Saturday Story 2025 #18 (The Black Queen: Legend – Part 17)
This unique take on the world of The Black Queen continues today on my Patreon. This tale plays with the ideas of the original stories and turns them upside down in unexpected ways. It will be a long multi-parter with plenty of surprises along the way. Synopsis below:
When Jeremy is tasked with writing a piece about an erotic urban legend, he discovers some truths are better left buried.
In today’s installment – Part 17 – The Black Queen humiliates Jeremy and Laura, but just when she thinks she’s won, the unthinkable happens.
To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.
An excerpt is available below:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/128086839
“Follow me, slut. I’m not done with you yet,” The Black Queen commanded. “Laura, you’re coming too.”
“Yes, My Queen,” they said in unison but while Laura was allowed to stand and walk beside her owner, Jeremy had no choice but to crawl for her amusement.
His knees scraped against the floor as he crawled, head bowed in forced submission. He knew he was being paraded around but had to keep the ruse going until he had the perfect opportunity to strike.
The Black Queen’s heels clicked against the floor, a metronome of impending doom. She stopped before a nondescript door with a complex electronic lock. Her fingers danced across the keypad, and the door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss.
The room inside served as both a private office and an improvised BDSM dungeon where she could have some fun with those under her control anytime she wished. One wall hosted a sleek desk with multiple computer monitors, while the opposite side featured an array of restraints, implements, and specialized furniture for all her kinky desires. There was also a cupboard filled with exotic costumes to make her fantasies even more delightful.
Much like her fictional counterpart, Deirdre loved to push minds and bodies to their limits. There was always the risk of breaking them beyond repair but that was the thing about brainwashed thralls: she could always make more to replace the defective ones. She pointed at the cupboard and commanded,
“Laura, assist your Queen.”
Laura hurried to the cupboard, marveling at the kinky selection of outfits before her eyes. One quick glance was enough to know what her owner wanted to wear. She reached for a deep purple corset with black lace trim and then returned to Deirdre. Her delicate fingers worked quickly, unlacing the Black Queen’s current outfit as efficiently as possible.
(…)
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