Passion Of The Darkmoon by Eroyan

Passion of the Dark Moon

By: Eroyan Barmy

“Come; be seated before the glowing embers of my dying fire.” The old woman spoke to her grandchild. The old woman sat in her wooden rocker, which creaked with age like her bones do moving about the cottage.

Her grandchild ever in love with her grandmother’s stories hurried to sit before the fire. Gazing into his grandmothers eyes, he listened with all his heart and soul.

“Now my dear one, you must promise me something.”

“Yes anything, grandmother.”

“You are eight-teen now, its time to become a man, and it is time I told you the tale that we have passed down since before even I was born. You must promise that after you hear it you will tell your grandchildren as well.”

“I do promise grandmother.”

“Wait until you have heard it dear one. Then make your promise, for this is a tale of a Dark Moon and passions of which only men and women can know. It is the history of your ancestors.”

“I will Grandmother.” And with that he listened quietly and tried to still his excitement.

For a moment the fire dimmed and then seemed to brighten. As grandmother’s rocking became methodical and rhythmic. The grandchild began to sway softly to the sound, as his grandmother after a time began to speak. Her voice was soothing and old with age, then as the images of her tale began to flow over him it changed to a voice of youth and strength.

“So it was in the days of Ogre King that our tale begins. On the edge of the land of fire, rose a dark tower that shimmered in the night, like a star that had fallen to the world below. It was the home of a powerful and cruel woman…”

The grandchild’s vision swam for a moment between his Grandmother, darkness, then light and back again.

“Mistress is in a foul mood tonight it seems.” Culler said to his mate.

“What makes you say that?” His mate replied.

“She has had that slave of hers bound up in her private room again. Left him there for almost all day it seems.” Culler said.

“That is not unusual you know our Mistress enjoys such pastimes.”

“Yes but it isn’t one of the lowly ones, though I reckon he doesn’t really know how much our Mistress fancies him.” Culler stated, then feeling an itch under his wing, he slid his black beak under and scratched at the itch. For you see Ravens terrible hate itching.

“You don’t mean…” Culler’s mate flapped her wings in surprise.

Nodding his head to his mate Culler said, “Yes! Yes! She has had Justin bound up there all day.”

“Oh my, she is in a foul mood.” With that Culler’s mate turned her black eyes up toward the top of the tower.

The tower gleamed in the darkness as the lava of the land of fire slowly rolled around it. The obsidian, of which it was made, reflected the glow and seemed to pulse and writhe as if alive. It was as sharp and deadly as the Lady of the tower herself. Not many worked for her free. In fact perhaps you could say only Culler and his mate were really free. They could come and go as they pleased but even they seemed to be enthralled with her, for they would only stay away a short time before they returned, eager to be at her side.

The rest were a few privileged slaves that had proven themselves useful. Some for guards and others for professions the tower needed. The rest were lowly workers, men and women brought to her for her pleasure or needs, by others seeking her favor.

She claimed no allegiance to any but her own. But if one wanted to forge the weapons of greatness, they sought her out, for she and she alone held the Dark Moon. It only obeyed her, as it had every other Mistress of the Obsidian tower throughout the ages. No one but the Lady knew what the Dark Moon was, for the ritual was always done in private. But the weapons it forged were horrible in their power and strength.

It was because of this, she was never trifled with by men or beasts. They knew all too well that every nation would turn against the one that dared tried to take the power for itself. The Lady cared not which side was which, but that they only brought the tribute she deserved. She had her passions when not being courted by nations or gifts. She loved to cause pain, it made her passions rise. So many times she had picked the most handsome or beautiful women from the slaves and kept them near her to please her. Sometimes she beat them, sometimes she took them, sometimes she just left them bound and whimpering in her throne room so she could drink in their helplessness.

Tonight it was Justin. Culler and his mate knew, better than probably her Lady herself, knew that she fancied him above all others. Justin was a handsome man who had grown strong and hard in the work of the forges of the tower. The Mistress had noticed him one day and took him from his work up into the tower proper.

Over and over, when she was in a mood, she would summon him to her. Drinking in the sounds of her whip upon his flesh, how his strong body jerked in the bonds she carefully placed him in. He would rarely scream for he was use to the pleasures of his Lady. But would cry in passion at the love she would give him in such hard ways.

She collected his tears and kept them with her. It grew so that she would even have him at her feet when she greeted visitors begging a favor from her. Tonight Justin had been summoned and before he could barely greet his Mistress. She had him stripped and bound tightly to on the floor of her chambers. Then had walked into the Chamber of the Dark Moon, there she had been for most of the day, while Justin writhed on the floor helpless.

He was thirsty, and his muscle ached as they bunched and strained at the ropes that held him tightly. The wind was not so hot up this high, but it provided no comfort to his body when it blew in from the window. He did all he could to keep his mind off himself. This was the love his Mistress could give and he worshiped her for it. He did not curse her cruelty or whine about freedom as the other slaves did. He had never known the passion or caring as someone outside the tower before. Why should he expect it, if he had freedom it would be any different? In the service of the Dark Lady, he may endure pain, suffering, humiliation, but he knew caring when he saw it. She tended to his wounds afterwards, made sure he was well before sending him back to his pen. She did the same for the others. He never could understand why they didn’t see it.

Justin’s eyes gazed at the small vials of tears, glinting by the firelight. Each one collected from her pets and looked after by herself. She would never allow anyone to touch them but her. It was then he heard the sounds from the Chamber of the Dark Moon. He turned and the wall seemed to melt away and the Mistress of the tower emerged.

Justin’s breath caught in his throat and he watched her. Her skin was a beautiful pale that was offset by the flame of her hair. Her heels clicked sharply as she emerged from the Chamber. She had been forging he could tell, for her hair was damp and softly matted to her forehead. Her skin glistened a bit from the strain but that only heighted her beauty. Her boots were laced firmly to her knees and the breeches of her pants hugged her hips. The short vest of leather that wrapped itself around her chest like a lover, only teased Justin into passion.

He blushed as she dropped her gaze to him, he could feel his cock twitching, as he fought to control it. She smiled and Justin about lost his mind. In this dark place, that smile was like an angel of the gods drifting down for a moment. Then the soft laughter and smirk of his predicament came ringing to his ears, making him shiver in delight.

“Ohhh, my poor boy.” She purred at him, as she came near.

“Good Evening Mistress Jolene.” Justin said, keeping his eyes on her boot.

She laughed softly and slid her boot closer to his lips. Obediently he placed a soft kiss upon the leather, could smell her scent and it made him shiver again.

“Watch,” she said.

Justin looked up and watched Mistress Jolene move to the table with the vials of tears. She took what looked like a ring from her side and laid it on the table. Gently she took a vial of tears from the holder and held it up.

She spoke to herself but definitely for him to hear. “Justin’s tears, mmmmm, just what I need.”

With that Justin watched as she opened the vial and poured the contents onto the ring. In an instant it flashed and steamed as if red hot. Justin watched amazed his Lady had shown him the purpose of the tears; she leaned over and blew softly along the ring. It shaped itself and formed into a shiny ring of black.

Turning back toward Justin, she picked up the ring and he could tell now it was a collar. A collar forged by the Dark Moon. She leaned down and helped him up to kneel still bound and purred at him.

“You have suffered today for a reason.”

“Yes my Lady,” Justin replied.

“It is so you do not forget your place and what has made you strong. Now I have shown you a secret that many have died trying to find out.”

Justin gulped and looked up into his Lady’s eyes trembling.

“You I claim as my own, for I do fancy you Justin above all others.”

She showed him the ring of black, the ring of the Dark Moon. It was solid and showed no hinges or welds, it seemed only big enough to fit about his neck, but how she was to get it on Justin had no clue.

“I give you the ring of the Dark Moon, Justin. All you have to do is accept it and become completely…mine.”

Justin could not breathe, and was overwhelmed at the trust Mistress Jolene was showing him. To be the personal slave of the Mistress of the Obsidian Tower, to wear the Ring of the Dark Moon, he had heard it had only happened once before.

He nodded and finally said, “I give all that I am to you, I accept.”

Her smile made him melt again as she nodded and through whatever magic the ring possessed it slid around his neck and fit perfectly. She kissed him then, hard and passionately. Justin hardly remembers the torture, the pleasures she took with him that night. All he remembered... was he was hers, the Ring of the Dark Moon about his neck, and her.

He was excused from duties that day due to only getting back to his pen early the next morning. Culler told him later he had never seen Mistress in such a passion with him before. Culler’s mate told Justin that she thought the Lady was practically smitten. Justin didn’t care he was his Lady’s and would be forever.

To be continued…