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Authors: Bruce McLachlan

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BOOK: Moonslave
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Her fingertips circled upon the stiff nugget of flesh, the other hand stroking moist labia, tickling and teasing with glee, the hands possessed of their own automatic skill, almost moving without her influence or will.

The seneschal pulled down the cups of her bra, using the furled material to lift the assets for easier attention.

Kira accepted them immediately, letting the tip of her 36

tongue brush each point, her set of four fangs exposed, the glow of her fiercely raging eyes setting their aura onto the seneschal’s pale flesh.

‘Ah, my sweet brood,’ marvelled the seneschal upon witnessing the credentials of Kira’s status.

With a grin Kira began moving in and swallowing up the whole summit, treating each in turn. The feel of them growing harder against her suckling attention was glorious, the taste of raw life seeping into her body adding a wonderful spice to the deed.

The leather and latex coated legs of the seneschal locked about Kira’s back, holding her tight, keeping her in place as she dedicated herself to the pleasure of the seneschal. The weeping bag was lifted higher, letting a few drops spatter her neck and tight collar before the seneschal held it over her own lips, drinking deep of the contents, and when a flickering orgasm bored through her she started to quaff, crushing the bag in a fist, causing it to leak beyond her capacity to drink of its contents.

Streams of red ran down her cheeks and throat, drawing Kira’s hunger, a lure she could not resist, the molten ruby streams sparkling, entrancing her, seizing control of her by her eternal thirst.

Rising, the latex thighs slipped against her, making her shiver before she let her tongue roll up her owner’s throat, across the defined cheeks of the seneschal to her lips.

A lapping attention stole more of the spilt life, the woman also licking her soaked lips before their tongues brushed and chose to return to their intricate dance.

Kira’s hands took hold of the offered breasts, her thumb circling the teats, playing them as her fingers absorbed the feel of the soft skin.

The seneschal reached up under her slave, dropping 37

the drained bag, the lingering dregs more than enough to occupy them for now. The freed hands gathered beneath and skipped across Kira’s breasts, causing her to gasp at the tenderness before the woman began to apply more substantial caresses.

The legs unfolded from her back, and the seneschal dropped aside, sprawling onto the floor, dragging Kira with her, restoring the same position on the new territory of the tiles.

On her knees, Kira was leant over the woman she loved, kissing her wildly, her hands helping themselves to the arrays of breast, obsessed with their feel.

The seneschal returned the tease of nipples, and lifted a leg between Kira’s. Putting the knee to her own ribs she then reached down again, letting her booted shin slither between Kira’s parted legs. The feel of the polished hide riding through her sex, slithering with her ample lubrication had Kira throw her head up and cry out, the shocking detonation of long denied pleasure crippling her for a moment with its intensity.

‘Yes, slave, that’s it, let it out,’ crooned the woman as the shin started to ride back and forth, buffeting her clitoris, making Kira sob and fight to stay still, the pleasure almost too much to take.

To be handled by such a goddess, one for whom Kira’s most fervid and generous fantasies never permitted her to surpass merely licking her boots, was a treasure beyond all others. Kira felt as though she should be expecting to wake up at any moment, to snap out of this impossibly grand dream.

With a sudden pull and push of limbs the seneschal rolled, reversing their positions. Hands grabbed her wrists and pinned them down, the woman holding Kira against the tiles, her eyes full of desire.

38

Kira gave little struggles to prove her helplessness and then arched her spine, her mouth open with a silent wail as a latex-sheathed thigh slid between her legs and started to shift with small piston moves, stroking her with its cool surfaces.

‘Oh seneschal!’ she wept, trying to lift her arms, giving a deliberately lost fight against her owner’s grapple.

‘You want me, slave?’ whispered the woman, lowering her head slightly. Regarding Kira from under a furrowed brow, the seneschal licked her lips like some ravenous predator awaiting permission to begin the devouring of its prey after a prolonged hunt.

‘Please, seneschal, I love you, I want you more than anything,’ Kira whimpered, her words full of beseeching, desperate to be believed, the stroking of her sex by the smooth latex a truth agent she could not resist.

‘You want to be mine forever?’ she uttered, pressing more sternly and then returning to the gentlest tickle of her loins. ‘You want to grovel at my heels, beg for the slightest touch of my flesh?’

‘Yes!’ she howled with urgency. ‘Yes, make me yours!

I’ll do anything you want, seneschal!’ There was a flash of fangs and needle teeth broke the skin of her neck.

Kira screamed in ecstasy, the delight of being so mercilessly penetrated, of having her vitality stolen by her owner, of having her most beloved seneschal stealing her strength with a piercing kiss.

Taking a swift draught of Kira’s essence, the woman broke away and seemed to recoil, shaking, overwhelmed by sudden intense spasms as she continued to hold the panting donor down.

‘Oh, it’s… it’s…’ she began, the words slipping over her quivering lips before she flung herself into an animal howl, casting her head up, her jaws stretched wide, a 39

shriek of utmost bliss spilling from her throat, shaking the air. The effects of Kira’s blood were so powerful that it had almost overcome her with the sheer savagery of the energy sent though her body. By draining Kira’s life she had unwittingly accessed a soul reborn with kinship to the most primal vampires, the lords of their kind, those arcane beings first tainted by the curse in its most virulent form.

The woman went slack upon her for a moment, shaking, almost seeming on the verge of overdose. Then, slinking back, she pulled herself away, kissing down Kira’s front, the brush of her lips a glorious feeling, the wound on Kira’s neck already sealing itself.

Kira’s eyes fluttered closed as she felt the seneschal slip between her legs, pushing the naked thighs further apart and nestling within. The woman’s tongue was slender and pointed, dextrous and educated through centuries of long service to the queen.

The warm flashes were astounding, causing Kira to throw her arms out and scratch at the tiles, her legs stiff, her stomach muscles jolting to attention, making her buck under the delving tongue. In the corners of her eyes she could see the maids, their tensed forms ferocious with appetite, hungering to do something other than sit in the malediction of chastity and observe such a debauched display of indulgence. Kira did not need to see their camouflaged eyes to tell that they were wide, tear filled, with the pupils like wells of darkness as they fixed to the sight before them.

The seneschal arose, licking her lips, lifting a breast and serving it to Kira’s wanton sex. The nipple slipped through her labia, the hard teat gliding along as a prow, and after skipping off her raised clitoris the seneschal continued to tease with it. The feeling of the breast 40

committing this deed, tickling and filling her with the most delicious bursts of sensation, was almost too much to bear, and Kira almost wished she were restrained so she would not have to fight to stay still.

With a sigh of satisfaction the seneschal employed her other breast, her spare hand now reaching down, a raised finger clawing through Kira’s buttocks and squirming into her rear, tickling her innards, ducking back and forth as a tiny and frenetic phallus.

‘Tell me again, slave,’ she growled through a hungry grin. ‘Tell me how you regard your owner.’

The fact that Kira adored her so had clearly been a complete surprise, and she wanted to have it confirmed again and again. ‘I love you, seneschal. I’ll do anything to please you, to make you happy. I never want to see you upset,’ she cried, the words slipping free without any thought; unfiltered, unconsidered.

‘Is that why you disobeyed?’ she purred, the words clearly not an accusation, just a playful threat to have Kira continue her confirmations. ‘Is that why you dared to lick me? Your owner?’

‘I had to do something, seneschal. You’re so beautiful, so perfect, and you were so angry. It was worth risking your wrath to try and make you feel better, seneschal. I know I’m not the queen, but I can try and please you. I’ll do whatever I can,’ she mewled, another finger joining in, the paired digits offering more substantial play.

‘You think my lust for her is absurd, don’t you, slave,’

she stated rather than questioned, for Kira had seen her reactions, had been subjected to the jealous rage, and Cassandra wanted to know what Kira thought of it.

‘No, seneschal,’ replied Kira, moaning as she felt the finger return, joined by another to slide through her labia, sheath themselves in juice and then slide into her rear. ‘I 41

had the same feelings, but I gave them up.’

‘Gave them up? You dropped a set of such intense feelings just because it suited you? I doubt that very much, slave,’ coldly stated the seneschal, spreading the three fingers to have Kira unleash squeaks, the pitch raising even higher as the nipple danced swift swirls on her clitoris.

‘I could have pledged myself to being the queen’s, but I’ve seen what that’s done to you and Thanos, what it would do to me, what it’ll do to Corin. I… I…’ Kira was suddenly stumbling on her words, second thought pausing her as she reconsidered her revelation.

‘Speak, slave,’ said the seneschal, and removed the breast, restoring her tongue instead, the soft bites to Kira’s genitalia making her croak and continue with speed, the words forced out.

‘I want you!’ she cried, the words dragged out, the confession plain. ‘I want you, instead. I want someone who’ll not desert me, get bored with me. I know you hate me because of the queen’s interest, but seneschal, I don’t want her, I want you.’

The seneschal stopped suddenly, frozen by the words, thrown from her interrogation by the results. ‘I… I didn’t hate you, slave,’ she offered, her voice shaking slightly, the realisation that her irrational jealously had so acutely affected someone. Even though she had treated Kira with nothing but contempt, she was startled to find that this gorgeous creature, a brood vampire, had merely loved her without reservation despite her unjust sadism.

‘Please, seneschal, don’t,’ Kira sobbed, her back lifting, creating an arch held aloft by shoulders and buttocks as the seneschal rubbed a breast against her, and added a fourth finger to her trespass. ‘I know you did. I’m sorry, seneschal, I never meant to make you angry with me. I 42

just wanted to try and impress you, to make you not hate me, I wanted you to be cruel, I wanted to be yours, and when you were beating me and tormenting me it made me feel that I was.’

‘All those things I did to you out of envy,’ pondered her owner. ‘Yet still you loved me anyway?’

‘I wanted you to treat me that way because you wanted to, not because of some vendetta,’ stated Kira, taking hold of her own breasts, playing the nipples.

The seneschal returned to feast on the sex of her slave, her tongue working deep, her fingers rocking gently back and forth, making the resistant flesh more amiable to the penetration. ‘Come with me, slave,’ she said without inflexion, grabbing the hoop of Kira’s collar and pulling her up to her feet.

Kira said nothing and merely complied, her body light, wafting upon air as she was led out of the room.

‘Clear up that mess, slaves,’ snapped the seneschal to her maids, the door whirring shut as Kira was taken across the lounge to the other door. The unknown portal opened to a new destination for Kira, showing her a brief passage, a door in each wall, with another located at the end. The sheet obediently drew aside at their approach, revealing the bedroom of the seneschal. The room was a deep vibrant purple, mixing the coldness of a blue with the fury of a wild red to create a luscious hue. Carpeted in thick black, halfway across three steps led up to raise the second portion of the room. Each angle of the steps was fitted with a string of optic cable that glowed with sombre radiance, revealing the steps more clearly in the purveying gloom of the interior. A yard-wide path had been left around the sunken square pit that served as Cassandra’s vast bed, the one-foot drop reaching her large inviting mattress. With bright satin sheets of lush blue 43

and striking red it was the most eye-catching part of the room, with similar pillows and a ring of small lamps set in the wall, casting a dull crimson glow across its surfaces.

The rest of the room bore a walk-in closet on each wall of the lower area, the doors being tinted mirrors.

Other than these primary furnishings the room was empty, following the minimal style the seneschal seemed to prefer.

Drawing her slave up the stairs by the collar, the seneschal swung Kira down onto the covers, the mattress sinking beneath her, incredibly soft, more like a giant cushion than a sprung mattress.

The seneschal sat on the lip of this luxurious pool of material and colour and unzipped her boots, removing them, remaining in her stockings as she prowled onto the bed and closed upon Kira. Hauling her in the woman again demanded kisses, and Kira became like fluid in her grasp, melting into the embrace, overwhelmed. Their lips started to explore wider, running across neck and collar, cheeks, suckling on earlobes, using every portion of skin to draw pleasure from.

Pushing Kira down the seneschal straddled her face, sliding into place, the latex-sheathed thighs lowering into position to engulf Kira. Throwing her tongue back to the task, she shook as hands massaged her breasts and then started to move down, the seneschal flopping forward and burrowing in to give mutual oral attention.

The two stroked and clasped each other, drowning their senses in a banquet of flesh. Kira pawed at the seneschal’s firm rear and thighs, the feel of the smooth skin and tight latex adding immeasurably to her arousal.

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