The Black Pearl of Pharazion

by Cobalt Jade (cobaltjade@aol.com)



Chapter 23: Prisoner of Brass


The four bedposts looked down on the Queen and I as we writhed, their expressions serene and sweet. What did they think of the Queen's bedmates? Or did they even think at all?

Because I had been longing to do it, I took her hard pink nipple into my mouth and looped my tongue through the ring, sucking hard. The contrast between the hard metal and warm flesh gave the act a new dimension. No wonder the White Queen pierced her slaves. No wonder she was pierced herself. I grasped the ring in my teeth, pulling, and she moaned louder as her nipple stretched. I felt her hands spreading roughly over my buttocks, one finger tracing my slave brand over and over, then sighed as it squirmed between my cheeks and into my anus. Her knee pressed into my sex, and the soft pressure against my clit ring was another delight, to feel it and know she herself had pierced me. For all of her wickedness she was the one who taught me how passionate lovemaking could be in a submissive role, the same way the Duke had demonstrated games of bondage and Marnessa of dominance. In retrospect it was too bad, as it gave the act a taint I still feel shameful about today.

But at the time, it was the most exquisite of pleasures. The Queen rolled on her back as I positioned myself over her, both of us sealed mouth to crotch, as in my dream. She tasted even more heavenly than she had earlier, her sex moist and fragrant from the show I gave in the garden. Her clit pointed like a child's finger and I suckled it roughly, her pubic hair tickling my forehead where my eyebrows had been. I felt her tongue stab me in turn. My hips rolled back and forth in a rhythm like the sea, her milk-white thighs gripping my head as my own gripped hers. 

We come together, both of us spasming silently. My head buzzed as I lost control of myself, my face buried in the Queen's musky flesh.

Then my new instincts took over. Silently I slipped off her and when she righted herself and spread her legs I knew I was to clean her, removing the last bits of come-fluid from her sex with my tongue. She looked down on me impassively as I worked. It might have wounded me, that she could be so cold after the passion we had shared, but I was a slave and not entitled to niceties. As it turned out she would never make love to me in this way again. She did not maintain relationships at all with her slaves, even as a dominant; she preferred only to use them as things.

"You've pleased me," the Queen said at last. "Very much. There is not one atom left in you of Jozhande Tanimury, the Amazon mercenary, is there? Look at me. Do you remember who you were, slave? That you ever rode on a fine horse with a sword, hard-earned coins jingling in your pockets, and tapped mugs of ale in a country inn with your fellows?"

I looked at her, meeting her obsidian eyes that were depthless yet full of depth. I remember hearing those things and being puzzled by them, for they did not seem to refer to me; after all, had I not always been her loving slave? 

I answered honestly. "No, my Queen. I do not." As you remember it was the same attitude evinced by Aylinn and Karina, and though at the time I had been disgusted at how they had forgotten their identities, now I realize they had had no choice. 

The Queen smiled. "Good. Now you will learn a little more of what it means to be my Rurani Eschai. Not that it matters, really, for you will never tell anyone. But it amuses me." 

To my amazement she removed her belt of crystals from her hips and draped it around my own. "Do you know why I do this?"

The weight felt odd on me, the only item of clothing, if it could be called that, I had worn all day. "No, my Queen."

"Look upon the crystals you wear. Each shard, imbued with sexual essence, was collected in rites held over many years, and the essences are continually recharged and refreshed by contact with my flesh. They are the source of my magic, and I must wear them always to keep their power strong. Should I lose them, my magic weakens. Shatter them, and I am as helpless as any slave. That is my only vulnerability. It limits me on the battlefield or when I travel, for even a mundane accident could break them. Not to mention the discomfort when I sleep or make love. That is why I create a special kind of slave to wear the crystals when I cannot. 

"Now, a normal man or woman could not serve, for the crystals are maintained only by the highest levels of sexual energy, and even experienced pleasure slaves do not have a sex drive as strong as mine. But my Rurani Eschai does, for I have created you for pleasure. I will cultivate your desire until you burn as bright as I; and because of the bond between us, you will serve in my stead. You will wear my crystals when I battle and when I whore, and whenever else I find it convenient. Only you and I will know of this. Should my court realize the truth, others would quickly seize both the crystals and my power. But you will not tell anyone, will you?" she said with a chuckle.

"No my Queen," I said, and meant it. 

Ironic, wasn't it. I wonder if she didn't get get a perverse enjoyment from it, entrusting a former enemy with her very life. Ironic for me as well, for had I been in my right mind, I would have grabbed the crystals then and smashed them on the floor. 

The Queen continued her speech. "I keep a Rurani Eschai for other reasons, of course. To slake my fantasies, to demonstrate my skills at domination. To amuse my court. Sometimes I keep two or three or even more. But perhaps the most important reason is so that you will serve as an example to my other slaves. You embody everything I want in a slave, and you will serve my court, the royal guests, and your fellow slaves as you serve me, a shining paragon by virture of your submissiveness and servitude."

"Yes, my Queen," I said, determined to serve her the best way I knew.

"Lay on your belly," she said. "Yes, that's it."

As I lay there she drew my arms and legs up behind my back and linked my wrists and ankles together. Then she fastened a chain to them, which drew me up so I swung a few feet above the bed.

Surprisingly, I wasn't too uncomfortable at being suspended in this position. It seemed only natural. It seemed natural, too, that she placed gold weights on my nipple and clit rings, each in the form of a disk marked with writing. As a slave my ability to read had been taken from me. But I have no doubt they said something obscene.

"Feel that?" she said wickedly. "How they pull and pinch you?"

"Yes, my Queen," I gasped. Even the slightest motion of the chain sent the pendants nodding, sending shrill vibrations of pleasure through my body. I would ferment there all night, for in my position there was no way I could finger myself to find relief. 

"Look at the crystals. See how they glow!"

I glanced beneath me. The crystals were glowing slightly...a rainbow of colors from pallid greens and yellows to aqua and gold. My frustrated arousal was feeding them, as she had said.

The Queen laughed and slipped her long body between the satin covers. And I knew then why she had hung me in the middle of her bed. So that she might look on me before she fell asleep...and that I might look down on her.

#

For thirty days I was her slave, the time between the new and full phases of Wolfmoon. It is important that you remember this.

It is also important to remember that though I was enspelled to be happy in my slavery, there were times, chiefly when I was alone and exhausted, that I would realize what had been done to me, that I had been a free Amazon who had challenged the Witch-Queen, and lost. The realization would be followed by horror at what I was now, the groveling slave who served her and abetted her evil. Yet this realization was helpless to affect my behavior. I could never hang on to it; I would always forget it the following day. It was always less painful to give in, surrender to my slavehood, than fight it.

As with the other slaves the Queen's magic made my breasts and buttocks larger, my nipples more protuberant, my skin smooth and without flaw. Other changes were more subtle. I remained bald and hairless and did not suffer menses or become pregnant. I lost the ability to read and write and could do only the simplest of maths. I could speak only the briefest of sentences, in the lowest of voices. "Yes, my Queen," was about the wordiest of them. Small wonder that guests to the palace thought me a lackwit. 

And of course, I was always ready for sex or thinking of it.  

There was no act that was repugnant to me, even though some make me blush with shame now; I endured many things at the Queen's hands I had not experienced before then, nor since. However, I do not wish to bore you or become tedious with these tales, as most have little bearing on my present story. So I shall not tell you about the time she outfitted me as a mare and had me pull her hackney to market, or strapped me into a box to see how many nobles I could service, or threw a banquet in which slaves were the courses instead of foods, with myself a roast, an apple in my mouth, my nether end stuffed with savory fruits and nuts...you will not hear any of that. Perhaps I will relate some of it later, when we are not in a public inn.

The Queen kept me by her side almost all the time. When she could not--for example, when she went riding--she had me serve as a slave statue with her other lovelies. The staff placed me in positions of honor--at the landing of a stair, at the entrance to an important room--where I stood gilded with bronze to distinguish me from the gold and silver slaves on either side. Ultimately, though, I suffered the same fate as they, for all of us were easy targets for the idle fingers of passersby. The fingers always stopped short of orgasm, however, and I was hard put not to sob when my tormenters walked casually away. 

There were other dubious honors. At mealtimes I knelt at the side of the Queen's chair, my leash tethered to the arm, and from time to time she would feed me tidbits from her plate. I remember taking them daintily in my mouth, pleased that she herself was feeding me, whereas other slaves ate from bowls on the floor. 

She made sure I knew my station, however. There was never a single moment when I was not chained or leashed. Some leads connected to my collar, some to my body-rings. The combinations were endless. Depending on her whim, I might walk unimpeded, or hobble along in full slave harness with chains and bells to announce my passage. She was fond of straps and paddles, keeping one with a loop on her wrist to make sure I marched smartly. 

Of all my humiliations, the most enervating came when she held court, for it took place in front of an audience who were once my equals. She would lounge on her throne in all her splendor as I knelt on the hard marble by her side, chained to a ring in the floor with my head bowed, my wrists linked behind me. Visitors to court were always told my tale beforehand so that they would stare, unbelievingly, at the lowly picture I made, and their respect of the Queen would heighten dramatically. 

How I remember those looks of shock and amazement. Hardened slave-traders, jaded adventurers, smooth-tongued diplomats...it made no difference. If they were willing, the Queen might have me further demonstrate my servitude by pleasuring them with my mouth, in full view of her nobles in their finery. Many cocks I sucked to climax this way. Female visitors took longer to satisfy, but those, too, I was bidden to pleasure to orgasm. Not a one descended the steps to the throne unsatisfied. If the visitors were of a different bent the Queen had me turn around with my rear raised so they could rape either orifice, and she kept a fine selection of phalluses on hand so even the women could participate. Afterwards the guests might take a whip or paddle to my bottom as I quivered on my knees, helplessly counting each blow; but no matter how many scratches and welts I received my buttocks were always healed by the next day, so the Queen could present a fresh canvas to her court.

Yes, Shezrine was very clever. Always I was frustrated, always on fire; any orgasm I had was only a momentary release. As my captivity progressed I began to look forward to each humiliation, each degradation, for without them, my sexual tension found no relief. Perversely, I even found ways to encourage her abasements.

Often I performed with other slaves in the staged sexual tableaux so beloved by the folk of this city; other times the Queen permitted her favorites to use me. Sometimes I served as many as thirty a night, enduring many paddlings for their idle pleasure. The Queen had named me her Black Pearl for my skin but around the castle it soon began to refer to my clit, which, traitor as it was, never failed to engorge at the nobles' attentions. "Black pearl indeed," they would laugh. "I should have such a fine bauble for my signet ring!" They often set bets on the length and intensity of my orgasms. There was much amusement to be had from a slave such as I.

Although I was the Queen's personal pleasure slave, she did not take her pleasure from me alone. Her appetites were strong, so she had other lovers: members of her court, royal guests, slaves she was training, occasional freemen she coaxed from the city. I was not jealous. It was, to a slave, merely the way of things. The acts were designed, in a way, to keep my own desires hot. 

Sometimes she let me participate. I would stimulate her and her partner with my mouth to make them ready, after which they set me aside like a tool no longer needed to finish the act. After they climaxed, I would clean their organs with my tongue. It was a most degrading way to be treated, but I found great pleasure in it. 

Yet, despite her other lovers and the indifference with which she treated me it was always the height of pleasure to return to her bed, to be once again a toy of her pleasure. Though we never made love as partners again it was a special delight to crouch between her thighs on the satin covers, my tongue lapping her sex as she stroked my head like a faithful hound. Then all was made right in the world, to feel her orgasm tremble against my lips, to suck out her juices.

I had no sense of time inside the palace. My memories of the outside world faded to shadows. Sometimes I didn't know if it was day or night. I forgot what an elephant looked like or what flax was grown for. 

The Queen continued with her persecutions of the rebels. Several times some poor man or woman was marched into the throne room where the Queen told them my story. Their faces would blanch, especially when she had me give one of my oral demonstrations, and fearing a similar fate for themselves, panicked confessions would follow. But it did them no good, for the next day there would be a new pleasure slave on display in the halls, or a new piece of furniture in her bedroom, and the Queen would use them just as ruthlessly as she used me. 

As it turned out, though, J'Wabra had spread news of my capture quickly, so most of the rebels were able to avoid the Queen's net. Her carelessness eventually spelled her downfall. Had she used her magic to interrogate me when I was first captured I could have betrayed all my former friends. But instead she had enslaved me, then erased my memory so I could tell her nothing. That spelled her own doom.

Days ticked away as I served the White Queen and her court. I wince when I think of how I eagerly took to their games, how I proudly demonstrated my slavehood before my former comrades. Warrior that I was, champion of fairness, I was now happily submitting to the perversions of one of the most evil rulers on the planet, and finding great satisfaction in it. 

For thirty days it was so.

But all things come to an end.

The Queen had punished me, I remember, hanging me from the high vaulted ceiling of the throne room to serve as a human chandelier. My wrists and ankles were bound behind my back to a metal hoop so my torso swayed below, with a dish of burning oil suspended at the small of my back...very uncomfortable, for I had to remain absolutely still lest the hot oil spill. Night blanketed the room and it was very quiet.

Around midnight I heard three distinct booms. Then, faintly from the far reaches of the palace, came shouts of alarm, orders, running feet.

The rebels were finally laying seige to the city, though I did not know it at the time. I heard only sounds of confusion and wondered when the Queen might let me down so I might kiss her boots in contriteness.

Then came the tap-tapping of high-heeled boots down the halls, crisp and light: the walk of the Queen, and she was in a hurry. 

The tapping stopped below me. The rope lowered me to the level of the floor so she looked me in the eyes...and I saw an emotion on her face I had never seen before: panic. Her moon-pale skin was flushed and she was panting in little quick breaths. She had never panted before, even in the throes of passion. Now I witnessed fear. 

"The rebels are storming my city," she hissed. "Do you know what that means, slave?"

"No my Queen," I said. Hard as it was to believe, I did not.

She gave a short laugh. "As well you should. Know this, then: they are my enemies, and yours. Will you serve me in my fight against them?" 

I remembered being mystified at the question--having long forgotten abstracts like politics--but I knew beyond a doubt that I would serve her. "Command me, and I obey," I whispered. "I am yours, now and forever."

"In any form, in any way?"

"Yes," I said. The depilated smoothness of my body told me that, my rings, my basilisk brand...which, true to her word, she had inlaid with silver to wink cold fire from my skin. "You made me over; I am but your creation. How can I refuse?" 

She smiled, stroking my face, my lips. "Indeed. How can you not?" She gestured. 

A blinding gout of light burst from her palm. It hit me like scalding honey, both cloying sweetness and burning pain. The sensation coursed through every cell of my body, doubling and redoubling until I screamed in ecstasy, my organs spasming. Yet the magic continued, transforming me, remaking me. My flesh was on fire, torn apart, shattered into pieces. All of these and none. I lost consciousness.

#

When I came back to myself the chamber was lit by candles. The Queen was occupied below me, but I couldn't move my head to see what she did. In fact, I couldn't move at all.

The candles made reflections in the windows behind the throne. I could see myself...and saw I was no longer myself. Instead, a polished statue of brass hung from the ceiling.

She had transformed me, the same as the others.

My wrists and ankles which were now welded permanently to the metal hoop, my back a concave bow. Below me hung hundreds of glass pendants suspended on chains with sconces holding hundreds of candles, the light of which flickered warmly over my burnished curves. My head was erect and slightly thrown back, my eyes slitted in ecstasy, lips parted in orgasm...such a shameful position, frozen in the act that should remain private. But I felt no shame, only a melancholy relief that the transformation had come at last, for it had been the only thing I had feared as her slave. And it was an honor, really, that I had been transformed into a chandelier and not an ordinary statue like the others. 

I noted at last what the Queen was doing. Hidden amongst the glass pendants were her crystal shards. She was hanging them here in full view, but no one would see them.

"Yes," she purred. "Very stupid of me not to think of it before. A transformed slave works just as well as living flesh for the purposes of the magic." 

How delicately she worked, arranging the shards on long chains that stretched between my rings, which were now permanently fused to my body. A body that was now a highly stylized sculpture...and would remain so, forever. 

"As long as the crystals stay close to your body, you will recharge them...whether you like it or not," Shezrine said. "The perfect solution, really. When I am through with you here I will enter the battle, for now I can wield my magic without danger. Your rebels will be defeated. Not even their stymphads can save them." 

I hung there, silent, as she fixed each crystal into place. I wondered who she thought she was telling this to, as I was now a mute fixture of brass.

"I know you hear me," she said, answering my question. "All my slaves keep their minds when transformed. Though how many remain sane, after years as footrests and statues, remains to be seen." She banged smartly on my skull, which made a dull ringing sound in my ears. "Did you ever think you would wind up like this, Amazon? Hanging from my ceiling as a chandelier as I hunt down your companions?"

I had not, but the fact I had lost so much of my memory made her comment rather pointless.

"Yes, it was well worth the exchange," she said, running her fingers over my belly, my breasts. "A magnificent chandelier in exchange for a captive Amazon. Perhaps your friend Shadow will make me a better slave. A little headstrong for the job, but pretty...very pretty." 

I could not imagine Shadow as a slave, either, but then, I had never imagined myself as a slave. 

A manic gleam appeared in Queen's eyes. "I may create many Rurani Eschai, each charging a complement of crystals. With such a source of power, I can rule the Rift from one end to the other!"

Evil geniuses are all alike, aren't they. All of them fixated on world domination, as if they never had to piss or clip their toenails. There was only one snag in her plan. As a statue, I could no longer receive sexual stimulation.

But she had a solution.

The Queen showed me a long phallus of brass as smooth and sylized as I was. "This will serve to stimulate you. When in place, you will give off far more sexual energy than you would as a mortal being, for you will never tire or need to eat or sleep. Unfortunately, it drives out all reason as well. But in the long run you may find it a mercy."

I listened to the thing hum. It was the instrument of my doom. When it was inside me, I would no longer even be able to think. 

The transformation would be the logical ending to my adventure in Obn Dhregni. All my experiences here had led me towards this, the ultimate destruction of self, the triumph of sensual pleasure. Now there was no turning back. No other emotion was left to me save lust, no desire save for the desire to serve *her.* Thanks to her magic, I was no longer even human.  

*Use me, my Queen,* I thought then. *Use me as I wish to be used, for the most base of perversions, the propagation of wickedness, for it is all I deserve. I have betrayed myself, betrayed my friends, betrayed the causes I held dear. I serve you, and I do so gladly and willingly.* 

The Queen ran her fingers over my face as if she had heard me, caressing the hard metal curves of my cheeks, my parted lips. Regret glimmered in her eyes. "You've served me well and faithfully. I shall always regret our time together has been so short." She went around to my rear. "Farewell, my Black Pearl. I will cherish you for many years. Whenever I hold court, I will glance up and think of the pleasure you brought me." Her mocking laughter rang like silver bells.

She slid the phallus into place as smoothly as if it had been made just for me. I heard a click as it filled me completely. Then she locked my labia rings together, both sets, with tiny padlocks to keep it in position. 

A tingling began between my legs, a sensation much more extreme and inexorable than the normal responses of lovemaking. I felt it echo within my metal shell, arcing up through my belly and then to my limbs. It reached the tips of my fingers and toes, but found no escape; it merely rebounded, the vibrations echoeing and re-echoing, building to an unbearable crescendo I was powerless to prevent. 

My mind began to babble as I approached combustion, my metal flesh reverberating like a giant bell. *Yes,* I thought feverishly, equal parts joy and resignation, *I will serve you, my Queen, however you wish, I will serve, I *will* serve...* 

Then the last bits of reason were obliterated, forever. I forgot I had ever been human at all, had human thoughts. The orgasm was steady and continuous, like the roar of a waterfall, and the pleasure went beyond pleasure, beyond any human analogs at all. My mind went blank. I ceased to think.

Below me, the hidden crystals glowed a healthy gold, but who would notice them amidst all the candles?

I vaguely remember the Queen hoisting me to the apex of the chamber, then nothing at all, save ecstasy.

