Adventures in Nemesisland Ch. 01

The metal tips of her stiletto shoes clicked against the black and white chequer board floor tiles; each step instinctively, without thought or effort, alternating between black and white. As she made her stately progress across the tiled floor she mused on the aptness of the symbolism that reflected the extremities of the world she inhabited and held sway over: darkness and light, cruelty and kindness, pain and pleasure, humiliation and reward. She commanded over her domain like a chess master playing a twisted and beautifully imagined chess game in which she, the Red Queen with a black heart, orchestrated proceedings and her slaves were pawns. She stood before her gothic mirror and admired her image reflected within its black cast iron frame. The Queen of Hearts was ready.

"How do I look Duchess?" she asked, turning to her transvestite companion and lady in waiting.

"I'm speechless, madam, really I am. You look absolutely stunning, a true fetish red queen," she answered.

She examined her image in the mirror carefully appraising every detail of her dress and make-up to ensure it met her exacting standards. She held her body upright and smoothed the shiny metallic red pvc panel of the ankle-length skirt, straightened her ruby encrusted tiara and made a final adjustment to the black heart-shaped choker around her neck. Yes, she thought, she looked perfect.

She turned and stepped off the black and white floor tiles taking a few steps to face one of the male slaves who served in her realm. His wrists were secured with leather cuffs, which had a rope attached to them and threaded through a metal ring fixed into the ceiling pulled tight so that his arms were stretched out. His ankles were similarly bound in leather cuffs and secured to rings set in the floor, his legs stretched just wide enough to cause discomfort but for the soles of his feet to lie flat on the black carpeted floor.

Hanging from him his balls was a large cast iron ball weight forged into the letter 'N'. 'N' for Nemesis, the Queen of Hearts smiled to herself, the name taken from the Greek goddess of fate and retribution and one of the personas she adopted in the fetish fantasy realm she had created and ruled over. She lifted the weight up and traced her finger along the letter and then let it drop heavily. The blindfolded man gasped as the velocity of the falling weight stretched his balls. The Red Queen merely laughed sadistically at his predicament. She gestured to the Duchess who, silently and secretly, stood behind her helpless victim and lifted the blindfold from his eyes to reveal the vision of his mistress transformed into the Queen of Hearts.

The cruel piercing blue eyes, framed in ruby streaked ebony hair, met her victim's as the blindfold was removed permitting him to feast his eyes on her. He gasped and then moaned in homage at the formidable and ravishing presence before him. She stood there, her heaving cleavage held tight in a shiny electric red pvc bodice festooned with black hearts and framed with a ruff in gold. This is the part I love, she mused. The look in their eyes when she reveals herself; that look of mesmerised devotion mixed with fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the seductive torment they knows she is capable of inflicting on them.

"So, are you ready to submit to the Queen of Hearts?" her voice whispered with more than a hint of playfulness mingled with the malice.

"Yes mistress," was the breathless reply.

"Mistress?" the inflection of her voice was raised and indignant, "Do you think that's the correct form of address for the Red Queen?"

"No your majesty. I mean your majesty. Of course, I mean your majesty."

"Yes, that's better slave. But you know you must be a punished for addressing me so inappropriately."

Her fingers strayed down to his cock grasping it in her metallic red gloved hands to inspect it. At the sight of his mistress revealed in all her shiny fetish glory his cock had instantly sprung to attention and stood firm and erect in her hand. They were so weak sometimes, she reflected. They knew the standards that were expected of them but still they succumbed to their own lusts. She enjoyed not making life easy for them, revelled in the control she had over them, but really, if they could not exercise more self discipline then they simply had to be punished.

"So, slave, does my presence arouse you? Do you think I'm dressed like this just to get you excited?"

"No your majesty. You're dressed as the Queen of Hearts for your own pleasure, your majesty."

"Yes that's right, but then how do you explain this? How many times have I told you about controlling yourself in my presence," she admonished, "I'm not a sexual object for you to ogle and get aroused over, you know that. You are here to serve me."

"Yes, your majesty, I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry. Hah. Sometimes, slave, I just think these are meaningless words especially when your actions betray you. And look at this, what have you got to say about this disgusting mess?"

She held up her finger in front of his eyes, the traces of pre-cum from the tip of his cock glistening on the tips of her gloved finger. She held it up to his eyes.

"You know what you must do," she said, slipping the finger into his mouth for him to suck off the sticky substance. He licked it off greedily and obediently.

She nestled a flogger made of twisted strips of black and red leather firmly in her other hand and ran it across the flesh of her slave's back-side. His body tensed, tingling in anticipation of the pain that would follow, knowing that she would soon strike. Sure enough five hard strokes whipped across his arse. He gasped and moaned as the flogger struck and the stinging sensation crept across his body. He felt the gentle touch of leather; a series of gentle taps and some gentle rubs against his throbbing flesh before another ten hard strokes rained down on him, fast and relentless.

"Thank you, your majesty,"

She held the flogger up in front of his eyes and then ran it down his chest and stomach. His whole body trembled with that strange mixture of yearning and fear that slaves have when they submit themselves. The flogger was raised and struck hard against his erect penis. His arms wriggled and twisted in their bondage as his body instinctively flinched against the strokes but he was captive and powerless. His erection instantly wilted. She glanced up at him her eyes full of pleasure and satisfaction at the punishment she had inflicted.

"Perhaps that will teach you to address me properly in future and not to get an erection without my permission," she scolded.

The Red Queen retired to her carved wooden throne. The Duchess took up a standing position next to her so they were both facing the man stretched out in bondage his, penis still throbbing in pain. The Duchess was dressed as a transvestite fetish maid, her shiny black and red pvc costume and heart shaped apron mirrored her mistress's own dress. Her white masked face afforded her a sinister and mysterious visage. She was the Red Queen's loyal companion and lady in waiting.

At the Queen of Heart's feet, on all fours at the base of her throne, was another of her slaves, entirely naked except for a black leather hood laced tightly at the back in a criss-cross pattern and a metal studded collar around his neck. She rested her feet on his back side and nestled the tips of the stiletto heels firmly into his soft flesh.

The Queen of Hearts nestled comfortably back in her chair and gently stroked the jet black feathers of her raven, which was perched on the ornate carving on the hand rest of her throne, with her finger.

"And how are you today my sweet?" she said leaning down to whisper at the bird, "Vicky Duchess has a nice little treat for you, don't you Vicky?"

"Yes madam."

The Duchess held out a saucer and tentatively picked out a trail of raw bloodied meat and fed it into the mouth of the raven, which gobbled it up hungrily.

"Yes, that's nice isn't it, some tasty mouse entrails. I have to be keep you fit and healthy for whenever you're needed, don't I?"

She adjusted her feet to get herself comfortable and in the process pressed her stiletto heels deeper into the soft yielding flesh of the man's back-side. The slave expelled a grunt of pain as the sharp metal tips of the heels dug into his skin. The Red Queen lifted her shoes off and quizzically examined the marks left on the man's fleshy rear; deep little red indentations where her heels had left their impression. She turned to the Duchess.

"Sorry, did I hear something? Since when have foot-stalls been able to utter anything?"

A voice came from below her, "Very sorry your maj......oh!"

Her elegant dark eyebrows raised a fraction and her scarlet lips spread into a malevolent smile.

"You may well say, oh, for that little slip up, slave."

"No, madam, foot-stools don't speak," the Duchess interjected.

"That's right, of course they don't. They kneel in silence serving their mistress. They express no opinions, not even when they're asked and certainly not when they aren't asked, do they?"

The Red Queen rammed her heels back down onto her slave's back-side again, pushed hard and then twisted the steel tips driving them into the man's flesh. He gasped with pain and shock dropping his arse slightly as an instinctive reaction.

"Keep your position slave. I'm not very happy with you and, if your behaviour doesn't improve, I shall have you on foot-stool duty for the rest of the day. Do you understand? Now keep still and take your punishment."

The Duchess looked on nervously. Madam was not in a very good mood today. She was always a demanding mistress but Duchess could often be relied upon to share in her amusement of the treatment of her slaves but today she was in a dark mood and the Duchess was anxious to keep on the right side of her in case she ended up in trouble.

"Duchess, I'm in bad spirits today," the Red Queen confessed, "I feel restless and unsettled."

"Madam, I can't understand why. You have a stable of willing slaves who will submit to you in all things and absolute control over your wonderful domain."

The Duchess was right of course. She looked over her private chamber from the comfort of her throne and admired it. Nemesisland was her own creation; a place where she could give expression to her wildest imaginings and where slaves could lose themselves in submission and explore their innermost darkest desires. She knew it was a magical place where anything could happen. And this room was her special private domain. It was a gothic palace decorated with curtains and wall hangings of black and purple and filled with special objects, all of which had some special symbolism or held great meaning for her. There was her unicorn statuette, the porcelain figure of the Chinese goddess, Kwan Gin, the glass chess board and its figures, the Egyptian incense burner and many other precious articles all of which decorated and enhanced her special place.

"Yes all that's true," she acknowledged to the Duchess, "but my world isn't quite complete. I've been reflecting on this for a while and there is something missing from my fetish domain. I want a new play thing for my dungeons and I know what it is I need; a slave girl."

"A slave girl?"

"Yes Duchess. I can see it. I have a vision for how I could use her. But, the girl must have all the right qualities, she must be very special. Let me see, she must be compliant and submissive to me of course, willing to do and enjoy anything that I demand of her, like any other of my slaves. But, it would also amuse me if she wasn't totally submissive, if she had a little dominant streak so that I could use her to punish some of my male slaves. They can be led to believe she might be a plaything for them only to find she is just another instrument that I can wield to torment them. Yes, it would amuse me to see her carrying out all my instructions."

"Yes Madam, I can see how a slave girl would enhance your world."

"There is more Duchess. I have a particular girl in mind. Her story is a complicated and sad one, suffice it to say that she had been chosen by me for a special role and through a series of mishaps, and also the failings of one of my slaves who had been sent to help her, she was taken from me and put to work in a brothel in Manchester by some of my enemies. She was a dedicated and willing girl blessed with both physical beauty and a worthy soul. Now, I have never forgotten about this girl. She was once, and indeed still is, very dear to my heart and I believe our fates are still bound to one another in some way. It is most likely that some of her adventures will exist only in the dark recesses of her memory. She will be a confused soul, Duchess, in need of a guiding hand from a firm but caring mistress.

"This girl has never been far from my thoughts and I have been waiting to find a purpose for her and now I believe I have found it. She is damaged though and I cannot say how much of the spirit that she was imbued with in the short time she was under my tutelage still remains. She may resist my ministrations and be beyond my reach now but I feel it's my duty to do something for her. The time is now propitious for such an undertaking.

"Yes, I have servants in the other world. Duchess, get some of them onto this task to rescue her. Her name is Kim. There cannot be so many parlours and brothels in Manchester that this girl cannot be found. Bring her back to me. I can see it now Duchess. It will be so entertaining. I will instruct her in the ways of Nemesisland. Yes, that's exactly what I need to ease my restless spirit; a nice willing slave girl."