Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

[#adultthemes #darkhumor #vulgar #nudity]

• HOUSE OF THE RAVEN, TITANS LANDING 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Kiss her breasts." The soft command echoed in a palatial chamber. A voice as silk—of thinly veiled authority. This chamber, luxurious of Alexandrian and Vaulxan decor, faced the serene polis of the Capital. High on the gargantuan palace, the home of the [Empyrean].

—whom was a woman.

The author of such lilting and distinguished voice.

It was she who spoke in the chambers: Her Imperial Majesty, First of Her Name, Warden of the Nine Realms, Heir of the Usurper, the Emerald Angel, Queen of the Skylings and Men, Empress of the Continent, Ravenna de Vries. With her controlled demeanor and forest-green eyes, she’d pictured the kind puritan to her citizens, yet had being declared by the sect of mages as one of the most deadly celestial beings to walk the mortal plane.

The offspring of a demon god and a Seraphim.

At the moment in her treasurable estate, Ravenna directed her words to the erotic display her Lady-in-waiting had being so kind to set up, at the slightest mention of her being stressed.

A man, burnished of the finest coal tone sat on her huge bed—arms up and tied to the golden headrest. Two girls, in the peak of their youth, one with skin such as a Northerner—pale as ice, the other boasting a rich tan; they too lay on the bed, awaiting her further commands. The tan girl had her wrists bound too. The boy and the girls were perhaps the most beautiful people on the face of Eldoria. Ravenna thought so.

Her gift, they were. . .to relieve stress.

"Play with her nipples." Ravenna commanded of them again, her voice soothing. She spoke to the northern beauty whose hands were free. The damsel leaned down upon the shackled dove, her companion of sun-kissed skin, and upon the rouge peaks of lust where she had placed her lips before, she put her mouth again, and this time her tongue searched out to lick on gorgeous areolas. "Yes," Ravenna urged on her comfy sofa in front of the spacious four-poster, "massage those ripe cherries with your mouth. Claim them. Own her body. Worship it."

The bound girl writhed beneath the slashing tongue of the northerner. Her moans and gasps fed the Empress’s want.

"Now, suck." Ravenna hissed. "Hmm. Yeah. You like that mouth, don’t ya?"

The tan dove was rising off the feather-soft sheets, seeking more. Needing more. Her lover was a skilled serpent, nursing on her boobies and making her cleavage slob. Even the darkest prince chained had his robust, black cock shooting up his glistened loins. His thighs and biceps—well-oiled guns. His manhood, of rich color and girth, bragging veins almost as bean roots.

Though the throuple would be well compensated after performance from the Empress’s coffers, they would’ve done it a dozen times with no promise of coin.

It was evident in their quick arousal and attraction to one another...they liked being the Queen’s models. The way she watched and controlled what they would do next in their passion seduced them into loving the act. Ravenna herself was not ahead in years over them, but her affectionate authority with them took the already permeating physical attraction to a new level. Seeing this, the young Empress—who had one hand under her chiffon garments, slowly rubbing—chuckled in admiration,

"Oh, you wanna fuck for real?"

The northern beauty sucked loudly upon her paramour’s bouncy melons.

Ravenna put up her legs on the bed’s fore-edge, and spread them. "—yeah?"

"Ahhh!" The tan girl moaned, breathlessly quivering tied-up, and Ravenna sucked in a sharp breath. She pushed away the folds of her morning slip. "Suck his big cock next, white bitch! Yeah, suck that big, black penis... Ohh gods. Suck it!"

Before the northern girl even moved her mouth to the raging shaft of the dark prince, the man was already bobbing before all the women’s eyes. The second her lips touched his broad nosh, he rammed up into her mouth, shutting his obsidian eyes out. This beautiful northerner gulped and ’gluged’ on him. She terrorized his thick cumbrous member, sucking and sucking, sloppily, greedily, drawing his deep guttural groans. He flailed against the rope-ties binding his wrists to headrests above. He did not want to explode too soon for the Empress.

Ravenna saw his vibrant black mass bulge. And she beheld the sticky floodgates opening.

"Stop. Stop!" She coralled them, halting the beauty’s bobbing head. ". . .dear gods," Ravenna inhaled, slowing her hand movement between her legs.

"Loosen his binds and sit on his face." She commanded. "You. . .suck his balls."

The spell-binding, pretty-as-fuck performers moved to do her bidding. The Empress’s hand resumed its stroking. Her orders kept rolling out, in quiet sexy gasps of pleasure. And even when the black hunk turned the tan dame over and jammed his luscious organ inside of her, giving the Empress her morning orgasm, the image that really made Ravenna tumble into a shuddering, wet nirvana with her plunging fingers wasn’t the metal dude. . . but the Adamic profile of a fire-eyed demon far, far away.

Since Israfel’s depressing vanish from her life, no man had gotten within ten feet of her body. Much less, pussy.

She’d been abstinent. Mood-swinging here and there. Trying not to imagine him pile-driving some dumb pirate bitch wherever the shit he was on the goddamn ocean.

So when all the sexual frustration and hyperactivity built up to a calamitous morning such as this one, she was grateful to have a capable Lady-in-waiting to read her form enough to bring her beautiful offerings—such as this interracial intermingling. At which point she did think only of him. Israfel had fucked her good – her pussy and her mind. She couldn’t come to anybody else. All other men were but sorry weiners compared to his greatness. Her handmaids sought out the best forms of mortal in the Continent for her entertainment, yet, they fell short.

"Whoo—" Ravenna sighed, licking her fingers contentedly, washing her own scent down her throat.

—like he used to do.

"Ugh!" She scrubbed her cranium. Why did everything, absolutely everything have to remind her of him? It was he who chose to leave. And her stupid Navy had not located him yet.

How hard was it to find one 7ft-tall, strapping, sexy-ass, screw-your-brains-out, screw-you-over, Ginger devil?

Yet her military had not prevailed against singular man. She’d even employed the use of mutant dogs, hellhounds, and elephants. Nothing. As much as it annoyed her, befuddled her, and made her smoke out of the ears—literally, it also made her admire him the more. Miss him more. Want him more. The most wanted man in the Continent was the love of her life...and she had put out the fucking ad for his head!

What an Empyrean she was? And the people called her father the Mad Usurper. For sure she’d inherited some crazy genes up there. Eldorians loved to reckon their queen as Half-angel, pure and of paradise. But she was also the one true daughter of the most psychopathic murderous tyrant to ever walk the earth. Sometimes during public parades or promenades within the city walls she wanted to just peel out her head and yell sacrilegiously, "I’m half devil too, you dumb cunts! You just can’t see my horns! Ha! Boo!"

If she ever did this, that might just stop time in Titans Landing.

As psycho as such thoughts were, it was these ruminations that kept her from spiralling into forever depression at the huge losses in her life.

Her father, ’King Kong’ed to death.

Her BFF’s, decapitated and eviscerated—by her boyfriend’s even crazier mum.

Her said boyfriend, missing in action now, for twenty seven moons and counting.

Her mother—the only tether she really had these days—couldn’t even be bothered to do so little as drop as fart from her high perch in Paradise. Did angels even fart?

This musing had her cheeking up as she admitted to her own lunacy, mumbling, "sshhhiiiit. I’d be better suited to an asylum than a throne at this point. Ain’t that something! A feculent troll could lay a huge stinkie right now and my life will still scale the fucking shit up on a balance."

On one of her really low days, Ravenna envisioned climbing to the roof of the tallest edifice in the Capital, the Church at Vallón-de-Grace tower, and ’learning’ freefall diving—’cuz how tough could it be—but her do-gooder, life-saving wings just about ruined the practice. She still didn’t know about farts...but an angel could not self-delete.

Her lean antelope of a body was breathing proof.

Ravenna put a smile on for her entertainers; it wasn’t their fault she was rich and depressed. In fact she was convinced her depression bordered on sadism now. Despite still being strung of her powerful release, the young queen rose to get herself a flagon. She poured four goblets.

"Drink up." She offered her lovely performers, slick with sex and color of their exertion. "—this morning ain’t over."

The Ethiopian had already begun hardening again. Ravenna’s tropical gaze feathered the girls rather as she enjoyed her gold cup of Mhiska.

’Empyrean.’ She turned the word over in her head.

A combination of two words: Imperial, and, Empress, some suggested. Though her scholarly mages forever rebuked this assertion, stating that it was heretic propaganda of the ordinary man, whose mind could not embrace the high order of druidic ways. The clause, [Empyrean], title and herald in one word spoke of a cosmic potency. A universal mystery. A super-nature. Mages of her Ruling Council guided the word was of primordial origin even.

That she was a dark avatar or some shit.

But she’d give up being The Empyrean to hold her friends again.

Statues of Corazón and Aya Naamah knighted her throne room. Their paintings hung over each spiral staircase of every wing in the castle. She never wanted to forget them. Nor the pain. She had builded fucking temples to them. ’They are the true avatars. Not me.’ She battled with her mind. ’They fought bravely in Stormanos... to the death. Why then do you behold and name me, Empyrean, just because I was too chicken to fall at their side, and share their eternal light.’

Ravenna swore on the banner of House de Vries, the House of the Raven, that the scheming cur, Racquel Serpent: the shit-stain bitch who had connived in the raising of the Umber dragon would rot in the depths of Eragonn, inheriting the pit of Lilith, the cunt’s bigger bitch goddess.

A smooth hand touched Ravenna.

She blinked to the enchanting form before her, claiming her for the present. It was the fairest girl she’d ever seen; snow fuckin’ white – the northerner.

"We are refreshed, Empyrean." The immaculate beauty said.

Ravenna tried not to chastise the girl for her own personal misgivings to the title. She gently put aside her cup and flagon and relaxed further in her translucent, seductive slip—one armstring off a shoulder and revealing delicate celestial flesh. Her voice and eyes fell to her nude throuple as she began directing them into the rapture of a second round of bodily entertainment.