The Judgement Moon Pt. 03

The bunny girl had returned with additional ropes in different colors, but appearing to be the same material.

"See how obedient you are, Naughty?" the rabbit asked her. One of the girls was stroking her spanked bottom, as Astalia sobbed helplessly.

"She'll behave now," the bunny said. "Why don't you take her girl-servant for a rest and a feeding?" The two young women moved away from Astalia, Sanji giving her a fairly passionate and unwelcome kiss on the lips, before setting off in the direction of Fresta.

The bunny looked her up and down. The spirit remarked. "You bore the attention poorly," she said. "You're definitely due some training." Astalia blushed and her eyes were moistened.

The rabbit girl used a soft cloth to wipe the snot from her nose and dry her cheeks.

Astalia would like to have glared at the thing--but she just looked in wretched gratitude as it cleaned her face.

"That's better," said the bunny, looking her over. "Now, I want us to be clear about this, you are so very due chastisement that I'm fairly obliged to provide it. Naughty," she said, still using that stupid name, "You are a first class brat. You are, I take it, utterly misbehaving with the order and the governance of your human city?"

Astalia didn't want to confess to that--but she also couldn't move without permission, and would fall apart immediately if tickled. She gave the bunny a slight nod.

"You realize the strictures you're breaking are... just? Fair?"

"The city isn't at all fair!" Astalia retorted, shocked to hear her voice sounding like a sullen teenager's!

"Mayhap not," said the bunny, still evenly and calmly--like she WAS talking to a sulking, disobedient child. "Certainly not all of your little rules and directions. But the one's YOU are breaking ARE fair and just and you know it, Naughty."

She didn't raise her voice during this scolding lecture, but she emphasized the words with such confidence that Astalia felt a rush of fear. Could this thing see into her mind!?? Oh, please no!

She felt a new round of tears break and she sobbed miserably, prompting the rabbit girl to wipe her eyes and nose again.

"What are you going to do to me?" she sobbed wretchedly.

"I'm going to tie you nicely," said the rabbit girl. More severely than I tied your girl, but nothing you won't be able to take. Then I'm going to give you something to think about and let you sit with yourself for a period. Call it a Time Out."

Now Astalia hung in the center of the room with a webwork of ropes and knots suspending her in complete helplessness, even if not for the obedience magic. Her knees were bent, her ankles held close to her buttocks. Her knees were spread wide and she tilted forward in air, her arms bound strictly behind her and a forest of ropes and knots reaching up to a mounting point on the ceiling.

She dangled, turning slowly, and she sobbed constantly as she did.

The punishment room was, again, circular and seemed the same size roughly as the room she'd awoken in. Both rooms seemed to be built within the great tree, but they way the connected with corridors and doors (the walls decorated with small, pleasant oval portraits of rabbit gentlemen and ladies in fine clothes) made her think this had to be beneath the tree, if it were even in the 'real world' at all.

The center of the punishment room had a fire pit. She was over it now and the same purple "fairy-fire" crackled under her. When long tendrils of violet fire licked up and found her, the sensation was a tickle rather than a burn and she jerked, and howled, and struggled helplessly when the "fire" licked her.

The Sprite, after tying her snugly in an exposing, humiliating, and modestly uncomfortable position, had then explained what was going to sit with during her Time Out. The Sprite was a nature spirit; she said--but she was specifically a FIRTILITY nature spirit and one of her talents was to afflict beings with an intense sexual urgency as well as to flood their bodies with humors that also readied the subject for child bearing.

In her case, this urge was explicitly unsatisfied and so she hung above the fire pit, her sex punishing her with a need to be filled! Her breasts had swelled and were now sore in their fullness, and leaking, as Fresta's were. The humiliation and degradation of being exposed like this was well matched with the torment of her unmet needs, and she sobbed wretchedly.

She had never needed a spend so badly--but this was somehow more explicit and horridly intimate: she wanted a man's cock to spend deep in her! Her fantasies danced unbidden in her mind and she was horrified by her lust for being powerfully (and degradingly, she thought) taken.

She moaned tearfully, turning slowly in the restraints.

To her intense relief, the bunny had returned after leaving her for an insultingly short period of time (by which she had been wailing and begging for relief). The rabbit stood with her hands on her hips.

"Well, Naughty?" she asked archly, "What've you to say for yourself?"

The prospect of being left like this, her sex punishing her with its need and trussed and naked was simply unbearable. She was through with any battle of wills with this spirit! She had lost, and she was surrendered.

"I'm sorry, mistress sprite," she said. Her voice sounded so thick with snot and tears that the bunny actually looked aggrieved and wiped her face again.

"I'm sure you feel sorry for yourself," the Sprite told her. Oh no!! Did that mean--"but if you're really sorry for what you've done--"

"I'll tell the girl everything," she promised. "I'll--oh, MERCY--I'll give myself to the courts!"

That seemed to please the rabbit. "I want you to still have some reflection time," said the Sprite.

"PLEASE," Astalia moaned. "I can't! I can't bear it!"

The bunny looked annoyed with her, and she collapsed into blubbering. Footsteps. She looked up to see the bandit leader entering the room. Through her watery vision, she couldn't tell if the bandit woman was smirking--but she was sure she was.

The rabbit, seemingly exasperated with her blubbering, was yet again wiping her face.

"Well, Miss Tasily-Ferun-Noth," said Nassi, the bandit queen, "you seem to have taught our criminal mastermind a lesson." Nassi folded her arms lightly and looked over at her quarry.

"The box is hidden in the roots of a tree like this one," Astalia said miserably. "I stuck it there when I was running."

"What... do you think--do you mind telling me what you were thinking, you enormous brat!?" the bandit queen demanded, prompting another burst of tears from Astalia. "What is the point of this plan you have concocted?"

"The--" she swallowed. Saying it now, in this condition and making it plain, was worse than she'd ever imagined. "The complete subjugation of DunnisUrom," she gasped out.

THE THIRD RIDING - JASNI

The Manor House was only somewhat unfamiliar to Jasni. Its style, with high ceilings and stark stone walls, was unlike the more inviting homes in the territories. There were oil paintings in a poor state depicting stern women with fancy dresses and whips or stately men in outlandish military-looking uniforms..

There were servants here--girls--but they kept well hidden out of the way as Mr. Rath had marched her back up the stairs from his dungeon.

She was glad the awful Mr. Towbee was nowhere to be seen--at least for now.

Mr. Rath's office was on the third floor and he ushered her in, his grip on her arm painfully tight--it was a warning to her.

The office was spacious, and it had three tall windows on two sides that now admitted the silver light of the Judgment Moon, which dominated them as if it were hovering outside, close enough to touch, and huge as the sky itself.

It held a grand desk. A picture of a man in a great chair looking severely out at the chamber. Shelves of books, all of which looked to somewhat degraded in the damp. His chair, behind his desk, appeared had no arm wrests and its seat had a V cut out of it so his legs would spread and his bottom would perch as though over a toilet. She wrinkled her nose.

To the side of the desk, a brass pipe sprouted from the floor and opened in a wide spread like she had seen on musical instruments.

On the floor was a thick rug depicting women being raped by animals. A stag mounted a wailing girl here. A bull atop a heavy woman there. Two girls attended a stallion. One knelt with its cock. The other had her face buried between its rear cheeks. A display rack, like the one in the Caged Cock, was empty but had a set of gross dark stains under it.

He had dropped his trousers like he was going to the bathroom and sat on the chair. Jasni had been terrified at first, but he pointed to the chair across the desk and rang a small bell. As she sat, a servant girl entered.

She looked wan and unwashed. Jasni could smell body odor and dried fluids on her. Her hair was dirty. Her face and hands were smudged. She wore a judicial collar and her outfit: an old corset and "skirt," if it could be called such, came down only half way around her bottom.

On each of her cheeks were two letters rendered in artistic, intricate script as a tattoo: SL UT. OH!

Jasni blushed terribly for the girl, who was taking glasses and a bottle of wine. She put one before Mr. Rath and the other before Jasni. On a direction from her master, she poured him a full glass and Jasni only a small amount.

Mr. Rath grunted and hunted in a drawer for a tin. When he opened it, Jasni recoiled. The smell of shit rose from it. It was a white paste, and he took a large dollop of it on two fingers and dipped it under his desk.

The slave girl looked dismal and forlorn, but she stepped quickly to her master's side and disappeared beneath the table. Jasni heard a soft noise from her. Mr. Rath gave Jasni an unpleasant grin and pulled himself forward. She was certain the girl was kneeling and... surely she was not sucking that awful paste off his cock!? She felt herself blush with the horror of it!

Mr. Rath fixed her with a gaze.

"Won't you enjoy my hospitality?" he asked, as though he were not now pants down and being pleasured by a slave. He took his glass of wine and swirled it, holding the aroma to his nose.

"There are pastes that smell more agreeable," he said, "but I've always liked the authenticity of that one. Go ahead and drink."

Jasni took the glass--there was a noticeable tremor in her hand and she was glad it was only slightly full. She lifted it to her mouth and nose. The bouquet was pleasant. This man had fine wine. She tasted it and on her tongue; the fluid seemed to dance with very fine bubbles.

"You see?" Mr. Rath gestured. In a space on the floor by itself was a chess set. The sides were black and red and were engaged in a complex game. The board was worked of wood and the squares were of fine marble inlaid with gold and some other metal that was not silver but was lustrous and bright. Intricate patterns twisted and flowed around the board. IT was a masterwork.

The pieces were under glass, the queens for each side naked women with crowns set with precious stones.

"Do you know the game?" Mr. Rath asked.

She did: her father had played and had told her that in the core-lands, this game was important and that if one could master it, one could find employment as an advisor to a court.

She wasn't a master, but she understood the pieces and the moves.

"I was taught, she answered cautiously. She could hear soft wet sounds from under the desk.

"Really?" Mr. Rath's smile made her shrink. "Girls are not often taught to play!"

Jasni didn't know what to say to this, her eyes fell to the desk where, below it, the slave girl was hard at work.

"What do you make of it," he asked. "Black is to play."

This was not remotely what she had expected, but she stepped over to the board.

"Do not touch it," Mr. Rath warned. "The penalty for that would be awful for you!"

She placed her hands behind her back.

The black pieces were better developed, she thought. They held the center, and the king had castled. The red side was in greater attack though and its queen, in a risky assault, was within black's territory, providing multiple directions of threat.

"I feel black should win," she said. "Unless red is a far stronger player."

The look on his face darkened. And she was about to add some words of mitigation--but his anger seemed to draw back.

"You are well taught," he said.

"The--ahhh--" he gave a low grunt of pleasure as his slave swallowed his cock, "game will go to black--to the coal darkness of DunnisUrom, for it is played by a grand master."

Jasni didn't know what to say.

"But that is if--ahh, that's a girl," he praised his slave, "if the game is played as it traditionally is." He gave a contented sigh. He had spent. "You see, there are old rules at play here--rules that are not used in the modern game--and permit other pieces--red pieces--to be introduced to the board. The Lion, The Whore, The Sorceress, The Empress. You have never heard of these pieces because they are from antiquity."

"In fact," he shifted. Jasni was certain the girl was cleaning his spend off her master's cock. "Those pieces would not be admissible to such a board as this without certain... elements..."

He paused, enjoying something--Jasni startled--he was.... urinating?? He heard a soft swallowing noise and a little cry from under the desk. Was he peeing in her MOUTH?

"Without certain elements in place, we could not introduce those pieces, even if we had them," he said, sounding very satisfied.

"But those elements are in play." He stood, drawing up his pants. The girl crawled out from under the desk, her face dark with humiliation. She didn't stand, but crawled, head hung, from the room. Mr. Rath sat.

"If we had the proper set of pieces, we could introduce them to the game. Some are weak--but some are quite powerful and where they would land would make the red queen's attack... potent enough to end this game."

Jasni stepped back, not understanding things--but clearly he was immensely satisfied with himself.

"Would you fancy being a slave in my household, girl?" he asked her.

"No, Mr. Rath," she said quietly. The idea was disgusting!

He laughed at that. "I'd not keep you as a slave illicitly--but perhaps, when the lands of DunnisUrom are mine and my partners, I'll have the courts assign you a penal sentence. Not a terribly long one--a year or two--perhaps five?"

He grinned at her. From the brass pipes came the sounds of her governess moaning and begging--sobbing in distress. He sat at the desk, examining what appeared to be a map of the area under a magnifying glass, seeming to enjoy the ambiance of the throaty moans carried up from his dungeon.

TO BE CONTINYED