‘Well, it matters not, it changes nothing,’ she stated, and slapped another ferocious stroke into Kira’s rear.
‘You see, I saw the way her majesty was looking at you, and the time she spent arranging your seduction, and I’ve seen it before.’
Kira’s skin was now hot, flicking with prickly riots of mayhem, but the belt was making her start to seep into the ordeal, to relish it, the heady heat of her lust accepting the fires of the paddle’s impacts.
‘When that damned lupine came into her hands she forgot all about me, and devoted all her time to training it,’ she spat, her temper rising, making her strokes fall with more severity than before. The initial pleasant façade of tolerance she had displayed had snapped, the issuing of punishment had let it escape and it was starting to run rampant.
‘So now I have another rival for her attention? No!’
she hissed, and applied another swat, making Kira choke and squirm, the intensity of the pain making her ecstasy all the sweeter. ‘I won’t tolerate it, not again. I already 66
have that damned werewolf, and now some fledgling vampiress? You think you’ll take my position? You think you can be seneschal and take Dana from me?’ Another sweeping slap was delivered, and another. The woman sent resounding smacks through the room, each one making the slender bound frame of Kira thrash and writhe in jeopardy, totally unprepared for the severity of the castigation.
‘Well think again, little Kira. I’ll not let you usurp me without a fight. Tangle with me and you’ll regret it for eternity.’ She continued to spank Kira with all her might, driving her deeper into harrowing. The influence of the belt continued to steal her towards climax, offering her a paradox of whether to hate or love this abuse.
‘Come on – weep, cry, suffer, this is what you wanted!’
she shouted, her arm flashing back and forth. ‘This is what you deserve!’
Screeching into her gag, unable to get any sound save gurgles through its defiant walls, Kira was lost to panic as she was punished. The strokes eluded her count as all she had was suffering to dwell on and the rapture blooming within her loins, vying for control over her mind.
Slapping kiss after slapping kiss fell, and Kira started to pray that the woman continue, hoping that the belt and the punishment were related, for if the woman stopped, then would the belt not stop to? She was too close to climax, the relief offering itself as just moment’s away, growing closer with every vibrating thrust of the dildos within her.
Choking into her gag she closed her eyes, screwing up her face beneath the tentacles of the gag, wailing for her final release. A stern spank of the weapon made her rear 67
ripple and with an orgasmic detonation every muscle flung to attention, straining against the bonds as her battle for freedom became a wild dance within them. Flying into paroxysms, each swat of the paddle added to the effects, the toys still dragging out every measure of her pleasure, her mind boiling from the intensity of the sensations.
The attack stopped and she went limp, hanging over the pole, her body touched with a sheen of sweat, her rear throbbing with an internal fulgent pulse. She had not felt an orgasm of such intensity since her night with the queen, aeons ago during another life. Was she already attuned to such algolagnic vices? Was this the reason for the interest of the queen? Had she seen some untended seed within Kira, one she intended to nourish and let bloom?
Sobbing and elated at the same time, Kira was overcome with the strangest sense of purging, of having received justice and been set free of a guilt she bore but had not ever realised. The beating granted the oddest sense of exorcism, one that had her head wafting in giddy heights of intoxication. It was like being drunk on pain, as though the heady brew of her torment was a drug more powerful than any manmade pharmaceutical.
The queen wanted her to suffer for a reason, because she wished it. All the slaves being tormented here, all the people in bondage and terrible incarceration, it was so her majesty could know that it existed. She could lay back and think about all the pain her slaves were undergoing, just for her, just because she wished it. It was a reassuring thought, one that soothed Kira even in the face of Cassandra’s jealous tantrums.
What was she to do? What was this woman planning?
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Could she fail in her training? Could she be rejected if this woman made her fumble in her goal to be a slave for the queen? She doubted that Cassandra would allow her an opportunity to be one of the queen’s personal servants, but there had to be a way.
‘Put her in an isolation suit,’ ordered Cassandra, and walked back to her waiting seat. Handing her paddle to an assistant she settled in, brushing a few dislodged strands of hair from her face. ‘I want this little viper to think about her fate.’
The assistants moved in immediately, their rubber gloved hands working with haste. The chains and rope were set free, the pits drawing them back out of the way but not removing them from view, hinting that they were still to play a part in her sorrow.
A cabinet was opened and piles of rippling black latex were removed and set beside her as she was extracted from the trapeze.
Kira collapsed to the floor, her legs weak and trembling, her arms resonating with internal havoc from having been kept under control for so long. Every shift of her abdomen made her sensitised openings move against the intruding dildos, bringing new flicks of sharp bliss through her body. Drained, she gently rubbed her scorched rear and watched the assistants prepare her for her encasement.
Manoeuvring her as though she were a lifeless mannequin, the women started to thread a set of tight latex stockings up her legs, the material more dense than any normal clothing, making any movement a battle.
The rings of her fetters were pulled through slots at her ankles, and a severe straitjacket of uncompromising rubber was drawn up, its sealed arms flapping, the many buckles and straps chiming and swaying like reeds.
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‘You have a lot to learn here, slave, and I’ll be glad to make sure you learn your lessons flawlessly,’ promised the seneschal.
Intimidated by the sight of the awful garment, Kira started to shuffle away, only to have her hair grabbed and used as the means to keep her still and deliver her into the garment. As she was held the strands were gathered up into a high ponytail and fixed with a stern elastic band, keeping them there and making the roots growl as they were stretched by the pull upon them.
The fist forced her forward, and wincing she followed it, her arms still too weak to offer any real resistance.
The back of the attire was unzipped and opened, and her arms slipped into the waiting sleeves. The jacket slithered back, the cool latex interior riding along her limbs. Then she saw the hood that hung before her eyes, the sight of the loose bag growing immediately more close as it was taken up and forced over her head, the back of it opened from neck to crown.
The helmet offered her nothing, not even nostrils, and she started to panic as she was forced to draw restricted breath through the meagre chinks of the garment. Once they sealed it though, there would be no such access, and even though she knew she had no physical need to breathe, the idea of suffocation still frightened her.
With a groan of debauched passion Kira answered the feel of the smothering jacket being zipped up. Two of the spectres drew it in, making the latex stretch across her front, squeezing her breasts as the other zipped it up.
The compression onto her torso made it distinct with every hampered breath she stole, the latex compressing her ribs and squeezing her belly inwards as the jacket served another role – that of a stringent corset.
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‘I’m going to make you adore being utterly submissive.
I’m going to make it so that the very thought of control never enters your head.’
One woman each helped themselves to an arm, holding it firmly and tightening the buckled straps that ran the length of the limbs, the strips placed only to make the embrace of the jacket more forceful. The third woman busied herself with the laces of the back, the criss-crossing path of the thick cord laid over the zip, adding further to the power of this fist of a garment.
Kira’s breath hissed out as the jacket drew ever tighter, the feel of it stoking a libidinous haze. When they started to draw her arms in she almost fainted from the pleasure of being bound thus.
The women crossed her arms and pulled them back behind her, each hauling at a limb while the third kept hands in Kira’s back, fighting the strength of the other two so as to stop Kira from falling.
‘I’m going to break you, Kira, turn you into the most grovelling simpering vampire slut the world has ever seen,’ said Cassandra, and there were two soft snaps as she was locked into the classic configuration of this most non-standard straitjacket.
Two of the women began to apply the chest straps that ran around her body, adding even more stretched belts to her sentence, enclosing her within a terrible cocoon of compressing bands.
Whimpering from a mixture of fetishistic glee and actual discomfort, Kira was suddenly thrown into jeopardy as the helmet was zipped up, pressing tightly to her face. The zip ran straight down after leaving a small hole through which her red hair exploded forth as a curled plume.
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Instinctive panic took over and she flung herself against the numerous bars of her prison, trying to get free and haul this asphyxiating mask from her face. As she felt the laces being tightened over the zip, further compressing her skull, she started to settle, the burning angst of her denial fading away as no ill effects manifested.
‘When I’m finished her majesty will congratulate me on a job well done, and whatever plans she has for you will have to be forgotten, because all you’ll be able to do is crave punishment and bondage.’
The women loosened their hold on Kira, and once she had calmed down they continued their task of transforming her into a latex zombie such as they.
The hood was sealed tight, the zip of her spine and her head being connected by a padlock. Then a stout collar was applied, the rigid walls of the band propping her head up, craning her neck out and keeping it there where she could do nothing save maintain the position. Blinded by the latex, her nose still bloated with the smell of it, unable to breathe or speak, her skin able only to feel the pressure of this latex tomb, her only sense left was hearing, and even that was muffled by the thick sheet stretched over her ears.
Kira was lifted onto her feet, the crimp of the latex to her legs as they sought to support her making her shiver with delectation. There were clicks of metal on metal from directly above her as fastening grabbed an anchor atop her hood she had not noticed before, its existence hidden by the voluminous folds of the jacket. Other clicks again grabbed her ankle bonds.
‘Now, I’m going to leave you to this entrapment. The smothering arms of this bondage are extensions of my 72
own. You suffer here because I wish it, and when I return, we’ll see what else I can do to bring you down, my pretty little slave.’
The whirring effort of engines started to seep through her latex hood, and the chains started to again withdraw, pulling at her head and feet. The hood pressed more ferociously to her face as the summit was pulled at, and then she was being lifted into the air by this point.
Struggling as her feet left the floor and were again pulled apart to splay her, she fought the brutal clench of the jacket, trying to do something to aid her plight as the chains continued their drag, racking her in the air.
There was the sound of a door shutting and silence fell as she was left suspended and helpless, no sound reaching her save her own stolid heartbeat.
Lost in the dark world of her own latex prison, Kira dwelt on all that had happened of late. How radically her life had changed from that which she had known.
But her meditations were cut short as the chastity belt once more sparked into frenetic activity. With a hiss of rhapsody she shook within the stringent bonds, expelling the last of her air and leaving herself unable to draw in any more, effectively muting any noise she might attempt to make.
Going slack within her bondage she felt the swell of pleasure slowly growing to a peak, being cultivated by the continuing toil of the belt. Closer and closer she was carried, opening her arms to the imminent orgasm.
Without warning the belt stopped, having been taught through her previous session exactly the behaviour to expect before she succumbed to release. Sensors upon the dildo had gauged that she was on the very brink of climax, mere seconds from it, and thus it had spitefully 73
shut down.
Unable to scream, Kira flew into distraught spasms, her most fanatic thrashing barely being noticed because of her stretched position. Squeezing her orifices to the rods she tried to gain the last shuffle, the last mere wiggle that would carry her over the brink. But instead she merely teetered on the edge, hanging for a moment before she started to trundle back down the slopes of ecstasy.
Sobbing, she felt herself calming, every moment of delay carrying the final result further and further from her clutches.
Only once she was utterly subdued again, hanging helpless, the pain of her predicament punishing her limbs, compressing her terribly, did the belt restart. Once more it started to tickle her clitoris, the shafts thrusting in and out of their own volition as she flexed within the rubber tomb, revelling in its delightful crushing hug upon her.
She hoped this time she would gain the release she craved, but as she again neared the potent end to her molestation the accursed machine shut off, mindlessly obeying its programming. Venting curses through her mind she again tried to finish herself off, but the belt was just too tight, she could do nothing save hang and sob as the pinnacle of her pleasure again started to slip through her fingers. Every time the belt did this to her it fed the swell of her lubricious hunger. Every denied orgasm dropped another potion of weight, making this ravenous appetite grow and grow, and as it swelled, so to did her love of vice. She was being relentlessly attuned to be addicted to her bondage, for as her frustration grew so did her relish for being confined, sealed in bondage, making her fantasies of freedom turn slowly to dreams of having Cassandra come back and apply a harsh hand 74