Moon slave 5 | boots and chain bdsm stories

Dana treated herself to a raucous laugh, having achieved her intention to antagonise her servile. ‘Don’t fret, my seneschal, I’m not going soft on you,’ she added, hiding the awareness that against the sorceress in a genuine combat, she would stand little chance. ‘It is a game with Kitjana, to bait each other thus. It is no sleight, it is merely a peccadillo between nobles, and I’ll not dishonour myself before the sects by rashly responding to it or foolishly treating it as anything other than what it is.’

Kitjana might well be mortal and short-lived, burning her life in a raging dazzling and all too brief pyre, but that fire granted her power beyond match. Sorcery such as hers could breach the royal palace with ease. Her guards and defences would be as nothing, and even Thanos would be hard pressed to face her and survive.

Where a whole regiment of shaman would fail, Kitjana could succeed with ease. It was a power Dana admired, adored and respected. Get too close to the entrancing fire that was Kitjana and one would be consumed by it.

‘As you wish, your majesty,’ muttered Cassandra.

‘Arise,’ stated the queen, the words without inflexion, making Cassandra wonder if she had seriously offended her ruler. With trembles in her limbs she stood erect, keeping her eyes lowered a little.

Dana reached forward and let her left hand encompass one of the proffered breasts, stroking it, teasing the nipple as Cassandra released small shivers of pleasure at the touch. Continuing the play, the queen reached down and cupped the latex-sheathed crotch of the woman, rubbing the taut material, massaging her seneschal’s loins, the impermeable fabric slithering with ease against Cassandra’s moist sex.

‘Now listen to me carefully, seneschal,’ she stated, watching as Cassandra’s head draped back and she panted, using her lungs as an answer to the intimate fondling. ‘I want my orders carried out to the letter.

Understand, slave?’

‘Yes, majesty,’ she hoarsely hissed.

‘When Kitjana and her party arrives I want a grandiose feast prepared and waiting,’ she stated with gravity, ensuring that her seneschal knew there was to be no forgiving of error in this matter. ‘I want you to excel yourself, to make me proud. I want everyone there, every quarter allied to me, a full menagerie of my followers. I want to show Kitjana just how powerful I have become since last we met. Is that understood, slave?’

‘Yes, your majesty,’ she murmured, her jaw drooping wide, her tongue running across her lips as her shoulders tightened inward, her body approaching climax.

‘And I want them to be entertained. I want shows that will have them talking of this feast for centuries, and make everyone who did not attend bitterly regret having failed to gain invitation,’ she continued, working the woman further onwards.

‘Yes, majesty,’ she groaned, and broke into wild shudders, rising to tiptoe, her hands clenching into tight fists that had her knuckles straining against the rubber gloves.

‘Oh, majesty… my queen… oh, oh… please don’t stop…’ she cried, overwhelmed with pleasure, swaying unsteadily, supported solely by the hand to her breasts and loins. ‘Don’t… oh!’

‘Suck!’ snapped the queen, thrusting the hands that had teased her breasts into the woman’s mouth. The seneschal swallowed the bunched fingers, her lips clamping to them with suction. Spasming, she adored the digits with insane verve, riding through the delicate yet assertive grip of the queen, taken to an apex of rhapsody.

‘I shall concern myself with the training of Corin. I shall have her ready to be unveiled at the feast. I want you to arrange her first public performance, so you had best make it a spectacular one.’

Once she had been sufficiently toyed with, Dana stepped back, pulling the moist fingers from her servant and letting go of her. Cassandra wobbled on her heels, her body flickering with riots of residual feeling, her nerves tensed, her mind in a dreamy morass.

‘Now get to it, slave,’ she snapped, watching as the woman staggered away, lurching from one side of the passage to the other, trying to gather her senses and assimilate the orders she had been given.

The engine of the limousine thrummed quietly to itself, its signal seeping into the interior as the softest of background noises. The elegant vehicle cruised as part of the convoy, the mirrored windows screening the passengers from outside scrutiny.

Kira remained on her knees before her seneschal, licking her owner’s boots as the woman gently stroked her tumbling hair. Kira’s oppressive uniform was gone, now she was dressed frugally in shades of silver and ivory, presented to tantalise.

A white thong of satin was matched with albino hold-up stockings, the white band at her thighs dropping into a sheath of mesh, the fishnet vanishing beneath her white patent ankle boots. The stilt heeled footwear was zipped at the front, with a locking band whose silver padlocks denied her the option of removing them. Her fingernails had been manicured and painted silver, and her collar and cuffs had been polished to a mirror finish. Other additions of body jewellery had been made in the form of silver hoops through her ears, and similar matching rings that transfixed her nipples. Other than these token adornments, and a subtle application of cosmetics, Kira wore nothing save a silver chain leash, the leather handle of which was gripped by the seneschal.

Her beloved owner was far less unadorned. Her hair was swept back and woven into a fierce plait, her military peaked cap pulled down onto it to add to her saturnine disposition. A sleeveless halter-necked dress of latex spilled down her alluring frame, ending in an exceedingly short skirt that barely served to hide the latex thong beneath it. A fishnet bodysuit covered her entire frame, the extremities of which were hidden beneath fingerless opera gloves of rubber and similar thigh boots. The only portions of it available to view were the areas between skirt and boots, and the mesh that covered her shoulders and upper arms prior to being submerged by the gloves.

Kira continued to busily lick at the latex footwear, the taste of the material a succulent banquet throughout her mouth as she adored her owner. Her love for Cassandra was at new heights, the time between them of late having vastly inflated her obsession with the vampiress.

The seneschal had been working diligently for a fortnight on some important project of the queen’s.

During the times where she rested, she worked off her frustrations on her servant, punishing and pleasuring her with regular intensity. It had been a wonderful two weeks of concentrated attention after long periods of isolation where more often than not Kira had found herself sealed in cruel bondage.

Now they were heading to the result of Cassandra’s toils, to some sort of celebration or party. Kira had no real details, and had not beseeched any. So long as she was with Cassandra, she didn’t really care.

‘Come up here, slave,’ ordered the seneschal, her eyes gazing blankly out of the window.

Kira lifted herself into the soft leather seat beside her tyrant, nuzzling up against the latex goddess as though she were a kitten seeking attention from its owner.

Cassandra released the leash and placed a hand about Kira, holding her close, her other hand reaching over and caressing Kira’s breasts, running her ebony nails across the pale skin and turning the nipple rings in their tunnels. The soft sensation caused Kira to purr with satisfaction, her thighs pressing together.

Craning up she placed kisses to Cassandra’s covered neck, the latex dress riding over the woman’s collar, hiding it from casual scrutiny. Slipping a finger through her left ring, the seneschal gave gentle pulls, manipulating the hoop, making Kira gasp, her hands stroking the firm latex body of the woman. Her breasts were locked beneath the tight embrace of the dress, her body sealed within the impermeable armour, the tactile feast making Kira’s fingertips shake and her palms sweat as she traced the polished contours.

‘Would my slave like a spanking before we arrive?’

offered the seneschal, lifting Kira’s chin so that their eyes might meet.

‘Yes, seneschal, I would,’ she whispered.

Her owner smiled and leant in closer, letting their lips touch, the fleeting kiss causing Kira to melt with desire, her body becoming jelly in the woman’s strong arms.

The seneschal took up the forsaken leash and pulled upon its chain links, drawing Kira over, making her drape across the woman’s lap, her rear pert and bisected by the slender thong. Winding the links around her gloved hand, the seneschal caught the last of it in a fist, keeping tight reign on her slave as her other hand slowly rose like a serpent readying to strike.

Kira closed her eyes against the sight of the passenger door and let a faint moan as the palm slammed to her left cheek, imparting a hot flash before the other buttock was similarly chastised.

‘Like playing the bongos, eh slave?’ the woman commented with a wry giggle, applauding the buttocks with a sudden drum roll deluge.

The seneschal committed the spanking with swift pace, alternating from cheek to cheek, slapping her gloved palm home with harsh barbarity, the impacts warming the flesh until it was throbbing with effulgent riots.

Then without warning she changed methods, releasing the accumulated rolls of chain and using the leather hoop of the leash as a makeshift weapon. The thick hide descended with a minute whistle and slammed across Kira’s rosy cheeks, making her gasp with endurance and rapture. The seneschal enclosed her freed hand into Kira’s hair, locking her fingers into it and drawing back, lifting her features back as she began a slow and precise abusing of Kira’s rear.

With another sharp crack the hoop fell, sending ripples through the yielding flesh of Kira’s rear as her fingers sank into the seat, clasping tightly. ‘Oh, seneschal,’ she murmured, pulling slightly at the hold to have her roots grumble.

The seneschal released her follicles and ran her hand down the naked canvas of Kira’s back, the silken skin and latex sliding effortlessly against one another, radical in their contrast of midnight black and snowy paleness.

The car gave an unexpected lurch that had the seneschal look up with a snarl. ‘Keep your eyes on the road, dimwit!’ she snapped, and reached forward, thumbing a button on the control panel that served the passengers anything from the limousine’s wide range of epicurean accessories.

Kira heard a faint electrical crackle from beyond the one way glass and gagged sounds of harrowing, the driver being chastised for his failings. She smiled and lowered her face to the leather, forcing her cheek into it, weathering the stabbing tempest.

Just as it began to dwindle another fell, and another, the seneschal’s hand pressing into the small of Kira’s back, holding her in place as her belly squirmed upon latex-clad thighs.

‘Five more, slave. Five more and we’ll stop,’ she promised, pausing to softly rub Kira’s torrefied anus, sending a shudder through Kira and causing widespread eruptions of goose flesh. ‘Count them off for me, slave,’

she said, once more taking a stern bushel of Kira’s hair and holding it back, lifting her face, craning her neck back so that the vertebrae smarted.

The leash snapped down and let lose its abrupt signal upon Kira’s rear, the lucid bite bringing her to attention before she drained back into a limp slouch across the knees of her owner. ‘F-four, seneschal,’ she muttered.

The leash slammed down once more, crossing the previous angry weal and escalating the effects further.

Kira interlaced her fingers and squeezed, grinding her teeth as she endured the latest episode of her voluntary correction. ‘Th-th-three, seneschal,’ she managed to say, squeezing the words through a rigid jaw.

The next stroke made her gasp and shake, fighting to stay still, the woman having sunk it into her inner thigh, targeting one of her most vulnerable locations. Kira’s boots squeaked against the seat as she shuddered and kicked, sobbing softly, tears welling in her eyes. ‘T-two, s-seneschal,’ she finally managed to say after a pause to recover her senses, her rear awash of duress.

‘Almost there, slave,’ comforted the seneschal, and swung down with a malicious hack.

Kira cried out and arched back, rigid with stress, her buttocks clenching and unclenching frantically. ‘One…

one left, seneschal,’ she burbled, salty trails tumbling across her cheeks and dripping from her jaw.

The final stroke was delivered with all the strength of the vampiress, the descending strap humming against the air before sounding loudly against Kira’s thigh. The servile girl released a screech that broke into upset fits of sobs and gasps, her body wracked by the ordeal as she shivered and quaked, keeping herself on the seneschal’s lap. Kira’s hands dropped to hold to the woman’s dagger heels, grabbing them as a means of security, a comfort, a reminder of her station to help her survive the tempest.

‘There, that’s all of them, slave,’ commented the seneschal, releasing her holds and gently pawing Kira’s hindquarters as the girl vented her duress.

‘Thank you, seneschal,’ Kira added automatically, gathering her deportment.

‘Good slave. Now you can continue cleaning my boots until we arrive,’ she ordered, causing Kira to slide free of her owner’s legs and return to the floor. Folding herself into a neat ball on the carpeted interior of the car, Kira’s tongue rolled up and down the smooth stems of latex as she nursed her pulsating rear.

The road started to become increasingly more uneven, the tended routes of the city and motorways giving way to the more haphazard regions in the distant countryside.

The car began to slow and finally came to a halt, pulling up silently on grass.

‘Here we are, slave,’ stated the seneschal, as a royal guard emerged to open Cassandra’s door for her. The driver remained where he was, harnessed and strapped to his seat, kept tethered to his post, cables reaching over to his collar and to his chastity belt.

The night air poured into the warm interior, stripping away the heat with its icy embrace. The seneschal took hold of the leash and drew Kira out with her, pulling her slave in her wake.

Kira felt a pang of agoraphobia as she regarded her surroundings, having grown exceedingly accustomed to the sealed walls and ceiling of the subterranean palace.

To be suddenly presented to the outside world once more was unnerving.

The night sky was clear and adorned with the full impressive majesty of the heavens. The lack of any homes nearby and the absence of light polluting cities and towns anywhere within many miles allowed a breathtaking view of the stars.

The fields were dark, brooding, a faint nighttime mist skulking upon the floor, weaving through the low hills and sporadic encampments of trees. A few hedgerows sought to control the land, but mostly it had been left untended for many years. A short way away, she could see their most obvious destination. The craggy monoliths were as she had seen numerous times in books and media, the huge slabs arrayed in rough circles, capped by others, with various assorted stones scattered within. Their ordinary mottled greys were lost to the night, leaving them black, like congealed shadow.

Kira drank in a deep breath, the cold crisp air alive within her as she expelled it as a hiss. No cloud of steam appeared as she expected, her body being as cold as the night itself, lacking any warmth by which to contrast it.

Two dark vans pulled up near the limousine ahead of them, their rear doors swinging open and allowing squads of the queen’s troops to emerge and take up sentry positions all about the main vehicle. Kira could assume the queen was inside, for the cars had not left together, and had rendezvoused on the voyage here, so she could not be sure.

But why were they here? Surely it was foolish to stage any sort of celebration in the open like this where any hostile force could attack, or mortals might see, or the sun destroy.

Kira looked across the scene, trying to see if anything elsewhere might be their actual destination. But there was nothing save the famous archaeological site, and while it certainly was impressive, it was by no means comfortable and inviting enough to serve as a locale for revelry.

Looking back she could see the other three limousines and four vans pulling into position, disgorging their occupants the moment they came to a halt.

Kira spotted the head slaves, numerous warriors, and a small army of servants and other slaves, many of them carrying boxes and bags for their superiors. Kira was tempted to ask what was going on, but chose to remain silent and simply observe what was happening.

Duke Khardekk emerged from the loitering numbers of servants, followed closely by seven other members of his sect, all of them bedecked in rippling robes, the fabric encrusted with strange runes. The warlock wandered across the dark field and entered the circle of stones, his subordinates taking positions with him, forming themselves into a line before one of the large arches at the heart of the structure.

For a few moments nothing much seemed to happen.

The sorcerers just stood there, eyes fixed to the area in the arch, as though they could see through this aperture into places currently unseen by any other person.

Kira hid a yawn behind her arm, wondering when something of interest was going to happen. She had been excited about this event, all the stress and preparation promising a spectacular time, but for all the thrills currently on offer she might as well have stayed in the palace. She considered that perhaps she should have been bad earlier, so she could be sent for punishment and miss this dull sightseeing tour and token homage to a forgotten relic.

An ache started to gather in her temples, ears and sinuses, growing in intensity with a swiftness that assured her it was not an ordinary complaint. The pressure continued to swell, causing her to rub the afflicted regions, stretching her jaw in a bid to relieve it.

Looking to the monoliths she saw that they had begun to gather an incandescent quality, the massive stones becoming translucent in places, allowing light to trickle through. A vibrant rainbow emanation was joined by areas of sickly darkness, the two opposing sources of illumination vying for dominance as they shifted within the stones, flowing like water, casting their radiance across the area, bathing the sect in their rays.

Arcs of condensed power leapt between stones, the electrical forks licking the other rocks, each bolt either being a malevolent midnight tear of power, or a joyous colour filled charge.

Kira felt the ground and air shiver and seem to condense, as though the very life were being siphoned from it. She could feel a distinct pull, like wayward gravity being exerted by the stones, a drag that hauled not at her flesh, but seemingly at her psyche. A thunderclap slammed to Kira’s ears and made her slap her palms to them as protection while the echo continued to roll through her eardrums and across the landscape.

A simmering veil of distortion poured across her from behind, catching her by surprise, the vast sphere condensing rapidly, drawing inwards. Like a wall of heat haze the ripple flowed through her, knocking her forward a step as she was buffeted by it. A few crackles of energy tickled her skin once the effect had passed onwards, the residue skipping between her fingers and about her torso before dying out.

The shrivelling orb grew more distinct as it neared the stones, gathering power, stripping it from the land until it struck the mighty formation of rocks. There was an instant pulse of light and the ground bucked beneath her feet. Those who had not turned away were momentarily startled, their eyes maintaining an obscure sheet after being dazzled.

As Kira risked a peek back to the source of this occult dabbling, she saw that every rock now blazed with light.

Like huge crystals they shone from within, filled with the whirling pools of power. Also she could see strange talismans and glyphs inside the stones, the marks located within their very structure, lodged deep, the symbols burning with intensity, charged with wrathful energy.

The archway before the sect spat bolts from side to side, the storm increasing quickly, growing more and more spry, until the entire aperture was little more than a single sheet of crazy patterns and wild blinding illumination.

Kira started to draw closer to her seneschal, frightened, the powers being wrought before her like nothing she could have imagined. Surely the warlocks and witches could not contain such forces, and catastrophic explosion was imminent.

Cassandra pulled the leash in and held Kira’s trembling form as she impassively watched the insane display of power build towards its crescendo. The outer stones dropped towards their natural state, the light fading, dribbling inwards, stealing the power from the others, the entire reservoir draining in towards the primary arch.

Once all the monoliths were restored to normality, their inner runes swallowed by opaque normal stone, the main arch hauled its store inward, pouring it into the air. A creaking grumble rolled through the region, and with a dull tone a dark hole opened between the stone barriers.

All sound and light had vanished from the site, leaving everything unchanged. Peering intently at the place, Kira wondered if what she had seen had really occurred. A few twinkles of light dotted the main arch, but everything seemed utterly normal.

The doors to the first limousine opened and the queen emerged with Thanos and Corin on leashes, the two lupines clad in their terrifying wolfen forms, their glowing eyes piercing the gloom to scan for sign of threat to their mistress.

The vampiress wore her jagged crown, her body and limbs completely sealed within a comprehensive latex catsuit, the garment moulded to a perfect fit, the polished black skin incorporating gloves and stiletto heeled boots.

A single oval had been cut at her belly, the opening running from the base of her ribs to a few inches below her navel.

Amidst a wall of her warriors, with her most prized pets at her side, the queen began to walk towards the archway. The troops cradled their weapons in readiness, guarding their deity with zeal, their goggled sight flicking across the darkness, using their aim to seek danger.

A few words were exchanged with the duke and his followers and the procession wandered into the arch. As they stepped in they were swallowed by shadow, vanishing into darkness. Kira rubbed her eyes in astonishment, unsure whether she had seen correctly.

The moment the queen disappeared the seneschal indicated to the rest of the entourage, and as one, they started to walk towards the opening.

Several dozen warriors set themselves up around the stones, guarding the doorway as servants and slaves were swallowed by the arcane portal, taken to some other place.

Kira was led sheepishly forth, tugs to her chain overcoming her awe and bewilderment. Her mind raced with possibilities of what would be waiting on the other side. The night had definitely taken a great leap into enthralling enticement. Brought before the arch, it seemed little different to normal, save that as those before them walked in, the night itself devoured them, merging them into the Stygian folds and then removing them completely from sight.

The seneschal strode forward, unperturbed, the vampiress used to such hermetic means of transport. The latex cocooned form of her enslaver was stolen by degrees until all that remained was the silver links of the chain stretching out of the air.

Taking a deep breath, Kira succumbed to an impatient jerk of the leash from the other side and stepped in. The depths seemed to gather in strength, enfolding her as an inky fog that hid all sight and then parted in steps to reveal a new place, a place far different to anything she had ever borne witness to in dream or reality. Kira paid no heed to the four warriors stationed on either side of her to guard the mystic tunnel, for her jaw had dropped and she started to quiver, her mind reeling from what she saw on the other side.

The vast hall had a dome for a ceiling, but from there all semblance of normality was lost, for the room itself was carved from the deranged imagination of supernatural beasts. The very fabric of the place was sculpted from flesh. The smooth surfaces were a glistening sheet of flushed pink skin, meandering veins winding themselves beneath the epidermis, pulsing softly with their own gradual beat. The hall was alive.

The floor beneath her was slightly soft underfoot, the tissue like a layer of padding, akin to a deep carpet. Even through her boots she could feel the tardy heartbeat of the room. Clustered nodules grew from the wall in places, the veins that fed into them pulsing with a swifter beat, the misshapen growths radiating a sombre, warm light that spread lazily throughout the entrance hall.

Several muscular sphincters lay at floor level, the large apertures serving as doors to other chambers of this insane realm. The puckered mouths stretched back and opened as the queen’s various slaves approached, letting them through before withering shut again and clenching tight. For a celebration of carnal depravity, it was the perfect stage.

‘This way, slave,’ ordered the seneschal and made for one of the doors, the serviles bowing as she passed by.

Kira looked briefly about to try and locate the queen, but she had already entered some other area.

A doorway opened itself to passage and with a slight frown of disturbance, Kira followed her owner through and into a chamber that sprawled like a cathedral of raw meat, ready to accommodate multitudes of guests.

The high ceiling was supported in places by great pillars of bone that grew from the floor and spread cartilage into the flesh of the roof. Nodules of light dangled on long stalks of flesh, hanging like organic chandeliers to provide illumination.

Situated in a vast circle were bizarre divans. The large cushioned mounds were held in place by a perimeter of stout ribs that curled up to hold the large sac of soft, yielding flesh. Across the top of the seats fur had grown to form a dense layer, but it was not the cold, dead fur of a skinned animal, it was the warm, inviting fur of a living thing, the difference between laying on a fur coat, or upon a vast purring cat.

Across the expanse of the room servants bustled to and fro, ferrying assorted cargo – clothes, storage boxes, food, implements of torment, and all manner of devices to appease and entertain the appetites of others.

The duke emerged from behind them, wandering past Kira and trailing a hand across her rear, the stripes of her earlier chastisement already healed. ‘Greetings, seneschal,’ he said idly, looking across the array of moulded meat that held them.

‘You have done exceptionally well, duke. The hall meets all my specifications. I trust there were no complications in completing the rest of it as well?’

‘No, seneschal, my sect have laid out the entire structure as according to your schematics, and finished the additional functions well ahead of time. The Charm of Vicissitude should handle your Pegasus needs. Has the queen voiced an opinion yet?’ he enquired with a slight degree of enthusiasm, eager to hear the praise of his creation.

‘She vanished straight into her personal chambers to start getting ready for her guests. I doubt we’ll ever get one,’ the seneschal added morosely, knowing how the queen was about such things. Flattery was a rare gift from the ancient vampiress, a being hard to genuinely impress and never prone to false pleasantries.

‘A pity,’ he replied, massaging his forehead with frowning disappointment.

The seneschal noticed his deflated mood and decided to improve his spirits with the compliments he sought.

‘But I’m sure she is as impressed as I.’

‘That was my intention, and I’m glad I have succeeded,’

he replied with a little more cheer, his efforts validated.

‘Though I suspect you are seeking to impress another, even over the queen,’ added the seneschal, detecting the hidden edges in his words, drawing them out from behind his ability to conceal.

‘Really? And what makes you say that?’ he quipped, taking another attempt at keeping his secret, but the seneschal was centuries older than he, and though he might be a practised spinner of lies, and a master of flesh and sorcery, she had the years of skill at reading lost truths in the mannerisms and inflexions of others.

‘Your enthusiasm for the project increased significantly once I revealed the guest of honour.’

‘I had no idea I had been so clumsily obvious,’ he stated with a dark tenor to his words, infuriated not with the seneschal but with himself for having let himself be read so easily.

‘It was subtle, my duke. Your love for her remains covert,’ soothed the seneschal, putting a hand to the shoulder of his robes and treating him to a compassionate smile that unfortunately boarded on patronisation. With a little moue of temper he shuffled her hand off and regarded her with a haughty arrogance.

‘We all have our vices and obsessions, seneschal.

Though some are more attainable than others.’

The seneschal stiffened as though slapped, and Kira winced inwardly, expecting some manner of argument or conflict to ensue. But the seneschal merely loosened her anger and smiled, aware that both of them shared the same doom – to love and distress about that which was unattainable.

‘ Touche, my duke, touche,’ she acknowledged, before the duke suddenly changed the topic, this being a subject neither of them wished to dwell upon any longer, it being far too personal and close to their hearts to contend with a conversation into it.

‘And how is little Kira finding my architecture?’ he asked, looking to her as she tried to keep herself discreet and unnoticed.

At the issuing of her name she turned to them and saw that both were now regarding her. Her lips fumbled for a moment and then found a voice. ‘It’s amazing, my lord.

I don’t know how to express my… my…’

‘Reverence?’ interjected the seneschal.

‘Awe?’ added the duke with a grin.

‘Yes, my lord, but where are we?’ she asked, looking about the ludicrous structure, unsure of how something so alien could actually exist outside of a nightmare. ‘Are we still in the field?’

‘In a way; this place was forged in the realms beyond our own, in the twilight domains… do you mind me telling her this, seneschal?’ he enquired, unsure whether Cassandra wanted Kira briefed in the arcane truths loitering behind the calm face of the material world.

‘Of course not, duke,’ she stated, stepping behind Kira, reaching around and taking hold of her, holding a breast and stretching down to stroke the front of her underwear with her other hand; Kira melting into her owner’s arms with a soft purr of relish. ‘Enlighten her as you wish.’

‘In dreams we visit the spheres beyond our own, where thought controls the formless matter about us, allowing us to conjure with our subconscious. In the real world matter is more coherent, requiring earth power to help us use this same skill to alter forms. Trances, astral projection and spirit walking allow deeper travel, but only those adept at true sorcery may travel these deepest of regions unassisted.’

The seneschal swung the leash between Kira’s legs and drew it up, causing the chain to press into her like a steel crotch rope. Gentle tugs caused its rippled length to tease her, the cold metal riding down her front, pulling at her collar before ascending between her buttocks. Kira clenched to it in fits as she listened to the duke, the seneschal kissing her neck, her soft lips brushing her skin just below her ears, her fangs emerging to draw the smooth enamel upon her earlobes, delivering prickly pecks of adoration.

‘Beyond these voids lay the deepest realms, where Gaia and the Wyrm fight for supremacy, taking new domains, losing others in an eternal struggle,’ said the duke, stepping forward, unable to resist entering the scene before him. With a shrug he freed his hands of the folds of cloth and reached out to enclose his palms to Kira’s naked breasts, holding the soft flesh, using his thumbs to brush her teats. The touches had them stiffening immediately, the haze of sensual crapulence descending through her as the two of them teased her for their amusement. Kira tottered on her heels, her eyes flitting shut as she surrendered to their manipulation.

‘We warlocks use these realms to scry and to learn, walking the hazardous voids such as these to gain insight and learning about the powers themselves, for like ripples in a pond, the battle occurring far away allows glimpses to the wise. With a concerted effort we created this place and set its defences to prevent access by any interlopers.’

The duke enclosed pinches to her nipples, rolling the nuggets between his fingers, lifting, bringing Kira to tiptoe as she swayed and gasped with rapture. The seneschal continued to draw upon the leash, riding it against her loins, her thong becoming damp with her amorousness. The other hand descended and drew nails across her rear, leaving light scratches upon the flesh, little pips of harried joy dribbling over Kira’s pursed lips.

‘The monoliths are part of a massive power network established long ago. Lupine forces seeking to thwart our use of such power have destroyed much of it, but enough remains to allow us to exploit some of the primary mustering points. Sites such as the one you just saw are used as a sort of transformer of earth power, magnifying our powers, and siphoning more energy than we could hope to gather otherwise. The ley lines funnel energy to these places, storing it, and with this we created the stable Wyrm hole that allows travel to and from this construct.’

The duke released his hold and the seneschal drew Kira back against her body, the latex dress slithering against her spine as the woman gyrated with sloth against her possession.

‘Are you bringing her to the feast, seneschal?’ asked the duke, ending his lesson.

‘Of course. I’ve developed quite an attraction for my personal maid, I think she deserves to experience the revelry, and besides, she should at least see those she will be accompanying on the hunt.’

‘You are going to give her a place?’ wondered the duke, taken aback by the statement.

‘I think so,’ answered the seneschal, taking in Kira’s earlobe and suckling upon it.

‘You must be impressed by her. Not that I can’t appreciate such sentiments, I myself found her most enchanting during our short time together. I may have to try and persuade you to give me another turn with her, seneschal.’

‘We’ll see, duke,’ smiled the seneschal, and removed the leash, taking it up as normal. ‘Well, I will have to continue this later, duke. I have preparations of my own to finish, and the guests will be arriving soon, I should be ready to greet them.’

‘Of course, I’ll see you later,’ he answered, turning and heading away into the crowds.

Kira watched him depart, recalling her time with him, thinking on what he had said. What was this hunt? And why was it so strange that she should be part of it? Was it a noble pursuit, one for the guests of this place, something slaves were not supposed to be part of?

‘Come, slave,’ said the seneschal, taking her away to ready her for the main event.

Standing in the entrance hall, Kira loitered just behind the seneschal in anticipation, her heart and belly aflutter with furore.

A wall of servants formed a premature corridor around them, so that as soon as the guests began to enter they would instantly be equipped with serviles to tend to their every need and show them to their allotted place in the main hall.

From the air itself coalesced a series of forms, the people materialising in an instant, stepping into the archway and using the mystic tunnel to access the sorcerous other world domain.

The servants stiffened to attention and the warriors arrayed behind tensed in paranoid anticipation.

A group of women emerged, each of them clad in vinyl lingerie, their hair wild, their appearance intense and savage. Sauntering within gloss basques and thongs, with matching gloves and boots, their eyes flashed around, their predatory senses sharp and keen. There was a strange scent to them, one she had barely picked up on before, but which through association she could now allocate. The seneschal confirmed her suspicions.

‘I bid you welcome, daughters of the Shadow-Angel tribe, may your time here be joyous,’ she announced, bowing slightly. ‘The property of the queen is at your disposal.’

‘Thank you, seneschal,’ stated the leader as several rubber-clad female servants emerged from the lines to offer their leashes to the women. Taking the chains, they smiled and followed their guides past and into the main hall, every step full of might, their power a tangible aura about them.

A large group poured from the ether, the men and women clad in silken pastel robes and sections of sculpted armour. The plate mail was armed with studs and spikes, granting a fierce appearance to the group.

‘I bid you welcome, esteemed members of the Purple Tentacle sect, may your time here be joyous. The property of the queen is at your disposal,’ said the seneschal with a bow, as more maids emerged to offer themselves to their temporary owners.

‘We accept your gracious offer, seneschal, and look forward to availing ourselves of your hospitality,’ hissed the first member, his forked tongue flitting through his lips.

As they passed her by, Kira noticed that what she had mistakenly thought were decorative additions to their metal garb were in fact natural growths that had been incorporated into the style. The horns that spilled from their helms, the spines, the scales and claws, the extra eyes and mouths, and additional limbs all were part of their mutated bodies. It took a concerted effort to avoid staring at them once they had wandered past with their serviles, their warped flesh attracting the eye with its methodical, precision deformity.

The women of the Obsidian Fang emerged again, and as they thanked the seneschal they locked their inhuman eyes to Kira as she dwelt behind her owner, showing that they had not forgotten her. Even now they were still interested in exploiting her for their sensual recreation.

More and more attendees emerged and were furnished with slaves and greetings. Vampire houses were announced, shamanic sects of the Wyrm, tribes of dark lupines, representatives from every quarter of power in the land that could appreciate decadence and depravity.

They stemmed from across the globe, representing every portion of human heritage – proud Asian nobles, bold American tycoons, defiant European aristocrats, mighty African chiefs, aloof Middle Eastern sheikhs, and gaunt Russians whose head, Volodia, she had already heard Cassandra conversing with. No doubt his invitation to this event was designed to augment his ties with the queen, especially with the upheaval his people were readying to implement on the world.

Of all the new arrivals, none disturbed her as greatly as a duo that stepped through the portal near to the end of the rota of people. One was clad in a full catsuit of leather, a studded harness laid over the closefitting polished hide. Gloves coated his hands, and heavy boots were buckled to his feet. A mask that covered his entire head hid his features. It depicted a snarling wolf effigy, the copper surfaces encrusted with gems and flowing lines of strange bizarre script. The seneschal addressed him as Deil.

The other was a little taller and more muscular, his body entombed within a latex suit, with a matching harness and a different mask to his partner. The crescent moon mask was a leering horrible sight, the sneering features of the crooked visage joined by fangs and acute ears, with veins of rage throbbing at the temple. This man was introduced as Mammon.

As they passed by, taking their slaves with angry yanks to their leashes, Kira froze as their hidden eyes fell to her for a moment, a terrible hunger in them making her dread ever being left at their mercy. There was something innately dark about them, an evil presence that agitated her soul and filled her with anxiety. For a short time after she was plagued by their residual aura, the two men tainting her mind’s eye even as more guests arrived to show themselves as wanton arrays of perverse indulgence.

The last of the slaves fell in with a sect of shaman called the Eldritch Claw, and the seneschal indicated to the warriors beside the portal. ‘Close the defences,’ she ordered, causing a pair of the murderous goliaths to step back through the rift, their bodies vanishing into thin air. A moment later that same spot gave a startled shimmer and then settled.

‘Seneschal?’ asked Kira, looking at the sealed gate and the empty chamber about them.

‘Yes, slave?’ replied her owner, marching towards the hall with Kira in tow.

‘What about this Kitjana?’ she asked, aware that the duke was obsessed with this woman and thus deducing it was she that was to be the primary guest of the feast.

‘Where is she?’

‘She will use her own means to achieve entrance,’

scowled Cassandra.

Kira chose to drop the topic, as the name of the woman irked her owner greatly. There was obviously some sort of animosity between the head of the queen’s house and this most honoured of guests.

The muscular ring unfurled and granted them access, the hall now resplendent with the sounds of life and enjoyment. The guests reclined on their soft divans, being tended by their slaves, the serviles serving as cushions or footrests, while others were being made to perform on each other or the guests. Some were being tormented, others were sent off to gather food and drink for their charges.

Clearly anything was available to the denizens of the hall, for other modes of slave were being brought in – pets and furniture, harem slaves, all served to the licentious whims of the preternatural gentry that dwelt there.

Kira was led to the side of the circle, where three divans remained unoccupied. Two were vast and sumptuous, with purple fur and a spinal column that reached up at the back, swinging ribs out in an ascending triangle, offering a throne-like appearance to the twin seats.

The seneschal stepped up onto the ordinary version, hauling Kira with her. Kira settled into the glossy fur, the living hair sensuous and delightful to her skin as she sank into the giving depths of the large organic cushion.

It was comfort beyond anything she had known before.

The seneschal reclined, lying on her back, propping herself up on her elbows and looking across the menagerie of obliquity all about them. ‘Pleasure me, slave,’ she snapped, giving a jolt to the leash and parting her legs a little.

Kira formed into a ball, her hands taking gentle hold of the seneschal’s fishnet-smothered thighs and then burying her face between her legs. Nuzzling into the rubber thong, she stroked and probed with nose and tongue, working through the thin material, unsure whether to risk moving it aside or drawing it down to permit easier access. Her owner was in a fickle mood.

She was enjoying herself, and her post, but exterior political machinations were putting a melancholy edge to her temperament.

Kira stared lovingly across the fabric-coated torso of her gorgeous oppressor, following the ravishing latex curves. Cassandra closed her eyes, her head lolling to one side as she delighted in Kira’s attention, letting the cunnilingus take away some of her stresses, the slight obscuring of feeling through the latex drawing it out for longer. ‘Good, slave,’ she purred, her fingers stroking the soft fur.

‘Seneschal, when is the queen intending to make an appearance?’ grumbled a female voice after Kira had been working slowly and relentlessly for a lengthy time, her own libido and hunger rising with every lap. ‘Or is she declining to attend her own party?’

‘I apologise for any delay, Hyrthuz,’ replied the seneschal with dreamy tones, setting her legs wider, the thigh boots brushing against the fur as she exposed herself more promiscuously to Kira’s attention and perhaps suggesting that her slave should escalate the affair.

Kira straightened a little, unable to resist temptation any longer. Using her left hand to pull aside the obscuring curtain of rubber, opportunity was gained for her right hand to slide fingers through the slit in the mesh bodystocking and into the seneschal’s sex. The vampiress arched a little with a gasp, Kira’s dextrous toils playing her loins and conducting symphonies of euphoria.

‘But her majesty will probably not appear until the guest of honour has taken her place,’ she added, indicating with a dip of her head the empty divan beside the vacant neighbour which obviously belonged to the queen.

Kira glanced aside, the momentary glimpse catching the eye of the inhuman guest, and like a shy child she threw her eyes back to her seneschal.

The demon woman was kneeling on the arms of a latex-clad maid, her splayed thighs pressing naked loins into the female’s features, smothering the girl as she performed valiantly against the cruel impositions of Hyrthuz and her companions.

Pinned down, the maid wriggled as another of the devil women kept her taloned fingers locked about the hapless slave’s ankles. Holding her legs up and apart, stretching them exceptionally wide, the hircine sorceress employed a dark strap-on phallus to pound into the sex of the maid, thrusting with severity. Small gurgles of pleasure and pain seeped through the muffling loins of Hyrthuz, the girl assailed by sensation.

The third member of their party simply reclined beside them on the expanse of the divan, a second maid kissing and suckling on the female’s breasts, attending the albino leopard patterned flesh with diligence.

The demonic woman held a dressage whip, the long weapon allowing her to deliver flicking swats to the rump of her slave, the arbitrary sadism only escalating the arousal of the maid serving her.

Their third maid simply knelt to one side, her hands folded on her lap, her eyes kept low as she awaited inclusion or an order to bring her to life.

The woman released a string of complex words, the soft clicking and hissing syllables causing the others to smile. The other woman addressed her compeers in response with a similar unintelligible speech, their private language like a sibilant chattering.

‘Isn’t that the same little filly you were towing through the palace?’ wondered Hyrthuz, being the first to speak in English after their swift hidden discussion.

‘Yes, she is my personal maid, Kira.’

‘The brood?’ asked Hyrthuz, a wide grin revealing her banks of slender teeth.

‘The same. You like her?’

‘I’d like to fuck her,’ she snapped with crass hunger, using such a phrase to aim it at Kira and trouble her with worry.

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