The Countess as she was known by many, Was often said to be...Touched, She was mad and how wonderfully so, Hearing voices and whispers in the house, She called home. Always the vain woman, Wanting nothing more than to have all that she came across to swoon at the mere sight of her! Wanting a beauty that would never fade, She studied ancient lore and story's of the occult, Story's of bathing in the blood of the pure, Thus.. she did, One mid-winters evening luring one of her fathers young playthings away into hiding within her chambers, Enticing the supple beauty even to bathe with her, Only to slay the 'pet' bathe in her blood, And it worked! The voice of that Dark Goddess only grew louder in her head, desiring more, twisting the Countess' mind until she would be caught, In the dead of night they came, Baring flaming sticks and buckets of blessed water, Lead by a man of the church, Yet the voices grew stronger telling The young Countess how she could attain the perfection she desired.. but she needed more, The paltry pints gained from a few maidens wouldn't do, She needed to offer more.. much more, Yet even the whispers could of protected her from what was to come, Soon enraged mob's would arrive Setting her Family home ablaze, Yet The countess had already fled, Under the cover of the night.
She soon fell upon a long abandoned tower. With the hushed whispers guiding her every step, cold charred stone in the midst of a great unkempt Hedge maze. The whisper's continued, As she slowly climbed the tower. Her way up the winding stair case of the tower proving much more enjoyable than one ever could of imagined. The Countess paused, Stopping at each room she crossed, Peering inside only to be granted a tormenting vision, A lewd history to her new home unfolding in lurid detail before her eyes. The first sight being one cold stone room lit only by a flickering flame hanging from an ancient looking torches that lined the walls, Each room seeming even more deviant than the last, The first she cross would have a young girl, Naught more than a teen! The young daughter belonging to a nearby Nobleman writhing in pain, Everything about her screamed Lolita, Her knee's pressed firm to the cold stone, Long slender legs parted shamelessly, smooth little tummy bulged ever so slightly, Ample breast little more than palmfulls, Long golden locks of hair dirtied and unwashed, Matted to her shoulders soaked in saliva, and from what? Why that massive two headed Canine beast that easily towered over her, Mounting the supple girl from behind its long fur brushing against her spine as not one but Two knotted cocks pressed into her, Vanishing up one tiny little entrance or another as thick strings of drool dripped from its canine muzzles pooling into the girls hair and dripping down her features, The Countess lingered watching it replay again and again as if some memory etched into the very stone. Another room a similar scene, A slightly older girl, One she may of recognized, Shapely barmaid from the nearby town, Full rounded breast easily as large as a young boys head. Strapped to an old sunken Stone table barely above a knee's height, Hay covering the floor as Griffins flocked into the room around her, With large open windows it had become a makeshift roost, The woman's stomach distended inhumanly and nearby he could see why, Eggs, Massive eggs nearly double the size of a young child! The woman reduced to a Breeding device, The tortured Brood Mother to the Griffins that Flocked into the small room at the towers edge. And yet other floors, Other rooms all held a different scene of deviance until finally he reached the Pinnacle of the tower, Large room etched with runes springing to life the moment she entered..
The Countess devoted the next few years of her life following the voices, etching, carving Runes of dark magics within the walls of the stone Tower, Once finished it brimmed with magic, Lost dark arts to fuel her twisted desires. The countess was told she could continue offering Young maidens and bathing in their blood, Thus She started inviting young nobles both male and female to her tower to partake in sins and lusts they had never dreamed, Fueled by soft whispers, The runes of the tower granted her certain gifts, Allowing the countess to control what ever beast or even demons that stalked the halls, The Towers long halls echoing with the cries, Both male and female all at her beckon, The Countess relishing in seeing nothing more than those who thought little of her brought to their knee's in the throws of rapture, but she waited, contenueing to corrupt and taint their minds and body until they came, begging, offering themselves willingly, Her ways continued selecting only the best, Again she would bath in their blood caring little as the others watched, To lost in their own lust to stop her or try an escape, But soon the knights came, Again yet the bindings, The Rune's prevented followers not of the Goddess from entering. Thus They set it ablaze, Feeding the flames while the Countess dwelled still within, Smoke poured from the tallest windows, by morning the tower was left covered in ash and filled with soot, They could finally enter, the top floor of the tower they found large marble pools filled with blood yet no sign of the Countess, Venturing its depths, To its deepest pits only to find her, With flesh turned to stone, her form perfection nary a mark of fire touched within feet of the ever shapely Countess now turned to stone, The tower would be left, Soon the knights, Priest and clerics left, returning once every few moons to purify the Tower, yet ever still the villagers nearby could hear a torrid string of bliss-filled moans echoing thru the night from the tower, The countess still yet lived, Immortal, undieing, Unable to escape the Tower.