Moonslave (16 page)

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 130

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 131

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 132

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 133

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 134

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 135

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 136

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 137

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.