Excited by chlestdh’s Witch Queen world, I produced this
short story set in that context; it has been authorised by him. He has his own blog at:
Witch Queen: The
Hood
“Jess, you can work tidying up the room over the stables. I’ve not been in there since those women
soldiers left, but from how rowdy they were I can only imagine that it is a
mess.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jessica
responded politely to Mrs. Tyler, the innkeeper’s wife.
Jessica had only arrived at ‘The Three Crows’ two days
earlier. Her uncle had been able to
negotiate for her to be employed here, the previous month. As a cattle drover he travelled the county
far more regularly than her parents or her brother. He had said he had stayed at the inn quite
often when moving cattle too or from the highlands along the border with Elstrand. Though the road was a comparatively busy one,
it was apparently difficult to attract young women, ideal as barmaids, to work
at the inn. Those that did come, it
seemed, left soon after arriving. Aside
from Mrs. Tyler who was in her fifties and her sister-in-law who had to be
older, there was only Geraldine who was so slender and unfeminine that they
would call her Gerald and she would pass as a boy whenever sent to market. The other was Tak who was a strong but
slow-witted young woman given much to smiling.
Jessica was grateful for the job. She could keep house as well as any young
woman and working inside was better than being in the fields in all
weathers. She knew the money she could send
home would be a real boon and protect her family a little from the vagaries of
the climate and the crops. Whilst there
had only been skirmishes along the border with Elstrand, there was a concern
that the war in Grent could easily spread here.
In such times, coin was of far more use than a field of barley.
“I am not familiar with women as soldiers.” Mrs. Tyler continued. “But I hear that it’s normal, North of the
border.”
“What colour armour did they wear? Not blood red? Of course not, blue. It was brown; the brown of a horse chestnut?”
Mrs. Tyler nodded.
“Yes, that was it. I saw it when
one of them came over to buy an entire barrel of ale and one of the clay bottles
of gin. We made good money. There were three of them, well six in all,
because they had three prisoners, though they were in rough robes with
hoods. You’d think they were men, but by
the way they shuffled I guessed they were women though dressed like that, you
couldn’t really tell. Anyway, I imagine someone
came in the night to take them, because they were gone in the morning and
instead the three soldiers had three slaves with them, female slaves. I sleep like the door post and creak as much
too, but I was saying to Imelda, the other Mrs. Tyler, I am meaning, I said I
think they were on their last day of duty.
That was why they got drunk and that’s why someone took their prisoners
and brought down their slaves.”
“Yes, that sounds very likely, ma’am. The chestnut brown armour is that of the
scouting forces of the Witch Queen’s army.”
“Is that a fact now?
How do you know that?”
“Oh, a friend of mine, Hazel, she knew all about Elstrand
and the Witch Queen. She could draw and
write some. She did a little book on
rags about the different soldiers and the colour of their armour. She said that one day she’d walk to Elstrand
to see if she’d got it right.”
“Did she?”
“I think she did. I
can read a little too, you know. My
grandma taught me so I could read her stories when she couldn’t rise from
bed. Hazel left the note under a stone
by the door but it got so wet the writing all ran. I guess if she went anywhere, it was to
Elstrand. I hope she’s happy there.”
“Well, you hear all kinds of stories of the magics they
do. They say there are no men up there,
none at all.”
“Hazel said there are some but they’re kept like a bull
you’ll just use to sire calves.”
“I’ve heard they keep some of the women changed by magic as
milking cows anyway.”
Jessica remembered Hazel’s drawing of women with distended
breasts.
“I said to Hazel that it sounded like the whole country was
like a field of cattle then, especially with the women wearing all this
leather. That upset her, she said I
didn’t understand how beautiful and strong the women were or how good leather
can feel, if it is tight.”
“Maybe she was right there, though the only leather round
here are our boots and my Alfred’s apron, though that has got a good shine on
it.”
Jessica remembered the apron and agreed there was something
alluring about it; something that she could not place.
“Well, I had better go and see what state the rooms are
in. I am sure soldiers are soldiers all
the same no matter whether man or woman.”
“Yes, Jess, I have no doubt you are right in that.”
Turning to her work, Jessica filled a pail from the pump in
the yard. Then, with a mop and broom
awkwardly under her arm, the scrubbing brush in her apron pocket, dusting
cloths tied to her belt and washing ones in the water already, she headed over
to the stables. She manoeuvred carefully
up the stairs on the outside, to the rooms above. As she opened the door, the smell of stale
beer and spirits assaulted her. The
curtains were still closed. She propped
the door open and then threw back the curtains, even opening the small paned
windows behind them to let in more fresh air.
She knew what harm stale air and the humours it held could do and she
had no desire to breathe them in.
First she collected up the discarded barrel; it was
empty. The clay bottle was still half
full; Mr. Tyler could easily sell the remainder once more. Then Jess stripped the beds and hung the
linen at the top of the stairs outside and the quilts from the roof beams. Most of the pillows were on the floor and she
picked them up and put them on the large trunk at the foot of one of the beds. Now she flaked some soap into the pail and
began mopping the floor. As she moved
one of the beds to clean the floor beside it better, she saw something lying
there. It looked like a wedge of
tailored leather with thongs coming from the sides of it. She stooped to pick it up. As she did, it fell into shape and, noticing
the holes at the front, she realised it was a hood. The thongs down the back were clearly to lace
it into place. The quality of the red
leather fitted her first impression: this was something left by the Elstrand
Scouts. The leather was smooth on both
sides and very soft, she guessed so that it would fit well to the shape of the
wearer’s face. She thought back to
Hazel’s pictures. It has always been the
slaves who had been masked with leather hoods like this. Had this belonged to one of those transported
from here? It seemed likely. Perhaps the Scouts had anticipated gaining
more slaves and this had been left over when they had only got three.
Jessica had no idea why she felt the urge to put the hood
on. However, she put down her mop and
lifted it to her face. She pulled it
close at the back, but realised her hair was preventing the two sides coming
together. Then she remembered that
Hazel’s images had always shown the slaves with their hair braided and emerging
from the hole at the top of their hoods. She found herself lifting up her long hair and
lining it up awkwardly with the hole.
Quickly she pulled the two sides of the back together under it and let
her hair cascade down over the leather.
Loosely she knotted the thongs together so that the hood stayed in place
when she took her hands away. For a
moment it seemed an unusual thing to do but quickly that turned to the sense
that it had been precisely right. As
Jessica looked out through the carefully stitched eye-holes she felt she was
viewing the world in a different way.
Sounds around her were muted and these effects meant that she felt more
focused on her feelings. If this was how
it was with just the hood on, what would it be like to be laced into one of the
leather suits the slaves wore? What had
Hazel called them? Slave-skins: that had
been the term. Now Jessica understood
some of the fascination that Hazel had had with the women of Elstrand.
Jessica realised that she was incredibly aroused. Her nipples were straining against her bodice
and her underskirt was sodden with juice from her sex. Whilst she had occasionally indulged in
playing with her body, there were few opportunities when at home or here at the
inn, when she did not run the risk of being witnessed by family members, or now,
by her fellow workers. However, in that
instant she really felt the urge to kneel here on the floor and twist her
nipples and plunge her fingers deep into her cunt and let out a long moan of
pleasure. Jessica was startled when she
realised that was precisely what she had done.
Her skirt and underskirt were hitched up exposing her sex and her bodice
was unlaced to allow the pleasurable contact on her breasts. Scared that Mrs. Tyler or one of the others
would walk in and see her as a slattern, Jessica jumped up and tore off the
hood. Nervously she pulled down her
skirts and straightened her bodice. She
tugged at her hair to tidy it. She
pushed the hood into the large pocket of her apron. To dismiss the thoughts she had been swept
by, she swabbed the floor with the mop very forcefully into every corner and
then got down on her knees again, but this time to scrub vigorously.
****
“Are you feeling alright Jess?” Mrs. Tyler asked as she passed the last dish
to Jessica to dry off.
“Yes, Mrs. Tyler, I am well.”
“It is just that your cheeks are glowing.”
“Are they?” Jessica
asked self-consciously.
She rested the back of her hand on her cheek but snatched it
away as it reminded her too much of the feel of the hood.
“Probably because you’ve been working so hard; like a
demon. I know you want to impress me but
I don’t want you slumping down from exhaustion by the end of the week. Between jobs take a rest, have some cider:
the other girls do. I am not a
slave-driver and I already know that you are no sluggard so you don’t have to
prove it to me. There’ll be busy times
like harvest home and then you can take on your demon form, having saved enough
good humours for then.”
“Thank you Mrs. Tyler.”
Jessica said, smiling.
She had not been conscious of working particularly hard, but
was glad it had made a good impression.
“I also like how you have your hair now in that long plait.”
This was something else Jessica was barely conscious of
having done and tentatively ran her fingers over it, guessing at why her body
had encouraged her to, indeed made her, do this.
“Erm, well, I find it more practical when working.”
“Well you did a good job on those rooms above the
stables. Not everyone wants to rent
those but if they do they’ll have a clean and fresh-smelling place to rest
their head.”
Jessica felt a glow of pride. She realised she enjoyed being able to serve
Mrs. Tyler well and get praised in return.
****
The bright sunrise light glinted into Jessica’s eye. Had she just come awake? Had she not been walking all night
anyway? She shook her head to clear her
thoughts; her long braid skidded across the leather mask tightly laced to her
head. Jessica stopped walking and lifted
her fingers to her face. Part of her was
unsurprised to find that it was covered with the smooth leather of the
hood. She tried to think back over recent
events but it was all distant and dreamlike.
She sought to accept that what she recalled were real memories and now
knew she had gone to bed but had risen some hours into the night and
dressed. She had found out the hood from
where she had hidden it beneath her bed and then, unbolting the rear door, had
left the inn. Outside she had taken time
to lace the hood tightly on to her as she knew she needed to do. That done, she had felt the irresistible urge
to walk North; to follow the road to Elstrand.
She tried not to admit it, but she understood that she now yearned to be
in that land and to become what this hood showed she deserved to be: the
slave-slut of a Scout.
Now the road was tipping downwards and she guessed that she
had come through the pass. How far it
was to the Elstrand border she did not know.
However, such questions did not plague her; in fact she found that they
faded quickly from her mind. While she
tried to shake off the slave-mind that the hood seemed to be instilling into
her, Jessica found she was not up to the task.
Passively she walked on, barely conscious of passing time and certainly
not of any tiredness in her body or of her hunger. Those things would be handled for her by her
mistress once she had found her. At that
thought Jessica gave a pleasurable shudder and looked forward to when she was
out of these loose clothes and in the wonderful tight leather slave-skin. Then ahead of her as she walked on she saw a
wall stretching off in both directions from the road. The way it was constructed appeared as if it
had been meant to pen the residents of Elstrand in. A squat square tower sat by the road and
Jessica walked inexorably towards it.
The banner flying from it bore a design which she knew from Hazel’s
pictures was that of Elstrand. Her body
quivered in anticipation recognising that all that it needed was now so close.
As she came up to the tower, two female soldiers
emerged. They were dressed in the green
armour of the border guards, a mainstream unit that Jessica knew from Hazel,
tended not to recruit slaves. However,
they were certainly responsible for handing them on to the proper authorities
and Jessica trusted that they would give her to whichever Scout needed to have
her.
The taller guard, with pale blonde hair, walked forward; her
gloved hand resting on the hilt of her sword.
Her comrade, shorter and brown haired, stood holding a loaded crossbow
as if wary of some trick.
“Hello, welcome to Elstrand.” The blonde said. “Who are you?”
“I, I, ... I am.”
Jessica stuttered as she tried to think clearly.
“Well, that’s a slut-slave’s hood if I ever saw one but the
clothes certainly don’t match. I can’t
really believe the women down there wear such things.” The brunette commented.
“She’d not be the first to turn up here with a hood on. Do you remember that one a couple of months
back? She’d even made herself one. What was her name Hay-something;
Haz-something.”
“I remember Captain Rowan took her; named her lelah.”
“Yes, that was it.
Not tall enough for my taste, but eager.
I think she climaxed the moment the proper leather touched her, snatched
at that hood she was offered as if she was going to lace herself into it. Maybe she did.”
“Well, if Scouts are going to be dropping items from their
claiming bags when they go out over the border, are we to be surprised? I can only imagine what kind of thoughts this
one is having; probably desperate to get on the inside of her very own slave-skin.”
“Slave, come forward.”
The blonde directed.
Jessica complied not questioning that she was responding to
being called ‘slave’. The guard went
behind her and fiddled with the hood.
“There’s a name and rank here impressed into the
leather. This hood belongs to Major Scorpia
Hagen, so the slave belongs to her too.”
“That makes sense: she passed through here just two days
back.”
“I wonder how far she’s got.
Get Kasia to send a signal up the line, she might be just at the next
horse station or the one beyond.”
However, before the brown-haired guard could follow the
order, noise came from the woodland to the side of the road. The slender trunks rising from thicker bases
suggested that at one time it had been regularly coppiced but now had been allowed
to grow free. All three women looked in
the direction of the noise as a deer ran out.
It was quickly followed by a woman who halted abruptly, a javelin in her
hand; she looked ready to down the animal.
Her clothes were rough and practical, and Jessica dimly wondered if she
was a full-time huntress or a hungry peasant woman driven to it.
“Put up your weapon.”
The blonde guard commanded.
The huntress looked suddenly at her but then let her hands
fall; her eyes no doubt taking in the crossbow now pointed at her. She dared to take a glance as the deer
hesitated but then ran up the road and then off into the woods on the opposite
side.
“Come forward.” The
blonde guard commanded.
“But we are not over the border of Elstrand, I am this side
of it.” The woman protested and she
indicated the wall.
The guard chuckled.
“No, this is just the border post.
As per the Armin-Waldeck Treaty, the border itself begins at the peak
you crossed back there. You are in
Elstrand and subject to its rules. Now,
do you have a visa document?”
“No, but I can pay for one.”
The woman said frantically searching for coins.
“No you can’t. They
must be issued by the Chancellery of the Witch Queen. If you lack a visa then you come under the
Second Act of The Doctrine.”
“And what does that say?”
“You really don’t know or you simply don’t want to say it?” The guard jibed.
The woman stayed quiet.
“Any woman over the age of eighteen who is not of High
Elstrand but found in our lands is enslaved either for general labour or, if
attractive enough, as a slave-slut.” The
guard continued. “Are you over eighteen
summers old?”
The woman did not respond.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, I am over eighteen.”
“Good, you will now be enslaved. We have little capacity for them here at the
border, so you will be sent North to the capital. The Chancellery of the Witch Queen can deal
with you there. Once cleaned up, I am
sure, however, that you have more than enough beauty that they will make a
slave-slut of you. You will never leave
Elstrand, you will never be free again, but you will never think for yourself
again, so these things will actually bring you pleasure.”
The woman turned to run, her bag banging against her. Jessica could only admire her speed. However, quickly another guard emerged from the
tower, and sprinted passed her colleagues after the woman; a long lash in her
hands. Then as the huntress reached the
start of the slope and naturally slowed, the guard whipped out and the glossy
leather caught around the fleeing woman’s ankle sending her sprawling. The woman turned over on her back and seemed
to be quivering. Jessica expected her to
begin struggling; to start trying to remove the whip from her ankle. However, instead she went up on to her knees
and then stood, but with her head bowed.
Slowly she walked back to the guard with the whip and stood before her.
With all the activity, Jessica had not noticed that the
blonde haired guard had gone into the hut.
She now returned with a tankard.
She brought it over the woman and lifted her head. She then pressed the tankard to her lips and
forced the liquid inside. Within
moments, however, the woman was drinking it freely, with dribbles of the black
fluid dropping on to her coat. The third
guard now released the whip from her ankle and led the woman to the tower.
“They’ll soon have her in the skin-tight leather. She’ll make a good one.” The dark-haired guard said. “Don’t you think, sergeant?”
The blonde sergeant made a face. “No, whatever her background she is too aloof
for my liking. I prefer them all soft
and submissive, just like this one.” She
nodded to Jessica. “It’s a shame that a
Scout has already claimed her.”
“There’ll be others.”
“Have no doubt. The
female population of Grent will be ours before long.”
“They’ll not bring them up here: too many mouths to feed and
the slave price will drop in the markets like a stone in a well.”
“Agreed, but with the border moving so much farther South,
who’s going to be in those lands among all that fresh slave flesh? Border guards like us, of course.”
The three guards laughed.
“Right, Jenae you take our two new slaves inside. Make sure the huntress is caged as that juice
will wear off before she is properly enslaved.
I think the other one’s halfway there already.” The sergeant ordered the dark-haired
guard. “Kasia, you get up top and send a
signal for Major Hagen that one of her slaves has come home and if she would be
so gracious she can come here to collect her.”
Jessica was taken inside and led to small room with a
bed. Food was brought to her which she
ate ravenously. At every stage she was
referred to as ‘slave’ and she found that now so natural that there was no
question about it. Time seemed to lose
meaning. It passed but it was no concern
of hers. Instead her mind was filled
with the image of a Scout looming over her and making use of her body. All that remained to appear in her imaginings
were the details of the face.
****
Jessica was being exercised outside the tower by Guardswoman
Jenae. She had no idea how many days she
had been there, but as the three women in chestnut brown leather rode up,
Jessica knew the next stage of her life was about to begin. She immediately felt an affinity for these
women that she did not feel with the border guards. Sergeant Riata Eltz emerged from the tower as
the horses were reined in.
“Major.” The sergeant
saluted to her chest and her two guards stood to attention behind her.
“Sergeant.” The Scout
returned her salute. “I believe I was
careless when I was over the border.”
“Well, this woman has arrived wanting access into Elstrand.” Riata gestured to Jessica. “She wears a hood with your details upon it.”
The major laughed. “I
see. I neglected to check my claiming
bags when I got back. We always take a
few extra when we go across the border.”
The major jumped down from the horse and Jessica made her
way over to her. She stopped a few steps
away with her head bowed.
“Oh yes, well I have been lucky. This is a nice submissive one, well fleshed
out. It will be so sweet easing her into
her slave-skin. You’ll like that won’t
you?”
“Yes ... yes, mistress.”
“Excellent, she knows her place. By Siv, what is it going to be like when we
conquer Grent? Wonderful, sergeant, eh?”
“Yes, Major, I am sure.”
“Right. You have a
room I can use? It seems unfair to leave
this one without her slave-skin for any longer.”
“Yes, if you’ll come with me, there is a good room in the
tower to use.”
“Chayton, bring a gathering bag.” The major called to one of her comrades.
In moments Jessica was walking beside the major who ran her
hands over body, cupping her breasts, clutching at her buttocks and sliding her
hand between Jessica’s thighs already wet from the sexual juice flowing from
her cunt. She was guided back into the tower
and up to a large room more luxurious than the ones she had seen before. A large bed stood in the centre of it and a
long mirror to one side. Jessica felt
excited throughout her body as she knew she would soon truly become a
slave-slut and properly her mistress’s property. Chayton entered with a large leather bag but
was soon gone leaving Jessica alone with the woman who was increasingly
beautiful to her.
Major Hagen was probably ten years older than Jessica and
slightly taller. Her armour did not
conceal her strength and Jessica knew that beneath it must be muscles. Her dark blonde hair was short, shaved at the
back and coming down at a steady angle to hang far longer at the front, bracketing
her face. She had silver rings in
descending sizes along her ears and a silver stud in her nose. She stood for some moments looking at Jessica
then drew her dagger and cut through her bodice and slashed away her skirts. Then she removed her boots and the pair of
hose below. Jessica was left naked bar
the slave hood she wore.
“Yes, that is very good.
I am a lucky one.” Scorpia
grinned as she ran her glove hands over Jessica’s waist then groped her ample
breasts. “Yes, they are good, there’ll
not be much need to change them.”
Jessica felt gratitude that her mistress was so pleased with
her body.
“Let’s get that pretty body of yours decorated though.”
Scorpia stripped off her gloves then went over to the
leather bag. She pulled out a small box
and opened it. She took out various
pieces of silver jewellery and then returned to Jessica. She began chanting and her eyes seemed to
darken. She slipped her fingers inside
the leather hood stretching it as far as it could go and pressed down on
Jessica’s nose. There was a momentary
sensation and she knew there was now a ring curving from it. In the next few moments, she was equipped
with studs in her tongue and another ring in her lips. Soon silver bars sat in each nipple, through
her erect clitoris and rings down her labia.
Scorpia admired her handiwork and returned to the bag
pulling out the red slave-skin. Jessica
felt weak as she saw it, knowing it was for her. She staggered a little but her mistress held
her up and guided her feet into it. In
minutes Jessica’s legs were constrained by the tight red leather. Then her arms were slid in and the leather
came tight on her breasts. Scorpia went
behind her and began to pull the laces tight.
Jessica gasped as step-by-step she was enclosed into the clinging
leather, only her sex emerging naked from within. Jessica was handed elbow-length gloves and
loved pulling them on. Finally she was
buckled into riding boots, though these had a platform and a long slender heel. As she stepped forward in them she realised
they tilted her body in a delightful way, making her bum sway as she walked.
“Excellent, excellent, oh yes. As good as I expected. Now the final step, to erase your previous
life entirely and turn your mind into that of slave-slut.”
Scorpia turned back to the bag and supporting herself on the
bedpost stepped into a harness with a large black dildo at the front of
it. It was covered in pulsing green and
purple ridges that resembled veins, but which Jessica sensed contained strong
magic. Jessica knew it would enter her
and she spread her legs stroking at her hungry cunt with her gloved
fingers. Scorpia grinned widely.
“Perhaps there is little need for this, but I am told you
will derive such pleasure once you have become a real sex object. Now I need to concentrate.”
Scorpia began a rhythmic chant. However, a couple of times she broke off and
started again. Jessica was still gazing
down at her leather-clad body wondering if her breasts had really grown.
“Look up at me, look at my eyes.”
Jessica did as commanded, but the blackness there faded a
little. Scorpia closed her eyes and then,
opening them, began again. This time
complete blackness came to them and Jessica felt everything that remained of
her as Jessica, fall into them. Then the
dildo slid into the cunt that had been waiting so long for it. The thrusting began and Jessica moaned and
grunted at the pleasure. At times
Scorpia hesitated and began a chant once more, but as an orgasm built steadily
within in her, the woman that had been Jessica lost her identity and was turned
into a living sex toy. Red light flashed
into its vision, altering forever everything contained in the toy’s mind. Then black, then red again, then it ceased.
The slave-slut rocked as the sensations running through its
body climaxed again, pulsing into every part, bringing it pleasure at what it
was, at how it was dressed and ornamented.
Above all the sensation shook right through it as it knew it belonged
entirely to Scorpia Hagen.
“The Dark Lady, I am tired.
Kassandra is right: I need more practice. You’d think taking two slaves in four days
would help. Come slave, now tell me, who
and what you are.”
“This slave-slut is yours Mistress. This slave-slut is to serve you. This slave-slut loves you Mistress.”
“Excellent. Now,
‘slave-slut’ is too generic. You, my
delight, will be known as sinahl. Do you
understand sinahl?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
sinahl responded.
“One last time tell me what you are sinahl and then you can
lick me out, I need it after all that riding.”
“sinahl is your slave-slut Mistress.”
“Excellent.”
Scorpia began to unbuckle the brown leather cuirass over her
chest exposing a form fitting leather top below. She unlaced this without removing it, so that
her breasts could hang loose. Then she
lay back on the bed and unlaced the tight leather jodhpurs she wore to exposed
her bare pussy below.
“Come sinahl, here, let us see how good you are at licking
me out. I have a feeling there is
something naturally good about you.
Maybe you were born to be a slave.”
Scorpia shifted so her legs draped over the bed and she lay
back with her cunt exposed. sinahl
needed not further command. It eased its
head, smooth from the leather than coated it and its tongue flicked out and up
and down its mistress’s lips. Was the
tongue longer than when the slave had been Jessica? sinahl had no point of comparison having no
memory of life before being sinahl. It
closed its full lips on its mistress’s clit, sucking, gently wrapping its
tongue around the warm throbbing erection.
Keeping this up, sinahl softly eased a couple of its gloved fingers into
mistress, then pushing more so that the pulsing of the hand coincided with the
licks of its tongue. Mistress abruptly
went rigid and then squirmed as if trying to pull herself back across the bed. Then she let rip with a series of loud grunts,
her legs thrust out before her. sinahl
withdrew feeling the task was complete.
Clumsily, Mistress reached out for sinahl’s head, patting it in
satisfaction.
“sinahl, yes, you deserve this. Stand, come.”
sinahl obeyed and bowed her head down as Mistress gestured
her to do. Mistress buckled a red
leather collar around sinahl’s neck and muttered some words to seal it
closed. sinahl jerked with an abrupt
orgasm as she recognised that the final step of her utter enslavement was
complete.
****
Having ridden for some time, sinahl saw they were in a
different landscape now. It had dimly
watched the countryside they had come through, up to now far more focused on
the delightful sensation of the horn of its mistress’s saddle pressed against
its cunt lips. As Scouts’ slaves were
transported regularly on horseback, unlike other slave-sluts they had a leather
patch buckled in place over their sex.
However, sinahl had found that with small motions it could press the
patch down on the saddle horn and rub at its cunt below. The time had passed in a series of orgasms so
that the saddle beneath sinahl was now slick with its sexual juice.
Ahead rode Sergeant Chayton and Corporal Yesillyn. Yesillyn had the sedated huntress laid across
her saddle; stripped of her rough clothes and put into plain grey ones to wear
while she was taken to where she would be enslaved. Now they crested the hill and sinahl could
see that a short way ahead of them was a large building made of a ruddy
stone. As they rode toward it sinahl
imagined that this would be their refuge for the night. It was curved like an oval coming to points
at either end. A banner of magenta, with
that pointed oval replicated in gold, flew above the compound.
“We’ll stop here at the Abbey of the Peak for tonight.” Scorpia said.
“Yes, Major.”
Chayton responded and turned her horse to the abbey’s
entrance. The Scout banged on the gates;
a panel slid open and a face ringed with magenta leather looked out.
“Sister, we are in need of refreshment. Please give us access to your guest hall.”
“Certainly.”
In the next few minutes the main gate was opened and the
three Scouts and the two slaves were led in.
The Scouts jumped down and lifted off the slaves.
“Sister Portal, please take this slave to your Abbess. We present her as a gift; a stray from over
the border.”
“Oh, that is a wonderful gift. She’ll have no idea of the improvements we
can make to her. You will see her
completed before you leave.”
“Good.”
sinahl wondered how its fellow slave would appear. Nothing could match its own lovely red
slave-skin, but it was pleased that the woman from the beyond the border would
get a chance to enjoy what Elstrand could offer.
****
sinahl was lounging on cushions at the foot of Mistress. It had attended Mistress in the room she had
been allocated and Mistress had wonderfully worked more magic to enlarge
sinahl’s breasts so that the leather covering them squeaked beneath their
pressure. It had been fed with bowls
brought for it and now lay patiently in the central hall of the convent awaiting
what would happen next. sinahl had
gathered that it was something to do with the new slave they had brought from
the border. Now it sensed a change in
the room and looked the way it saw everyone else’s eyes gazing.
sinahl barely recognised the slave brought from the
border. Its grey clothes had been
replaced by a very restrictive shiny black slave-skin. Its hood had a mouth hole and its lips, soft,
puffy bulged from it. However, the slave’s
eyes showed that it had been transformed further and within it would simply
know its life as a slave-slut of this abbey.
Its collar was etched with the insignia of the Sisters of Climax. It wore a lattice over its slave-skin to hold
up its enlarged breasts, the nipples of which were extraordinarily long. Then sinahl noticed that unlike itself, this
slave’s leash led not to its collar but was split into three. One slender chain led to the ring in its
nose; the other two to those that pierced its nipples, that emerged through
slits in the leather. Its cunt dripped with
every step it took and its clit was prominent and rigid, the bell that pierced
it chiming so gently, with every pulse that ran into it.
The slave was led to an ‘x’ shaped structure laid
horizontally in the centre of the room.
Shackled face down from it was a novice, her own body naked bar leather
thongs on her ankles and wrists. Her
head and body had been shaved, perhaps as a sign of purity. Beneath her already lay two slaves, locked into
another structure, their heads raised up so their tongues could lap at her
nipples. The new slave was brought to
the third position and locked in place.
Its tongue would engage with the novice’s clitoris and cunt. sinahl realised that its efforts would be
monitored as closely as it assumed the novice’s reaction would be.
The abbess stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice.
“Novice Marea now undergoes the final test to see if she is
worthy of becoming a full Sister of the Climax.
For one hour she will be pleasured by these slaves. In that time she must not allow herself to
orgasm. If she does she will be turned
into a slave-slut so as to best to serve her sisters. Once the time is passed, she must allow
herself to genuinely orgasm within five minutes otherwise, again, she will be
enslaved. Only a Sister who can build
and yet control her sex is worthy of worshipping The Dark Lady with her body,
mind and soul.”
“Siv – The Dark Lady.”
The other sisters intoned.
The ‘x’ was now lowered and the trio of slaves began their
work. The abbess stood over the newest
slave but soon seemed content at its efforts. It alternated licking at the novice with
thrusting its enlarged breasts against her cunt as if each was an oversized
dildo seeking entry. The abbess then
scrutinised the face of the novice. Her
eyes were closed and she was silently mouthing some mantra. One of the other sisters came over the abbess
and they spoke for some moments; then the abbess went to the newest slave and
unshackled it. Obediently it was directed
by the abbess to stand on its high boots and totter around to the novice’s
head.
The new slave began toying with itself, letting out long
pleasurable moans that sinahl found incredibly arousing and it was sure many of
the others in the room, certainly those who lacked the control of a full Sister
of the Climax, would feel the same.
“Yes, this leather, so smooth, so tight to my body; my
breasts soooo hard with the sensation.
Let yourself go Marea, let yourself fall into the pleasure. You have felt my tongue, my nipples pressing
so hard on you. Imagine the sensation of
you in your own slave-skin, feeling those sensations. It is so easy, slide softly into it, give
yourself to the slavery.”
“No, no, nooo!” Marea
let out a shrill cry.
With her eyes closed tight, the novice appeared to be trying
to shake off the feelings of the rising climax.
“That is it, you can feel yourself changing: you are already
becoming a slave-slut.”
“No, no, no …”
Marea’s voice faded and grunts and then a long moan came out instead.
It was clear to all that Marea was climaxing. She bucked against the frame that held her
and then juice squirted from her. sinhal
felt a jolt of pleasure as it knew that this novice would now become a
slave-slut. Others in the room were
clearly pleased with that outcome.
“Marea has failed the test.
She will serve this order, but not as a Sister. She will now be turned into a slave-slut.”
“Yes, yes!” Marea let
out a shout as her body convulsed with a new round of pleasure; she looked weak
from the sensation and stumbled.
“Bring me all that I require.”
In the next few moments the abbess was brought a black slave-skin
of the kind needed for a slave-slut of the order. Around the hall everyone sat in silence as
the abbess began and almost inaudible chant and step by step pierced Marea’s
nose, nipples, cunt lips and her clitoris. Then her tongue and her ears gained a whole
series of studs. Even these changes
appeared to alter her. Gold rings now hung
from her body making it lascivious.
sinhal watched the woman’s reaction and wondered if she was truly
conscious of what she was being made.
Now the abbess pressed down on Marea’s lips and they began to become
plumper. Soon they were shiny and
welcoming almost like a second pussy.
Her pussy itself was altered under the abbess’s touch with the pierced
lips becoming permanently engorged and slippery with juice. Her clitoris stood erect and would no longer
retreat. Then with her own eyes closed
and now chanting aloud, the abbess grasped Marea’s breasts and they grew,
becoming rapidly far larger and with their nipples hard and prominent.
It was clear that Marea was enjoying all that was being done
to her. As the abbess continued her body
became hairless, with smooth, slightly glistening, unblemished skin. However, this was soon concealed. As the abbess chanted, two of her aides
brought forward the black slave-skin that would be hers. Quickly she was laced into it, pulling tight
on her reshaped body. Then her identity
began to be erased when the hood, just like sinahl’s was pulled over her head
and laced tight. Gloves and long,
high-heeled boots were soon added. A
collar was locked in place and finally the abbess reached to strap on the
harness that would keep the almost slave-slut’s breasts constrained. Then the abbess was handed a dildo. Rather than wearing a harness, she grasped it
and thrust it into Marea’s yielding cunt.
With each thrust the abbess went close to the new slave’s head and
whispered something and with this action, all the sisters in the room intoned
‘a slave-slut for Siv’. sinahl found
this repeated incantation hypnotic and that it was drifting into recollecting
the sensation of being enslaved.
When sinahl was conscious of its surroundings again, it saw
that Marea was no longer Marea but just another slave-slut, indistinguishable
from the others used by the abbey.
“Slave 8-11 welcome slave 8-12.”
sinahl watched as the 8-11 who had been the one brought from
the border approached 8-12 who had been Marea.
The two slave-sluts stood apart for the moment, moving slightly so that
their nipples collided then locked together, their large breasts crushing the
other’s as their hands sought out each other’s cunt and their tongues
chased. Around the room, sisters and
slave-sluts mimicked the scene. sinahl
was pleased that Marea had found the correct path and would wake forever more
as a slave-slut.
****
They had left the Abbey of the Peak behind and had ridden
for some time; now they were entering a fortified town that Mistress had said
was her home. Soon they were coming into
the courtyard behind high walls that sinahl understood was where the Scouts
were based. Soldiers hurried out to take
the Major’s horse and those of her troops.
sinahl was lifted down by Mistress and proudly walked behind her, led on
her leash. It was pretty oblivious as it
was taken through the barracks then up stairs to rooms which belonged to its Mistress. They were plain, but to sinahl were wonderful
because it knew this was its new home.
sinahl was led into the bedroom and its leash tied to a ring
on the wall. It had no thought of
escape, but knew that this was about emphasising what it was: a slave-slut as
if it was not apparent from the skin-tight leather it had been laced into or
the high-heeled boots or the collar at its neck. sinahl lay casually toying with its body and
the new jewellery it wore, not questioning why it felt these things were new,
simply enjoying the fact they were gifts of Mistress. As was common for slave-sluts, sinahl was not
bored or really aware of how much time had gone by. However, it was roused from its slave-mind
state by the sound of three pairs of footsteps.
Another Scout appeared at the door leading her slave behind her;
sinahl’s Mistress followed on. sinahl
knelt up, its gloved hands resting on the shiny tight leather of its thighs
that were spread so as to best display its now naked and moist pussy to its
best.
“sinahl, my delight, this is Captain Rowan and her slave
lelah. lelah is to remain here while its
mistress and I talk. I am sure you will
welcome lelah and will have fun with it.”
sinahl looked at lelah.
They had a great deal in common; it too walked in that sensuous way in
its high-heeled boots. Its body had been
laced into tight red leather, its breasts were large and excited; a hood
concealed its features. It was shorter
and more slender than sinahl and there was something about it that sinahl felt
familiar. Quickly its leash was tied
beside sinahl’s and it lowered itself to the floor. sinahl was incredibly aroused and grasped
lelah’s head and brought it in close for a kiss. Beyond the heady scent of the leather they
wore, there was an aroma that sinahl found familiar. As lelah grasped sinahl’s breasts and they
rolled, thrusting their bodies together, it was not simply to delight their
mistresses, to tempt them to continue to
watch, but because they felt genuine excitement at being with each other. Neither was aware, nor their mistresses
either, that Jessica and Hazel had been reunited, living out for real a
scenario that once would have only been conjured in Hazel’s frenzied dreams.
