Queen in darkness | Moon slave 3 | pleasure bdsm stories

‘How long have you been a vampire, Kira?’ he questioned, his hands brushing the tips of her breasts, causing her to flick with bursts of tension. His hands opened and accepted the flesh, holding it as his clothes brushed against her back.

‘I’m not sure, lord. A few weeks maybe.’

‘I hear you are brood, and that you bested Nigi-Tama?’

he wondered, holding her firmly in his grasp, his thumbs teasing her teats, making them stand rigid to his touch.

‘So I am told, lord, though I’m still not sure how, or even what it really means,’ she answered truthfully.

Thanos had given her a rough education as best he could with his limited knowledge, but as for genuine hard facts, she had nothing.

‘It is a thing of prophecy,’ he muttered, airing his own thoughts, such things weighing heavily on his mind. ‘We all have them, and they all affect us whether we like it or not. Vampires, witches, warlocks, lupines, mortals, all of us, buried under fable and wishful conjecture, staring into the night for signs, portents.’ He shook off the serious tone and kissed her neck. ‘But enough of that, we are here for other matters.’

There was a flash of darkness, a deeper black pulse that reached below even the complete lack of light about her. The darkness itself seemed to be eaten by the consuming charge of bleak power, and suddenly the braziers lit up, banishing the shadows.

Emerald flames sprung from the coals, the dark nuggets glowing with viridescent light, the cracks in their structure letting it seep through and form into licking fire. The blaze was unnaturally slow, the fires lethargic, as though they were heavy, reaching up like lazy serpents.

The duke released and moved around Kira, putting an arm around the small of her back, drawing her in as a hand took one of her breasts and his lips met hers. She responded to the kiss with passion, the warmth in his body making her quiver as she felt it, so different to the vampire love she had experienced.

Her hands started to open the buttons of his jacket, peeling it back before loosening his tie and then dragging it out from under his collar. Dropping them aside she began to open his shirt, popping the buttons and then lifting it from his trousers. She let it hang loose, revealing the thin chain necklace about his throat, the device holding a crystal shard with jagged teeth. The single angular tooth flickered with an inner light, casting nebulous shadows around itself, pulsating within a glass cell, holding its esoteric power deep within.

Giddy from his caress and energetic kiss, her hands continued to work almost of their own accord, her longing eclipsing any sense of decorum.

Opening his belt and trousers she started to wilt, kissing down his front, his smooth skin imparting its heat to her chill lips. Spilling her tongue downwards she hooked her thumbs into his waist and drew down trousers and underwear, exposing him to her.

‘Such a bold little thing,’ he purred, looking down on her, his hands on his hips.

She found him fully erect, her tongue rolling along his shaft and then swallowing it up. Locking her lips to him she let her head drift back and forth, her hands massaging his inner thighs.

A flitting tongue caused the duke to drape his head back, eyes half closed as he delighted in the attendance of Kira’s mouth. Gentle fondling of his testicles quickened the procedure, her fingers rolling through the soft skin, delighting in feeling something so different to any female anatomy.

Strange words emerged from his throat, a distant screech riding below the muttered complex strings of syllables. His hands lifted out, the fingers tensed, and as he brought them over his head he started to lower them, the digits contorted into a strange complex pattern.

Breaking into a resonant hum the tone of the droning single note gathered in strength, getting more potent, not louder, just more savage, its depth starting to vibrate the air. The crystal at his neck started to shimmer, lighting up with new radiance, becoming a small dark star about his throat.

A ghastly sound, like flesh being pulled and torn was joined by a dark moan of distress, of strain placed on the very essence of reality. As Kira continued to perform her fellatio she looked up and saw the duke expose a palm, the skin suddenly being cut by an unseen blade.

Confined within a circle a detailed complex ideogram appeared, created from slashes. Trickles of blood started to fall against gravity, dripping upward, the essence charged with power, excess crackles of opaque lightning spitting at the air all about it.

Darkness started to slither about the room, the shade not cast by any material object within its confines. It was as though some unseen giant were setting his hand against the radiance of the braziers, causing such swells of shadow to spill across the carpet.

Four sets of glowing green eyes opened in the deepest pools. The eyes were without pupil or iris, burning with an inner light that failed to fully escape the clutches of the dark. Kira gurgled in worry.

‘Don’t fret, Kira,’ he purred, interrupting his dirge of summoning. ‘I have merely called for some assistance.

They are here to help.’

From the shadows emerged four women, stepping free of the darkness as though they had already been here, unseen, loitering within the shifting blanket of gloom before casting it off.

The duke ended his litany, the sounds of stress fading, the echo dwindling until silence was restored. Continuing her attention as though it would somehow safeguard her from harm, Kira beheld the women and unleashed startled murmurs of shock.

‘They are what you would call demons. Manifestations of the Wyrm, a single facet presented in physical form and given autonomous will.’

Each was tall and slender, her body shifting in and out of focus, her flesh in constant flux, paining the eyes to bear witness to it. Kira’s gaze was constantly being dragged out of any normal spectrum, following them into other spaces until she could go no further, forcing her to blink and look elsewhere before looking back to repeat the process. At those last few instances she caught vague images of other structures, other shapes moving about them, but she never caught more than a vague impression of whatever it was lurking there before her human eyes could proceed no further into such forbidden spectrums.

The radiant females moved in and took hold of Kira, holding her shoulders and legs, opening her thigh boots and dragging them from her. They were strong, resolved, yet their very touch was strangely insubstantial. As she was stripped bare the duke groaned with pleasure and stiffened, sending warmth across her tongue. Swallowing the warm issue she moaned with pleasure at seeing him sated thus, lapping at the tip of his length to tickle his bliss even more. Suddenly Kira was wishing she had worked more lethargically, drawn out the event, for now she was fully surrendered to the intentions of the supernatural beasts about her.

He drew out of her mouth and smiled, his eyes winking with a flash of emerald light. Suddenly Kira retched, movement within her body catching her off guard, making her panic rise. The seed of the duke began to shift, coming alive, rising up her throat, spreading outward, growing, reforming. With Kira’s startled cry a bushel of white tendrils jumped from her mouth and flung aside, slapping against her face in a wide cluster. Their sticky holds held to her skin, keeping the halo of white tentacles in place. The rest of the fluid dragged itself up her throat and welled in her mouth, forming into a ball, crushing her tongue, gagging her completely. The ball was slightly soft, like a silicone implant, and she could bite on it but could not close her jaws or spit it out. The sorcerous creation had set up permanent residence.

Her hands flung to try and pull it free, but the devil women were ready for her. A set of ethereal hands each grabbed a wrist and others caught her ankles. Retreating suddenly, the creatures drew out her arms and legs, spread-eagling Kira, holding her off the floor.

Despite her most powerful attempts to get free she could not even budge the incorporeal but irresistible grapples. Hanging in the air, held up by the eerie creatures, she regarded the duke, standing naked before her, a construct formed of his seed and his sorcery gagging her.

With a mixed sense of dread and anticipation she awaited the rest of her session with this powerful warlock.

‘These are demons of desire. Creatures of carnal excess, vice, and depravity. They exist to sin against the flesh, to use it, to feed on the pleasure and pain conjured from its use. The acts we perform will feed them, make them stronger, and thus more inclined to heed my call when I have need of their more lethal abilities for my various causes.’

Looking to the wound on his hand, he stared at the intricate runes of summoning. The talisman sealed at his mere glance, the flesh being told what to do by his magic, healing in an instant. It was as though reality were a figment of the imagination, and these arcane wizards had found the way to mould it with a thought, everyone else being trapped within a material shell they could not control because they believed in its laws so thoroughly.

‘I’m going to punish you now, Kira,’ he decreed, offering her a chance to withdraw should she wish, knowing full well there was no chance of such an eventuality. ‘Are you ready for this?’

Kira nodded, causing the women to turn around, presenting their rears to her extremities. With impassive smiles they started to feed her into themselves, their bodies like iron as they closed their sphincters to her wrists and ankles, squeezing, the muscles inhumanely strong. Such were the powers of their material forms that when they arose and leant forward, they effectively racked Kira, holding her with these anchors. She moaned as her limbs lit up with riots of distress, the ligaments grumbling, the joints aching, the muscles strained as they hauled at her, punishing her frame.

Her head swung around, her cry unable to escape the gag as the women chuckled in insipid tones, giggling mischievously as they abused her, their internal muscles squeezing in bursts, compressing feet and hands, escalating her woe.

It was bizarre, it was impossible, but with such erotic bondage, she was aching to feel the brutality of the duke.

She was anxious to have him lash into her with whatever weapon he chose, to beat her savagely, rekindle his lust until he could resist no longer and helped himself to use of her form.

Lifting his hand forward he squinted a little, a shiver running though his skin, as though the creature within were settling into a more comfortable fit. Was this really the duke? Or just some suit of skin he wore when the mood took him?

The presented right hand closed into a fist, the rustle of meat and the grind of migrating skin sounding before he unfurled the digits, revealing a thick membrane between each. The fingers flattened and merged more with the wings, forming his hand into the semblance of an organic paddle.

Swinging his reformed hand at the air he tested its strength and satisfied, he walked to Kira’s side. Rubbing the palm to her rear, the soft flesh brushed her buttocks and made her reluctance melt further. Raising her cheeks as best she could, she offered herself to him.

With a jolting swing he cast his arm back and fired it back down, slapping it to her rear. The flesh quaked and a hot flash spilled through the skin.

Kira gasped against her gag, the warm sensation strangely pleasurable. Again he struck, and again, employing a slow though harsh attack, distending her buttocks with an inner heat. The more he applied, the more he fed the ambient glow within the flesh, each stinging stroke adding to the temperature, making her squawk and start to fight the hold of the women. But the more she fought the more they increased their hold and chuckled with derision, becoming more amused the more she resisted.

With tears rolling down her cheeks her sex was wet with desire, excited by the stern punishment. Being held in the air while sheathed in gorgeous rears had made Kira hungry for more.

He stopped suddenly, placing his left hand to her hot cheeks. If she could have achieved speech she would have begged him to continue.

The fingers delved into her rear, tracing the plug before sliding into her sex to have her head rise and her back flicker as they slithered in, amply assisted by her juices.

Testing her arousal with some dextrous caresses, he moved back.

‘I think the seneschal was being a little deceitful concerning your tolerances, Kira. I believe we need to go a little further than this,’ he commented with a smile, the paddle withdrawing, freeing his fingers as he ducked under her suspended form and arose before her.

Kira watched astounded as the tissues shivered and continued to metamorphose. Each finger thinned and then broke into two, the rest of the hand gathering in, the bones fusing into one as the eight slender stalks of his divided digits started to lengthen. The skin spilled along them, stretching onwards at a fantastic speed as they welled with internal muscle, the translucency fading the longer they grew, hiding the interior.

The structure shuddered and condensed, growing dark and leaving the right hand of the duke a solid ball of flesh with a thumb and eight individual, yard-long tentacles. It appeared as though the extremity were a bizarre version of a cat o’ nine tails.

‘Are you ready, Kira?’ he asked, stroking her hair as he shook the lithe strands beside him.

She looked up at the warlock with adoration and nodded, her eyes wet with tears of pain and pleasure.

His face was marked with occasional beads of perspiration, his hair dishevelled from the exertion as he assessed her expression.

Without further word his arm launched overhead, swinging high and bringing the strands down across her back. Kira jolted, crying out against the gag, the burning lines the whip had painted being far harsher than the paddle.

The women tightened their holds and pulled her more forcefully, making Kira believe she would be dragged apart should they apply any more strength to their task.

She could not even claw against them; her hands and feet were squashed too effectively within a cushion of internal tracts.

The whip fell again, its savage tone releasing fitful purls from Kira’s throat as she suffered for his delight.

The duke continued to whip her, making her battle to get free, her mind churning with mayhem as the expanse of her back was rocked with fulgent streaks. The repeated blows ate into her, sometimes dancing under her flanks to attack her undersides, her belly and the sides of her breasts, the wiry stalks terrible harbingers of havoc. But there was a keen sense of abandonment, of being deprived of will and left helpless to the mercy of another.

Going slack, each lambasting kiss of the whip brought out a moment of tension from her pained form, but then she fell weak again, the whip eating away her energy, almost making her resigned to it. Her battle was lost, so she was surrendering.

Grizzling, she was treated to the whip again, the duke elevating her sorrow, lashing her with regular and swift strokes. Prancing back and forth, his hair spilling around him, his necklace danced in the light, his features flushed.

For long minutes she was abused thus, the warlock dripping with moisture from his labours, hacking into her, a cruel smile across his lips, his eyes alive with pleasure, the crystal glowing with new levels of radiance.

With a growling hiss he jumped over her arm, then her leg, placing himself between her legs after vaulting the hurdles. Grabbing one of her torrefied buttocks he clasped the flesh and purred with lust, confirming that the mere sight of her writhing under him was making the warlock burn with desire to again have her sultry body.

Slamming the whip across her rear he thrashed from side to side, the oscillating strokes skimming her skin, making her screech, the welts all the more pronounced on this well-tenderised flesh. Dropping forward, he could resist her no longer. Grabbing his tumescent shaft and the plug he yanked the toy out, bringing wails through Kira’s mutated gag, the sharp flash of its flight kindling a similar paroxysm from her body. Flinging it rudely aside he replaced it with an organic sample.

Kira’s head flung back to its limits, her mouth grinding on the gag as she felt him enter her, the feel of such penetration almost making her climax. The intensity of the pain she had endured carried her to a new intensity of pleasure. With his body resting on her he thrust deep, pounding with rabid drives, drops of sweat falling onto her back, warm and moist, a frenzied drizzle, the weight of his body elevating the mayhem in her stretched limbs.

Growling with animal lust the duke clawed at her skin, recalling the whip, letting his fingers emerge once more, his nails scratching her, leaving flushed lines but failing to break her hardy skin. Kira was screeching for him to finish, to have him pour his seed into her, the rapture unequalled.

The feel of a warm phallus in her cool tracts was glorious, like coming in from the cold to nuzzle by a fire. The drag at her rear as he stabbed into her, sinking to his fullest extent, made her groan with delight at being filled so acutely.

With a roar of rapture the duke broke into random fits, injecting a hot jolt of semen into her, the grinding phallus moving in fitful stabs as he stole every portion of pleasure he could from her bottom. Kira squeezed to him, adding to the sensations, equally delighted by the feeling of being used so, of having him thrusting into her, churning her insides with bliss.

The duke slumped back, dragging free of her rear and dropping onto the carpet, arms and legs splayed out, his breath long and panting as he recovered from his exertions.

The demon women lowered to the floor, letting Kira’s front nestle upon the carpet before they released their sphincter shackles and pulled free of her, excreting her extremities.

One of them leaned in and stole one of her tears, catching it on a shifting finger and running it across her pointed tongue with a smile. Then, as quickly as they had come, the women stepped back into the seas of shadow still shifting across the floor, their bodies vanishing into it. Only their eyes remained – fixed to her before they too closed, letting the tides of darkness retreat.

Huddled on the floor, Kira’s body was alive with feeling. Wiping her eyes, she arose and crawled over to him, settling in beside the naked form of the warlock.

He felt her settle and placed a hand into her hair, guiding her in to nuzzle beside him where he stroked her gently, his eyes closed, his features slack, his chest rising and falling with deep gasps. It was strange to see breath being so needed. To Kira it was rapidly becoming a forgotten function, one she could barely even recall.

‘Did I please you, lord?’ she asked, wondering if she had lived up to his expectations. Since coming to the palace, since losing her life, she had been possessed by carnal intent. Sex and sensation were never high on her list of priorities, but she had no idea how much she had been missing with her abstinence. Upon her death a world of possibilities, of new experiences, had been opened to her. She wanted to see everything, to feel it all, to do things with creatures and people no mortal had ever conceived of.

‘Most definitely, Kira,’ he chuckled, a smile broadening his lips.

‘May I ask you something, lord?’ she questioned, wondering if perhaps she should continue, afraid she might offend him, because she wanted to know about his art and was unaware if there were some binding code of secrecy about it.

‘Go ahead,’ he replied lightly.

‘How do you do this magic? What is it? What’s the Wyrm?’

‘There are two powers of nature. They are the source of life, of everything. In its simplest terms, Gaia is life, the Wyrm is destruction. The fight between Gaia and the Wyrm is necessary and eternal, for without the Wyrm, nothing would end, stagnation would set in, there would be no change, no evolution, no learning, no advancement.

And if the Wyrm ruled, everything would be shattered and consumed.’

‘Then why seek Gaia’s destruction?’ she wondered, seeing no sense in such a goal. It would be like trying to destroy the world, a self-defeating objective unless one wished to die with it.

‘Not I, little Kira. I like things the way they are. But many are more fanatical. The Flesh Dancers are a carnal sect devoted to pleasure for its own sake, dedicating to one facet of the Wyrm. Others though are more military and radical. The sects that follow paths of destruction, greed, and carnage seek ascendancy, to destroy Gaia and let the Wyrm run free. They hope for a world of anarchy and chaos where they will thrive.’

‘And you tap this energy?’ she asked, her hand reaching out and enclosing his shaft, the flesh wilting in her fingers, warm and throbbing with a rapid pulse, one so different to her own lazy metabolism.

‘Very astute, Kira. Yes, through will and use of runes, talismans and charms, we gather that energy from the realms of the Wyrm and mould it, using it to affect reality and alter the physical world.’

‘And only the living can do this?’ she asked again, examining his length, taking the opportunity to take a close and prolonged look at such an organ.

‘The powers of living energy can only pass though that which lives. A creature beyond destruction and life cannot,’ he replied, knowing the reason for her question and confirming that the vampire was forever denied access to such arcane feats.

‘Now, I need a bath,’ he concluded. ‘Come and assist, slave.’

He revealed a bath chamber, the white tiled room bearing a raised tub in the centre, the large jacuzzi-like structure bubbling with warm waters, pre-set and ready to attend them. Set on shelves to one side was assorted toiletries, soaps, sponges, oils and lotions. Next to it were racks of luxurious towels, everything scented by the small censers hanging from chains in the corners, their grey lines of scent mingling with the shifting fog banks of steam that ruled the humid air.

The duke stepped up and put a toe in the water to test it. Finding it satisfactory, he slid down into the shimmering pool, sinking to his neck. ‘Aaaah, yes,’ he drawled contentedly, ducking his head under and rising again, trickles running his face, his hair slick against his head.

Locking his arms along the sides he reclined and closed his eyes, relishing the feel of the hot waters as they swirled and lifted the sweat from his body. Kira almost felt envious. She didn’t sweat any more, she didn’t know whether she would if she ever got hot enough through exertion, or whether it was just not possible. It was not something she particularly missed, but the pleasure of sloughing off perspiration in a hot bath was a delight she would have liked to experience again, and she felt herself pining for this ridiculous chore.

‘Attend me, slave,’ he uttered softly, beads of moisture forming on Kira as her cold body attracted condensation.

It almost looked as though she were sweating, perspiring profusely from the humidity of the room.

Walking to the shelves she took out what she required, knelt before the pool and sank them into the water. The heat of the waters poured into her flesh, radiating inward, inspiring a shudder from her.

Kira began to work the soap across his skin, attending him with humble devotion. It brought a smile to her lips to perform thus, to be someone’s body slave, to clean them, stroke their form. It was pleasing to attend the duke thus, but what she would really prefer would be to handle her seneschal. It was a foolish daydream and hardly likely simply because, like her, the seneschal did not perspire.

But then again, perhaps it was not so fanciful a notion after all. Vampires would be soiled by their environment just like anyone else. They had to wash some time. She herself would probably need a bath soon.

Her hands wafted across his bare form, foamy trails being left behind as the soap moved in small gentle circles, the sponge following behind. The necklace swayed and rocked upon the tides, the crystal surrounded by refracted lines of darkness, projecting its radiance into the pellucid waters.

Watching her from the corners of his eyes, the duke seemed fascinated with her form, his eyes rarely leaving it, glazed and obsessed, as though mesmerised by an exquisite masterpiece. Was she really that attractive? It was not something she was used to – the adoration of males.

Letting her hands explore and cleanse at the same time it was an excellent excuse to trace his whole body, to know that she had felt every part of him. When she reached between his legs she found him rigid against the turbulent waters, the feel of her gently working across him having stoked his appetite once more.

The act of cleaning started to change, and instead of lathering his length she started to work her hand upon it, slowly masturbating him. A hand reached out behind her, slowly rolling up and down her back, her rear, her thighs. The duke’s eyes were closed, his head lounged back.

With unhurried effort she continued to pleasure him, one arm in the water, clasped to his eager length, the other continuing to roll soap or sponge across him, a sensual massage to compliment her more carnal labours.

‘Come in with me, slave,’ he uttered softly, almost as though in his sleep.

Rising, Kira slipped into the warm waters, the heat engulfing her, feeling even harsher to her because of the radical difference to her chill skin. Kneeling before the inert form of the duke she reached forward and enclosed his penis once more, continuing where she had left off, studying the relish carved distinctly into his features.

On a whim she leaned in, letting her head drop below the waters, settling down and swallowing him once more.

With her lips closed upon him she clutched to him to fight off her buoyancy and the steady shove of the bubbles rolling across her skin, tickling her with furtive caresses.

Her hair flowed around her like the limbs of an octopus, riding the random eddies of the pool, a wreath of dark red lines that swayed and danced about the sight of his shaft in her mouth.

Breathing out through her nose she released a steady plume of silver bubbles, emptying her lungs into the geysers of air being released all around her. Letting herself sink she remained at the bottom of the pool without effort, hibernating as bubbles poured across her from every direction. As an aquatic creature she lurked beneath the waves, her lips fixed to him, her head dropping down and hauling back, her cuffs and fetters scratching at the tiled interior.

Occasionally she removed herself from him, to kiss and nibble at his thighs, to suckle on his toes and make him quiver, her hand maintaining the rhythm in the absence of her mouth. Kira felt the familiar tensing of his frame, his shaft throbbing, becoming more solid against her deft tongue. She pulled back, finishing him with some slow shuffles of her hand, her gaze peering through the clouds of bubbles in anticipation.

Cloudy streams poured from the tip of his penis, speeding away and being dispersed on the whirling tides.

The image was one that amused her greatly, the sight of it so eerie. Continuing with a few more pumps of her hand she treated him to the full banquet of orgasm, and then slowly rose up, her face emerging from the surface to regard a face sated and smiling.

‘Dry me, slave,’ he said, out of breath, recovering a semblance of awareness, dazed by the pleasure.

Kira stood up, her frame rising from the waters, her 95 skin flowing with streams that dripped from her, unveiling her physique to him in full, drawing him from his enervated coma. His eyes seemed to delve into her, marvelled by the image of the vampiress he had free reign to use in any way he wished.

Stepping out she removed a towel, leaving wet footprints to and from the shelf as she opened the soft folds and presented them to accept the duke’s body. With a groan of effort he arose and ushered himself into the awaiting blankets, Kira enveloping him and then rolling the absorbent materials across his body, soaking up the water.

Once she had finished she replaced the towels and knelt before him, awaiting his next command.

Switching off the jacuzzi, the waters settled, the ventilation of the room siphoning out the steam, improving vision. The duke sat on the edge of the pool, running a tongue along the upper wall of his teeth as he watched Kira. ‘Perform for me, slave,’ he commented.

Kira did not look up, keeping her gaze lowered, her wet hair hanging about her, the waters that had drenched her still setting loose their thin tails of steam.

Almost of its own accord a hand shifted across her thighs and between her legs, her thighs parting in her kneeling stance, granting her easier access. Not only had she been trained to obedience, she herself craved it, thus her body now replied with willing, precise haste. The only cause she had to pause or deliberate was to purposefully gain punishment.

A fingertip rose between the folds of her sex, touching her clitoris, starting to rub softly back and forth before breaking into small swirls. Closing her eyes Kira left herself to the pleasure, a delight spiced with the subtle humiliation of being made to enact such a private matter 96 for the eyes of another.

Wallowing in this powerful arousal she shivered and continued, her shoulders quaking, rising a little, rocking her belly against the air as her hand worked within. Her lips peeled open, her tongue pressing against her lower teeth as she panted softly.

‘Now, you will ask permission before you come, slave,’

he stated, his face enthralled by the display. ‘Is that understood?’

‘Yes, lord,’ she replied softly, glad that he was still controlling her, regulating her pleasure, making her ask to even feel it.

The duke watched as she started to strain more and more to keep still, the rapture swelling within her womb making her writhe on her knees, gasping softly. She was on the very verge of release, and her words spilled out with her need. ‘Lord… may I come?’

‘No,’ he said flatly.

Conditioned to obedience, Kira removed her hand and grabbed her thighs, sinking her fingers into the flesh, paining it greatly as she scowled, teetering on the verge of orgasm and being forced to deny herself.

The explosive result of her onanism started to withdraw, trickling away, making her settle, her frustration rampant.

‘Begin again,’ he commanded, his entertainment being in seeing her wracked by pleasure and the effects of such denial. He knew her libido was thundering after her punishment, her bondage, her repeated sensual acts with him, and he was taking great delight in further pouring fuel onto the flames.

Again Kira started her performance, teasing her erect clitoris, stroking her lips, sighing and panting as she worked herself to orgasm, and on the very verge she again 97 pleaded for release, her words desperate. ‘ Please, lord, please may I come,’ she whimpered, her head flopping forward, hiding her face with a cascade of damp hair.

But again the duke was not about to end his amusement.

‘No, not yet, slave… maybe next time.’

Sinking down she threw her head back, flinging her hair away, the wet strands slapping across her back as a soft whip. With teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut she struggled against her instincts. For a moment her obedience faltered, her hand lingering, considering continuing, in stealing the last few whirls that would sate her hunger. But what then? He would punish her, that much was certain, and it was something she was not wholly opposed to, but then he might betray her rebellion to the seneschal. Not only would Kira be devastated to have disappointed Cassandra, but also, she was running the risk of losing her newly gained position. She had experienced too much already as a maid to risk being demoted back into the realms of a punishment slave, or a pet again.

With her arm tensed, fighting the orders of her mind, she forced the limb back and shuddered through the harsh withdrawal symptoms of deprived orgasm, and once he was sure she had slipped far enough from her goal, the duke commanded her again.

‘Continue, slave,’ he grinned, slipping from his perch and circling her humbled form.

Kira started afresh, praying that this was the time she would be permitted to finally end her frustrations. Closer and closer she drew, her finger moist with water and the wetness of her ravenous sex.

The duke knelt behind her, reaching around, one hand locking under her chin, lifting it to place the back of her head into his shoulder. The other wove in and cupped 98 her assets, squeezing them, teasing the nipples with the lightest of brushes.

Gasping with bliss she nuzzled into him, his body supporting hers, ready to feel her orgasm, as though he could somehow steal some of it for himself, soak in the feel of a woman’s rapture through unbroken contact with her.

Snatching brief influxes of air Kira’s eyes rolled back, her hand trembling, and again her words emerged, this time dripping with sincerity and pleading. ‘Please, lord, please let me come,’ she whined.

‘Yes, slave, you may,’ he stated.

Barely had the words left his lips than Kira was spasming in his hold, her body bucking against his arms as she groaned aloud, and as her body was beset by orgasm she cried out, unable to hold in such sensations and still keep quiet. The dancing finger made her insane with delight, and sagging into his arms she slouched back, bathed in internal warmth, her thoughts soft and fuzzy, her body twitching with a random fit upon occasion, dazzled by the bliss.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she mumbled.

‘Good slave,’ he commented, stroking her wet hair.

‘Now dress yourself and bring me my clothes,’ he instructed, removing himself from her and rising.

Kira almost collapsed, her body drained of tension by the onanism, but she gathered her senses and mustered some effort, fighting her way back onto her feet. Walking to the door with shaking steps, it opened for her and let the cool arms of the room beyond envelop her, stripping off the heat her body had acquired but which could not easily support.

The soft carpet tickled her soles, and once she was alone in the chamber where she had suffered the delights 99 of the sorcerous duke she began to gather his shed attire.

As she lifted his jacket, her mind reliving the experiences that had unfolded here, his wallet fell out. Kira held it for a moment in contemplation, looking across the plain leather surfaces, wondering what lay within, what secrets, what revelations. Looking over her shoulder to check that he was still not present, she opened it, and failed to find anything within that would distinguish the man from any other mere mortal treading the concrete halls and roads of the surface world.

Tarnivelle Khardekk, a twenty-seven-year-old director of primary operations for Korin Enterprises, a massive multinational corporation Kira was well acquainted with.

The company controlled numerous businesses and was often referred to in news and media. Quite what his job description meant she was not sure, but she could guess it was a front to make him blend with the mortal herd.

A range of elite credit cards, several unmarked security cards with magnetic strip and barcode, a parking permit, and a few high denomination bills were all that existed.

A picture fell from the lining as she turned it over, looking for anything else. It was a woman of astonishing beauty, a loveliness of similar captivating allure as the queen. They had different features but the same transfixing glow that made the eyes of the viewer stick to them, never tiring of studying the perfect countenance.

A crooked crown of jet held back a mane of red hair, the striking shade almost artificial in its brightness. Her piercing blue eyes were like diamonds, boring through the representation. Silver serpent earrings dangled from her lobes and a silken cloak sheathed her tall frame.

Behind her was a wall of contorted grotesque forms, travesties of humans, bloated and distended. The mutated merging of beast and nightmare peered out through 100 dozens of eyes, their horrific ugliness only serving to accentuate the beauty of the woman through contrast.

Replacing the picture she jumped at the sound of his voice, her preoccupation having left her unaware of his approach.

‘Found something, slave?’ he questioned softly, leaning in the doorway, her intense fascination with the picture having distracted her from the sound of the door opening.

‘I’m sorry, lord, it fell out as I gathered your things,’

she offered humbly, replacing it as quickly as she could.

The duke strode over and tugged the photo out, removing it from her grasp before she succeeded in restoring the portrait to its hiding place. ‘Ah, Kitjana,’

he commented, running a finger down the glossy surface, a wistful tone of painful longing in his voice.

‘Is she your queen?’ asked Kira, the regal attire similar to her own ruler making her question whether his sect was but one allied under her banner.

‘No,’ he laughed, chuckling to himself before stopping and continuing with educating his slave. ‘She rules her own sect. I met her majesty through Kitjana. Shortly after I became grandmaster of the Flesh Dancers, I was invited to attend one of her ceremonies. Dana… I mean, her majesty, was also a guest, there by special invite from Kitjana, representing vampire interests in the city.’

‘Who is she?’ quizzed Kira, for if she were not vampire she had to at least be inhuman, for even the skill of the Flesh Dancers had failed to create the level of beauty wrought on Kitjana’s face. ‘A demon, like those you called here?’

‘Her father was a powerful grand warlock, one of the greatest of his age. He conducted one of the ancient rites and sacrificed his own sect to pour their power into her before she was born. The orders of Gaia intervened and 101 killed him, but not before he had succeeded and brought the child into the world. Kitjana was taken into their custody. They foolishly thought that with the right guidance she could resist her innate evil and thwart a prophecy that matched such circumstances as Kitjana’s unholy birth. But she escaped, and is now one of the most powerful witches in the land.’

‘So what is this prophecy?’ asked Kira, recalling the duke’s harsh words about such matters.

‘The prophecy speaks of the unborn, turned to darkness and raised in the light. She would explore the darkness and sire the Wyrm child in a nest of tainted purity,’ he said, and then sighed before explaining a little further.

‘The Wyrm child is a sort of avatar that is said will set loose the Great Wyrm’s final apocalypse, the final cycle of mankind.’

‘And you believe this?’

‘I don’t know. A few years ago I would have scoffed, but I’ve seen too many omens and other prophecies unfurling around us. Something big is brewing. Whether it’s just a major war between the Wyrm and Gaia, or the apocalypse itself, I don’t know.’

‘People are taking this seriously then?’ Kira said, aware that such events could well influence her own life, even here in the palace. If there was one constant in the universe, it was that no matter who fought it, war always dragged everyone in sooner or later.

‘Why do you think the queen is making all these pacts?

She wants everyone to know her strength, so that if something occurs she is more than able to defend herself.

She’s been consolidating power for years now, making sure that she is at the crest of the wave if the deluge comes.’

It sounded bizarre, foolish, nothing but superstition 102 and fable. But then again, so did the existence of vampires, werewolves, witches and warlocks, demons and gods.

‘I need to mediate awhile, slave. Get dressed,’ he ordered, putting the picture back and starting to don his suit.

Kira lifted her shed attire, and with liberal use of the talcum powder she found in the other room, and the polish beside it, she started to seal herself back into her uniform.

Pulling on her boots, she buckled them tight to her legs, running her hands up the material to smooth out the wrinkles. Wriggling into her dress she interlaced her fingers and pushed the gloves into position, and with some contorted wriggling she succeeded in pulling the zip up before applying the lock to the back of her collar.

Lying on the floor she laced herself back into the corset, stealing away the strings, her strength negating the need for assistance, her limbs having garnered power from the Malefic Kiss of the queen.

The last part of her attire was the plug, which she aimed into herself and clutched to the wall for assistance as she filled her anus with the wide interloper.

‘Sit cross-legged in the middle of the room, slave,’ he ordered, straightening his tie back into place with some soft tugs. Kira did as he bade her, settling into position and crossing her legs, her hands on her knees.

The duke regarded her for a moment, and then flung his left arm forward, little finger raised, thumb extended, forefinger pointing directly to her. The crystal about his neck flashed with a brief sheen of new potency, and Kira felt a sudden invisible weight enclose her, as though a huge fist had snatched her body, its influencing coming from every direction, stopping her from moving.

The duke lowered his right arm and then started to 103 raise it towards the presented hand, his fingers reaching out, tensed, like a claw readying to grab the other fist.

Lines of shadow started to form about Kira, the darkness itself solidifying, becoming solid tendrils that emerged like reeds around her, spilling from the floor. The duke reached the base of his left arm and slowly took hold of it, his fingers clasping to the other. The serpentine coils dove in, snapping to her, coiling upon her body like midnight ethereal ropes, tightening and capturing her.

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

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

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

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

A few minutes later Kira thought she saw movement 104 in him, a shimmer like heat haze rising from his body, an unseen spectral presence drifting from his body and fading further out of her view.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hem dropped as two suspenders, the buckles grabbing her thigh boots, the arch between the two front fastenings allowing a glimpse of her leather thong. Her white locks tumbled down from behind her regal and sinister crown. Dark shades about her eyes emphasised her cold composure, while similar grim cosmetic work served to render her eyebrows and lips ready assistants 106 to an even more callous temperament. Whenever she dressed in such belated styles, Cassandra found herself enchanted by the darkness of her enslaver’s image, by the danger present in surrendering to one so malevolent.

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

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

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

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

‘Have the clan departed?’ asked the queen.

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

‘Excellent. Now, what of the sects?’

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

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

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

she offered.

‘No, not yet. The bloodlords are of no real 107 consequence. I have no pressing interest in their holdings.

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

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

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

‘It appears so, your majesty.’

‘Any other news on this matter?’

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

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

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

‘Yes, your majesty.’

‘Anything else, seneschal?’

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

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

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

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