Part 2
The Resplendent Fortress loomed into view, it's magnificent ivory towers and impressively beautiful stonework marred by countless impacts and the festering blackness of infernal wounds. The fowl touch of sorcery actually caused the ivory walls to bleed a stinking dark pus as the Resplendent Fortress attempted to heal itself, the magically infused stone painstakingly reforming itself brick by brick. The imperfections were an affront to common decency as who could be so cruel as to ruin such a splendid display of breathtaking architecture?
Saint Theresia walked towards the formidable fortress while cautiously stepping over the many fallen bodies, concealed mantraps and muddy potholes. The rotten demonic carcasses that littered this ruined, desolate landscape were of particular concern as simply looking at them caused bile to rise up within her throat. Clearly the saint found the very sight of these wretched abominations an insult to her pure sensibilities.
Leandra stumbled over a half-buried poleaxe and cursed under her breath. Her movements were still clumsy and sluggish, as if hungover from a heavy night of drinking. A lifetime of fragmented memories floated around inside her head. Theresia's memoires; the simple times when she was nothing more than a simple farmhand, the childish wonder in her eyes as triumphant knights returned to the capital with rapturous fanfare and the moment that she acceding to sainthood. Leandra felt no guilt in ending the woman's life but still, some part of her found the memories oddly disquieting.
The path not taken.
It would take a while before she regained her dexterity as she gradually adapted to this new, feminine form. Still, she was grateful for such a splendid, attractive vessel. Saint Theresia was a wellspring of divine power and possessed the attractive, slender frame of a seasoned fighter. Her muscles brimmed with strength and potential.
Her body had recently awakened to the carnal pleasures that she had denied herself for so long and craved intimacy. Her breeches were so slick with love juices that you'd be forgiven for accusing the peerless avatar of light of shamefully wetting herself like an immature young girl. So strong were the lustful impulses that Leandra almost broke down and started masturbating right in the middle of hostile territory.
Control yourself, foolish Leandra. You're stronger than this!
One of the mangled husks twitched and Leandra stood very still. Slowly, every so slowly, she glanced around while her hand dropped down to her scabbard. It's gaping maw hung open and reeked of semi digested meat, it's leathery eyelids seemingly lifeless and unmoving. Leandra tensed for action but the moment eventually passed and she moved on.
"Hey, who goes there?" came a challenge from high up on the fortress battlements. The man's voice was magically enhanced otherwise there was no way his voice would have carried. A sharp series of twangs pieced the silence before the blackened earth was peppered with deadly arrows until it resembled a spiky porcupine. Leandra ducked under the remains of a ruined carriage and frantically waved her hands.
"Hold your fire!" she yelled fruitlessly. "It is I, Saint Theresia! I beseech you, hold your fire!"
It wasn't until she used every single ounce of concentration to summon up her luminous halo of divine inspiration that the shooting finally abated. Leandra almost screamed as the celestial light burned within her body like blessed holy water flowing through her veins. The sanctified talents of a living saint were ill suited to the unnatural denizens of the night.
Her vision blurred into a kaleidoscope of vivid, painful shades that assaulted the senses. The last thing she remembered was the beating of mighty wings, the snarling of a dragon and the bewitching walls of the Resplendent Fortress as she slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
Leandra awoke with a start which almost startled the meek looking serving girl to death. The towel that she had been using to drape across the saint's sleeping forehead slapped wetly against the stonework flooring. Leandra squinted at the warm sunlight that beamed in from a stained glassed window overlooking her simple wooden bed. She shielded her eyes and assessed her surroundings. She appeared to be in a small, private chapel. The pungent smell of burning, flowery incense wrinkled her nostrils.
"M-my lady! I'm so glad that you're save and sound! I was so worried when you failed to return!" said the serving girl who simply couldn't contain her relief. "Truly my prayers were answered!"
She gasped innocently, gripped the hem of her patchwork dress and curtsied. "Oh, I'm so sorry Saint Theresia! This foolish servant was deeply wrong for not using your honoured title. Please, forgive this unworthy soul!"
Leandra leaned back against the headboard. In doing so, the fabric slipped down to reveal her perfectly round breasts. The serving girl blushed profusely and clutched her fingers tightly over her eyes though Leandra could clearly see the girl stealing the occasional longing glimpse at her nakedness.
"No matter," Theresia said dismissively. "This is inside the Resplendent Fortress, correct? Where exactly is this place?"
"Yes my lady. You were plucked from that terrible battlefield by the elven dragon knights and brought here.
"That isn't what I asked." Leandra shook her head, her golden strands of hair tickling her exposed nipples. Stifling a very unladylike moan, she glared at the simple minded commoner.
"What do I call you, serving girl? Oh, and remove your fingers. How can you attend to me without your sight?"
The girl bowed repeatedly as an excuse to avert her gaze from those pure, piercing blue eyes. "Forgive me, Saint Theresia. This humble servant is named Ricola and I will lovingly attend to any of your potential needs."
There was something in the way that Ricola phrased that sentence that excited Leandra's recently awakened body. She pursed her lips together thoughtfully. Had it simply been her lustful imagination? Her slender legs shifted as her pussy yearned to be touched, to experience the pleasure that she had denied herself for so very long. Of course such sordid impulses belonged to the saint but as the inheritor, Leandra was the one that needed to act upon them.
Such a bother...
"Kiss me," she said as she leaned across the bed, the silken covers falling away completely. Indulging these sexual feelings was the only way to fully reclaim her senses and function at peak efficiency. It was hard enough without them in a newly claimed vessel.
"W-w-w-what?" Ricola said, stumbling over her words. Her face turned a deep shade of red as she tried to turn away but her beloved Saint Theresia grasped her trembling hands and placed her moist lips upon the serving girl's. Their tongues intertwined themselves as Leandra forced herself into the younger woman's mouth.
Ricola struggled for a moment but her mewing, weak protests only served to excite Leandra even further. Glistening saliva trailed down her cheeks as they smooched passionately like lovers. The wet sound of kissing filled the small chapel which was sinfully scandalous.
All the while Leandra stared dreamily into Ricola's bashful, watery brown eyes. Her gaze was intense and Ricola melted in her arms as the beautiful, heroic saint that she so admired lavished her with tender affection. Reluctantly, Leandra finally pulled away, the sudden release of the spirited suction produced a loud wet plop.
Ricola collapsed to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. She looked up as the much celebrated Saint Theresia slowly stepped off the bed and stood in front of her completely naked. Her smooth breasts jiggled as her athletic, creamy body moved gracefully. Ricola couldn't help but stare right at the blonde strands of pubic hair and the hidden promises beyond.
"I've always admired you, Saint Theresia. One such as I is not worthy to gaze upon such a noble sight."
"Hush child," Leandra said softly who played her dominant role to perfection. "That's for me to decide, my sweet little maid." She placed a gentle hand upon the back of Ricola's head and encouraged her forwards while stoking her black, braided hair. "Please me with that sweet, innocent mouth of yours."
When Ricola realized what was expected of her, she almost fainted with embarrassment. It was only her utter devotion and subservient nature that made her surrender herself completely. Saint Theresia moaned and clutched fistfuls of black hair. Ricola's tongue was clumsy and inexperienced but more than made up for it with sheer enthusiasm.
The knowledge that Leandra was abusing her authority to the fullest would have appalled the very dignified and honourable Saint Theresia and while Leandra was cold and calculating, even she couldn't resist the intoxicating sensations. The fact that a holy chapel was being defiled by such sacrilege only heightened things still further.
Ricola was emboldened by the lustful groans and nibbled playfully against Leandra's exposed clit who shuddered and buckled as if stuck on the battlefield. The maid's moist mouth lovingly lapped up all the sparkling juices trickling down the saint's magnificent legs like they were the sweetest ambrosia. It didn't matter to Ricola that such sexual acts between females was expressly forbidden, only that such an insignificant existence as her own had been noticed by such a divine woman. How could such a beautiful joining of souls be considered a sin?
Leandra gasped as she felt searching fingers probing the delicate entrance to her dripping pussy. Her pubic hair was playfully tugged on as two slender digits slipped themselves within her fleshy folds. Leandra couldn't help but be impressed by the serving girl's naughty talents and leaned more heavily against her to avoid stumbling over as she was finger-fucked to blissful heights of gratification.
The vampire groaned as a tremendous surge of pleasure bubbled up within her mind. Unable to hold on any longer, she climaxed, flooding the serving girl's face with her vigorous holy nectar. Ricola recoiled in surprise but was mercilessly held in place as her throat was permeated with cum. She hammered her fists weakly against sturdy thighs but Saint Theresia's grip was unbreakable.
Unable to escape, she was forced to drink everything down to the last drop, lest she suffocate to death. Ricola's eyes rolled back into her head as she lost control of her bladder, her cotton panties soon stained yellow with urine. Saint Theresia stifled a satisfied cry as she released the now unconscious body of Ricola who promptly collapsed onto the stone floor like a sack of potatoes. Translucent froth poured from those abused lips along with the steady trickle of piss that formed around her in a growing puddle.
Leandra felt alive again as if reborn like the flaming phoenix of old legend. Flexing her hands, the change in her refreshed vessel was obvious. Her muscles brimmed with potential now that those corrupting lascivious urges had been sated, at least for the time being. Leandra looked down callously at the maid who was breathing heavily. She considered killing Ricola on general principal but decided against it after weighing up all the potential dangers.
Instead, she dragged the sleeping maid into the soft, comfy bed and wrapped her up tightly underneath the covers. Leandra stretched and limbered up before walking over to her clothing that had been arranged nicely in a neat little pile. The hardest part was clasping the straps of her shining armour unassisted but she managed it eventually. Looking in the mirror, Leandra looked every bit the blessed, dignified saint; a fearless slayer of foulness and champion of light.
Opening the heavy oaken door, Leandra left the small chapel behind and walked into the wide hallways of the Resplendent Fortress. They were impressively sculptured and decorated with expensive hanging tapestries made from the rarest griffin feathers. Underfoot was a giant colourful mosaic that stretched the entire length of the magnificent hallway and beyond.
She passed many soldiers of various species on her travels of the many hallowed halls and corridors. Most of them were ragged, exhausted looking humans or sullen, mysterious elves but scattered here and there were sparkling fairies and even a few manifestations of gleaming crystal entities.
Most of them nodded or saluted respectfully when Saint Theresia deigned to look in their general direction but the general mood was one of utter despair. The taste of defeat was almost palatable and certain demons would have gleefully feasted upon all the rampant negativity.
It didn't really surprise Leandra. The Resplendent Fortress had endured the constant assaults, bombardments, plagues, psychic mindworms and countless other horrors for almost a solid year without breaking and while the bewitching, splendid walls had held firm, the same couldn't be said for it's very mortal defenders. The stone was strong but the flesh lacked that same, implacable fortitude.
There was something nostalgic about these splendid corridors. That feeling only intensified with every single step she took, like walking back into the past. There were two places that might hold the information she so desperately sought. One was the Grand Library which was open to even the poorest commoners but the more promising prospect was the royal archive that recorded the heraldry, bloodline and lineage of all the souls born in this ancient fortress.
The problem of course was that only those of noble blood could view the archive which was why Leandra now stood just outside Princess Helena's royal bedchamber. Several royal guards stood silently outside the massive set of obsidian double doors. They wore overly extravagant uniforms emblazoned with golden regalia but despite this, Leandra could tell that these soldiers weren't entirely just for show.
Her practiced eye could see that the corridor had been deliberately constructed in a manner which denied all possible approaches. Truly an assassin's worst nightmare. No blindspots, handholds nor concealing shadows presented themselves and various arcane charms and fetishes hung on the walls like multicoloured burning coals.
When no other options presented themselves, Leandra strolled out confidently as if she had every reason to be there. She approached the nearest guard and fixed him with her best intimidating stare. He stood resolute under the intense scrutiny, his hand subconsciously falling near his gilded sword hilt.
"Identify yourself, brave protector," Leandra asked in a sultry voice. She could see the uncertainly in his harsh gaze as she leaned forwards ever so slightly, her blonde curls partially obscuring her stunning face and inviting lips.
"Fawkes my lady, of the royal guard."
"Fawkes?" she purred, her tone unbecoming of such a benevolent figure. "Such an inspiring name. Do you know who I am, Fawkes?" The other guards didn't even bulge an inch though Leandra knew that they were listening in with keen interest.
He nodded. "You're the most honoured Saint Theresia, bringer of miracles and leader of the rosewater knights."
"That's not entirely correct. While I may be the beloved Saint Theresia I'm still a mortal soul with womanly needs of her own though everyone seems to forget that. Humans yearn for emotional contact, especially during stressful times such as this horrific siege. Maintaining spiritual health is just as important as a sharp, polished blade, don't you agree Fawkes?
When he didn't answer immediately, Leandra slammed her hands against the wall either side of the man. He was completely trapped and entirely within her mercy like a frightened lamb. Theresia smelled incredibly alluring, her natural musk was as bewitching as the resplendent walls themselves. Fawkes flinched but didn't reach for his weapon, instead the desirable Saint Theresia reached down and grasped his between her velvety fingers.
"Oh ho," she exclaimed, strengthening her grip like a vice around his pulsing erection. "How dare you harden at my divine presence. I should have you sent to the gallows, you dirty heathen!"
"But you-" he began before Leandra unfastened his linen garments. His sword belt clattered noisily to the mosaicked floor. Leandra jerked his shaft, her hands soft and confident from a lifetime of fencing. Leaning forwards, she licked up his pre-cum, the glistening liquid glazing her sweet mouth like lipstick.
Fawkes couldn't believe that he was dirtying Saint Theresia's mouth, that same mouth that spoke such moving verses of profound faith during the morning prayers. Her mirthful, deep blue eyes never left his gaze as her moist mouth opened up and swallowed down most of his cock in one fell swoop.
He trembled as her tongue coiled around him like a sticky snake as it dragged his penis deeply within her accommodating throat. As soon as he was completely submerged, Leandra slowly pulled back before hungrily swallowing down his entire length with a loud slurping noise. She repeated this several times until he was completely dependant on her obscene talents.
Not even the most overpriced whores could compare with Leandra's exquisite technique and Fawkes had sampled many in his lifetime. Overcome with lust, he began to thrust his hips aggressively against the saint's blushing face, The bulge of the man was clearly visible as his stabbing shaft disappeared straight down her warm, enveloping gullet before pulling out almost completely and repeating the sordid process.
Surprised at the sudden rough treatment, Leandra quickly adapted to the furious face-fucking by loosening up her throat until the muscles contacted and expanded at will. Only a fleshweaving vampire could perform such a feat and the sensational feeling of a mouth that could massage you more vigorously than a dripping cunt was often literally to die for.
"So strong," Leandra groaned, her words rendered totally intelligible by the mouthful of glistening meat currently ravaging her mouth. She almost gagged as her airways were closed off but concentrated on breathing through her nose as she relentlessly devoured her possession without a single care for her own wellbeing. The guild's assassins were extensively trained in the many fine arts of seduction and pleasure and Leandra had always been an attentive student.
"Gather around me," Leandra said while trying her best to mimic the saint's infectious charisma. "You all deserve a reward for your unwavering loyalty."
Continued in Part 3
The Resplendent Fortress - Part 2
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