perform.

‘As you wish, my lord,’ she replied softly and respectfully.

‘Come with me, slave,’ he commanded, and started to wander down the passage, heading to the wing where his followers dwelt. Passing through, he entered the deeper regions and to one of the playrooms.

Led within, Kira found herself in a square chamber, the room dark, the walls black, the carpet a deep lush green. Rings were bolted to the wall, spaced equally at chest height. Similar examples adorned the ceiling, ready to ensnare and capture a supplicant body.

One other door provided exit, and an alcove held a cabinet atop a set of drawers. In each corner was an iron brazier, the metal flecked with crooked thorns and etched 78 with strange runes. The interior was dark and dead.

The portal behind them sealed and locked itself, leaving them in complete blackness. With her eyes wide Kira beheld nothing save a featureless void.

The hands of the duke reached from behind, placing palms to her shoulders. She flinched with shock. ‘Shhhh,’

he soothed, dropping the fingers into place one by one, holding her from behind. Could he see in this consuming night?

The padlock at the back of her neck popped open of its own accord, the sorcery of the duke convincing it to release her. The same convincing song had the laces of her corset opening themselves, the cord animated, granted its own semblance of life to slither free and obey the duke. The corset loosened and then fell to the floor.

Then the zip of her dress started to roll down, the hands of the duke still resting on her shoulders as he channelled his very will into the garments.

Squeezing the material, he began pulling it down her front, stripping her of the dress, the material squeaking and clinging to her as she was deprived of its skin-tight embrace. Her fingers were dragged out of the gloves and the dress fell down her booted legs to her ankles.

He led her forward. Compliantly Kira stepped out of the crumpled halo, shaking slightly, intimidated by the blackness, but aroused and excited by the danger. Naked but for her collar, cuffs, thigh boots and plug, she was brought to a halt and the duke’s hands began to wander further, rolling his fingertips across her smooth skin, making her shiver at the delectable touch.

‘What’s your name, slave?’ he asked, his warm breath issuing against her neck.

‘Kira, lord,’ she whispered, her eyes closed, her limbs becoming weak from the caresses.

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