Stories of Kadrimoth – the Draequehaless family: Sericea chapter 1
In our story, there are two worlds: the human Earth world and an alternate dimension: Kadrimoth. The house of Draequehaless rule one of the largest realms in this dimension.
In this chapter, queen Sericea’s predicament results in grave consequences that will ultimately alter the course of history for her realm.
*This story is suitable for 16+ and is NSFW
The great war
The war between the Sidhe (elves and other magical creatures) and the Angels had been going on for countless centuries. The very reason for this war had long since been forgotten, but all races continued to fight, as they were raised to do so without question. It was no more unusual for Sidhe to grow up despising Angels as it was to hunt for breakfast.
During one particular campain, the Royal family of house Draequehaless and it’s army were camping in tents, taking their leisure and awaiting the next day of fighting.
King Araniár and and queen Sericea were sharing a tent, their presence served to boost the moral of the weary army. Suddenly, when the regiments least expected it, there was an enormous and deafening wall of sound: the camp was being attacked. Winged warriors landed in their midst and the soldiers swarmed out of their tents to battle them. The invading army was driven away from the campsite, leaving those who could not fight behind, defenseless.
Queen Sericea was an proper and graceful queen, well behaved and pristine in her manner of dressing. She understood very well the grave importance of her role, so to reflect the cornerstone position she embodied, she dressed with elegance and always minded her poise. Despite once being very capable of fending for herself, she has assumed a demure and subservient role to her husband, projecting to the outside world the necessary tranquility in the midst of a devastating war.
When the battle had moved away from the camp, the sounds started drifting farther and farther away from her. She felt less secure under the protection of her guards with every second that crawled by. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard a rustling near the entrance of her tent.
She started to realize that she was alone in there, unprotected and hindered by her lack of combat training for the last decades. She crawled deep into a corner of her tent, anxiously gazing at the entrance, dreading what might happen.
When eventually she heard the rustle of feathers as a dark shadow passed through the entrance, she froze. Her eyes widened and her breath stopped as fear clutched her throat and squeezed it tight.
As the tall angel entered her tent with obeisance, she had a sinking feeling of what was about to happen. She tried to get away, but the angel was too fast. He jumped her, pushed her down and despite all her struggling, managed to pin her to the ground. She felt the knife he had drawn pressing against her throat. This was the end. After cutting off her head, the angel would drive a stake through her heart and she would be vanquished. She prepared for her fate as the angel suddenly stopped his assault. His white wings closed gingerly around them.
Imaël was an insignificant angel as far as hierarchy went. He was simply a warrior, brought up solely to smite the sidhe. He was well trained in vanquishing the demons and vampires that had chosen the Sidhe’s side so long ago. All it took was a firm grip and a good cut, and another enemy was destroyed. He did this time over and time again, without question; it was his purpose in life. This night, little did he know that all would be different.
Clad in darkness, he swiftly made his way to the royal tent. He knew his orders by heart and only had his mind on his target: the elf-turned-vampire queen. Without her, the grieving King would be distracted just long enough for the angels to prepare a tactical maneuver against this camp, thereby seriously diminishing their fighting capacity.
As he entered the royal tent, he gasped briefly and froze for just a moment. They had never mentioned the ethereal beauty of the demonic queen. Her delicate facial features and tall, slender physique…
He shook it off and jumped her. As he felt the knife press into the soft flesh of her throat, he could not make the necessary cut, though. He was stunned, it was as though an unseen force was holding him back, pulling his hand away. His cheek gently touched hers as he lay on top of her, both heaving heavily. Such silky smooth skin… He had to focus! His hand whisked along her cold, soft arms. Then something happened that he seemed to have no control over…
Sericea was paralyzed. Why did he not finish her off? Why prolong her agony? She felt his warm breath gently caress her icy lips. His hand briefly touched her arm. There was a moment of relief where it seemed like time itself stopped and she was lost in the gentle embrace of a lover.
Rudely she was awakened from this fantasy, as she felt his disgustingly warm hand slid up her skirts and search their way where they were not welcome.
She was terrified of what was going to happen, although it certainly was not what she had expected when this all began. The angel proceeded to defile her, his hot and heavy body was wet of blood and the salty sweat he had worked up when killing her men. His raw left hand was holding Sericea firmly and he squeezed her throat tightly so she could not get away. With his right hand he was still clutching the knife, which she felt scraping over her skin, inching it’s way to her loins. The many layers of her garments were rudely torn by it in the process. The angel ripped through her petticoat and her chemise, tearing the bulk of fabric away for easier access.
She tried to struggle free from his iron grip, but her assailant was too strong. She squeezed her legs tightly together, hoping to deter him. Unencumbered by her attempts, the angel dropped his knife and pushed her legs apart. He fumbled with the buttons of his trousers and exposed his throbbing manhood, only to push it roughly inside of Sericea with her being powerless to stop it. The monster lay moaning and groaning on top of her delicate self, exclaiming his filthy pleasure in taking what did not belong to him. The ancient queen tried to vacate her body for this violation, but found herself captured in the moment. A single tear fell silently from her eyes as she endured the indignation and the searing pain.
When it was all over, the angel quickly grabbed his garments and weaponry and mad a run for it, out of her tent. His head was bent down low in disgrace and his arm was covering his face.
Imaël was disgusted by himself. What had just happened? He could not go back for her to finish his task, not after what he had just done. He could not bare to look her in the eyes while seeing the life drain from it. Never, not once in his life had he been seduced by carnal desires. Never did he leave a target behind and he certainly had never left without finishing what he set out to accomplish. He ran off in shame, thoughts swirling in his head like a whirlwind. He must certainly have been bewitched to succumb to such low desires so easily, he simply could not think of any other reason to rape his target the way he had done.
Sericea lay motionless, ashamed of herself for not being able to escape the predicament she found herself in just a short time ago. Her curled up body felt foul and wrong, her dress and undergarments bearing the visible scars of the attack. She cried ceaselessly for a short time, but then pulled herself back together. She forced herself to get up, cleaned herself from the grime of the assault and dressed herself again to the best of her ability. She sat down as if nothing had happened and waited.
As king Araniár entered, Sericea knew he could read the distress on his wife’s face. Finding herself defenseless against his interrogating gaze, Sericea broke down and told her husband all that had just happened. He responded fiercely, heartbroken that his dear wife had been left unprotected he was furious with both himself and the filthy creature that had defiled his beloved. After his rage subsided, an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness overcame him and Sericea found herself comforting her husband as much as he was there to support her in these trying times.
After the battle, the king and queen traveled back to their summer castle to regain their strength. Nothing would ever be the same again after Sericea’s predicament, though. The Angels had crossed a line…
All characters featured in this story are BJD’s from our personal ball jointed doll collection. You can learn more about them, by visiting their profile pages:
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