Author’s Notes:
Several ideas from the works of Tabico inspired this story and universe. All credit for the really good ideas belongs to her.
This was originally intended to be a Halloween themed story, but motivation fled before it could be completed in time. After several ideas and iterations, I eventually decided that this story could work well if it was a short one (I guess I’ll never learn). That plan might have worked better if I had stuck with the original idea of only have one scene in the story. Instead, new ideas took the story in directions I had never planned for it to go originally. I hope you enjoy it!
Masked
It was late evening and the shop was closed. A homemade sign marked ‘Lively Living’ slowly swung in the crisp air, the dusk sunlight briefly illuminating a pictorial of a plant. The last customer had left under an hour ago, and the place was empty. It didn’t feel empty to Shayla, though. She was perfectly content to putter about, making sure everything was in its proper place before she left for the evening.
It only took a few moments to draw the curtains, shutting out the oncoming darkness. Although the interior lighting wasn’t blinding, it was still hard to look at without making customer’s eyes water. Several complaints hadn’t convinced her that dimmer lighting would be more pleasant. The bright lights made her plants happy, and that made her happy. Sometimes the customer wasn’t always right.
She moved gracefully, spritzing water here and there, every plant receiving her full attention. As she swayed past, the plants slowly stretched their stalks out toward her, as if she was the sun. She patted one gently, pleased at their exuberance. It might have looked odd to an outside observer, but to her it was perfectly normal behavior. The plants just liked her—she did happen to be an earth witch and the proprietress of the store, after all.
Absorbed in her work, she didn’t notice the dark whisper that threaded through the air of her shop at first. She continued her rounds, setting the spray bottle down only when she started to feel as though she wasn’t alone in the shop. The whisper started to grow louder, more suggestive, insinuating its way into her mind. A cloying scent suddenly filled the shop, overwhelming the normal, subtle undertones of the herbs.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, already concerned that her sanctity had been invaded by something foul. The whispers continued, their source ill-defined but their dark intent clear. Still, under the glare of the powerful lights, she felt safe. Nothing should be able to penetrate her sanctum.
Suddenly, she felt strange, an uncontrollable urge to smile to well up within her. She felt giddy, her mind confused. She grabbed on to the edge of the table, preventing a fall onto the bare concrete floor. The whispers swirled around her, planting strange ideas in her head. Her head nodded down, staring at her generous cleavage and her hands beyond. Her thoughts were difficult, sluggish. Wouldn’t it feel good to move her hands inwards, gather that soft, rounded flesh and knead slowly?
She shivered, breaking out of the trance. What was going on with her? She’d never had such lurid thoughts before. Her eyes widened, recognition dawning. She spun around, all sultry thoughts forgotten, afraid of what she might see.
At the other end of the shop, behind the cash register, a dark, swirling mass had appeared. It looked like a reversed black hole, a cone like structure a few feet from the floor expelling material outwards instead of sucking it inwards. Black ooze boiled out into her reality, a swirling tornado from an alternate universe. Instead of pooling on the floor, it acted more like smoke, floating outwards into a cloud. It quickly became impossible to see the knick knacks sitting behind the counter, the ooze stealing the light from the room. The soft whisper from earlier had become louder, more intelligible. There was some kind of underlying rhythm, just out of reach of conscious understanding.
It was hard to stop herself from letting go, trying to listen more closely to the chanting, but she knew what this meant. She had been warned what could happen, had seen the old records herself. Her shop was being invaded, raided from some unknown universe, and if the portal wasn’t closed quickly, there’d be no telling how far the corruption might spread.
She needed to nip this in the bud quickly, before something evil had the chance to make it through the portal. She evaluated quickly, decided that getting to her potions was the best option, but she had only moments. Too much time had been spent deliberating already, the tear in reality already widening from the width of a fist to that of a watermelon, the black smoke-like substance slowly rising to cover the overhead lighting.
She wouldn’t let herself run, couldn’t allow whatever it was to win without opposition. Fortunately, she stored all of her equipment on the opposite side of the shop from the astral disturbance, so she wouldn’t have to get any closer to it or the strange smoke. If she had any hope of closing the portal before it was too late, she needed to be quick. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out from both the smoke and the strangely alluring, guttural chant for long.
She prevented herself from instinctively ducking – this was no smoke from an ordinary fire—and moved as quickly as she could to the corner cupboards. Normally, real smoke would drift towards the ceiling, and work its way downwards as a room filled. This smoke, however, almost seemed sentient, the ooze spreading out in a thick curtain to block out the light, with little eddies reaching down like hands in her direction.
She pushed forwards with haste, the smoke following her closely in a more leisurely fashion, while the sinful chant tore relentlessly at her mind. She stumbled through the aisles past rapidly wilting plants, crying in relief when she bumped into a chest. With one hand she opened the cabinet above, fumbling to locate the right potion quickly. It was starting to get hard to see what she was doing, the powerful lights no match for the oozing darkness. She began to despair that she’d never locate the right bottle, when her hand closed around the dodecahedron shape. That was it! Now she had a chance.
She turned quickly, one hand on the potion and the other holding her shirt over her mouth. She only had one chance to make the throw and close the rift before it would be too late. The portal already had expanded to half the height of a human. It was oval in shape, the edges jagged, as if reality had been torn asunder without much care. The sentient smoke still roiled from the opening, spilling into her shop at an alarming rate. If she didn’t make the throw now, there’s no way she’d be able to see the opening.
She aimed carefully, hoping for good luck. The smoke gathered in front of her, trying to confuse her, but she had already locked onto the target. She whispered a spell, then released the bottle. It spun as it flew, something inside blazing crazily through the facets of the bottle, as if it contained a miniature sun. The smoke shied away from the light, rays piercing in all directions.
Despite the interference from the smoke, the bottle flew a perfect parabola, tumbling but still on course. Shayla felt her hope starting to build. She’d end this intrusion, here and now.
She watched carefully now as the bottle got closer to the disturbance. Surely it would hit the barrier and explode any second. She waited. One second, two seconds, nothing happened. No explosion, no result. The smoke was still there, and the chant had intensified once again. If only she could see what was happening!
Suddenly, the smoke parted, and a slender, solid black hand appeared, holding the potion in its grip. A shiny black platform boot extended from the portal and connected with a definitive tapping sound on the floor below. A second hand seemed to grip the side of the portal, pulling it open wider. A hooded feminine figure pulled itself through the disturbance, a second impossibly long leg following the first. Below the hood, barely visible purple eyes sparkled at her, a cheshire grin on her face.
“An earth witch,” a voice from the form said caressingly, “a surprising turn of events.” The liquid tones alternately aroused and repulsed Shayla. Who and what was this creature? It was hard to tell, the formless fabric concealed any useful details. She would have been fascinated if she wasn’t so terrified.
The figure made the potion vanish in her concealing robes, pulling the billowing dark gray cloth closely around her mysterious form. The smoke had stopped moving, but the chant continued, unnoticed for the moment. Everything seemed still, all attention captivated by this new player.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” barked Shayla, her concern making her snap at the stranger. Perhaps if she could keep the conversation going she might have time to come up with an alternate plan.
“A name?” the hooded form replied, musing. “Did I have a name? I suppose I must have.” Gaps in the smoke allowed some light to shine through, making the mysterious character’s hidden lips shine a dark purple. She continued speaking while stepping forward a few feet, her smoky tones inviting. “My queen took my name from me; it was an obstacle to obedience, no longer necessary once I joined her army.” She clasped her hands in front of her, as if worshipping. “I am an emissary of the Queen, a Rathkeen.” Now her tone changed, sounding almost regretful. “There once were many, but now there are few. Perhaps there will be many once again.” Her eyes turned hard. “The coalition has decimated the forces of Shivar, decimated our power base, and insulted our Queen. That I cannot allow.”
She unclasped her hand and held her arms out wide. They seemed to be coated in some kind of black material, similar in substance to the black smoke. “So we are here, recruiting for Arachne. The rewards are many, the demands are few. One must only give up their free will to Her, and untold powers will be yours for the taking.” She grinned, her brief sales pitch finished. “So what do you say, will you join us? Or do we have to convince you…more forcefully? I warn you, reject this offer at your peril. It will only be offered once. My Queen’s patience is very limited.”
Shayla tried to delay the emissary, plans racing through her head. Giving in to this mysterious force was not in the cards, but she needed more time. Still, it was hard for her to think clearly while the chant murmured about giving in, accepting the offer. This queen must be very powerful to affect her so deeply. Was resistance even possible? What could only one person do to stem the tide? She frowned, dismissing the defeatist thoughts. She needed to stay focused, or she was lost before she had a chance to take action. “What is she like, your queen?” she asked, trying to gain more time, forcing an interested expression onto her face. “And what kind of powers are you talking about?” She knew there was a firecracker potion in the cabinet. If she set it off in the middle of the shop, it might distract them long enough for her to get away. She didn’t feel confident that she’d be able to deal with the powerful invader on her own.
The emissary licked her lips seductively. “She is everything. We do not exist without Her. She is our universe. She lives in all Her slaves, and we gladly cede Her control when she asks. It is…orgasmic to live in service to Her.” She took another slow step forward, not quite far enough yet to cause Shayla to panic. “Our power is control. We seduce, we infiltrate, we takeover. Slaves, all of us, but some of us are more equal than others. Our Queen cannot be everywhere at once. If you prove yourself in controlling a few, you may be promoted to control a lot. Who knows? You might even become a general, or a personal confidant of the Queen.” She lowered her arms demurely, thick golden bracelets wrapping her wrists contrasting with the black coating. “If you don’t accept Her offer, however, there can be terrible consequences. You will become a Nowan, no one of consequence, your will stripped permanently for Her. There is not much room for error. You either enslave for Her, or be enslaved by Her. Now make your choice.”
“I choose…” she said slowly, gearing for action. She tried her hardest to avoid signaling her intentions until the last moment. “…neither. I’ll never be a slave to your queen!” She turned quickly and searched the cabinet again, hoping against hope that the potion she was looking for would be close at hand. She fumbled around for a moment, cursing her own clumsiness, before her hand slipped around the square bottle.
A great feeling of relief scoured away her fears. “Take that!” she yelled, spinning back towards the evil creature and throwing the bottle at her feet. It shattered in an instant, the contents exploding like a bomb. Sparklers flew everywhere and a loud wail ripped through the air. A pillar of light blasted to the ceiling, scattering the smoky ooze and distributing burning material to all corners of the room.
The pyrotechnic display dazzled and deafened Shayla, but didn’t prevent her from making a break for it. She hadn’t originally considered that the end result of her hastily considered action would be setting her place on fire, but in retrospect it probably didn’t matter. If she couldn’t escape the insidious force invading her shop, it wouldn’t matter whether she burned it to the ground or not. She wouldn’t be herself any more. She’d belong to Her. Thinking about Her was strangely appealing, but morally repugnant. She valued her freedom more than her shop, didn’t she?
It only took a few seconds for these thoughts to flash through her mind, at which point she had almost reached the door to her shop. The fake smoke was quickly being replaced by real smoke, small blazes starting up throughout the room. Her hand was on the door handle, freedom just moments away!
“HALT!” The voice boomed in the confined space, though Shayla could barely hear it over the ringing in her ears. She put a hand on the door handle while glancing backward briefly to check how much time she had before she was pursued. She froze, taking in the unbelievable sight of what remained of her carefully maintained shop.
Time in the room seemed to stretch out, the multiple fires now burning in the building slowing to a stand-still. Specks of white ash floating through the air stopped moving, frozen in place. It looked unreal, like a two dimensional picture from a movie. It was as if someone had clicked the ‘pause’ button on a remote, and reality had obliged the command. Surely whoever could command reality in this way was powerful beyond her wildest imagination!
She couldn’t afford to wait any longer to watch the spectacle, however, or the dark emissary would catch up with her. This was the point at which she discovered that the time freeze effect didn’t just encompass the objects in her shop. She was also well and truly stuck, unable to move at all. She tried to move her hands, her eyes, anything to break free, to no avail. She started to panic when she realized that she couldn’t feel her pulse and she wasn’t breathing. Her body was in stasis like the rest of the room, at the mercy of whatever evil forces were invading her dimension.
“Now that was uncalled for,” said the emissary smoothly. She stepped into view, her cloak billowing over her tightly clad legs. Dozens of shiny metal buckles running up the length of the black boots ensured they would stay firmly attached to her slender legs. “I’m sure you’re wondering ‘how,’ but I don’t have the time to explain. And since you aren’t going to take me up on my generous offer, I think we’re going to have to change your mind. Permanently.” Light sparkled off perfect teeth as she smiled like a shark.
She made a strange gesture with her left hand and snapped authoritatively with her right. The remaining black smoke that had come through the vortex seemed to jiggle slightly, then ease back into motion, unlocked from whatever state it had been in. The cloud split, pieces of it floating throughout the room and resting on the places where sparks from the firework in a bottle had set the place aflame. When the smoke withdrew, the flames were gone, leaving only slightly blackened surfaces behind. Once they were finished, the eddies of smoke subsumed back into the large black mass once more, then the entire entity spread out thinner than before to blanket the ceiling. The light that had been almost blinding before was now choked to a trickle, the shop now looking as if it belonged deep underwater.
Well, that’s that, thought Shayla. I wonder what comes next? She watched closely, deeply worried that the evil stranger had something up her sleeves. Or, more accurately, under her cloak. The creature made a strange inhuman noise, a sort of shrieking ululation that would have made shivers run down her spine if her body was capable of movement. The smoke still slowly flowing from the rift in reality started to stir, as if something else might be coming through. Her feelings of foreboding were tinged with excitement when she realized that she had been able to refocus her eyes on the portal. Did the time dilation effect have a limited duration? If she was lucky, she’d be able to make a move before anything else could shove its way through the rift.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take as long as she had hoped. The smoke parted again, revealing two figures striding out in synchronized motion, each step in eerie unison with each other. This couldn’t be good news, as the rift had evidently gotten larger, or the two would have been unable to enter side by side. These new figures were dressed identically to each other, their outfits clinging to them tightly. Much like their mistress, they wore black platform high heels up to their upper thighs, multitudes of buckles holding them tight. Extending above the boots, a black rubber-looking one piece covered their upper bodies entirely in the slickly polished material, except for access holes at three points for their shiny clits and oiled breasts. Perhaps the most striking feature of the identical slaves was their lack of facial features. A tight, black hooded mask was sealed to their faces, showing all contours, but masking any distinctions. Their eyes were covered, flat black patches where a lively expression might once have lived. Their mouths were covered by what appeared to be a funnel, the cone-like shape seemingly glued on to their masks, as if they each had a built-in megaphone. On each slick forehead a large symbol of a closed eye was embossed in gray.
They continued to march forward in lock step, their synchronized movements echoing on the concrete floor. The cloaked mistress made another noise, and they abruptly stopped in place, two tightly bound slaves, ready to obey their commander. Shayla couldn’t see their mouths under the black funnels attached to their faces, but the chanting that had seemed unnoticeable before had now become louder. These slaves were the likely source of the silky black chant.
The emissary sidled up to one of the slaves and slipped two fingers inside a lubricated pussy. “You refused my kind offer before. Now, you can see a possible fate that awaits you. These slaves are Nowan, utterly devoted to our Queen, unthinking and obedient. It is your will that makes you disobey Her. Removing that unnecessary impediment will open your mind, allow you to accept Her into your inner being.” She slid her fingers in and out slowly, manipulating the enflamed pussy. The chanting continued on in a low hum, unchanged by her lewd ministrations. “As you can see, no distractions will be able to prevent you from doing Her will once you are taken, not even pleasures of the flesh.” She slipped her fingers out and made a show of licking them clean. “Though obeying Her is…mmmm…quite pleasurable.”
The emissary straightened up and stalked over to a still frozen Shayla, pressing the fingers she had just used against her lips. “You don’t understand yet, but you will. Or rather, you won’t have a will to worry about when we’re done.”
At this distance, Shayla was able to get a better view of the dark servant’s face. A faint oily sheen permeated her skin, which was a dusky purple, one of the reasons why it was hard to discern any features under her dark cloth hood. Her bright eyes sparkled knowingly, her black lips stretched in a hungry smile. Like the two faceless slaves, a closed eye symbol graced her forehead, burned in permanently by some unknown force.
Shayla rolled her eyes, the only part of her still under her control. She didn’t want to believe what the emissary was telling her, but there didn’t seem to be much doubt that these ‘Nowan’ obeyed the emissary’s every command. If they managed to take her with them, it seemed likely that she’d end up obeying this queen bitch forever. She made a titanic effort to move, but still failed. She wasn’t able to move yet, she needed to be patient and hope for the best.
The emissary laughed at the eye roll. “You’ve figured some of it out already. It’s too bad you won’t have an opportunity to share that little observation with anyone. Especially once you’re Nowan.” She giggled to herself, pleased at the play on words. Shayla was less enthused by the observation, especially since she was starting to believe it might be true. She strained again, hoping the stasis her body was in was continuing to weaken. This time, her left arm twitched a miniscule amount, almost an undetectable flinch. She was excited again, hoping the emissary hadn’t noticed the slight movement.
No such luck. ”Interesting,” the dark emissary remarked. “Perhaps we have less time to work than I previous thought. No matter.” She backed up a few feet to get a better viewing angle, then glanced at the two motionless slaves. “Prep her. We need to get this operation underway immediately.”
The two encased slaves didn’t acknowledge her audibly, but they started to move again, two of a kind. Their bodies flexed enticingly, seducing their unfortunate victims with both sight and sound. Before Shayla had a chance to react, they had flanked her on both sides, seizing her arms in iron grips and pulling her into position between them. She was still frozen, now stood up like a wax doll between the two slaves. The two masked creatures bent down, moving slowly but inexorably towards Shayla’s immobile head.
Shayla felt something press against both sides of her head, outside sounds now muffled. She felt a slight suction on both sides, then silence, as if the real world didn’t exist anymore. A few moments later, the chant she had heard in the background of the shop filled her ears, unbelievably musical. It was impossible to ignore, demanding her absolute attention. She needed to listen closely to it, as it had the answers she needed. It promised her comfort , joy, and peace. She started to drift, relaxing into the special sounds.
The emissary studied her carefully, watching as the earslaves sealed their vocal amplifiers securely to Shayla’s head. Letting this slave get away from her could ruin her entire operation, not to mention those slaves that frequently underperformed tended to get demoted. It had been awhile since she had been forced to enslave such a strong willed individual, and she wanted to make sure everything went smoothly. Usually the background chant was enough to make most individuals pliable, but strangely this new slave had been able to shake it off without any problems.
The infinitely more seductive sound of the pure chant appeared to be doing its job now, however. Shayla’s eyes, which had held determined green orbs, were now slowly swirling, the color draining away in miniscule amounts. A dumb smile graced her face as she slowly started to understand how good submission to the Queen could feel. As her eyes became dull, the color started to be replaced by a black shimmer, the corruption flowing directly into her brain. She was so absorbed listening to the delicious words from her new friends that she didn’t notice when reality sped back up to normal. Her body relaxed, slack in the arms of the slaves, her mouth gaping open at the sights she was seeing.
Shayla was flying, speeding over a strange land at a high rate of speed. It felt exhilarating, but also restrictive, as she didn’t appear to have any control over where her flight led. Instead of soaring freely, she was being pulled to an unknown destination.
When she had first started the journey, the sun had been shining and the trees she had been overflying had been green and vibrant, but as time went on the light from above started to be filtered down to a dark glow, and the trees started to become stranger looking, sporting colors never seen in a natural setting. The trunks were pitch black and the needles were purple, making her wonder if she was having an acid trip.
It wasn’t long before a thin needle appeared in the distance. As she flew closer, it resolved into tall spire, the central feature of a sprawling castle. The gothic architecture and strangely colored surroundings gave her pause, but she didn’t want to get away. She wanted to know who or what would live in such a structure.
She felt a light pang of regret when it became clear that she wasn’t descending in altitude. The features of the castle below looked like a caricature at this height, but it now seemed likely that she wasn’t going to be getting a closer look. The spire loomed dead ahead, and she was being pulled directly toward it.
It was strange that she wasn’t feeling a sense of dread as she approached. Instead, she was experiencing a sensation that felt suspiciously like anticipation. She could see intricate details in the brick work of the spire now, as well as strips of intricately carved runes that spiraled up and down the tower. A decorated window-like gap in the stonework seemed to be the entrance she was heading for. As she moved into the dark interior through the small opening, she realized that it must only be her mind travelling, without her body.
The window extended in a shaft that was three feet deep, opening out into a single chamber. At the periphery of her vision she could see a staircase winding downwards, but other than that the room was surprisingly bare except for the large throne that sat at its center. The light from the small window was inadequate, but she was still able to make out the figure that sat in the throne with surprising detail.
The figure who sat commandingly in the chair was unquestionably feminine, as she worn a skin tight black body suit much like that of Her slaves. Beyond that, further examination proved useless, as the Queen wore an intricate mask that hid her features. It was made in the form of a bird of prey, a ferocious visage hiding any expression, decorated with metal feathers that fanned out behind her head. In one hand she casually held a long scepter, at least eight feet long, capped with a dark crystal at its tip that emitted a sinister light. The other hand held a fine silver chain, which led to the neck of a masked slave that knelt in front of her lower body. Red eyes deep within the mask burned into Shayla, seeming to see everything about her, despite the fact that she currently was no more than a ball of energy floating in the air. “Hello, little one. My name is Arachne. I am the Queen.”
The slave slowly bobbed up and down, ministering to the needs of her Queen. The Queen sighed with satisfaction, stroking the slave’s head gently. “Beautiful, isn’t she? Perfect obedience leads to perfect pleasure. My pleasure.” The silky tones caressed her spirit. “Would you like to give it a try?”
What would it be like to please her Mistress in that way? To be tightly bound, encased in the tight material, plunging her tongue deep into the Queen’s snatch? Surrendering her freedom to serve Her darkness, forever. To never think, only obey.
The Queen gestured in her direction, and suddenly she was there, her head bound tightly in the slave mask, her tongue probing deeply into Her wet hole. She felt her head being patted, joy at being recognized suffusing her being. She was proud to be able to serve her Queen in this way. She pumped her head enthusiastically, pushing her tongue as deeply as she could go, pulsing and twisting it erratically. Despite her best efforts, the Queen made no vocalizations, the extent of her pleasure a mystery. It didn’t matter – she would serve the Queen in this way until she was told to stop. Her own tight, enslaved body flooded her body with pleasure. That was the way she was wired – to give pleasure is to receive it. If this was slavery, she never wanted to be free.
The Queen sketched a symbol on the slave’s forehead, and abruptly Shayla’s spirit popped out of the slave, hovering once again in front of the Queen. She no longer felt like the slave, but the slave’s attitude and obvious enjoyment stuck with her. Would it really be that bad a fate, she wondered? No, it was only a trick, she must not give in! Everything she was seeing her was a lie, and if she believed the lie she would be lost.
“That was just a taste of what you could be, if you were Mine.” The Queen sounded amused. “By the hue of your aura, I can tell that you liked it. Wouldn’t you like to give it all up for Me? Don’t be shy now, you can answer. Just think at me.”
An aura? Was that why her vision was imbued with a vibrant green color? And telepathy too? That would be really convenient to have. Shayla tried to constrain her thoughts, but they were getting increasingly erratic. Her resistance was starting to wane, the trials she had gone through wearing through the barriers she had spent so long painstakingly putting up. Her mind was at war with itself, and she wasn’t yet sure which side she would end up on.No! She thought hard at the Queen, a little less sure of her position than before her enforced experience as the Queen’s slave. I still reject your offer and what you stand for!
The Queen laughed, long and hard at Shayla’s response. “Oh, little one, you’re trying so hard to be different! But they all lose in the end, they all give themselves to Me. The process is irreversible. You already are Mine, you just don’t know it yet. Now…what shall We do with you?” Her head tilted, the fierce mask catching the unnatural light from the scepter. The Queen gazed at the scepter’s jewel for some time, Her red eyes dimming. It wasn’t long before they returned to their normal intensity, at which point the Queen stared hard at the ball of energy that contained Shayla’s mind.
“We agree. I don’t have the luxury of waiting until you give in eventually. Instead, I’ll have to use the direct method.” The Queen’s eyes flashed hotter than before, pinning Shayla’s mind to the wall.
The Queen made another gesture in the air, and Shayla could feel some kind of contact, a sort of vague tickling sensation. Something snapped, and without warning she could feel the Queen in her mind. Connections were being broken, remade to better suit Her will. She was helpless to resist, stuck as an observer while her mind was being rewired to match the Queen’s desires.
Loyalty to her Queen blossomed in her mind. She loved Her touch, Her gentle fingers removing and replacing the bad, traitorous thoughts with good, proper ones. Love, devotion, obedience were all bound together now when thinking of her Queen. She could not think otherwise, now.
Somehow she was aware that the bad thoughts had not gone away permanently, but they had been pushed away, split off from her core awareness. She was concerned that these thoughts might prevent her from devoting her whole being to her Queen, but those concerns were quickly soothed by further mind smoothing. Now she didn’t care that not all of her was devoted. All that mattered was that the personality in control knew her place, always beside her Queen in all things.
She tried to send the love and devotion back to her Queen in her thoughts. My Queen, she thought, I adore and obey your every wish.
“Indeed,” said the Queen, sounding pleased. “That’s good to hear. Now, I have a task for you, the main reason for why I brought you here at this time. I need to locate a traitor in our ranks, and you will do it for me.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone betraying her Queen, but tingled with joy at having a mission to accomplish. I will do as you command.
“Good,” said the Queen. “Unfortunately, you won’t be able to do it if I send you back in this state. You’ll need to hide your prior devotion to me for this to work properly. You’ll be a Trojan horse for my purposes – traitors to the throne won’t see the intelligence lurking underneath until they have fallen into my trap. Just remember – you always start out as Nowan for a while before you can become someone.”
Shayla didn’t know what this meant, but it didn’t matter to her. She would do anything for her Queen. Yes, Mistress. Her vision was tinged with the same unnatural color being emitted by the queen’s scepter.
“All that devotion, and now we have to hide it under a bush. How sad.” The Queen sounded truly regretful.
Shayla felt odd, the contact with her Mistress getting twisted, her mind swirling. Oh! she exclaimed in her thoughts involuntarily. What just happened to me?
Her mind settled back down again, several solid truths staring her in the face: she was in enemy territory, in the presence of her mortal enemy, and was powerless. She stared angrily at the Queen through green tinged vision and shouted as loud as she could with her thoughts. I’ll NEVER join you, no matter WHAT you try to do with me! Let me GO!
The Queen chuckled at Shayla’s impertinence. “You say that now, but you already have, little one. It’s just all locked away again. Keep that attitude up, though, you’ll need all the help you can get when you go back and face my emissary a second time.” She made a flicking motion with her fingers and Her throne room rocketed away, Shayla’s mind traveling ten times as fast on the return journey. The spire flashed in front of her vision, then pulled away at an alarming pace, her bodiless mind rocketing back through space and time, back to the shop she had left seemingly eons ago.
The emissary continued to watch closely, pleased when Shayla’s eyes continued to swirl and darken until they became solid black orbs. The chants had soaked in deep, permeating the fabric of her mind, making it pliable, open to her adjustment. Disconcertingly, however, Shayla was still mumbling protestations, making incoherent demands to be released. Also of concern was the closed eye symbol that had slowly burned itself into Shayla’s forehead, her Queen’s mark proclaiming her slave status. The emissary had never seen it appear before the application of the slave mask before. Was the Queen meddling in her affairs? Inconceivable! She was too busy fighting a losing war to keep track of all Her slaves! There was no way She would be able to keep track of her clandestine operations in another dimension, she was sure of it!
Unsure of herself, the emissary made a guttural sound in her throat, calling for her last slave, the one she always called when making a final enslavement. Perhaps the new slave just needed some extra encouragement to seal her enslavement properly. It had always worked in the past.
Shayla’s mind had been infiltrated by the insidious chanting, but she was still resisting the effects. Somehow it was important to not give in, but she was increasingly having problems understanding why that might be the case. She still couldn’t move, gripped and secured by the slaves with suction cup mouths, and something strange had happened to her vision. The entire shop looked washed out, the bright colors replaced with black and white images.
Yet another figure stepped through the rift which appeared to have stabilized its size. The figure stepped out of the portal a few steps, then stood stiffly, much like the suction cup slaves had earlier. In fact, this new figure was dressed in exactly the same way as the other two slaves, the tight body suit and hooded face mask hugging her features tightly. Unlike the previous two slaves, however, there was no suction cup funnel secured over her mouth, or openings at the breasts and vagina areas. Instead, a wide slit at the mouth area was cut into her mask, and the black bodysuit material extended absolutely everywhere on her body, even invading her most private areas. Hanging from her waist were several hooded slave masks, dangling freely.
The dark, insidious chant booming in her ears prevented her from hearing any commands the emissary might have been making, but the new slave must have received some kind of signal, as she opened her mouth and started unrolling her tongue. The thick appendage seemed to be limitless in length, the long structure slowly unwinding past her generous endowments, down past her waist, then finally stopping its extension at knee level. It wasn’t hard to tell what might be coming next, and Shayla knew she couldn’t rightly say that she was opposed to the idea, her pussy starting to get wet.
She struggled feebly in the grip of the earslaves, knowing full well it was pointless, their ruthless grip unbreakable. She struggled a little harder when she saw a large swath of the sentient smoke moving towards her, but that was also to no avail. The smoke covered her body in a cloud, pressing in tighter and tighter. The compression feeling was uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt. Hidden under the cloud, the clothes she had been wearing simply melted away, decomposed into ash that settled lightly to the floor. The smoke didn’t stop there, however. It pressed forward more tightly, gripping her body in its embrace. It penetrated her skin, saturating her pores with the dark substance, bonding itself to her permanently.
When it had finished its work, the smoke was all gone, transformed into a permanent shiny black coating that had been sealed to her from her neck line down to her toes. Every inch of her skin had been transformed, protected and sensitized. She could feel the air on her new skin, the sensations translated into pleasure in her mind.
Her changing skin had distracted Shayla long enough for the tongueslave to get into position. The slave crouched in front of her mound, her hands now grasping Shayla’s black hips. The long tongue twisted like a live wire, the tip skittering over the surface of her clit, causing Shayla to buck wildly in the air, the teasing unbearable. Evidently deciding that she was ready, the tongue slipped inside, ever deeper into her wet snatch.
She gasped deeply, feeling every inch as it was pushed inexorably towards her core. It twitched delightfully, ruining any concentration she might have had. Thoughts of resistance were nowhere to be found; she existed in the now, ready to be pleasured. The tongue eventually extended into her as far as it could go. The tongueslave used her tool expertly, hesitating for agonizingly long periods of time before shifting her head slightly to cause paroxysms of delight.
Shayla rode the tongue with abandon, moving her body up and down with the rhythm, desperately trying to enhance the stimulation. She was so preoccupied with the sensations that she barely noticed when the earslaves detached themselves with slight popping sounds, though they still held her in place firmly. The chant had worked its way into her brain permanently; there was no more need to pump it directly into her thoughts, the soft chant now a part of her inner being.
All she could hear were the sounds of her own gasping as the tongue jiggled inside her. “More, more,” she moaned, sweating profusely, her skin enhancing every jolt, every touch. She wailed softly, throwing her head back with abandon. It just felt too good! She started to climax, unable to handle the sensations anymore.
“Yes, yes, yes!” she screamed, oblivious to the outside world. While she was distracted, the emissary moved behind her silently with a wicked smile on her face. At the moment of orgasm, she whispered quickly into her ears. “You will obey the queen, but you will obey me first above all, slave!” She slipped a hood over Shayla’s face, moving quickly and efficiently to cinch the mask tight around her throat before she had a chance to react.
Shayla reached new heights of pleasure when she realized what was being done to her. The mask shut out all light, clinging tightly to her head. The closed eye symbol on her forehead bled through the black mask, telegraphing her loyalty to the world. She orgasmed, all thoughts of resistance vanishing into tatters. She could only think about the Queen and the emissary, about how much she wanted to be serving them both. “I give myself...mmm…to You,” she gasped out.
She smelled a strange odor, her declaration of allegiance sealing the mask permanently to her face. “Oh no, what have I done?” she asked, desperate. “Ooh, mmm, it feels so good, though.” The tongueslave still hadn’t let up, working her to another orgasm. She was bound, encased as a slave for the emissary. She could be nothing else. As she orgasmed a second time, she could only think about how much she loved the emissary for enslaving her. The tongueslave slid out of Shayla’s pussy, juices from her exertions running down her legs.
She couldn’t see, but that was fine. The emissary would see for her, tell her what to do. Her tongue felt swollen, and she instinctively knew what was happening. She opened her mouth and let her new tongue unroll, slowly and stately. It would feel so good to stick it into somebody, anybody! If only the emissary would tell her what to do! “Mistress,” she said with difficulty around her new tongue. “Please tell this Nowan tongueslave what to do.”
The emissary laughed, somewhat maniacally. “It worked! I knew I could make it work! My very own slaves, who will obey me over the Queen! How delicious!” She clicked delicately and Shayla stood up, inexplicably knowing what the command meant. She somehow could detect where the other tongueslave was standing, and walked over to stand beside here. They stood next to each other, identical in every way, panting slowly with their unbelievably long tongues hanging out in front of them.
“Excellent!” said the emissary. “Now I have enough slaves for a coup. The Queen will never see it coming, and once I control the scepter, I will be Queen instead of her! Come, slaves, follow your Mistress!”
Shayla’s first impulse was to obey the Mistress, but something strange was happening in her mind again. Her personality twisted, was flipped over, and a foreign presence again invaded her mind. She halted, clearly seeing a red tinged view of the emissary preparing to make for the portal. It must be the Queen, come to rescue her!
Shayla’s body moved involuntarily, grasping the right arm of the emissary. “I think not, my dear.” The dulcet tones of the Queen issued from Shayla’s mouth.
The emissary spun, initially seeing nothing more than the slave she had just converted accosting her. To her horror, the black, closed eye symbol all slaves of the queen bore was now red, a beady eye in the center staring her down. “My…Queen, I’m pleased to see you,” she started, her attempt at dissembling interrupted by the Queen’s booming voice.
“You thought that I didn’t know of your conspiracy to supplant Me? A Queen who can read your mind! Hilarious! You even went to some trouble to try and block Me out, which is why I’m now forced to act through intermediaries. All that work wasted on betrayal, when it could have been better spent on recruitment. I am disappointed in you.” The eye in Shayla’s forehead looked sad.
The emissary blanched. “I did it all for you, my Queen,” she lied, smoothly. “I didn’t mean to usurp Your authority!” Quickly, she stomped a heel onto Shayla’s foot and tried to make a break for it.
Shayla wouldn’t let go, determined to bring the miscreant to justice. How could she have betrayed the Queen, from whom all love flows and devotion belongs? It seemed impossible to her.
The emissary was starting to pull away from the tongueslave, her strength superior to that of a lowly Nowan, but she was quickly accosted by the other three slaves still in the shop. They too had red eyes open on their foreheads, their Queen taking a personal interest in catching the traitor.
“Ariel,” the Queen declared formally. “You have been found to be treacherous, acting against your Queen. You are hereby stripped of your position and sentenced to be a permanent Nowan. Your punishment begins immediately!”
The original tongueslave reached down and retrieved another hooded mask from the belt on her waist. “No, not that!” screeched the former emissary. “I refuse to be demoted!” She struggled, her great strength making it difficult for the slaves to hold on to her properly.
Nevertheless, there was only one of her, and four of them. It wasn’t long before she had been subdued, the mask pulled over her head and secured properly around her delicate neck. “She must orgasm to seal the deal,” the Queen whispered in Shayla’s mind. “That will be no easy feat, especially since her fear will drown any pleasure you might produce. If you succeed with this, little one, you may not remain Nowan for long.”
Don’t worry, my Queen, I thought back to her. She was someone, but now she’s Nowan. We will make her understand her place.
Shayla felt her Queen withdraw, which made her sad, but she was confident she’d be able to handle the upstart emissary. The reddish colored view of her surroundings remained in her mind, allowing her to finish her task more efficiently.
“Remove her robe,” Shayla commanded, slurring past her long tongue. The other slaves obeyed her command, removing the garment that had concealed her features since she had invaded this reality. Curiosity had overwhelmed Shayla about what the emissary had been hiding, but even without the robe there wasn’t too much more to see. Less of her skin had been bonded by the black smoke than for the Nowan, which made sense given that emissaries were not expected to be primarily sexual beings like the Nowan where. Otherwise, she looked like an almost normal human. How disappointing. Maybe her real powers were hidden, or perhaps the Queen had stripped her of her powers when she had intervened.
No matter, she had functioning equipment just like the rest of them. Shayla mimicked the gesture she had seen the emissary use earlier, and the earslaves obeyed her command, seizing the emissary by the arms and attaching themselves to her ears. It was unlikely the chant would be terribly useful against the emissary, who had already been indoctrinated once in the past, but she was going to use all the resources she had available to get the job done for her Queen.
The entire time they had been maneuvering her, the emissary had alternatively been spitting curses and blandishments, trying to dissuade them from the course of action they were taking. She didn’t yet understand that Shayla would no more disobey the Queen than she would disobey one of her own thoughts. They were now one and the same.
Eager to prove herself, Shayla positioned herself at the emissaries’ pussy, ready to try out her new tongue. The other tongueslave, tired of Shayla’s voice, plugged her mouth effectively with her own tongue, providing oral stimulus. Shayla worked with her tongue, trying to stiffen it up, but was having issues controlling it. Eventually she got the hang of working the proper muscles, and went for broke, stuffing as much as she could up the emissary’s hole. It wasn’t as pretty or as skillful as her counterpart, but it got the job done.
Shayla moved forward and back slowly, agonizingly, making the emissary feel every inch of her length. As she jerked inwards on one thrust, she moved her hands upwards and grabbed an inviting breast. The emissary moaned softly, letting Shayla know she was on the right track.
They moved in concert, both tongueslaves starting to speed up the rhythm and the pleasure. It was clear the emissary wouldn’t be a hard nut to crack. She was starting to sweat heavily, her nipples stiff with delight. Shayla started flicking them to provide extra tantalizing simulation, while thrusting ever deeper and quicker with her tongue.
The emissary orgasmed and the mask sealed itself to her face, burning itself in permanently. Shayla was a little unsure what kind of Nowan the emissary would be until she saw her slowly forcing her jaws open, a large tongue waiting inside to be extended. She grinned to herself under her mask. Now they were all Nowan, and no one was special. They all served their Queen equally well.