Top image is Priest Warriors by Dusan Kostic – Fotolia
The maiden screamed as the cloaked men set fire to her shophut. They were the ones from Camelot’s Disciples (the cult of Yansake). They burned e’ry town that wanted to distill the uprising of the Yansake-Kuruga. She felt the Yansake-Kurugas were devilish and evil. The people of Camelot believed the Yansakes to be gods, but this shopkeeper said that nobody can hold a higher title over the Alma Maters, not even the Dragons. But the Dragons have been around longer than the Alma Maters…..or is there something we’re not being told? She didn’t want to believe in the Yansakes…..but these men did. She tried escaping through the storm drain behind her hut, but the men cornered her there. They took off their hoods, revealing themselves to be Kenningston’s Men.
“you…you aren’t Yansake’s supporters!” she said, “you’re Kenningston’s men!”
“No, young woman,” the leader of the pack kneeled down to her. He could feel the shaking fear in her chest, underlying with a suppressed scream. He smiled at this. This quivering peasant girl was cowering by a storm drain, her body at his mercy! He withdrew the silver-tipped knife and skimmed the cleavage of her chest with it.
“Kenningston is now allied with the Cult of Yansake,” he said as the knife edged deeper between her breasts, “A deal was made between the two: Kenningston gains access to their army while Yansoke gets admiration from the people for eliminating the “dragons.” The Cult of Yansoke want a world only full of their supporters to live peacefully without the mixed religion of the Dragons.”
Her voice trembled with the tears of death when she spoke, “but, a world full of religions makes it more colorful.”
He abruptly stopped, this sudden movement made her flinch as she felt his cold breaths on the bare of her neck.
With one swift stroke, the strings that held her corset were ripped away by the sharpness of the knife. He pulled down on the collar of her dress, easily tearing it’s cheap cloth. He wasn’t tempted by her breasts, instead he was tempted by something inside her.
He restrained her on the grass and covered her mouth to suppress that scream that was dying to escape. His attention went to her bare neck, where all the blood started to flush. He sunk his teeth into her skin and sharp needles poked out of his fangs. She felt her blood being suctioned out. The cold, sucking sting of those syringe-like needles made her nerves go numb. He drew away, happy that his hunger was quelled. He felt the power of fire returning to his body. The android parts of him were renewed and responsive again. They were no longer sluggish and slow. His mind felt less clouded with murk and his common sense started to return. His “awakened sleep” renewed him with her blood. He would now have something from her inside his body until his blood bonded with her’s and consumed it, taking his form again, almost like he never took her blood. It would stay there until then….or until it dried out.
Why bother getting up? They might make her their orgasmic lunch. She n’er felt like this before: defiled without a single penetration from this man.
“your service was of utmost quality.” he said. He turned to leave but he heard a rustling sound in the grass. He turned and saw her pitifully crawling to the dirty waters of the storm drain. He crossed his arms as he weighed his two options.
1) he could let this fair maiden escape
2) he could finish what he originally intended to reap from her
“Now, this is just pitiful.” he said coolly, “I tear your dress just to intimidate you into thinking I’d reap the benefits of your womanhood, and when I leave you escape. That’s not how this plays out.” he knelt down to her and tried running his fingers through her coarse hair, “You, young maiden of Alteran, are suppose to wait until I leave out of sight before you try to escape.”
He pulls her head by her hair. She can’t hardly breathe but manages to get a few words out, “Please….please have mercy on me Mister Vampire.”
Her childish innocence shows.
He’s never heard of something like that leap from the lips of this brown girl. He almost felt bad about what he was about to take from her.
“I am a very rich man, Zaphrin. I can have many titles, but Mister Vampire won’t be one of them.”
He forcefully penetrates the wellness of her flower. Her pleas didn’t stop him as he vigorously pumps the sanity out of her. Every thrust was an embodiment of a painful slap that reminded her that she was in reality. The cloaked men kept to themselves as their leader became drunk from the pleasure of the virgin girl. After he had his fill from her, he cruelly said this, “Are you going to escape again, Zaphrin? Hmmm? Are you? I could fuck you again without remorse! It’s a rich man’s world!”
She weakly raised her head, her voice wasn’t so happy this time around, “how do you know my name?”
He smiles again, ” an old vampire like me has had many slaves in my lifetime. One of them happened to be from the dangerous parts of Africa. I paid forty thousand quid for her and she was pregnant! A useless woman like her..god damn it! I wasted all that money and got a broken gift in return. She wasn’t any use pregnant. After she delivered the child, though, I had plans for it. I turned the woman into one of us and took the child as my own. I was going to raise her as my little Juliette. For two years I kept that child and the mother took it from me. They both escaped, and my men later found her without you.”
There was an evil red spark in his eyes, but when she saw it, it felt too familiar.
She tried speaking but her words were reduced to a low and nervous babble.
“Zaphrin,” he began coldly, “you will pledge your allegiance to the Cult of Yansake,” he withdrew his cutlass and held it closely to her neck, “…or you will die right here, right now, just as quickly as you were brought into this world.”
She looked up at him with tears streaming from her eyes. She had fallen right back into the hands of the vampire.
Her voice lightly replied, “I accept.”
“Ah…” one of his eyebrows arched in excitement, “and no more talk of your…Alma Maters?”
Finding no other choice, she replied again with the lightness of her voice, “No more.”
She tugged onto the jacket of his suit and cried through her sniffles, “why do you wish to hurt me?” she asked.
He said, “I don’t.”
Just like that. I don’t.
Liner notes: I wanted to spice up the vampire genre with a vampire android in the 18th century and an African girl (whom don’t have big roles in historical genre shows). This story came to light. As an analyzer, I read reviews on why people like George Martin’s Game of Thrones (amazon reviews), and they said it’s because you don’t know who is right or wrong or something like that. I applied that to this story. I haven’t tried reading the novels because almost all novels bore me. I’m a Short Story gal. I did write a sequel chapter to this, but I dropped the rest of the story. Thanks to Wacom, I got a Fotolia subscription and I now have a nice illustration for this story. It’s “Priest Warriors” by Dusan Kostic. Yes, this story is from The Society On Da Run: Dragons and Cicadas, like all the stories on this site, and the stories are all linked to each other.