Prologue

The air inside was warm, spiced with the heat of his kingdom, while outside the freezing depths continued to press down on them. With such elemental forces denied and deprived of their victory over his domain, it felt as though he were defeating the oceans themselves. Such notions bolstered his sense of omnipotent power, affirming his status as a self-created demi-god.

Lounging back into his leather throne, the ample cushions accepted his weight, letting him sink deeper into their smooth folds with soft murmurs and creaks of strain.

The circular hall was virtually unlit, its gloomy folds making the dull glow without all the more apparent and stark. Great oval windows ran the walls from floor to ceiling, the view as magnificent as it was uncanny. Sombre lamps from above lit the fluid night beyond, the ranks of bulbs mimicking the effect of sunlight dancing through the waters. In these artificial rays of gold his Nymphs swam and frolicked.

The shoals of women were each shapely and defined by their beauty, their curves accentuated greatly by the second skin that moulded them into this fabulous bestial configuration.

The sparkling layer of silvery latex rippled and shone with each movement of their supple bodies, refracting the light from above, each sultry feminine fish a dazzling prism. Their legs were sealed into a single stem with a vast fluted set of fins billowing from their toes. The loose fins trailed behind them as they swam, becoming a sparkling series of flags and banners in their wake, undulating on the currents their motions forged. The sheath of quicksilver rolled up their bodies and twisted their arms up their back, trapping them in this distorted pose, their elbows pointing slightly out near their flanks to be tipped with another trail of cascading fins.

The configuration of the Nymph costume forced them to display their breasts even more prominently, leaving them unable to hide themselves from display or use. Across their assets, the latex was a thin pane of transparency, a window that held and accepted each breast into a perfectly moulded cup.

After this single break in the suit, the silver sheath gathered into a hood, smothering and hiding their features, leaving them with a mirrored visor as their only accommodation to unrestricted senses. A slit at their mouth let their black painted lips remain on display, each of the Nymphs breathing out a great plume of mirrored bubbles, the geysers of spent air winding a lethargic path back to the distant surface world, venturing where the Nymphs themselves could not. Another fin poured down the centre of their head, formed as a crest of silver hair it rippled like a curtain of mercury in the turbulent fluid breezes about them.

The hidden aspects of their aquatic costumes were as obvious to his eye as any other part of the attire, his obsessive construction of the design keeping no secret from him. The mere thought of such implements exacting their influence and demands aroused his lust immensely as he watched the shoals of females migrate back and forth.

Lodged between their arms was a slight bump that was the tank of pressurised air allowing them to swim and breathe, fulfilling the role he demanded of them and to which they had willingly surrendered.

The near imperceptible veins of twin cables swept around within the latex, rolling across their cheeks and into their nostrils, letting each draw of the air supply. When they were running low of this precious sustenance, they wove down to the base of his windows where nozzles awaited connection to the valve secreted amidst the tangled knot of their defunct arms.

Even now he could see the fins of his fish and the details of their luscious frames nuzzling against the windows, brought close for his delectation. He felt almost paternal, as though these were treasured offspring, suckling at the food he offered them before heading off to play and frolic once the artificial steel bellies upon their backs had been filled. Placing the refuelling stations exclusively about his personal chambers was a deliberate consideration for it gave him an exclusive vantage point.

The bulge of their ears was more pronounced than usual for each had been fitted with small speakers to let him communicate with his pets, to tell them things, to compliment or chastise them, perhaps to train them with indoctrinating litanies should they have displeased him, or the whim take him.

Another telltale lump was occasionally and seductively revealed at their loins as the dildos sheathed into them were forced out and against the stretch of latex by the play of his pets’ muscles. He watched one Nymph battle the intruders, her body sinking, her efforts focused not on swimming, but on alleviating her discomfort.

She had to be a new recruit, for it took time to get accustomed to his costumes and her resistance showed full well her lack of awareness that there was nothing she could do to ease her lot. Despite her defiance, he knew she would be secretly relishing her lot. They all did. It was the quintessential trait his land conjured and installed, it was the decadent charm that none here could resist.

On a whim, he opened the arm of his throne, revealing dozens of numbered buttons. He let his fingers dance on the keypad, pressing a few random switches and holding them down. Each time he pressed a control, he scanned around the windows for the Nymph he was affecting.

They were simple to detect because the women suddenly started writhing in the sea, their fins and tails coiling around in churning cycles as they jerked and spasmed, the intensity of the intimate stimulation overwhelming them. The rapture he could bestow had them slowly drifting down, each releasing rapid clouds of bubbles as they gasped and cried out in bliss. Their response to the end of the delicious torment had them visibly infuriated, fighting to extract more, the deprivation of senses from their current caste making the use of such toys on them a valued diversion and exquisite treat.

The sight of such tempting wriggling had him growing hard within his ragged gown, and closing the armrest he left the Nymphs to envy those who had gained the rewards, while those gifted them prayed for more.

‘Attend me,’ he uttered softly, staring wistfully into the halcyon undersea scene, his perfect paradise.

The slave arose from crouching at the base of his throne in anticipation of use as a footstool and stretched her slender physique. Her skin was like smooth unblemished milk, revealed almost in full by her near nakedness. Only the silver waist and crotch band of her chastity belt adorned her, that and the faded welts that criss-crossed her rear from a previous period of sensual chastisement.

With brushes of her silver painted nails she swept back her mane of bleached white locks, exposing a delicate timid face with dark eyes full of contemplation and hunger.

Kneeling before him, she parted the black tattered folds and swallowed up his length, her fingers caressing him, stimulating further as she performed the demanded fellatio. Her fervour for the deed was magnified by her time at his feet, serving in silence, recalling her previous bondage session and arousing herself constantly with the sweet memory.

Draping his head back, he mulled over on what the next set of recruits might bring. It pleased him that his slaves so deeply revelled in their predicament, that they were willing and delighted with it, even if at times their straits were hard to bear. But just for once, he wanted someone who would resist her willingness, who would fight his control and deny herself such relish. He yearned to see someone arrive with the inner strength to hold out against the seduction of iniquitous vice. How sweet that would be; to finally win her over, to finally have her admit that this was what she truly craved. It would be a war of wills, fought for control of her very soul.

He stiffened and purred with glee as the slave drew free his seed and orgasm, his mind filled with the notion of such a delightful conflict. Even in the heady storm of climax he did not fail to notice the left hand of his slave slipping down and teasing her nipples. It was an act of self-gratification she was hiding so poorly that she could only be seeking discovery and thereby punishment, a wish he would happily oblige her with.