The Rape of Belladona

By: Madelyne Posted on: December 28, 2007

THE RAPE OF BELLADONA

By Madelyne Ech'lir

(WARNING: MAY CONTAIN GRAPHIC MATERIAL)

[Author's Note: The mortal Countess Belladona dreamed of gaining the knowledge of Necromantic Power. However, her ambitious dream turned into a real-life nightmare when she visited the crypt of Zsarachnor. The following is how I imagine the account might have happened from the point of view of Belladona as she existed at the time of the encounter.]

My name is Countess Belladona, and this is the story of my rape by the evil Lord Zsarachnor.

I descended the damaged stairs, my eyes slowly growing accustomed to the single flickering torch that struggled to light the damp and gloomy corridor. The directions to the crypt committed to memory, I ducked through the junction of corridors and slipped unnoticed past the rusted gate into the underground graveyard.

The thick mist covering the floor enveloped the lower part of my form as I made my way through the obstacle course of crudely cut slabs that served as gravestones. Nearly avoiding slipping into an open grave, I found myself before a large tomb. More elaborate than all the other headstones combined, the sculptures crafted to decorate the crypt were beautiful despite their demonic theme. Considering my reason for visiting this dire edifice, perhaps I found the sculptures more beautiful due to their deadly nature.

Finding the stone used to seal the entrance moved aside and the guardians missing, I hastily entered and stealthily made my way down the stairs until I was standing just outside the burial chamber of the great Zsarachnor himself.

The lord of all vampires, once a servant under Lord Slith in the War of Humanity, stood tall and proud. His overwhelming power radiated through the large area. Feeling someone staring at me, I looked until my eyes met the lifeless ones of a pale vampiress. Bloodshot, her green-eyed gaze never left me as I ventured into Zsarachnor's lair.

"Why are you here?" His deep, commanding voice attempted to seduce me further into the crypt.

My desire for knowledge about the necromantic arts overpowered my hatred for the male before me. "You know why I am here, Zsarachnor."

He laughed, deep and bellowing, "I want to hear you say it, bitch." As he spoke, he idly stroked the dusty, raven-like wings of the pale vampiress at his side.

I hated him. I hated him for his pathetic attempt to humiliate me. But, I could play his petty game. "I dream of sharing your power. Teach me the death magic."

Zsarachnor's dark eyes sparkled with cold amusement. He nodded, indicating that I should continue and paying no mind to the vampiress who was sensually rubbing against him.

"The priests of Shallam continue to raise shrines -- even in your home here in Azdun. Teach me the death magic so that I may help stop the spread of influence the Church is imposing upon the mortals of this world." I kept my voice even and calm as I answered the undead man before me.

The pallid vampiress, her dusty auburn hair elegantly swept up away from her ageless, porcelain face, remained expressionless although her observant, bloodshot eyes studied my mouth as I spoke. Zsarachnor murmured something to his loyal companion and reluctantly she left his side, moving to stand ear a heavy wooden chest in the corner of the room. Once she had moved away he approached me.

As the tall vampire lord circled me, I straightened my posture and proudly stood without fear. "What is stopping me from making a meal of you, Countess?"

Haughtily, I spat out, "Would I not be more use to you in your quest to stop the Church from spreading its influence across the land?"

"Oh, I plan to use you," he laughed, a deep and booming sound that echoed against every available surface, including my body. There was a icy chill to his voice that would have frozen wintry Sarapin winds. I resisted the urge to shudder. Zsarachnor sensed my momentary distraction and took advantage of the situation. All too late I realised this particular quest in my dream for necromantic knowledge was futile.

His large body forced mine back against the damp, mildew-covered wall of the cavern. As his rough, calloused hand closed around my throat I knew there was no escape. His knee raised sharply and brutally forced my legs apart while his free hand savagely ripped the front of my gown.

His sharp teeth dragged painfully, scratching the taut skin covering my neck. The damp air of the crypt settled into the freshly broken skin and caused a sharp, stinging sensation. I brought up a hand to fight him off and he knocked it away as if it were a twig. I tried my best to scratch and kick him away from me, my shrill screams filling the air. Unfortunately, my fellow Ashanti were much too far to hear my cries for assistance.

Zsarachnor forced himself into my most sacred place, planting his demon seed within my fertile womb. When the act was finished, he released me. I fell like a rag doll to the floor of the crypt, exhausted from my failed attempts to fight him off. I drifted into a blissful, dreamless state of unconsciousness there on the damp, cool surface.

Much later, I awoke in Ashtan. My companions had arrived too late to save me from being brutally raped by the vampire lord, but were able to retrieve my body before he fed from the warm, salty blood that still ran through my veins. As I lay nestled within the plush blankets upon my ornate bed, my hand instinctively went to my stomach. The dream Zsarachnor tried to kill sparked to life. Even without confirmation from a doctor, I was aware of the fertile egg that grew inside me. Ignoring the pain of my recent wounds, I sat up and mentally planned my next step on the path to gain Necromantic power.