Moonslave (10 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duke released and moved around Kira, putting an arm around the small of her back, drawing her in as a 80

hand took one of her breasts and his lips met hers. She responded to the kiss with passion, the warmth in his body making her quiver as she felt it, so different to the vampire love she had experienced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They are here to help.’

From the shadows emerged four women, stepping free 82

of the darkness as though they had already been here, unseen, loitering within the shifting blanket of gloom before casting it off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘These are demons of desire. Creatures of carnal excess, vice, and depravity. They exist to sin against the flesh, to use it, to feed on the pleasure and pain conjured from its use. The acts we perform will feed them, make them stronger, and thus more inclined to heed my call when I have need of their more lethal abilities for my 84

various causes.’

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

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

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

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

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

She was anxious to have him lash into her with whatever weapon he chose, to beat her savagely, rekindle his lust until he could resist no longer and helped himself to use 85

of her form.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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