A Small Conquest
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Author's Note:
I once again apologise for the hiatus, though in this case it was a drop in motivation brought about by a medical concern involving my hand. It hasn't affected my writing ability much, but once I noticed it, it became a bit harder to write without focusing on how it hampered me. This on top of hardware issues I'm not sure I've solved but things seem stable for now. Nothing to do but to get back into the swing of things.
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Sehraa's awakening was still recent. A scant few months since she had returned to being to find her old domain lost. She could not recall the how or the why. She had suspicions, but no evidence to support them. And a profound grief over the loss of her precious subjects; her people, her servants, her admirers, her followers, her lovers, her children.
All gone.
But, she had composed herself then. Taken stock of the situation before her, her task clear; reclaiming what was hers.
The dominions that used to border her land were gone, or changed. The races that comprised them remained familiar to her, though it seemed it was mostly human settlers and frontiersmen that had taken it upon themselves to tame the still somewhat wild heartland of her old domain.
She had already claimed several villages. The corruption was beginning anew, and she had already sent out her warning; if people wished to remain untouched, they needed to leave. Go beyond her borders, if they could ever work out where they were once defined. Such time had passed, the Dark Goddess Sehraa had become a legend.
It was a harsh sentence, perhaps; few could really afford to leave, especially after the investment to settle in these lands. Settlers could not relocate on a whim, and any peasantry were beholden to a noble who may not have heeded any warning.
Of course, there was no terrible fate in joining her. She had learned of the legends from those who already joined her. Old tales that some did remember, recalling the twisting horror that was the Spawn and the Dark Goddess. How it corrupted one's mind, turned one into a monstrous shell, devoid of identity and soul.
The fear such tales instilled in people was admittedly... tantalising. They were starting to spread, now that people were becoming aware of her growing resurgence, as her Creep spread from her place of awakening.
But such practises, to destroy the minds of those she corrupts, was... distasteful to her. She wasn't a killer, physically or psychologically. She moulded the untainted into something sensual, beautiful, and - for the most part - free.
Stronger, healthier, more salacious, though admittedly beholden to a hierarchy, if it were enforced upon them.
But they did not mind... they would never be condemned or treated cruelly.
Well, no cruelty that didn't exact delicious moans, at least.
Nevertheless, she appreciated a bit of fear. It was potent aphrodisiac for her and her Spawn.
Sehraa stood upon a bluff overlooking a valley shrouded in early-morning gloom, thick wood choking the hilly terrain below. But further south, it thinned a little, and within it, a clearing, partly natural and partly created, where a small village resided, the trees clustering tightly together just that little bit further south, surrounding the village, though it remained connected by a road that cut through the slightly thinner southern forest.
There was likely no more than two dozen or so buildings, constructed around the central road, though the buildings on the outskirts were oriented less orderly.
The land on the eastern-side of the southbound road was dominated by a small farm, using up as much space as feasibly possible.
She sensed at least a hundred humans living there, going about their morning duties and life in general as best they could in such an isolated locale. Perhaps that was why she could sense no children; all were of age or older. Maybe they were even having a crisis of conception, struggling to conceive new generations.
Sehraa was more than happy to help them in that regard.
The sun began to rise over the far distant tree canopies and hilltops, bathing the village in honeyed beams. Soon it would be a bright morning and the village would grow livelier.
They just didn't know how lively.
Sehraa smirked, and then closed her eyes and concentrated; she was still regaining her strength, so it took time to gather the power she needed to swiftly conquer even a small village.
She felt the Creep answering her, seeping through rock and soil as it converged on her summons. She would break upon the village like a force of nature, ensuring no escape. The debauchery would be delectable.
The Creep built up beneath the ground. It began to seep up through the eroded cracks in the rock, the inky substance reaching up with a thick viscosity, twisting and worming like unnatural tendrils.
Tentacles of goopy black emerged from along her spine, and connected with these wriggling, rising roots. She drew strength from them, and directed more towards the village, moving beneath the ground, having an easier time passing through the soil than the solid rock of the mountain.
Her eyes opened, their bright blue glow shining with invigorated intensity.
She licked her lips, knowing it was time.
Sehraa lost all shape and form, melting into a puddle that flowed into the cracks of the rock. Through stone, wood and soil, she travelled near instantaneously; wherever the Creep was, so was she.
She emerged from between two gnarled roots of a large oak on the edge of the woods facing the village; dark tendrils of Creep encircled and choked the oak, seeping into its deepest layers, corrupting it from within and without.
Anybody who managed to escape this way would find no safety amongst the boughs, trunks and roots of the woods... pleasure, on the other hand, would be delightfully abundant.
Sehraa fixed her eyes on the village ahead, licking her dark lips with her inky tongue; she was going to enjoy herself. Thoroughly.
Sehraa opted for no fancy strategy or cunning scheme. She had a craving for brute, lecherous force, at least by her standards. She was in the mood to be a Dark Goddess.
She approached the village on foot, in full view, her dark, inky body naked and glossy in the early-morning sunlight as the tendrils from her back waved lazily like streamers floating in the wind.
Beneath her, below the ground in the soil itself, a great concentration of Creep kept pace. Ready to burst forth at her will, the slimy corruption an extension of herself.
She saw her first prey, a young man piling firewood up by the wall of a building, his back turned. Dark hair and specks across his neck hinted at a youthfulness, though his physique was mature and toned from hard word. He wiped his brow, already sweaty, and turned around, his blue eyes widening and his boyish features tightening as he saw Sehraa, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
"Who the...?" he trailed off, but he was given no chance to call out an alarm; the tentacles on Sehraa's back shot forth like serpentine lances, reaching him before he could even comprehend what was happening, coiling around his arms and legs all the way to his torso. He yelped as he was reeled in, struggling madly as his frantic eyes looked around for any hope of freedom.
But all he would soon see was Sehraa's azure orbs staring right into his soul, the burning lust within more than any mere mortal could hope to sate.
She clasped her hands to the sides of his face, the youthful features scrunched in bewildered terror, still squirming as the tentacles that held him began to work beneath his brown flax clothing.
Sehraa opened her mouth... and let her tongue lunge forth, pushing deep into his with sudden vigour.
Her tongue was engorged, enough to spread the man's jaws a little as it pushed into his mouth, filling it with its thick, slimy presence.
Muffled, startled screams tried to leave his mouth, but the cries of panic were distorted by her inexorably exploring tongue, pushing deeper into his mouth and gliding over his own tongue. Her gooey tendril secreted oily fluids, coating every inch of his mouth in the tingling taint of her corruption, sweet and intoxicating.
But the goddess' real goal was his vulnerable gullet, her tentacular tongue contracting with each advance. The tip of her organ began to wriggle down the back of his tongue, keeping it pinned beneath its lecherously wriggling mass, ever coating that dark corruption onto his taste buds.
Inch by inch, she invaded his throat with her slippery appendage, looking deep into his eyes as she subjected him to this alien violation.
