Queen vampiress | Moon slave 4 | collar and gag bdsm stories

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

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

He would have traded places with her in a heartbeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘The collar you wear is not just to keep you from changing form without permission; it has other functions as well. I can activate whenever I wish, like so…’

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

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

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

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

she stated, and unlocked the fastenings of the plugs.

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

‘Nice breasts,’ she commented, taking hold of one and assessing it personally, examining size, structure, texture, the cold flesh of the vampiress making the nipple rise.

Corin’s eyes were wide with mortified panic. ‘But they look a bit cold. Perhaps we can warm them up a little,’she smiled, removing a candle from the box and throwing a lighter to bring flame to the wick.

Turning the waxen shaft in the light, she watched the head gather a pool of molten wax while absently looking to Corin’s chagrin stare and finding satisfaction in it.

Thanos shifted restlessly, his shaft growing erect between his legs as he watched the play unfold. He had no idea Corin was so lovely, having never really seen past her sibling status, but now, in this sensual realm, he could appreciate her in a whole new light. It was delightful to see such an alluring form squirm under the attentions of the queen. Her supple tanned form, bound and opened, her extremities coated in sensuous rubber, her body left defenceless, dancing against its shackles and the imminent travail the vampiress was to impart.

With a hand dithering, questioning whether to take hold of himself, he pondered on how the two of them were so completely different from one another. The queen was a pale, elegant deity. She was strong, cold, calculating, an epitome of the undead. Corin however, was an athletic bronzed maenad, a berserker full of vitality and life, the very image of a lupine tribe woman. One led a vast realm of countless thousands, her every word affecting the fate of millions of mortals. The other was part of a unified force, a voice in a gestalt power that mortals remained completely ignorant of and were never affected by.

To watch one of them break the other to her will was a show he studied with intensity, and lodged in the shadows he let the indecisive hand drift covertly between his legs, taking hold of his length and treating himself to some sly and subtle caresses. Hopefully, with the queen standing in the bright light he would remain a mere vague silhouette against a backdrop of jet, hiding his transgression from her. Even if she did notice, the sight of Corin’s treatment was just seducing him into seeking some punishment of his own.

Corin’s wide eyes flashed shut and her face grimaced as a hot dribble fell from above and started to pitter-patter onto her breasts. The molten opaque fluids made the flesh shiver and shake, swaying as it sought to evade the attack, but the queen was not choosy about where she placed the searing issue, and Corin’s paroxysms only served more of her up to the molten kisses. Squealing against the gag her breathing rose and fell, her body straining against its prison as the queen watched like some impassive surgeon, applying her attentions with clinical disdain.

The smooth tanned panes of Corin’s torso started to become more and more obscured by the crust of wax that formed across it, the queen remorselessly applying the hot dribbles, sometimes from a height, sometimes almost directly to the skin to make Corin sing aloud with new levels of duress.

The queen leaned back, the leather creaking softly against her curves as she blew out the candle and let her eyes stroll across the suffering woman beneath her.

Despite their fundamental differences, it was intensely arousing to watch one woman use and abuse another, and Thanos had to let go of himself lest he climax.

The queen placed the candle back in the box, leaving Corin breathing in harried pants, her body wracked with terrible sensation. Thanos could guess from his own experiences what was going through her mind. She would be frightened, questioning why this was happening to her, why she was being tormented so. But also there would be the growing nugget of desire for these pursuits, festering in the back of her mind and growing every time she was teased.

From the cabinet the queen snatched a flogger, the leather stem spilling forth a bright bushel of shocking pink strands of thin latex. The myriad of bright tongues rippled like water as the vampiress strode back to her captive, her features unmoved by Corin’s tears and quaking physique.

‘Still a little cold, are we?’ cooed the queen, running the curtain of strips over Corin’s body, trailing through her legs so that its silken tentacles tickled her aching sex before slithering along the fields of encrusted wax. ‘Well, I have something else to heat that attractive torso of yours, slave.’

The latex fingers dribbled over her face, parting and falling free as the queen turned and began to walk around her prisoner, looking across the alluring frame spread so mercilessly before her, savouring the sights before she altered them again. Corin struggled and mewled softly into her gag, aware of the imminent flogging and desperate to evade it, more so because she knew she was beginning to revel in it, and she feared corruption considerably more than the pain.

Thanos once again released his shaft, the hot swell of his release building almost to eruption, and he was forced to break off his onanism lest he obviously reveal his disobedience.

With absent severity the queen began to lambaste the wax, thrashing the solidified crust, cracking it under harsh blows that also stung the skin beneath. Flickering afflictions tore the shattered particles away, slowly clearing the flesh of the lupine with stern swats. Gradually the wax vanished until only a few specks remained upon the harried woman. But these too were removed with diligent applications of the scourge, the queen tolerating no single speck upon her property.

‘There, now that’s a little better, but I think we can still get you all nice and toasty before we draw this session to a close, eh slave?’ she crooned, opening the tackle box and rummaging within its compartments for what she sought. Sliding her hands into surgical gloves, she hauled the semi-translucent sheaths into place with an elasticised snap and then interlaced the digits, pressing them together, settling them into place before clapping them together, the noisy smack making Thanos and Corin flinch, grabbing their attention in full.

Thanos watched wide-eyed as his sister fought to see what the queen was intending, but he lacked the vantage point to do so. From his lowly position in the shadows his hand started to shuffle against his rigid member once more as he saw the tube of embrocating cream emerge.

He winced to himself and smiled, recalling well just how brutal this medicinal salve could prove when misused on tender regions. He himself had suffered the infernal blight of its use on his genitals and rear, and though he savoured the memory, at the time it had made him livid with panic, the first occasion tricking him into believing he was being horrendously burned, so severe had the effects been. It seemed that Corin was going to endure the same initiation.

Unscrewing the cap the vampiress set it aside and squeezed a single track of the gel upon her index finger.

With a creak of her leather suit she crouched between Corin’s splayed legs, the woman’s chest rising and falling with frenzied gasps, her anxiety at what was going to be done to her devouring her mind.

‘Just relax, slave. It’s all part of your training. Soon you’ll be wondering how you could ever have resisted such treatment, and this will be a pleasant memory indeed,’ testified the queen, and with a gentle wipe she deposited the cream in a single streak along her labia.

For a few moments there was no response from Corin, the cream taking its time to soak in and attack her, during which time the queen applied a new dab to the tip of the same finger in preparation.

Corin erupted into the most tumultuous throes, her muscles pronounced, her tendons raised against her skin as she screeched into the gag, the caustic heat rending her nerve-endings. Thanos again had to let go of himself, the scene of harrowing one that had him dreaming of the times the queen had perpetrated such a crime upon him.

He recalled well the heat, the burning throb that poured through his skin, as diabolic as the most pernicious caning. But it was a glorious torture, a pain born from his mistress’ desire to have him suffer for her amusement, to be obedient to her will, and such measures were necessary to ensure such a vaulted goal.

The queen dithered, watching Corin’s loins tense, her body flashing with the fight to get free. Again she tried to change, guided by instinct, by the primal need to break loose and wipe the accursed substance from her.

‘Bad pup, you know that’s not allowed, yet still you persist in disobeying me,’ commented the queen as the form of Corin swelled and taxed the strength of the manacles, the latex stockings and gloves twinkling with new refractions of light as the flesh beneath started to expand. ‘Now you’ll be punished for it, and it’s your own fault,’ she added.

Corin wailed as the collar loosed its serpentine arcs of voltage, chastising the naughty slave, demanding that she give up her futile act and return to the form required.

Shaking from the twin abuses of cream and collar, Corin was sufficiently distracted from the baleful gel and let go of the controlling strings of earth energy. In resignation her form shrivelled back to its ordinary size, her skin sodden with sweat from her battle.

‘You see? You cannot deny me, slave,’ the queen stated, walking around to Corin’s face, settling beside her, stroking her wet hair, soothing her like some caring parent. ‘You belong to me. Your body is mine to do with as I wish. Your mind will follow soon enough, and the longer you hold out, the longer you deprive yourself of the pleasure of your slavery. There, there, it’ll be okay.

We will have eternity together, my precious little slave.

Now that I have infected you with my blood you can stay at my side until the end of time. So you see, there is no hope of salvation, I will break you, Corin, and I will make you relish your slavery. It’s all just a matter of time and patience. So fight if you wish, I’ll just keep teaching your body my lessons of love until your mind finally assimilates them as well,’ she added, using her cuff to wipe away Corin’s free-flowing tears.

And Corin knew all too well that the queen was correct, for already her submissive nature was germinating, and the queen was making it harder and harder to resist the creeping influence upon her psyche.

‘Are you ready for your tuition to continue?’ the queen asked softly, kissing Corin’s ear, letting her lips brush the fine hairs, tickle them as Corin grizzled in apathy, knowing she was undone, that she was going to lose herself to the divine slavery of the vampiress. ‘It’s okay, you don’t need to respond, I know you want it. If you were really so disdainful of your fate you would endure the kiss of the collar and kill yourself. It’s strange, isn’t it? To know that the means to end this and save your soul has existed from the beginning, and yet you have declined to use it,’ accused the queen, causing both Thanos and Corin to flash open their eyes and stare wildly, startled by the truth.

‘I have left a veritable loaded gun beside you,’ she went on. ‘The collar can kill you, all you need is the courage of your convictions. If you despised my rule so much you would brave the pain and end it. I’m sure the collar can’t be that much worse than the deeds I have been orchestrating on this gorgeous lupine form. But isn’t it odd that you don’t end it?’

Corin threw her head from side to side, trying to deny the malediction, but both of the werewolves knew it was so. Thanos had never thought of it before, that all this time, even during the initial rule of the queen where he fought her will with all his soul, he had been wearing the very means to end it around his throat. Yet he had never availed himself of the option. Concentrated voltage could well end their lives. It was a long shot, but if they had hated her tyranny as much as they professed, then they would have done it the moment they came to and found themselves captured by their greatest of archenemies.

‘I’m going to continue abusing you, Corin,’ continued the vampiress, stroking the woman’s moist cheek, speaking softly into her ear. ‘I’m going to train you to be my servile pet, lapping at my heels; a ghoul, an affront to Gaia, conducting the will of a vampire. Every deed you do for me, every time you please me with your actions, you compound this crime, disgrace your kind, shame your ancestors and your tribe. Your name will live in infamy for all time, Corin. So go ahead, end your life before your felonies grow any larger.’

With distraught effort Corin fought to change, throwing her will to it, anxious to repel the charges.

‘That’s it,’ encouraged the queen, watching as Corin began to dress herself in the flesh of her full form. ‘If you truly want to avoid your fate, if you do not wish to be my sex slave for all eternity, then keep going.’

The scenario captivated Thanos; the queen using the most expert means to shatter Corin, overcoming her staunch resistance with ease. It was a tactic as flawless as the body of the vampiress.

The collar erupted into life, scalding the female for her actions. Undaunted she continued, the voltage rising steadily with her actions, growing more savage, dissecting her commitment.

‘Come on, Corin, you can do it. You’re going to be nothing more than a whore for the undead. You’ll be a base slut, suckling from vampires, committing the most degrading deeds, humiliating you and your kind with every second of your degradation.’ The queen used such stark words to bolster Corin’s efforts, just to make the fall all the more harsh when she did fail, as the queen knew she would.

With a grizzling sigh Corin sagged, her shaking body returning to normal, the collar cutting off once she was restored to the image of an ordinary erotically bound female. The queen cradled her head, holding it to her bosom, letting her nuzzle in the gap of the leather attire that allowed access to her cleavage.

Corin wept profusely, overcome by melancholy defeat, forced to face the damning knowledge that she was no longer held against her will. She was no longer a prisoner fighting the machinations of her enemies; she was a willing servant to them. Soothing her captive, the queen petted Corin’s hair and face, offering her condolences.

‘There, there, it’s all right,’ she said, her tones soft, comforting. ‘You were not ready for the truth, but you have to face it and you’ll benefit from it, I promise. You see, you really do want to be mine, little Corin, and I’ll take such good care of you, as I do for all my pets.’

For a long time Corin vented her grief, knowing she was defeated. Her ability to resist, to tell herself that she was fighting the will of the queen was gone, demolished by the tactics of the aloof vampiress.

Thanos almost succumbed to climax as he watched the maternal scene, a lump in his throat as he choked with emotion. He had watched the queen turn a defiant female into an adoring supplicant in a matter of minutes, exploiting her self-preservation to completely rewrite her psyche. He had never been more besotted with the regal vampiress than he was at this very moment.

‘Now, I’m going to continue, slave,’ she said, and started to pull away. Corin struggled afresh, shaking her head, trying to petition clemency, but the queen merely trailed her hand down the side of Corin’s dismal face and smiled. ‘It’s for the best, Corin. Now lie still and try and find pleasure in your defeat, in being owned. I’m blessing you with my attention – you should be grateful.’

The cream-laden forefinger pressed forward and punctured the lupine’s anus, slithering in and depositing its cruel cargo both inside and out. Corin released a whimper with the entry, and then groaned as the queen rode her digit back and forth, the tiny phallic stem working against her, pleasuring her.

Then the embrocating cream began to exert its effects, the heat rising steadily, the temperature in her sphincter growing stronger and more intense until she was squawking in apathy once more. But this time, as compensation and reward for her confession, the queen used her thumb to stroke the previously hassled sex of the woman, rubbing up and down, soothing her with some delight as she suffered anally.

Torn between the soft stroke of rubber-clad leather to her clitoris and the scorching of her rear by a penetrating finger, Corin’s reviling of the vampiress’ attention was less distinct this time, her mind more resigned to the truth.

Thanos wondered if perhaps it was a family trait between them, a perverse shadow in their personalities that all others had failed to detect. Corin was older than he and had fought with the tribe for longer, thus it had taken more stern measures to seduce her from this doctrine, but she still possessed that submissive streak that he had been exploring when his angelic vampiress captured him.

The queen removed herself from the openings, the chemical fires ebbing, letting Corin settle down and enjoy her educated touch, but in a few seconds the immortal woman decided her subject was delighting in it a little too much for her purposes.

‘I don’t think we’ll need this any more will we, slave?’

she asked, ripping off the gloves and tossing them aside before tapping a leather-sheathed nail to the metal faceplate of the gag.

Corin nodded, her jaws obviously aching from being parted for so long upon the unforgiving demands of the gag. The option of freedom was greatly welcomed by the aggrieved female.

‘Very well, I shall be generous this time,’ she said, and grabbed Corin’s chin in a stern hold. ‘You have been a good slave so far. But do not make me regret my decision, or I’ll gag you for a year in a mode that will make this seem pleasant by comparison. Understand, slave?’

Corin meekly nodded against the iron grip about her metal shod jaw.

‘Good.’

The queen began to unfasten the straps, removing the penis gag and setting aside, letting the woman lick her lips and yawn, exercising her long oppressed maw. ‘Now what do you say?’ she asked dourly.

‘Thank you, your majesty,’ Corin said softly, humbled beneath the shadow of the leather-clad dominatrix.

‘Good, slave,’ awarded the queen, patting Corin’s cheek as she once more let her hand search into the tackle box.

Two shiny pinwheels appeared in her leather digits, the metal handles reaching forward to each hold a prickly spur. The wheels bore a set of tiny dagger teeth around their circumference, the pins winking with malevolence in the light. Holding each of them as one might wield a pen, the queen stepped between Corin’s legs and placed them to her inner thighs. With one wheel on each leg she started to push them along, the small implements rolling, applying gentle prickly kisses.

Corin shuddered and gasped, the sensation dark and pleasurable, a threat of harm that was never administered.

The pain she had expected was instead a covert pleasure, and her eyes fluttered shut as she relished their unique and tantalising effects.

‘There, that’s not so bad is it, slave?’ sniggered the queen, watching her slave writhe licentiously under her hands.

The wheels rolled up across Corin’s hips, tracing routes across her belly and ribs, taking a meandering voyage slowly towards her breasts. Corin was swiftly panting for them to touch her teats, the escalating sensations mauling her sanity.

With lethargic whorls the queen started to spiral up each mound, working towards the summit, drawing steady circles of pleasure upon them until the device ran over each hard and erect nipple. Corin immediately released a croak of rapture, overwhelmed and assailed by the small devices as they continued to prick her sensitised skin. Once more they began their descent, taking their time in the trip, heading back down until this time they were circling her loins like steel vultures.

Corin’s respiration was increasing with each hoop of feeling they etched, the anticipation and fright growing, her uncertainty of whether they would be kind or baleful should they wander on her sex.

The pinwheels ran over her vulva, marking roads of sensation along her most tender regions, eliciting pips of shock from the subject. It was pain and pleasure merged into a heady cocktail of incredible potency, the effects making Corin thrash against her bonds, torn between begging for mercy and wailing for more. Again and again the queen added to her plight, forcing Corin to endure such depraved delights, making her revel in them, feeding the slumbering behemoth of her masochism.

‘Do you want another reward, slave?’ asked the queen.

‘Yes, yes, your majesty… please, anything,’ she sobbed, ravenous for more, her pulse and breath racing, the sweat of pain replaced by a sheen of hedonistic lust.

The vampiress rose and strode slowly to Corin’s head, standing beside her, looking down upon her, her face in shadow as the spotlight glared down from above. ‘Have you ever serviced a female before, little slave?’ she asked equably.

‘No, your majesty, but I’ll try my best, just give me a chance, teach me, I’ll be good, I swear it,’ she hissed, her mouth watering with anticipation, her appetite raging as Thanos envied her position.

Swinging a leather-clad leg over Corin’s face, the queen straddled her, smothering her, pressing her nose and mouth into her underwear, the leather stopping her breath, briefly depriving her. Sinking her gloved fingers into Corin’s hair, the queen used them as moorings by which she pulled the lupine’s face more deeply into her crotch.

The vampiress rubbed herself back and forth on a slow rocking shuffle, letting Corin drown in the scent and taste of the thong, her eyes sparkling with awe as she peered up across the torso of the salacious vampiress. ‘Do you wish to taste of me in full, slave?’ she asked, her hands in Corin’s hair, holding her firmly as she regarded her with a firm glare.

‘Yes, your majesty, please allow me,’ she gasped, a new facet to her personality suddenly opened and running riot through her thoughts.

The queen smiled and dragged the thong aside, letting Corin thrust her tongue forth with excitement. The lupine lapped and fawned with enthusiasm, watching with astonishment as the leather-clad form of her owner rode her face, revelling in her attentions. The vampiress had been immensely aroused by having so expertly broken her subject, the reward of defeating Corin making the cunnilingus even sweeter for the cruel deity.

‘That’s it, slave,’ purred the queen. ‘Now use the flat of your tongue. Gentle… slow and delicate, there’s no rush. That’s it. Oh, oh my. Oh, good girl… such a quick learner.’

Letting go of Corin’s hair she arched her back, grabbing Corin’s breasts and massaging them in oppressive fists, kneading the flesh as she thrust her own breasts into the tight leather cups of her dress, turning the front pane into a wrinkle-free sheet of polished hide. Corin convulsed at the image of her owner’s pleasure, the image branding itself into her thoughts.

Thanos was so livid with frustration he could barely touch himself before almost climaxing immediately, the sight before him so astonishingly arousing. How he wished to perform such a deed, to be trapped beneath his goddess, adoring her in such a way.

The untrained organ of the slave started to give in to fatigue, her muscles strained and pulled, the tongue growing weary from its diligent task.

‘Come on, slave, don’t slack off now – not when you’re doing so well,’ commanded the queen, snagging the woman’s nipples in pinches and gently tugging, elevating Corin’s sensory influx. ‘Much better, slave,’ she smiled as Corin gathered new dedication to her task, pleasuring her with frenetic oral agility.

‘Thanos, come here and lick my boots,’ she snapped, drawing him from his mental torpor; the dissolute haze he was wallowing in as he bestowed himself sly masturbation.

Corin went rigid as she heard the words, the sudden awful realisation dawning on her that the lupine skulking in the corner, the werewolf that had decimated the vampire lords of the city and who had assisted her capture, was in fact her own long lost brother. Thanos took the leash from his collar and moved across the floor, keeping low and out of her sight, unwilling to reveal himself to her, to unveil his disgrace, his guilt still lingering by a few tenuous threads.

The queen took in Corin’s chagrin confusion as her first lycanthrope servile started to roll his canine tongue up and down her boots, letting it twirl around the muscular limbs, the taste of leather filling his mouth while he swam in humbled dissolute delight. How he relished being her slave, fawning at her feet, kissing her heels, licking her boots as the sounds of oral attention continued to reach his ears, its speed starting to dwindle.

‘Don’t you dare stop, slave,’ warned the queen, harshly turning her pinches, making the woman scream into her womb and restore her former rate.

‘Didn’t you know I captured your brother?’ she aired, her head rolling from the sensations of having two of her kind’s most lethal enemies adoring her. Her words took on a personal edge, as though she was merely letting out her thoughts and opinions, addressing no one in particular, at ease with her servants. ‘Little Thanos was visiting a professional whore when I found him.’

Thanos settled with a soft exhale, warmed by the display of her casual tones. It was a pleasing revelation to have her become more human with her two lupine slaves than at any other time. With any other creature she was the queen – majestic, perfect, a marble effigy of sadism and power, but now, in the privacy of this debauched sanctum, she was free to act and talk as she wished with impunity. The image had dropped; they alone were permitted time to dwell with Dana instead of the queen.

It was the nearest he had seen her to being the woman who had initially enslaved him, long before she had obligations to her realm and her rule, when all she had was her house and her slaves. All other matters had been handled by the ruling council, of which she had been a small voice, but now she had defeated them all that previously occupied them weighed on her instead.

‘Such a pity that his first experiences had to have travelled to such places. Professionals are generally such pathetic little creatures. Reviling the name whore when it fits them so aptly. Mewling constantly that because they refrain from sex with their fool clients that their profession is not sexual in nature. Our debauched passions are sexual, aren’t they my pets,’ she stated, to which Corin gurgled her affirmation, and Thanos grumbled approvingly as he stroked his rigid length while continuing to lick and kiss the leather.

‘If one does not find this sexual in nature, one has no business messing in such affairs. It riles me immensely when others stain the purity of our perversions with their moronic dabbling in it.’ She hissed through clenched teeth, a fresh bloom of rapture spilling through her, tightening the muscles of her legs, making the lubricious hide ripple under Thanos’ tongue and gaze, his eyes bulging with adoration.

‘I guess it is a sign of our decadent times, eh, my slaves?

So many bland mortals are seeking reputation and recognition through our delightful doctrines, trying to excel in it when in actuality they haven’t the slightest inkling as to the true motives behind it. They treat it as a race, as a fight to be the best, the most accomplished, forgetting any notion of enjoyment or true surrender. Any lowly insect can don rubber and crack a whip, and yet it seems that these are the very dregs who float to the surface and bob to and fro as professional dominas,’ said the queen, grabbing hold of Corin’s hair again as she started to work herself towards climax.

‘The world is full of ignorant fools demanding money for their uneducated and fraudulent services while they decry their status as prostitutes. Or they grovel and beg, trying to impress with displays of grandiose yet phoney submission. It makes it so much harder to find real prospective slaves, to separate these base tricksters and liars from those who would make sterling assets to my palace. Mortals are such a benighted breed, you should both consider yourself fortunate to be removed from their greedy, self-obsessed clutches, my pets,’ she muttered, pulling at Corin’s follicles, making the roots wail in protest as the female thrust her tongue deep, offering penetration in addition to her flitting attention.

‘But I guess it is not all their fault. If those seeking submission would not tolerate them, then they would be starved of their funds. Every woman with a dominant thought suddenly adopts it in a professional capacity, so few actually bother to indulge for its own gratification.

Imagine the horror if every woman started to charge just for sex, and that those who offered themselves for free were the minority. The same applies far too closely to our art, and it perpetuates this ridiculous state of affairs, robbing it of its most powerful edge.’

The queen leaned over, peering down upon the adoring lupine slobbering on her heels, his shaft a sword of lust between his legs, his hands trembling with craving.

‘Thanos understands that all too well, don’t you, slave?

When under the care of the paid whore I found you with, you knew pleasure and satisfaction, thinking you had achieved fulfilment. But then once I had taken you in for real, made you my true slave, showed you the love of a genuine mistress, what then happened to your opinion of her, slave?’ She lifted her heel, balancing on her toes to let his tongue flail across the sole.

‘Yes, you realised that what you had was as nothing compared to what you could have had. There’s no going back, no accepting of what you now know to be inferior, slave. You’re both mine… forever,’ she crooned, licking her lips, her fangs free from the ecstasy of Corin’s homage to her loins and the service of Thanos to her boots.

‘Perhaps I shall harvest a crop of these fetishistic spotlight hogs, give them a true taste of slavery, teach them what the flavour of their professed lifestyle really does to the palette,’ she mused, and then suddenly broke into gasping sighs of rhapsody, shivering on Corin’s face, blocking her nose, stopping up her breath as she rode her further into the heady spires of fulfilment.

Thanos suckled on her toes, dwelling deep in his degradation. It felt wonderful to hear her rant thus, for it confirmed all the more forcefully the truth that she was fanatic in her loyalty to her sadism and dominance. She was not seeking fame, renown, respect, money, to rule a scene or acquire a notoriety she could not otherwise attain; she did it because it was her one abiding love, her consuming passion. The queen had no tolerance for trespassers in any domain she dwelt in, be it her palace, her property, her city, or her chosen deviances. It was the fact that women demeaned her through association via their constant capitalist treachery and pointless greed.

Every time someone opted not to perform their art for self-gratification, for mutual pleasure and instead chose the path of a simple whore working for money, then all whose evolved sexuality drew them into dark epicurean folds were diminished a little more. As a dying breed, every latex-sheathed whore and profane deceiver brought the genuine practitioners closer to extinction.

The queen cast back her head and released a soft oscillating cry of ecstasy, the tone vibrating as she soaked up all of Corin’s caresses and then staggered forward, removing herself from her living seat.

Corin gulped in fresh air, her features damp with sweat, tears, and the moisture of the queen’s titillation.

Swallowing, Corin licked her lips, continuing to taste of her owner’s sex, her eyes half closed, taking in the image of her owner’s rear.

‘Not bad, slave,’ the queen attested, straightening her thong and looking down on Thanos as he continued to revere her thigh boots, working over regions he had rigorously cleaned numerous times already, for now he was working for his own satisfaction. ‘Not bad at all for a beginner. We’ll soon have you as a first class oral expert.

‘Are we having fun down there, slave?’ she asked, turning a leg to offer a calf and heel to him.

‘Yes, your majesty,’ he replied, the words corrupted by his wolfen countenance as he rolled his tongue in the instep of her boot, curling the organ up to adore her ankles.

‘You enjoy my rule, don’t you, slave?’ she quizzed, proving to Corin that her brother was far from an unwilling prisoner, just as she now was.

‘Yes, your majesty, more than anything,’ he swiftly replied, the words genuine and sincere. ‘I love you, I worship you, I want to be your obedient slave forever.’

‘Well, no doubt you’ll fail to be totally obedient, just to earn yourself some added punishment, eh slave?’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

‘And why is that, slave?’

‘I enjoy being chastised by you and your servants. It makes me feel more owned and reminds me of who and what I am.’

‘And what is that again, slave?’ she asked, seeking to have him confirm his status to his sister again and again, to lead by example the fact that there was no escape, that she would end up as her sibling had.

‘Your slave, majesty. To do with as you wish for all time.’

‘And you worship me?’

‘Of course, your majesty,’ he blurted, desperate to prove his allegiance to the one he adored beyond life and death itself. ‘I could worship no other.’

‘Good boy,’ she purred, and lifted the leg he was not attending, hooking the heel and sole to his shoulder, using him as a footrest while digging the heel into his fur.

Thanos winced and turned his head to the side, lapping at the foot that held him down, his eyes rolling with voluptuous hunger along her boots and to her leather-bound form, mesmerised with her every curve and line.

‘You may masturbate to completion before me,’ she nonchalantly permitted.

Instantly his hand slapped to his tumescent shaft, beginning a rapid shuffle, savouring the bliss all the more because he knew he would be permitted to find an end.

The show, the queen’s words, all of it had inflamed his libido to the point of explosion, and every descent of his fist brought him closer to releasing this onus.

‘You see how devoted your brother is, Corin? You’ll be identical to this one day, and you’ll love it as much as he. Maybe more so. Who knows what the future holds with any degree of clarity, eh?’

Thanos started to shift on his knees, his hips shaking as he pounded his hand up and down, the taste and smell of the queen and her leather attire washing like a flash flood through his senses, filling his mind with the image of his goddess. The warm creeping influence of his climax started to slither along his shaft, beckoning release.

‘Ready to finish, slave?’ she asked, detecting the clues that preceded ejaculation.

‘Yes, your majesty,’ he hissed through tightly interlaced fangs, nuzzling to her calves.

‘I want you to look into your fellow slave’s eyes as you climax, slave,’ she ordered.

‘Yes, your majesty,’ he weakly confirmed, her heel pivoting, guiding him forward and to the side of the table where he found himself staring into the glistening eyes of Corin. The queen was going to humiliate him and thereby teach Corin via this act of depreciation.

With eyes locked to his sibling, he fixed his peripheral vision to the queen, trying to leave his main gaze unfocused, to deny Corin’s presence. It was distinctly anti-erotic, but he was so close there was no hope of depriving himself.

With a snarling choke he felt warm droplets spill from his tip, each new thumping drive unleashing more of his seed as he cavorted on his knees, torn by the storm of his orgasm.

‘Keep those eyes fixed on each other, slaves,’ chuckled the queen, digging her stiletto into Thanos, emphasising his submission, making his climax rise to new heights.

‘Though you’ll never perform on each other, you can at least perform for each other.’

Stealing all the pleasure he could, Thanos finally slowed his rhythm and then stopped, letting his hand drop free of his shaft.

‘Good, slaves,’ commented the queen, stepping back, letting Thanos’ gaze drop to the floor, suddenly beset by shame at what he had done. ‘But something will have to be done about that awful mess on the floor…’ she pondered with obvious intent. ‘I wonder what?’

Already aware of what she was going to recommend, Thanos leaned forward and swallowed his revulsion as he swallowed the sporadic splatters of milky goo. The ghastly tang crept through his mouth, the already cooled slime sliding lethargically down his throat with every swallow. It was an obnoxious chore he was occasionally brought to perform, but because it humiliated him so he found a slim satisfaction in it, adding another paradox to his life.

‘That’s a good slave, don’t miss any now,’ she advised, stepping onto the presented surface of his back, pushing down as she put a hand to her raised knee for added stability.

Rolling his tongue along the areas he had cleaned he made sure all was left spotless and then paused, staying beneath her boots while awaiting freedom. As usual the queen held him there for a moment longer, to impress her rule upon her slave.

‘Now what do you say, slave?’ she enquired.

‘Thank you, your majesty, for letting me find relief and for allowing me to adore your boots,’ he stated softly.

‘Excellent, now release your sister,’ she ordered, removing herself from Thanos and sidling over to the cabinet, opening the box and taking out a coil of coarse rope.

Lifting himself onto his feet, Thanos towered over his sibling, the two of them trapped in very separate physical facets. Unfastening the restraints at her extremities, she was fully released and slid aside and onto the floor, her skin sticking to the padding. She crumpled into a heap, breathing slowly, her limbs aching terribly from their prolonged captivity. Hugging her latex-sheathed limbs to her, she comforted them as the queen appeared once more before her. From her lowly pose Corin looked up across the spit-shined boots and across the queen’s glorious cleavage to the features of her trainer and owner.

‘Stand up, slave,’ the queen demanded, causing Corin to grimace as she forced her weary muscles into activity, slowly acquiring a crooked stance before her owner.

‘Stand up straight, slave!’ she barked, and grabbed a nipple, compressing the tender teat to have Corin stiffen, her spine giving a soft crunch of readjustment.

The queen lifted her hand higher, delivering Corin onto tiptoe where she swayed, her arms flapping at her sides, unsure of what to do against the punishment. She was held there for a few seconds, the queen assessing her scowling expression of endurance, and then let go. Corin sagged a little but kept herself to attention.

‘Put your hands on your head, get your legs apart and keep them there,’ came the next commandment, and Corin obediently shuffled into the required pose.

The centre of the rope was located and placed across the back of her neck, letting the two long strands flop down her front. A knot in her cleavage connected them and a series of four other knots were set along the twined coil, the last being one that hung just above her sex.

Feeding the paired lines between her legs, her buttocks were parted by the queen so that the coil could press to her sphincter, rise up her back and form another five knots before slipping through the rope at the nape of her neck.

A single tug stole the slack and pressed the knots to her, digging the lowest ones straight into her anus and her crotch, the coarse rope abrasive as it slid into place, lifting her to the balls of her feet as she gritted her teeth.

The ropes parted and reached around her front, grabbing a strand of rope and reaching back around to grab the twin strands at her spine. The same method followed all the way down her front, the two segments of rope located between the knots being pulled apart into a diamond shape, marking her front and her back with the same pattern. The laced coils drew the rope dress ever tighter to her torso and ground the intimate knots more forcefully to her orifices until the first stage was completed. Her breasts were now forced between a tight pattern, the ropes squeezing them as the others pulled in at her chest, the base of her ribs, her waist and her hips.

Standing behind Corin, the queen held the two ropes that had pulled the lowest formation of ropes and transferring them to one hand, she used the other to mould Corin as she wished. The slave’s forearms were placed along each other at her back, and the rope was deployed to force them into this pose against any defiance.

The two ropes initially fastened just above her elbows, squeezing her upper arms before they laced along the parallel section of limbs, locking them tightly together and preventing any chance of escape. The detailed plexus met in the middle and knotted before launching the reunited twin coils back up and over Corin’s shoulders, placing them next to the original beginning of the rope dress.

‘Sit cross-legged, slave,’ ordered the queen, keeping firm reign on her property as the woman lowered herself obediently to the floor, every breath pressing against the rigorous corset of woven strands, the feel of being so comprehensively bound clearly exciting her.

No sooner had she adopted the required position than the queen pulled the strands together, knotted them and then yanked down, pulling Corin’s chin lower, drawing her almost onto her calves. She gurgled and croaked, fighting to keep quiet as she was treated so roughly, her worry at being bound thus obviously plaguing her a great deal.

Using the separated coils to reach out to just above her knees, the queen formed a tight anchor and then performed the same procedure as used on her forearms.

Corin’s shins were laced together, running against each other, her spine bent, her arms twisted up behind her, the extreme stoop becoming more painful with every second that passed.

The queen had barely straightened up when Corin found she could take no more, her fingers and toes bunching and flexing, her mouth agape, droll slipping over her lips as she panted and gasped with discomfort.

She glanced to Thanos as he monitored her distress, wondering if she was being treated any different than he had been, wondering how he could have taken this sort of bondage.

‘Please, your majesty, it hurts too much. I… I can’t take this, please, show mercy, please.’ She wept, her eyes glistening with new tears, her cruelly captured limbs fighting the detailed mesh of rope, the coarse bonds grating her skin, afflicting her most delicate regions.

In an uncharacteristic display of tenderness, the queen lowered to one knee before her servile and cupped her hovering chin, Corin unable to straighten up or lower, only dwell in the severe position.

‘Shhh, my slave. You have to learn. Such lessons are necessary. Do you believe me, slave?’

‘Y-yes, your majesty, but—’

‘There are no buts, slave. There is only obedience and trust. Do you trust me? Trust me to do what is best for you?’

‘Yes, yes I do, your majesty,’ Corin whimpered, and nestled against the gloved hand that moved to her cheek, her tears running onto the burnished hide.

‘And are you content to languish here, alone, suffering for me, thinking on your slavery to me?’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

‘Then say it, slave. Let me hear your submission from your own lips. I want to know that you are entrusting everything that is you into my care, without hesitation or regret.’

‘Please, your majesty, please leave me here to learn what it is to be your slave, I want to be yours, forever,’

she stated with corrupted tones of strain, knowing how despicable her containment would be, but resigned and eager for her servitude.

‘Good slave. I will be back for you later. Until then, think over your woe and know that it is for me. You are in this pain for my purposes. By doing this I declare my love for you, the love I have for all my slaves, a love I express by punishing them so, by giving them what they need most. Control. The pleasure of submitting totally to another’s whim, in losing oneself to the rule of another, and gaining the security and fulfilment that consensual slavery brings.’ She rose, balancing on one leg to offer a pointed toe to the lips of Corin, who kissed it feverishly before it fled, taking this meagre reward while she could before she was deserted.

‘Would my slave like something to remind her of me more distinctly in my absence?’ asked the queen.

‘Yes please, your majesty,’ blurted Corin with haste.

‘Very well, slave. A little treat for you, because you have done so well today. I am very proud of your progress thus far.’

‘Thank you, your majesty, I’m glad to have made you happy,’ beamed Corin, because even against her bondage she was full of joy at hearing such words.

The vampiress hooked her thumbs under her dress and drew down her thong, removing the slender garment and wafting it before Corin’s flushed features. Corin sniffed at the air, catching the scent and closing her eyes with hunger.

Threading it over Corin’s face, the queen snagged the hips over her ears and placed the strongly scented crotch over her nose, allowing the lupine to smell deeply of her personal perfume with every breath. ‘There, how is that, slave?’ she asked.

‘Thank you, your majesty, thank you so much,’ she gasped, drawing of the scent, working herself against the knot buried against her belly.

‘Come, Thanos,’ the queen snapped, all the gentle emotion with which she had regarded Corin vanishing as she turned and snapped the leash to her servile male, leading him out of the room.

Thanos felt a measure of sympathy for his sibling, for it was a position he too had suffered once or twice, and he knew from personal experience just how evil it would grow as time dawdled past. But as with all bondage the elation at being freed would be a reward, and the adoration of the queen would swell when she came to set Corin free. The gratitude of being shown mercy would clamp Corin to the queen’s heels and have her sobbing her thanks. Truly the vampiress was an artisan of no mean skill.

As the entrance to Corin’s tomb pulled aside it exposed the awaiting form of the seneschal. Cassandra was clad solely in polished latex leggings that merged expertly with her stiletto-heeled footwear, making the entire thing seem as one garment.

Her chest was bare, leaving her breasts exposed to open view, pert and succulent to the eye. Latex opera gloves trailed up her arms, and her hair had been swept back away from her collar of ownership.

Dana did not speak, instead she let the door hum with mechanised strain and restore the defences to Corin’s cell. Then she watched as her most trusted servant grovelled and kissed her boots in reverence, her leggings squealing in soft notes as they brushed each other, her thighs pressed together, her arousal plain as she conducted the obeisance. Dana smirked at the alluring image of her rubber-clad rear, wiggling in the air, the two rounded cheeks enveloped by the polished sheet, the fabric slung between the peaks, smooth and inviting to penetration or punishment.

‘What brings you here, my seneschal?’ she asked, looking down upon the back of Cassandra’s head, her hair sweeping from side to side as she adored each of the boots before her. ‘You should be contacting Kitjana.’

The woman lifted up, brushed her ponytail back over her shoulders and looked into the face of her delicious tyrant. ‘A Wyrm demon arrived just before I was going to send forth your message. It was from Kitjana,’ she stated softly, her words half expressed, her mind clearly loitering upon the visage of her queen and all she dreamed of doing with her.

Dana knew just how obsessed Cassandra was with her, but it made it all the more fun to tease and torment her as a consequence, and she enjoyed psychological torture just as much as more physical forms of abuse. ‘And?’ she firmly pressed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips, the aggressive stance snapping her seneschal from her dithering and to applying herself more fully to matters of duty.

‘She says she will be arriving here in two weeks,’ stated Cassandra.

Dana chuckled, letting a smirk of amusement spread across her features. ‘How very like her,’ she mused, noticing Cassandra’s sneer of contempt. Her seneschal bore no love for Kitjana, not just for the fact that she was a diversion whenever she arrived, but because she flaunted the normal decorum that Cassandra was largely responsible for. One did not just say when one was going to arrive at the palace. One could ask humbly, one could suggest a meeting and leave the queen to decide when and where, but to automatically invite oneself and assume it would be acceptable was an unheard of offence. There were several vampire lords in the feed banks who could testify to the consequences of such mistakes.

But Kitjana was a lover of risks, she thwarted order, defied all etiquette, delighted in annoying and perturbing those who were sticklers for such pedantic matters. It was an endearing trait that kept the mighty witch in high regard with the queen, and thus they had remained firm allies throughout recent decades.

Dana particularly relished the woman’s hurricane appetite for living. Kitjana was mortal, with powers beyond even the most learned and adept shaman, and because her longevity was finite she devoured every second of her life as though it were her last. This furious hunger had been one of the prime motivations in Dana’s recent rise back to authority. Before, she had been quite content, though slightly resentful of her position as part of the city council. But encountering Kitjana and spending a few weeks with her had changed everything.

The infectious charisma of the woman had lit new fires in Dana’s dead heart. No longer was she willing to lie around and wistfully dream of better days, now she wanted to take the offensive, to fight for what she wanted – to tear back what was hers.

It was soon afterwards that Dana had concocted and instigated her capture and training programme of Thanos, sent him forth, consolidated and plotted in the ensuing storm of assassination and wild paranoia. She set houses against each other, sent others into ambushes, framed, deceived, betrayed, kidnapped, blackmailed and murdered anything that stood in her way or posed an obstacle.

‘Well I can see I will have to prepare a great feast for our witch companion,’ beamed Dana, and patted Thanos’

head as he knelt beside her.

‘Your majesty, surely you cannot allow her to get away with such a demand,’ snapped Cassandra, venom in her voice, the hatred seeping through the professed protection of the queen’s image and social standing before others.

‘She gave you an order!’

‘Yes, she did, and I had best obey,’ she replied, looking into the fawning eyes of the adoring lupine.

‘What…’ began the seneschal, left speechless, unable to voice her astonishment that her divine ruler was going to allow herself to be commanded like a slave.

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