free to serve this purpose. Kira wondered what additional bondage had been applied to them beneath the trapdoors, for surely this was not the full measure of their caste.
The seneschal graphically illustrated the truth of their vocation by placing one of her shoes to the obsidian, the clack of the sole landing upon the glass-like material alerting the slave that their services were required. As the servant began to fawn and lap, Cassandra placed a hand beside the portal, spreading her latex-coated palm across an area of blank stone no different to any other.
There was a compliant click and a strip of light projected across her face, running vertically and then switching to a panning horizontal assessment.
With her identity confirmed, the doors gave several weighty clunks as the heavy bolts and locks drew back with mechanical whines, and then the portal itself started to crank back, retreating into the wall.
The reinforced vault doors were a metre thick, and revealed a plain box room, the walls and ceiling mirrored, the floor coated with the same black carpet.
The seneschal stood back and stepped in last, turning around to present her back to Kira’s gaze once more.
The slave below her licked her lips and struggled a little against her confinement, unable to escape, only continue to languish in a position she did not seem overly distressed by. Was she a willing supplicant? Were they all? Was this the nature of the queen’s realm? Was this 45
to be Kira’s fate?
The doors started to crank shut, and sealed with a damning clang. The polished interior surface of the barrier started to drop away, the lift bearing them down, a smooth stone wall before them rising steadily as they descended.
Kira looked to the mirrors and met the eyes of the seneschal reflected there. The woman released a fleeting smirk, revealing that she had been aware of Kira’s licentious study. Immediately Kira looked down at her feet, blushing as she discovered a new intense study of her toes.
With a steady deceleration they came to a halt and a new set of equally secure doors parted, this time revealing a black velvet curtain. As they walked forward the drapes parted at the centre, being hauled back to expose a hall that had Kira gasp with astonishment.
Stepping onto obsidian flagstones, her eyes fluttered about the titanic chamber. The vast oval cathedral reached up with thick pillars to grab the arched ceiling, where detailed frescoes depicted the woman of Kira’s dreams surrounded by vampire slaves of every description.
Massive chandeliers hung from the roof, constructed from living people and each identical to the other. A large central ball accepted the eight heads of the slaves, swallowing them as it hung by a thick silver chain that reached back up to the roof. The hub spat free sixteen curling silver tendrils that reached back and grabbed their ankles, stretching them out and spreading them lewdly.
The stretched poses allowed their flesh to be used to hold the huge black candles that provided illumination.
The midnight shafts were set on their legs and back, the drool of the lights having reached down and formed about 46
the base, anchoring it to their physique. Excess ran around their bodies and legs, hanging as dark icicles from their underside, reaching down towards the floor in bulbous clusters. Hung in perpetual bondage, revealed by the light that they carried, they also served another function. Their wrists were connected together beneath them by uniform metal bands and a chain dropped from the shackles, the eight chains of each slave congregating under the hub and to a heavy censer. The burden kept their limbs stretched out, stopping them from lifting it even with the cumulative effort of them all.
From the ornate censer wafting blue trails of incense spilled in soft lines, filling the air with a heady aroma. It was a skulking cloying smell, one that tickled the nose, almost undetected, but which lurked through the senses,
The seneschal graphically illustrated the truth of their vocation by placing one of her shoes to the obsidian, the clack of the sole landing upon the glass-like material alerting the slave that their services were required. As the servant began to fawn and lap, Cassandra placed a hand beside the portal, spreading her latex-coated palm across an area of blank stone no different to any other.
There was a compliant click and a strip of light projected across her face, running vertically and then switching to a panning horizontal assessment.
With her identity confirmed, the doors gave several weighty clunks as the heavy bolts and locks drew back with mechanical whines, and then the portal itself started to crank back, retreating into the wall.
The reinforced vault doors were a metre thick, and revealed a plain box room, the walls and ceiling mirrored, the floor coated with the same black carpet.
The seneschal stood back and stepped in last, turning around to present her back to Kira’s gaze once more.
The slave below her licked her lips and struggled a little against her confinement, unable to escape, only continue to languish in a position she did not seem overly distressed by. Was she a willing supplicant? Were they all? Was this the nature of the queen’s realm? Was this 45
to be Kira’s fate?
The doors started to crank shut, and sealed with a damning clang. The polished interior surface of the barrier started to drop away, the lift bearing them down, a smooth stone wall before them rising steadily as they descended.
Kira looked to the mirrors and met the eyes of the seneschal reflected there. The woman released a fleeting smirk, revealing that she had been aware of Kira’s licentious study. Immediately Kira looked down at her feet, blushing as she discovered a new intense study of her toes.
With a steady deceleration they came to a halt and a new set of equally secure doors parted, this time revealing a black velvet curtain. As they walked forward the drapes parted at the centre, being hauled back to expose a hall that had Kira gasp with astonishment.
Stepping onto obsidian flagstones, her eyes fluttered about the titanic chamber. The vast oval cathedral reached up with thick pillars to grab the arched ceiling, where detailed frescoes depicted the woman of Kira’s dreams surrounded by vampire slaves of every description.
Massive chandeliers hung from the roof, constructed from living people and each identical to the other. A large central ball accepted the eight heads of the slaves, swallowing them as it hung by a thick silver chain that reached back up to the roof. The hub spat free sixteen curling silver tendrils that reached back and grabbed their ankles, stretching them out and spreading them lewdly.
The stretched poses allowed their flesh to be used to hold the huge black candles that provided illumination.
The midnight shafts were set on their legs and back, the drool of the lights having reached down and formed about 46
the base, anchoring it to their physique. Excess ran around their bodies and legs, hanging as dark icicles from their underside, reaching down towards the floor in bulbous clusters. Hung in perpetual bondage, revealed by the light that they carried, they also served another function. Their wrists were connected together beneath them by uniform metal bands and a chain dropped from the shackles, the eight chains of each slave congregating under the hub and to a heavy censer. The burden kept their limbs stretched out, stopping them from lifting it even with the cumulative effort of them all.
From the ornate censer wafting blue trails of incense spilled in soft lines, filling the air with a heady aroma. It was a skulking cloying smell, one that tickled the nose, almost undetected, but which lurked through the senses,
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