The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Witch Queen

2: Black Leather

The slave stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of the blood-red leather slave-skin that sheathed its body, it sighed with contentment as it lay at its Mistresses feet on the fur rug beneath the heavy wood table. The slave vaguely knew that it had once been a free woman, that it had once had a name, it knew that its Mistress had changed it mentally and physically to suite her tastes, the thought made its pierced cunt moisten with pleasure.

The slave sighed and rested its face on its Mistresses booted feet; it closed its eyes and once more sighed with contentment as it felt the leather boot against its face. The slave daydreamed, its thoughts centred completely on the woman it belonged to. The woman whose property it was, the woman whose every command it obeyed without question or hesitation the woman who it loved with every fibre of its body, mind and soul; its beloved Mistress.

The slave’s body was extreme, its breasts had been full before it had become its Mistresses property but now they were massive while its waist was narrower; its Mistresses magic had changed the slaves body giving it a 40-20-36 figure and altered its feet so it could never flatten them, only boots or shoes with heels of six-inches or higher could be worn by the slave. The slaves lips were now much fuller and pouting and were permanently coloured the same blood red as its slave-skin as were its inch-long nails; both permanently retaining their colour as a result of the magic of the slaves Mistress. In its mouth a third stud now pierced the slaves tongue and on its left shoulder, under its blood-red leather slave-skin was its Mistresses mark, a rearing red dragon tattooed into the slave’s skin.

The slaves mind no longer held any memories of who it had been or what it done before being enslaved, they had been wiped away by the magic of the slaves Mistress at the same time as any desire or thoughts of freedom, the idea of not being owned by its Mistress terrified the slave. It was property, nothing more nothing less and like all property it owned nothing, not even a name, its Mistress had given it one but it could be taken away any time its Mistress wished; the slave was called prime. It was a perfect slave-slut; prime knew this because its Mistress had told it that it was.

Prime’s eyes opened and it raised its head and body as it felt a tug on the leash attached to its collar; a thrill went through the slave’s body as it looked up into its Mistresses face. Using its mouth prime delicately took the piece of fruit its Mistress held in her hand. Prime’s Mistress looked with pleasure at her slave-slut then stroked its blond hair, prime shuddered with pleasure at its owners touch, “Good pet,” said its Mistress. Once again prime sighed with pleasure, its uncovered and pierced cunt becoming wet and its pierced nipples hardening, thoughts of perverted sex filling its mind as it squeezed its buttocks with pleasure, relishing the stretched and filled feeling the large and well lubricated butt plug its Mistress had forced into its arsehole that morning gave it.

Prime lowered itself to the rug and once again rested its face on its Mistresses boots like the pet it was. Lovingly and delicately, knowing its Mistress would not object, prime licked its Mistresses boots, enjoying the bitter taste of the leather.

This was one of the very rare occasions when prime’s face and head were not covered by either a leather hood or mask whilst in public. Prime’s Mistress liked to keep the beauty of her slaves face for her own enjoyment but tonight was a celebration, a series of battles had been convincingly and decisively won and primes Mistress had decided to allow others the pleasure of seeing her slaves, stunningly beautiful face. Prime was content as its tongue traced across the leather of its owner’s boots, the celebration did not concern it, nor did the conversation happening across the table under which it lay.

“Well Ambassador, I do not normally discuss state affairs at celebrations such as these or questions that could surely wait until our meeting in the morning but I will indulge you, ask your questions.”

“Thank you your Majesty, it is appreciated, and forgive me if my questions are direct but I am merely following orders from my ruling council” said a woman’s voice. There was a slight pause, “The war you are engaged in with Grent, at the moment your forces are winning, but what are your intentions?”

There was silence, “An interesting question” again there was a pause, “My intentions are to conquer Grent and to merge it into my own realm, Grent will be no more, instead my realm will be called Greater Elstrand,” a massive cheer rang around the Great Hall at the Witch-Queens words. “I’m afraid your council will have to change its name to the Four Lands in the near future,” laughter rang out around the table. “Those are my... intentions, Ambassador.”

“Yes... thank you Majesty” said the Ambassador in a nervous voice, “I have another question... a... delicate one.”

“Oh goody” said the Witch-Queen, “I love delicate questions, ask away.”

Prime felt a double tug on the leash attached to its collar, with a last quick kiss of its Mistresses boots, prime climbed sensuously to its feet and stood behind its Mistresses chair, for a moment all talk stopped and all eyes turned to look at prime. Some gazed at its large, leather covered breasts others at its shaved and pierced cunt while those who appreciated beauty looked at prime’s face, “Well?” said the Witch-Queen, looking squarely at the Ambassador.

The Ambassador, a thin woman in her sixties with iron grey hair curled at the back of her head, shook her head in obvious disgust at the sight of prime and looked at the Witch-Queen, “Please understand that I am merely the messenger your Majesty,” said the Ambassador nervously.

The Witch-Queen nodded slightly, “It has been suggested that an.... alliance may be formed between your realm and the largest of the Five-Lands, namely Lindest, by an alliance the council means... means a marriage between... yourself and the widowed Lord of Lindest.”

For a moment there was silence as everyone at the table and several of the tables nearby looked at the Ambassador and her secretary, then the Witch-Queen began to laugh, her fist beating the table as others around her also burst into laughter. For several minutes the Ambassador could only sit and watch as the Witch-Queen and her court laughed and hooted as if they had just heard the funniest joke ever. Slowly the laughter died, the Witch-Queen Elianna Holzberg wiped tears from her cheeks, she shook her head an expression of amusement on her face. Taking a sip of her wine the Witch-Queen looked at the Ambassador.

“Ambassador, you profess to know our ways but do you really?”

“I... I think I do,” stammered the Ambassador nervously.

“Perhaps, but let me explain some of them to you so that you can pass them onto your council, so that they will also understand,” said the Witch-Queen. Silence settled on the Great Hall as all attention focused on Elianna Holzberg.

“We are a totally female society Ambassador, a matriarchy, to be a citizen of Elstrand you must be born within the borders Elstrand and you must be born female, there are no male citizens of Elstrand. We control the sex of our population by magic; the Abbesses of Keln ensure all but a small percentage of pregnancies result in a female birth. The males that are allowed to be born are raised for one reason, breeding slaves and if we could find a way around that we would” said the Witch-Queen to a chorus of yes from round the table and Great Hall.

The Ambassador was looking uncomfortable as the Witch-Queen continued, “Marriage is not unheard of in Elstrand but it is marriage between women, not between a woman and a male, though usually we take lovers, always women of course, informal relationships that last as long as those involved wish and virtually always end without acrimony or ill-feeling. Perfect we are not but I have seen the mess a woman and man can make, two women, or sometimes more, do much better. In other words Ambassador I have no interest in your arrangement; I, like all of those here am only interested in women, to be truthful I actually find men repulsive” again a loud chorus of yes followed this statement.

“We have a law in Elstrand Ambassador, it is a simple law, any foreign male found inside our borders is either executed or enslaved as breeding stock, we call this law The Doctrine,” said the Witch-Queen as she looked at the Ambassador’s unhappy face, “Have you heard of this law Ambassador?”

“Yes,” said the Ambassador unhappily.

The Witch-Queen nodded, “Good that is the First Act of The Doctrine but do you know of the second part of this law, the Second Act of The Doctrine?”

The Ambassador looked at her secretary, the young attractive redhead shook her head, the Ambassador turned back to the Witch-Queen, “Rumours, conjecture, nothing more,” she said quietly.

The Witch-Queen smiled, “The Second Act of The Doctrine is also a simple one, 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, a sex-slave. Our principles are the same in war, women are enslaved and men are put to the sword. The vast majority of slave’s you see in this very room were taken in this way; captured in fallen cities and towns or found in refugee caravans,” The Witch-Queen looked at her slave then squeezed the slave’s leather covered behind.

“My own pet was taken during a raid,” said the Witch-Queen as she continued to caress her slaves leather covered body, “Before it was enslaved it was an innocent virgin, now it knows more perversions than any whore from the Pleasure City of Tresh-Lin could ever conceive. I have moulded it both physically and mentally and now it is what I consider to be a perfect slave,” continued the Witch-Queen as she slipped a finger into the dripping wet cunt of her slave, “I have named it prime, partly because it is prime slave flesh and partly because it is my slave and therefore the prime among its kind.”

Prime was shaking with pleasure, a whimper of ecstasy escaped its lips, prime closed its eyes as its Mistresses finger explored its cunt. It knew that if it had so much as the smallest orgasm without permission its punishment would be severe. Prime’s eyes opened as its Mistresses finger left its cunt, “Clean,” said the Witch-Queen slipping her finger into her slave’s mouth.

Delight flushed through the young slaves body, pleasure that it was being used so publicly as it cleaned its own juices from its Mistresses hand, and pleasure as it savoured the taste of cunt juice. Finally the Witch-Queen pulled her finger from between prime’s pouting blood red lips, she looked at her fingers, “Acceptable,” she said as prime smiled with pride.

Prime stood silently as its owner turned her attention back to the Ambassador, there was a look of disgust on the Ambassadors face that she was doing her best to hide, “If you had entered my country without my permission, or if you had strayed off the route instructed, your fate would have been one of slavery Ambassador. While your secretary would undoubtedly have ended up in the leather slave-skin of a sex-slave,” said the Witch-Queen enjoying the look of horror on the face of the Ambassador’s attractive young secretary, “Of course if she wishes to stay with us after you leave tomorrow night that can still be arranged,” laughter rang round the table as the secretary rapidly shook her head.

“My point is simple, I have no interest in men, they revolt me, I have no interest in marriage and I have no interest in an alliance, and you may quote my exact words to your council” said the Witch-Queen with a small smile on her face. “Our war with Grent is just and we will win because our armies are mightier, our resolve is greater and our magic is stronger” said the Witch-Queen as cheering rang around the room.

The Witch-Queens face became serious, “Tell this to your council as well, Grent thought us easy prey because we are a realm of women, they thought to cross our borders at will and with impunity, they thought us weak, they have discovered that we are not. Once Grent is conquered, once it no longer exists you would do well to remember its fate” said the Witch-Queen as cheers once again rang around the Great Hall, the Ambassador licked her lips nervously.

Prime looked around the table, the discussion that was taking place was about politics and prime had no interest in politics, only sex and perversion interested it. Prime looked at the Ambassador then at her young secretary sitting to the Ambassador’s right. Sitting to the secretary’s right was Candida Renville, Arch-Abbess of Keln, one of the Witch-Queens oldest and closest friends. The Arch-Abbesses robes were midnight black velvet and covered her large, overweight body while her face was fat and round with a double chin.

The attention of the Ambassador and her secretary, as well as the twenty other women around the table, was focused on the Witch-Queen, while the slaves who stood or knelt at the end of their Mistresses leashes were either fully hooded, blindfolded or had eyes only for their owners. It was only prime that noticed the Arch-Abbesses hand swiftly reach out and emptied a vial of viscous liquid, dark purple in colour, into the secretaries glass of wine. Prime watched silently as the Arch-Abbess looked around the table then obviously satisfied that no one had observed her actions she settled her bulky body back in her chair. The Arch–Abbess looked towards the Witch-Queen, her eyes flicked up at prime realising that the slave had been watching her. The Arch Abbess looked squarely at prime, her eyebrow raised then she grinned, after all prime was merely a slave and whatever it had seen mattered not at all.

Prime watched with interest, it had seen the thick black fluid called calming juice, or by some slave-maker, being used to subdue women before they were turned into slave-sluts but it was the first time it had seen a potion of this colour. The Ambassador was looking nervously at the Witch-Queen as with shocked shaking hands her secretary reached for her wine and took a large gulp in an attempt at calming herself; the Arch-Abbesses grin broadened.

“I take it you will pass on my message to your council?” asked the Witch-Queen calmly.

“Of course Majesty, I will pass on exactly what you have told me, I will make your position very clear” replied the Ambassador in a cold but nervous tone.

“Good, I hope I have cleared up any misunderstanding the governments you represent may have had, now if you have no more questions that cannot wait until our meeting in the morning I would rather like to return to enjoying this well deserved celebration.”

“Of course Majesty, thank you for your candour” said the Ambassador with a slight bow of her head.

Around the Great Hall laughter and the sound of celebration arose as the Witch-Queen turned to talk to the Commander of her personal guard, the Blood Guard; General Leandra Benina sat to the Witch-Queens left in a place of honour. The Generals own slave, with its head encased in a blood-red leather hood that left only its eyes uncovered, knelt obediently and devotedly beside its owners chair, its eyes turned down to the floor. Prime liked General Benina’s slut, the Commander had named her pet klis after the Witch-Queens favourite hunting dog, though klis was much older than prime the two slaves regularly fucked each other for their Mistresses pleasure who both seemed to particularly enjoy the sight of the two slaves sucking each other’s cunts.

Prime looked back over at the Arch-Abbess and the young, red-haired secretary. The secretary’s face was flushed pink and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead as she reached for her glass of wine, as she did the Arch-Abbess turned to the black robed Abbess to her right and spoke quietly to her, the Abbess nodded as she listened, “Majesty, would you be so kind as to excuse my sister abbess, she needs to run a small errand for me?”

“Of course Candida” said the Witch-Queen.

“Thank you Majesty” said the Arch-Abbess; the junior Abbes rose from her chair and bowed deeply to the Witch-Queen before quickly leaving.

As the Abbess left a soldier in the red leather armour of the Blood Guard walked up to the Witch-Queen and stood to attention before saluting, the soldier began to whisper in the Witch-Queens ear, slowly a broad smile grew on prime’s Mistresses face.

“Thank you lieutenant,” the female officer saluted once more and left.

“It would seem we have some entertainment in addition to what we had planned,” announced the Witch-Queen as prime watched the Arch-Abbess surreptitiously refill the red haired secretaries wine glass, once again adding a vial of the thick purple liquid.

“It appears that we have some... guests,” said the Witch-Queen, “Who will join us shortly,” she looked at the Ambassador, “Would you care to watch the entertainment our... guests will give us Ambassador?”

The Ambassador looked at the Witch-Queen and the smile on her face, she swallowed nervously then stood, “With your permission I will return to my rooms, I have some reading to do before tomorrow.”

“Of course Ambassador” replied the Witch-Queen, a tone of mockery evident in her voice.

The Ambassador turned and looked down at her secretary, “Let us go” she said.

“Yes Amb...” began the red haired secretary.

“Oh come now” interrupted the Arch-Abbess, “Let your secretary at least finish her wine,” she turned to the secretary, “What is your name my dear?”

The secretary looked rather flustered, her face was tinged pink and perspiration stood out on her forehead, “Rowena Bernstein” she replied.

“I will look after Rowena Ambassador, will it suffice if a woman of the church watches over your secretary while she finishes her wine?” asked the Arch-Abbess.

For a moment the Ambassador was silent, she looked at the Arch-Abbess then at her secretary, “I will need you at my chamber immediately after breakfast Mrs. Bernstein,” said the Ambassador as she bowed to the Witch-Queen and left.

From where it stood prime could see the look of confusion on the secretary’s face, the Arch-Abbess leaned close to the young woman and spoke quietly to her, Rowena reached out and took her glass, the young woman began to drink the tainted wine. The Arch-Abbess rested a pudgy hand on the young woman’s shoulder as she continued to speak quietly to her, Rowena’s eyes grew wide as she drank her wine and listened to the Arch-Abbess, on the other side of the Arch-Abbess the junior Abbess had returned and was now sat down, her task complete. Several of the women at the table glanced at the Arch-Abbess and the red-haired secretary and then looked away, some with smirks on their faces.

“Majesty, may I borrow your pet for a while?” asked the Arch-Abbess smiling at her friend the Witch-Queen as applause began to spread around the Great Hall from the direction of the main entrance.

This time it was the Witch-Queens turn to look at the Arch-Abbess and the flushed, wide-eyed secretary, “Of course you can Candida,” replied the Witch-Queen as she reached up and unclipped the leash from prime’s ruby encrusted collar, “Obey the Arch-Abbesses instructions as you would mine, do you understand?” said prime’s Mistress in a stern voice

“Yes Mistress,” replied prime as it turned its attention towards the Arch-Abbess, “How may this slave be of service to you Madam?” it asked differentially, prime only had one Mistress.

“Sit there slut,” replied the Arch-Abbess pointing to the chair the Ambassador had vacated on the left side of the secretary, uneasily prime sat where it had been instructed; other than its Mistresses bed the slave-slut was very rarely permitted to use anything but the floor as a place to sit, kneel or lie.

The shouting and cheering in the hall had increased and prime’s Mistress looked over to the cause of the disturbance, a troop of city guards, armoured in their customary blue studded leather armour were standing at the centre of the Great Hall. The reason for their presence was obvious, twelve women stood nervously between the soldiers; all twelve of the women were nuns, eight novices in white and four more senior sisters.

The Witch-Queen looked around the table, ”Well ladies it looks as if a fun evening is in store and it would appear I will be able to reward some of my officers in more concrete terms than just praise” prime’s Mistress stood up. As the other officers and officials climbed to their feet the Witch-Queen turned to the Arch-Abbess, “I assume you would like to stay here and keep an eye on Rowena while she finishes her wine” she said with a knowing smile.

The Arch-Abbess returned the smile, “Thank you for your... understanding Majesty.”

With a deep laugh the Witch-Queen walked away, there was a confused look on the secretaries face as she watched the table empty of women, “Have some more wine my dear” said the Arch-Abbess.

“Oh yes, sorry... the wine... thank you” said the secretary as Candida poured another glass of wine to which she had already added a third vial of the thick purple fluid.

The secretary took another drink of the drugged wine, “You know you have beautiful hair Rowena, so rich and silky red, why do you wear it in that silly bun?” asked the Arch-Abbess as Rowena sipped on her wine.

“My hair?” said the confused young woman as she touched the hair coiled on her head, “It’s... expected... it’s part of my job... to look professional” she replied panting slightly, her face flushed and damp with perspiration.

“Ah but you are off duty now,” said the Arch-Abbess, “And such lovely hair deserves a better look,” she said as she passed a comb and a strip of long black leather to prime, “It will look so much nicer braided and plaited, prime do that for me, braid Rowena’s hair.”

“Yes Madam,” said prime as it began to unpin the secretary’s hair, “Please I can...” said Rowena trying to protest.

“So what do you think of those twelve Rowena?” asked Candida as she changed the subject abruptly and looked at the twelve nun’s.

As prime began its work, Rowena followed the Arch-Abbesses gaze, she blinked rapidly, “They are nuns from, from Beltran, what’s going to happen to them?”

The Arch-Abbesses pudgy fingers squeezed Rowena’s shoulder, “Do you remember what the Witch-Queen said about the second part of The Doctrine?”

A look of shock crossed the young woman’s face, “No you can’t be serious they’re nuns.”

“But very soon they will be slaves and by the looks of them I would say that all will be slave-sluts,” said Candida, “Have you ever seen a woman enslaved as a sex-slave Rowena, it’s quite delicious” said Candida as she watched the first of the nuns shaking her head as she was offered a vial of black liquid from a young officer in the uniform of a Blood Guard.

“I... I... never” stammered Rowena as prime continued to braid her hair in a tight plaited braid down her back.

“Tell me about yourself Rowena, how old are you for instance?” asked Candida once again changing the subject.

“I’m twenty-five.”

“And the Ambassador called you Mrs. Bernstein; does that mean you are married?”

“Yes, my husband is also a diplomat, we’ve been married for eighteen months,” replied Rowena, prime noticed the look of quickly disguised distaste on the Arch-Abbesses face.

“Finished Madam,” said prime, Rowena’s dark red hair was pulled back over scalp and formed into a tightly braid plait entwined with the black leather strip, the braided hair reached to the middle of her back.

“Much better,” said Candida,”Just think, very soon, those twelve nuns will be just like this slut,” said Candida pointing at prime.

Rowena turned and looked at prime, “Oh no,” she said.

“You look warm my dear let me help you,” Candida as she deftly undid the buttons that reached from the high collar of Rowena’s grey dress to the centre of her breasts.

Rowena looked down in shock but didn’t attempt to stop Candida, “Tell me my dear have you ever worn leather like prime here?”

Rowena’s eyes were wide and staring as she looked at the slave, her newly braided hair flicked back and forth as she rapidly shook her head, “No,” she said.

“But don’t you have leather gloves, and shoes and perhaps belts?”

“Yes, but nothing... nothing...” stammered Rowena, “Nothing... like that.”

“No boots with seven-inch heels no leather corsets?”

“No,” said Rowena in a rush, “Nothing... nothing like that.”

“Just think Rowena, those nuns have never dressed like that either” said Candida as she turned and looked at the twelve nuns who were attempting to resist as the black calming juice was forcibly poured into their mouths, spilling down their chins and over their white surpluses. “They’ve never worn leather but in a short time they’ll be slaves and never wear anything else. Finish your wine my dear.”

With a shaking hand Rowena took her glass and drained the last of the wine.

“And I suppose you’ve never been with a woman or been whipped and put into bondage?”

Rowena’s mouth fell open in shock and she looked at the Arch-Abbess, “No, never, never ever,” she spluttered desperately.

“Such a shame,” said Candida as she stroked Rowena’s cheek with her pudgy fingers, “But I’m sure that deep down inside it’s just what you’d like, to be fucked and abused by a woman while dressed in skin-tight leather.”

“No you’re wrong, I don’t... want that,” panted Rowena as she shook her head in denial, “I’m... I’m married!”

“Mm really,” laughed Candida as she turned away from Rowena and reached down beside her chair.

“Prime, get under the table and remove Rowena’s shoes and stockings so she’ll be more... comfortable,” said the Arch-Abbess as she turned back to Rowena; now in addition to her midnight black velvet robes she also wore a pair of tight black leather gloves. Silently prime slid beneath the table.

Unable to see what was happening prime could still envisage what the Arch-Abbess was up to. Candida turned and looked across the Great Hall, all resistance had stopped and the twelve nuns now stood silently as their soon to be Mistresses stripped them.

“Not much longer Rowena and they’ll be slave-sluts, owned property in blood-red leather, doesn’t that sound so wonderful Rowena,” the red haired secretary was staring at the scene, a look of disbelief on her face. “Of course we Sisters of Torment have our own colour, black leather is our preference.”

Rowena slowly turned to face Candida, her face, neck and the top of her chest flushed pink, her brow speckled with small drops of perspiration, she licked her dry lips, “Can’t... can’t you... help them?” she asked desperately, panting shallowly.

Candida laughed, “Why would I want to do that Rowena?” she asked as she undid more of the buttons on the front of Rowena’s grey dress, “They will make excellent slave-sluts,” Candida said with a smile.

Rowena looked down as Candida’s tightly gloved fingers undid the buttons, “I... please... don’t do... I’m... I’m fine,” she stammered but didn’t try to stop Candida.

Candida smiled at the confused young woman, “Of course you are my dear, I’m just making you feel even better than fine,” she said as without resistance from Rowena she stroked the young woman’s cheek with her leather gloved fingers.

Continuing to stroke the confused young woman’s cheek, Candida turned and looked across the Great Hall, “Ah yes, that’s better don’t you think Rowena?” said the Arch-Abbess; the twelve nuns had all been pierced with gold rings and studs and were being dressed in blood red leather slave-skins.

“No... no... it can’t be... can’t be,” stammered Rowena.

“But it is, they will make excellent slave-sluts,” said Candida as she continued to stroke Rowena’s cheek, “Do you like that Rowena, the feel of leather on your face, does it excite you my dear, I think it does,” she said as she slipped a gloved hand into Rowena’s opened dress. “I see it does, your nipples are so hard,” said the Arch-Abbess as she cupped Rowena’s left breast, “We have a saying in our order, pain is pleasure – pleasure is pain,” Rowena gasped her eyes going wide as Candida viciously pinched her nipple.

Candida smiled, “That’s right Rowena, pain is pleasure,” she said pinching the nipple as hard as she could; Rowena’s eyes were wide with amazement and shock.

The Arch-Abbess sat back and put her hands in her lap as she looked with satisfaction at Rowena; Candida reached down beside her chair, “Prime, help Rowena out of that silly dress and whatever else she’s wearing,” Rowena looked at her wide-eyed, “No... please... no... I... I don’t want... don’t want any of this,” she pleaded.

Candida laughed as prime stripped the young woman, “Of course you do Rowena, I’m just going to make sure you realise you do,” said Candida as she looked with lustful eyes at the young woman’s now naked breasts, “I’m going to make sure you realise just how much you really like black leather, how much you really like pain. Let’s start with this shall we,” said Candida.

Rowena’s eyes grew wide as she saw what the Arch-Abbess held, “No... please no... I don’t want to... please,” said Rowena as prime undid the last of her clothing.

“Your nipples and the juice dripping from your cunt tell a different story Rowena, they tell me you can’t wait to wear this,” said Candida as she lifted what she held towards Rowena’s face.

“No... no... please don’t,” said Rowena as Candida pulled a black leather hood over the young woman’s head, “Lace it up prime,” said Candida, silently prime fastened the laces, encasing the young red haired woman’s head and face in tight black leather as she continued to say no. Finally the hood was laced shut, only Rowena’s mouth and her wide disbelieving eyes were visible.

“Much better Rowena,” said Candida taking hold of Rowena’s rigidly erect right nipple in her gloved fingers, “You like it don’t you Rowena.”

“No... no... I don’t, please I don’t,” said Rowena desperately.

“Liar,” said Candida quietly as she began to twist Rowena’s right nipple, pinching it viciously between her leather covered fingers, “If you didn’t like it your cunt wouldn’t be this wet, now would it?” said the sadistic Arch-Abbess as she slid two fingers into Rowena’s sex.

“Hot and wet like the slut you really are,” said Candida, Rowena gasped with the pain from her abused nipple then the gasp turned to a moan, “Admit it Rowena, admit that you like it, that you like the leather that you like the pain, do that and I’ll give you more of the same.”

“I... don’t... I can’t,” said Rowena desperately as she moaned with pleasure once more.

“Say it Rowena, say pain is pleasure,” said Candida, her face close to Rowena’s leather covered cheek, her fingers pumping in and out of Rowena’s cunt as she continued to twist and pinch Rowena’s nipple, “Say it,” she hissed viciously.

“I can’t... I... oh no, oh no,” gasped Rowena, “Pain... pain is pleasure,” she said her eyes wide as she continued to whimper and gasp with pleasure.

“Of course it is,” said the Arch-Abbess with a look of triumph on her face, “You love pain Rowena, I can tell,” she said as she finally released Rowena’s abused nipple and pulled her fingers from the young woman’s sex. Rowena watched her eyes wide in the openings in the black leather hood as the Arch-Abbess raised her gloved fingers to her mouth and licked Rowena’s juices from them, “Delicious,” she said.

“You have earned a reward my little pain-slut,” said the Arch-Abbess, “Prime, help Rowena put this on,” she said handed as she a mass of black leather to the Witch-Queens slave.

It had taken fifteen minutes for prime to complete the task Candida had given it but finally the Arch-Abbess announced herself satisfied, Rowena now wore a black leather slave skin, only the woman’s sex, anus and hands were left uncovered. Candida had turned her chair round and now faced away from the table, Rowena stood in front of Candida, her leather hooded head hung down in obvious shame.

“Much better Rowena, you are beginning to look your true self, you like it don’t Rowena,” said Candida, “You like the leather covering your body; you like your slave-skin don’t you.”

Rowena closed her eyes in defeat, “Yes,” she said.

“Yes Rowena,, I know what you really need, I know what you truly want I know what you truly are,” said Candida as she stroked Rowena’s hooded face with her gloved hand, “You are a leather fetishist Rowena, and you are a pain-slut, leather and pain turn you on, excite you, give you extreme pleasure. I know something else Rowena, although you are married you don’t like men, they disgust you, revolt you, the mere thought of a man’s touch makes you physically sick Rowena, you know this is true Rowena, just as I know it’s true. Only women can give you pleasure Rowena, only women excite you but not just any women, older, mature women, excite you the most, fat old women like me excite you Rowena, women whose bodies are massively obese like me make your cunt wet, make you want to be used and abused by them, that is what you truly desire to be dressed in leather while a massively fat old woman fucks you and gives you the pain you love. Doesn’t the idea of sucking the hairy cunt of a fat obese woman while you are dressed in skin-tight leather turn you on, the thought of you caressing her enormous sagging thighs and bulging flabby stomach, your leather hooded face buried in her cunt while she whips you un-mercilessly excite you?”

Rowena couldn’t help herself the ideas and thoughts of what Candida was describing were exciting her beyond belief, she wanted just what Candida had described, “Yes” replied Rowena huskily

“Well done Rowena, you have taken the first few steps to becoming what you truly are now let’s take a couple more, put these on” Rowena looked at what the Arch-Abbess was holding out towards, Rowena couldn’t help it, she shuddered with pleasure.

All resistance had vanished from Rowena as she took the black leather, elbow length gloves and put them on, bending down she stepped into the black ankle boots with seven-inch heels, the Arch-Abbess nodded her approval as she eased her overweight body from the chair and stood up; Rowena made no protest or comment as the Arch-Abbes placed a thick leather posture collar around her neck and fastened the three buckles at the back, she clipped a leash to the ring on the front then picked up the last item from the table.

“Look over there Rowena,” said the Arch-Abbess, “Don’t they look lovely,” Rowena looked where Candida indicated, where the twelve nuns had stood were now twelve leather covered sex-slaves, each waiting at the end of its leash for its Mistress to give it an order. “Obedient, submissive and erotic, just as a slave-slut should be,” said Candida as the twelve new slaves were lead away by their Mistresses, following subserviently at the end of the leashes attached to their collars.

“You look just as erotic just as ready to take the final step that you so desperately crave and need Rowena, ask me to make you my slave, ask me to make you my pain-slut, ask me to enslave you, ask me to be your Mistress, you know it’s what you want, what you need.”

The leather covered Rowena licked her lips nervously. Rowena had no idea that she had been drugged or that from the moment she had taken a sip of the tainted wine she had been doomed, the potion had begun the process of altering her mind and increasing her suggestibility to an enormous degree. Three draughts of the thick purple potion were all that was needed to allow the Arch-Abbess to pervert and corrupt the previously inexperienced and completely heterosexual Rowena, easily dominating and overwhelming the young woman.

Whatever Rowena had felt or thought before no longer had any relevance, all that mattered was the pleasure from the touch and smell of leather the joy she experienced from pain and the need to be used, abused and fucked by the massively fat and much older Arch-Abbess, “I... please I” she stammered, “Please make me... make me into your... your slave... Mistress.”

Holding onto the leash attached to the posture collar around Rowena’s neck Candida showed Rowena what she held; it was a black dildo at least twelve inches long, the dildo was thick and round, covered in what looked like purple and green veins that seemed to pulse. Without warning Candida rammed the massive dildo into Rowena’s cunt, Rowena gasped in pain as the monster entered her, stretching her vagina to its maximum.

“Look at me Rowena” said the Arch-Abbess. Rowena looked at the Arch-Abbess, her eye’s locked onto those of Candida as the Arch-Abbesses eyes turned completely black and Rowena was lost. Chanting quietly the Arch-Abbess began to fuck the entranced young woman with the monster dildo.

From where it stood prime watched as the Arch-Abbess completed the corruption and enslaving of the Ambassador’s secretary, the Arch-Abbess slipped a flabby arm around Rowena’s leather covered waist and pulled her closer. Suddenly Rowena screamed in intense pleasure and her eyes rolled back into her head until only the whites showed as Candida continued to chant quietly as she rammed the dildo into Rowena’s cunt.

Releasing her hold on Rowena, Candida eyes returned to their normal brown as she stepped back and pulled the dildo from Rowena’s stretched and abused cunt, she passed the dildo to prime, “Clean this and put it back in my claiming bag” without comment prime began to lick the dildo clean of Rowena’s juices.

Holding tightly onto the leash attached to the posture collar around Rowena’s neck the Arch-Abbess waited as Rowena’s eye-lids flickered, her eyes rolling back down until she stood looking at Candida.

“Mistress, how may your slave be of service to you?” said the slave that had been Rowena, its voice low and subservient as it looked at the Mistress it adored and loved.

Candida grinned, “What are you, what are you called?” she asked.

“This slave is your pain-slut Mistress, it is your property, it has no name because you have not given it one,” said the new slave said.

“Perfect,” said Candida, “For now you will answer to the name cunt, do you understand cunt?”

“Yes Mistress, this property will answer to the name cunt,” said the slave.

“Well this is interesting,” said a voice next the Arch-Abbess, Candida turned and grinned at the Witch-Queen, “Sorry, but I just had to have her.”

“No problem Candida, you have acquired an excellent slave.”

“Thank you Majesty and with your permission I will leave now, I’m rather keen to break it in.”

“Of course, go and enjoy yourself,” said the Witch-Queen, “I will see you tomorrow.”

Candida bowed and with the black leather covered slave that had been the Ambassador’s secretary following at the end of its leash waddled away. The Witch-Queen watched the Mistress and her new slave leave, “Interesting, definitely interesting,” she said.


The kneeling slave rubbed its leather covered face against its Mistresses robe, pleasure running through it as it did so, this touch was permitted because the slaves Mistress had told it that it was. The tightly laced leather hood encased the slave’s head entirely, only its eyes were free from the all-encompassing leather while two small holes at its nostrils allowed it to breathe through its nose. The slave’s leather slave-skin has been laced as tightly as physically possible and then topped with a rigid leather corset that ran from just below its breasts to just above it crotch and reduced the slaves waist by an agonising six-inches.

The slave’s arms, in gloves a size to small that reached to its shoulders, were held behind its back in a leather arm binder that painfully forced its elbows together and pulled its shoulders back making it push its magically enlarged breasts out. The slave wore boots, just as tightly laced as everything else it wore, that ended high on it thighs, almost reaching its exposed pubes. The boots were ballet boots that forced the slaves feet straight down so that when it stood it was balanced on the toe and the long thin stiletto heel of the boot. The boots were painful to wear as they shaped the slaves feet into their current unnatural position and caused even greater pain when the slave stood, balanced precariously on the tips of its toes.

Around its neck the slave wore a thick leather posture collar that covered its neck from its shoulder to its chin; the collar had three locked buckles at the back and prevented the slave from moving its head by anything other than the smallest of motions. Attached to the ring mounted in the front of the posture collar was a leash held by the slaves Mistress.

The slave was in pain from the fresh piercings through its nipples, tongue, lower lip, clitoris and labia and the large brand that had been burned into its right buttock by its Mistress earlier that morning. The massive studded butt plug that had been forced into its arse as well as the constricting leather it wore added to the agony it felt, everything the slave wore was midnight black.

The slave shuddered as the pain washed over it then it shuddered again as pleasure coursed through its body as the agony it felt from the abuse its body was undergoing excited it, making its cunt wet and its nipples hard. The pain-slut closed its eyes and trembled with delight, the pain felt so wonderful its only unhappiness was that because of the black leather hood that covered its mouth it could not thank its Mistress for giving it the pain it was enjoying so much.

Kneeling next to the pain-slut was a second slave, this one in a blood red slave skin as it knelt obediently next to its Mistress. The pain-slut could hear a discussion going on but it meant nothing to the slave as it rubbed its black leather covered face against the black velvet robes that covered its beloved Mistresses legs.

“You mean she just left?” asked the Ambassador incredulously.

“Yes, apparently she was unable to accept our ways and so would rather leave than risk causing offence when the twelve new sex-slaves were claimed, she wished to return to her husband” lied the Witch-Queen, “So I had her escorted to the border. However that will not interfere with our discussions, in fact I have decided an extra day will be necessary.”

“But I need to have Rowena here, I should go after her, convince her to come back” said the Ambassador.

“That will not be possible, by leaving she has revoked the terms of her visa, if your secretary were to return she would suffer the same fate as these two,” said the Witch-Queen pointing at the two kneeling slaves, “She would become a slave. I’m afraid you will have to continue without Rowena, shall we say an hour from now in the north meeting room.”

The Ambassador looked down at the two slaves, one in red leather the other in black, there was a look of distaste on her face, “Yes your Majesty, I understand,” she said, “If you would excuse me I will go and collect my paperwork and the documents Rowena was working on, Majesty, Arch-Abbess,” she said as she bowed then turned and miserably walked away,

Kneeling at its Mistresses side, its pussy dripping wet, cunt once again rubbed its leather hooded face against the Arch-Abbesses velvet robed legs lusting after its Mistresses obese body, the pain-slut had no idea who the woman called Rowena it had heard mentioned was but it knew that she would probably make a very good slave.