together.
‘Assistants!’ exclaimed the keeper of the queen’s servants, and at this mere verbal demand four panels on the wall opposite the cabinets suddenly revolved, revealing four bound forms.
They could have been women, but they could have been either gender for there was no flesh to be seen to confirm which they were. They were like rubber golems, creatures forged from the smooth impermeable material that seemed to be so prevalent in taste in the queen’s ranks. Were these fellow Nosferatu, or something else?
55
Were they mortal? If so, such sweltering folds would be even more unbearable. But even to those without body heat, they would be terribly restrictive and uncomfortable.
A catsuit of the fabric encompassed every aspect of them, enclosing arms, hands, and head, the hood offering two tiny eyeholes, their faces a little overlong and telling that they were radically gagged beneath. Another pair of vents at the nostrils let them wheeze softly through the openings, revealing that these were not fellow undead, they were some other sort of being. Could they be mortals?
Holes at the wrists let their rings emerge, so that the restraints could be used even through the dense fabric.
A larger collar had been set over their normal displays of ownership, and like a neck brace it kept them up and to attention, unable to move.
A brutal corset compressed them into an absurd hourglass, crushing them before a hobble skirt squeezed their legs together, dropping to their ankles where a vague glimpse of their leggings remained before the incorporated high-heeled boots took over.
Each of them was held in place by metal bands that emerged from the walls, pinning them down. The bonds flashed across their wrists, neck, thighs and waist, leaving them unable to get free as they languished in their dismal storage compartments.
‘You, furniture duty!’ she snapped, pointing at one of the anonymous forms, and simultaneously all the bands jolted back into their housings, freeing the serviles.
The rubber spectre shuffled forward with tiny hampered steps and then settled onto her hands and knees before the seneschal.
Used as a seat, the slave remained motionless as the 56
woman settled into her back, crossing her thigh booted legs and reclining slightly, her crop across her lap.
‘Now Kira, before we start your lessons, we had best get you ready and into your lot,’ revealed the seneschal.
‘The first part of your initiation will be the addition of your basic uniform. Once applied, these items will be with you for the rest of your existence and will mark you as the property of the queen.
‘Perform the fitting,’ ordered the woman, and the slaves started to shuffle across and past Kira.
Opening a cabinet they removed collar, fetters and cuffs, the items prepared in readiness for Kira’s enslavement.
‘Present your wrists,’ commanded the woman, and Kira lifted them to receive their decorations. The solid cuffs were in two halves, each having a slot and a notched lock protruding from one side. It was clear that once the barbs were slipped into the waiting housing and closed, the only way to gain freedom from the shackles would be to destroy them. The foam rubber interior was closed about each of her joints, and the moulded items locked to her, the fit absolutely perfect so that it gripped firmly and could not be removed. The four rings around each jingled as she shook them and put her hands by her side, readying to gain her slave collar.
The restraints for her feet were identical, and two of the women awkwardly settled by her ankles to snap them in place.
‘Lift your hair,’ ordered Cassandra, and as she complied the steel band was fitted in place by the third woman, encircling her neck, marking her forever as a slave.
‘Also, until you are deemed trustworthy not to interfere 57
with the property of her majesty, you will be kept enforceable chaste,’ she added, glaring at Kira.
‘Put her in the belt,’
‘Assistants!’ exclaimed the keeper of the queen’s servants, and at this mere verbal demand four panels on the wall opposite the cabinets suddenly revolved, revealing four bound forms.
They could have been women, but they could have been either gender for there was no flesh to be seen to confirm which they were. They were like rubber golems, creatures forged from the smooth impermeable material that seemed to be so prevalent in taste in the queen’s ranks. Were these fellow Nosferatu, or something else?
55
Were they mortal? If so, such sweltering folds would be even more unbearable. But even to those without body heat, they would be terribly restrictive and uncomfortable.
A catsuit of the fabric encompassed every aspect of them, enclosing arms, hands, and head, the hood offering two tiny eyeholes, their faces a little overlong and telling that they were radically gagged beneath. Another pair of vents at the nostrils let them wheeze softly through the openings, revealing that these were not fellow undead, they were some other sort of being. Could they be mortals?
Holes at the wrists let their rings emerge, so that the restraints could be used even through the dense fabric.
A larger collar had been set over their normal displays of ownership, and like a neck brace it kept them up and to attention, unable to move.
A brutal corset compressed them into an absurd hourglass, crushing them before a hobble skirt squeezed their legs together, dropping to their ankles where a vague glimpse of their leggings remained before the incorporated high-heeled boots took over.
Each of them was held in place by metal bands that emerged from the walls, pinning them down. The bonds flashed across their wrists, neck, thighs and waist, leaving them unable to get free as they languished in their dismal storage compartments.
‘You, furniture duty!’ she snapped, pointing at one of the anonymous forms, and simultaneously all the bands jolted back into their housings, freeing the serviles.
The rubber spectre shuffled forward with tiny hampered steps and then settled onto her hands and knees before the seneschal.
Used as a seat, the slave remained motionless as the 56
woman settled into her back, crossing her thigh booted legs and reclining slightly, her crop across her lap.
‘Now Kira, before we start your lessons, we had best get you ready and into your lot,’ revealed the seneschal.
‘The first part of your initiation will be the addition of your basic uniform. Once applied, these items will be with you for the rest of your existence and will mark you as the property of the queen.
‘Perform the fitting,’ ordered the woman, and the slaves started to shuffle across and past Kira.
Opening a cabinet they removed collar, fetters and cuffs, the items prepared in readiness for Kira’s enslavement.
‘Present your wrists,’ commanded the woman, and Kira lifted them to receive their decorations. The solid cuffs were in two halves, each having a slot and a notched lock protruding from one side. It was clear that once the barbs were slipped into the waiting housing and closed, the only way to gain freedom from the shackles would be to destroy them. The foam rubber interior was closed about each of her joints, and the moulded items locked to her, the fit absolutely perfect so that it gripped firmly and could not be removed. The four rings around each jingled as she shook them and put her hands by her side, readying to gain her slave collar.
The restraints for her feet were identical, and two of the women awkwardly settled by her ankles to snap them in place.
‘Lift your hair,’ ordered Cassandra, and as she complied the steel band was fitted in place by the third woman, encircling her neck, marking her forever as a slave.
‘Also, until you are deemed trustworthy not to interfere 57
with the property of her majesty, you will be kept enforceable chaste,’ she added, glaring at Kira.
‘Put her in the belt,’
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