Moonslave (23 page)

from the elders when they thought I was turning to the Wyrm. So she gave me a good scourging as she confessed these things, trying to get me to use that damned Gaia crystal, grab power and escape my torture.’

‘You reviled a whipping; that sounds a little odd,’

wondered the queen, watching as Kitjana dismissed the clamps, causing the arcane constructions to disintegrate and fade from view. The witch and the werewolf stiffened and grunted, teeth clenched, the pleasure of their lovemaking intensified radically by the stabbing riot of duress that afflicted their nipples.

‘It was all that foul purity they used on me. The waters had flushed through me, permeating my body, the bonds had seeped into my skin, and without any influence of the Wyrm I was starting to lose every dark trait I had,’

she stated quickly, pushing Thanos off with an impatient shove.

His member fell free and he watched with burning hunger as she reversed her position, lifting her haunches and indicating for him to continue. Thanos’ breath paused as he looked along the jet thigh boots, her gorgeous legs rolling up into stockings and then to her naked rear.

Grabbing her alluring hips he continued to briefly take in the sight of her bare hindquarters, presented to him, smooth and perfectly formed, an image of seduction.

Without further delay he committed the sight to memory and guided himself back in, the pose allowing him to drive even deeper than before, taxing the limits of her tracts, his passion having had a few seconds to retreat, giving him a greater chance of holding out until she commanded otherwise.

Kitjana arched her head back and growled with animal passion, revelling in the feel of Thanos, kneeling upright behind her, driving so deep that her fingers clawed at 191

the fur of the divan, pulling tufts free.

‘It was hideous, to be rendered moral and pure, to despise and actually not enjoy decadence and pain,’ she panted, biting her lip to weather some virulent stabs.

‘I’d have rescued you if you’d been turned,’ murmured the queen with fond joviality. ‘Locked you away and done terrible things to you until you’d come back to the fold, Kitjana.’

Kitjana laughed, her eyes closed as her cheek lay pressed into the fur, a glistening layer of sweat sparkling across her body. ‘I may have to take you up on that, just for the fun of it,’ she offered lightly, wincing as Thanos dug further into her. In reply she lifted her forearms, locking her fingers together over the back of her head, holding tight for a moment before opening them again.

With a muttered string of croaking half words and strange clicks, her inner forearms opened with lines of jagged script, the arcane language being set in shallow cuts that were delivered by an unseen edge. The blood lifted from the wounds and coagulated, forming into a long undulating serpent, the liquid structure rippling in the light of the chamber. The cuts healed over immediately, restoring unblemished skin as the two creatures she had born slithered around behind Thanos.

‘So how did you escape?’ enquired the queen, observing casually as the blood forms slapped together behind Thanos, the point of their meeting suddenly welling and transforming into a ribbed phallus.

‘I’d managed to swallow my Wyrm crystal before they’d taken me,’ hissed Kitjana, concentrating tokenly on the conversation and more significantly on controlling her newly born familiar. ‘It gave me the tiny seed of darkness I needed to resist their trials.’

The beast darkened instantly, forming the wet blood 192

into dark chitinous carapace. The black shiny rod of a manhood now spouted two long lengths of segmented cable, akin to the body of some obsidian worm. The two coils lifted its phallic body, aiming it at Thanos as he continued to sink himself into the belly of the witch.

Like a cobra it flashed forward, sheathing in his rear, sinking to its base. Thanos roared and spasmed, the acute penetration a shock and a delight at the same time. Before he could fight the intruder it flung its slender arms around him, casting them under Kitjana and forming a tight hoop around each of her breasts, strangling them, making the admirable orbs swell with engorged distress. Kitjana moaned aloud as Thanos’ pace became momentarily more haphazard, his rhythm affected by the sudden sodomy, the phallus rocking back and forth into his rear, every thrust also serving to wring Kitjana’s breasts.

‘They tried everything to get it out, but were unsuccessful. But with little Freyja all torn and bloated with tainted emotion I managed to sneak a little line of influence through the guards and converted the crystal at my throat. With my powers restored I stomped out of there without any trouble.’

‘And what of Freyja?’ asked the queen, lounging back, taking her own breasts in her hands and kneading them within their latex folds, her hindquarters jolting against the delving tongue of the maid.

‘That’s the juiciest part. I embellished myself with a phallus and gave her a good seeing to. Sowed my old Wyrm crystal deep into her belly. It slowly exerted its influence, corrupting her steadily, making her turn to darkness. She started visiting professional doms, collecting illicit pornography, tormenting and teasing herself. Finally her hunger was such that she actually came to my sanctum to petition enslavement,’ laughed 193

Kitjana, her back rolling as she squirmed beneath Thanos.

He felt as though his penis were going to erupt unless he were able to finish soon, the arousal of his partner and her sorcerous craft too much to hold in check.

‘And you accepted?’

‘Naturally,’ said Kitjana, and then smiled with glee, giving a soft titter of amusement before adding to her statement. ‘After a suitably depreciating initiation fee, of course.’

‘You’re wicked,’ chuckled the queen.

‘Personified, my sweet Dana.’

‘So then what happened?’

‘Little miss prim and proper became my slave, and then I had a wonderful plot come to me; the fine male that I mentioned earlier? Well, he was perfect, so I sneaked back into the temple, stole his seed, cast his psyche into the depths of the Wyrm’s realms and returned to impregnate Freyja.’

‘She carries your child?’ solicited the queen, her eyebrows furrowed with consternation.

‘Mine and… and… a…’ started Kitjana, her words becoming lost as she started to succumb to the swell of her orgasm. ‘That’s it, slave, come on, faster,
deeper
,’

she spat, making Thanos thrust into her, diving from root to tip, dragging himself almost to the point of removal before jamming his full length back into her. He could feel his own climax, locked in his shaft, battling the strangling bonds.

‘Now, slave… now!’ she howled, her mind setting loose all of her creations. The wire crumbled from her breasts, letting a flash of sensation stampede back in.

Simultaneously the wires entombing Thanos’ genitals sprung free and vanished, and like the shattering of a dam his orgasm charged through his penis, seeming to 194

have magnified by being forced to wait. As he roared with rapture, ejaculating into the velvet womb of the witch, the phallus inserted in him ground sharply back in and then fled with a spry jolt, the sudden excavation causing a new influx of sharp feeling. The conspiracy of influences took him even higher, his body shaking with delight as he thrust chaotically into her, capturing his measure of bliss as Kitjana bucked and wailed beneath him.

She sagged, lowering to the soft cushion, letting Thanos remain atop her, his length still buried in her flesh, the two of them panting, their bodies dripping with perspiration.

Thanos could feel her raw membranes gripping to him in spasms, the remnants of their climax still rolling like the echo of a thunderclap through their systems. Nerves flicked and muscles contracted in sudden jolts, the two of them resting for a moment, to gather energy enough to move.

‘The child is the spawn of myself and Jason,’ the witch continued hoarsely, licking her lips.

‘A little close to the prophecy, isn’t it?’ said the queen, the sight of Thanos and Kitjana’s maelstrom coupling exciting her sufficiently to carry her to her own peaks of ecstasy. Her rubber-clad form squirmed against the maid, her limbs sliding against the fur divan as she gasped for breath, just to feel the influx of oxygen as it leapt in and out of her lungs. Snatching fits contorted her, causing her to appear as though she were being subjected to steady electrical impulses. The rhapsody started to subside, and once sufficiently satisfied she locked her boot to the shoulder of her maid and pushed her away, setting her back and then placing her feet on her, using the oral slave as a footrest.

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‘Precisely. Now is my time, Dana. This has to be it.

This is my destiny. Those Gaia fools actually helped me orchestrate what I was born to do and which they had striven to prevent.’ Kitjana turned onto her side and slammed a fist to the cushion in endurance as Thanos’

shaft slid from her sensitised interior. She bit her lower lip for a moment, her eyes scrunched up, and then the tightness in her features drained away, leaving her with a relaxed, serene expression.

‘You’re sure?’ asked the queen.

‘This child could start the prophecy, bring the apocalypse. All the stars are in precise alignment, the astral dagger of twin comets have breached the tropic of Hades, it’s almost time. I’ve got the ritual set up, the stone, the sacrifice, every loathsome incantation I can think off already cast. All I need is the right time,’ she stated, laying on her back, looking at the ceiling as she recovered her breath, her fingertips idly wandering her body.

‘I wish you luck,’ whispered the queen, lacing her hands across her stomach, her crossed feet upon the back of the girl who had serviced her. ‘Everyone has been gossiping of prophecy and a time of upheaval. I had no idea my little Kitjana was going to be the starting pistol for our finest hour.’

‘Oh, it’s going to be a grand time, Dana,’ assured Kitjana, rising with a strain of effort, running a hand along Thanos as he lay beside her, his body exhausted.

‘So, I guess congratulations are in order, seeing as you are going to be a mother. Any ideas on a name?’ laughed the queen, her witch companion mimicking the humour before turning to other matters.

‘Seriously though, I’m in the mood to party. What’s the entertainment going to be?’

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‘Seneschal, is the main show ready?’ asked the queen, glancing over to where Cassandra was relaxing, Kira licking across her dress as she watched a display of rope bondage occurring before her. Upon hearing her title, her head flashed around to report to her owner.

‘Anytime you wish to begin, your majesty.’

The queen turned back to Kitjana and perked her shaped eyebrows, the two women exchanging a hungry look. ‘Shall we get to the hunt, then?’ she offered.

‘A hunt? How exciting! What is the quarry?’ asked Kitjana.

The queen looked to Corin and then to Thanos, before meeting Kitjana’s eyes as they lit up with excitement.

‘Seriously?’ she questioned, rubbing her hands together as though tempted with a surprise gift she was forbidden to unwrap.

‘If you catch one, I might even let you keep them,’ the queen stated absently.

‘That, my dear Dana, is a challenge I shall readily accept. To the iniquitous go the spoils,’ she decreed, failing to see the horrified look on the faces of Corin and Thanos as they realised that they might well be separated from the ownership of their divine ruler.

In addition to the dismay of the lupines, the seneschal looked aside and hid her pursed grin, unable to hide her ebullient mood at possibly losing some of her most staunch rivals for the queen’s attention.

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The landscape was a dark and menacing realm, a place where the fog clung to the ground out of fear, slithering amidst the blasted outcrops of jagged stone and mutated blisters of warped vegetation. The ground was split and dry, having never tasted anything but the most stagnate spatters of drizzle from the miser heavens.

The plants that managed to peek through the splits clung by shallow roots, and had been infected by the insidious wickedness of the place. The bushes and frugal amount of trees were bleak specimens, their limbs arthritic, clawed and flecked with thorns. They looked like agonised screams set as sculptures to intimidate those who bore witness to them.

Volcanic pits were sporadically placed amidst the uneven hillocks and shallow valleys, smoking angrily, chugging great plumes of sulphuric smog into the sky.

The heavens were low and possessed by insane turmoil, the lugubrious sheets of clouds smacked by tempestuous winds that churned and rushed them across the sky.

Sporadic discharges of lightning spat hatefully from above to lick the soiled ground, sending rumbling tones across the landscape.

But despite the agitated air it remained cold and still upon the ground, numbing the skin, defying the pits of molten rock.

‘I
really
like this place,’ decreed Kitjana, with effervescent merriment. Like all the competitors the witch was on horseback. The midnight chargers showed more 198

than a glimmer of sentience in their eyes, the slaves transmogrified by sorcery into the semblance of a true mount. The arts of magic had done more than just recreate them as horses, it had gone further, and each steed extended folded-feathered wings at its flanks; in lands beyond the furthest reaches of dreams, the will of a warlock could alter and transgress any normal law.

In addition to cloned mounts, each of the eager contestants was attired in the same uniform. White riding trousers clung to their legs, the stark garment sliding beneath polished boots. The males wore knee-high riding boots, while the females had skin-hugging thigh boots equipped with a shallow heel. Both examples of polished leather footwear offered wicked spurs for the encouragement of their mount.

All of them wore a leather top; the high-necked garment zipped down the front, with long sleeves that entered gloves, reducing all to absolute shades of black and white.

With hair tied back and an assortment of crops and dressage whips at hand, they held the reigns of their beasts and shifted in the saddle, waiting for the trump that would start the race.