High Priestess of the Dark Scorpion Cult 3D Render, Digital Artwork by Hexdrake

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High Priestess of the Dark Scorpion Cult

3D Render by Hexdrake

This little scene started out as trying out a character I got on discount from Rendorosity from J & S, Naiya. Pretty soon she had tattoos, was in an awesome pose, and had a reshaded Harem of the Serpent King (freebie by SP3D) and Sorrow Altar combo. Needless to say, if you like black and red together, this is the render for you. I wrote a bit of a story leading up to this and is the reason this has a strict adult rating. If you aren't into those type of things, I suggest you move on and not read it. It is not overly graphic in descriptions of blood and gore...I just think some people would find it distrubing.

The software used for this render was Daz studio with Iray shading. Specific elements other than those not mentioned above will be furnished on request.

THE STORY BELOW IS OF A DARK AND DISTURBING NATURE AND NOT MY USUAL FARE -- READ AT YOUR OWN RISK --

High Priestess of the Dark Scorpion Cult

A Very adult horror story

It began like many of my other investigations. Another cult, this one calling themselves the Dark Scorpions. We knew that they must be eliminated, like the other cults before them. Had we known the difference we would have hidden like children from the monster in the closet. Thorsen tracked down their encampment and the nine of us fell upon them like hounds chasing down a panicked fox. Thirty-three cultists dead and our only casualty was Diane who sprained her ankle when one of the cultists managed to avoid our gunfire and break through. We left her behind and began our descent into the nearby caverns where their nest would no doubt be.

The natural stairs down into the cavern were easy enough to navigate and told the story of the cult of Vapras. The remains of a score of people were left to greet anyone brave enough to face them. We took at as just another cult challenge, but it was in fact a warning and one we did not heed.

They had laid several traps that were easy enough to find and the guards we encountered were dispatched with little noise. Perhaps that was the real trap just enough defense to make us think we were encountering resistance. The real trap a cleverly disguised counterweighted pit dropped Mark and Sara into a pit of blood scorpions. We had just enough time to read their expressions as the pit doors closed, entombing them beneath. Their screams egged us on as we vainly searched for the release mechanism. We found it a minute after the screams had stopped, and when the pit opened, John vomited his breakfast and Donna let out a gasp in spite of herself. Blood scorpion venom is not particularly dangerous as the vermin rely on their large pincers to gather prey, but even the weakest venom from thousands of stings will kill a man. The married couple were not in some romantic embrace when they died, rather their joints had twisted in impossible directions and the only company they had in the darkness was each other's screams. After a brief discussion, we decided to retrieve them on our way out and proceeded deeper into the bowels of the earth, with far more cautious.

When the last of many twisted passages opened into a large chamber, we found them waiting for us, perhaps having heard the screams of our companions. The cave might have been a mess hall, for now a half-dozen large tables were flipped and provided cover for them. We were in a tight spot, as we couldn't risk allowing reinforcements from elsewhere in the caves to attack from behind, so we charged forward. It was Thera that saved the day. She made no move to stop and fire her rifle instead, she threw it aside and charged a group of the cultists arms wide open. There was the sound of arrows and darts flying through the air that undercut the echoes of our gunfire. We took the opportunity she gave us, throwing our firearms aside and rushing them while they were unprepared and fumbling with their bows and blowguns.

I am not sure that we made the right decision, but the die was cast. They all wielded curved daggers with a sharp tip and some expertise. We were experienced combatants, however, and all of us had a longer reach with our swords. We managed to wade through them, although everyone but myself had scratches and cuts. Little did we know that they were using a delayed effect poison that was the same color as their blades. It only became obvious when Michelle fell to one side, her flashlight rolling out of her hand and down into a chasm. Thorsen brought out his kit and examined her, then told us with slurred speech,

"Poison. A paralytic. It should wear off in twelve hours or so. She is fully aware of what's going on. I don't have an antidote, but I do have a counteragent that might lesson the effects."

He reached into his bag and withdrew two vials and some hypos. I was in charge now by default, so I directed him to inject himself and Leta. He was the most level-headed and Leta had survived longer than any of us on these raids. Her mother and father had been killed on a dig by cultists and she made it a point to remind every cultist she killed in a personal manner of her loss. I would never admit it, but I'd always admired her and maybe that did affect my judgement. I told the others to conceal themselves as best they could and wait for our return. I tried to reassure them with a nervous laugh and a reminder that we had been thru worse and come out on top, but I knew that was little solace as their muscles were stiffening to a rigor mortis-like state.

After thirty minutes of wandering, we finally had something to go on the sound of music not unlike that of belly dancers drifting towards us. We headed in that direction, turning off our lights as we approached. I should have insisted that we keep them on until the last moment; Leta caught her foot under an errant root and fell flat on her face, the air leaving her body in a half-shout. The music stopped and in a few seconds they were upon us.

These cultists must have been acolytes or the like. Unlike the previous bunch, they had no training with their knives and their approach would funnel them so that they could only fight us two at a time. Unfortunately, that group managed to hold us off long enough for another group to sneak up on us. This discovery came as Thorsen suddenly fell beside me; his throat cut from behind. I turned to press the attackers, but now it was just Leta and I, back-to-back, each of us facing two at a time. While the bastards were fanatics, they weren't so far gone that they didn't use basic tactics. The switched off and covered one another's retreat. Even so, we managed to kill five of them before Leta collapsed. She had more poison in her, or perhaps the poison had finally overcome the counteragent. It didn't matter to her. There was nothing I could do at that point, so I dropped my weapon and surrendered, hoping that I might be able to buy time for the others to recover and escape.

If my story ended there all of us dead via torture or quick death, this would have been a happy conclusion. But happy endings are never in the cards for people like us. I lost sight of them carrying Leta off as they stripped me of my clothing, my weapons, and my dignity. They pushed me forward into their worship chamber.

The marble was black and red, with steps leading up to a dais before me, and then up again to a red, granite throne. Cleverly crafted marble trees flanked the throne, but there was no cult leader upon it to mock me for my efforts. Instead, she stood on the dais before me, a faint frown on her face.

As her dark eyes devoured me she brightened and announced to the others "The master will be pleased with this catch," and a strange melody began to play. She began a slow and sensual dance, that occasionally sped up with the tempo of the music, only for both to slow down again. The absurdity of it all, to push my way through to the very end to have the cult leader dance before me? I watched her form a contradiction of voluptuousness and litheness sway before me and slowly her skin darkened. She twisted and turned, and when a breast was exposed as her top came askew she paid no mind. I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus; it seemed as if Leta was there dancing before me.

I tried to concentrate on something, anything to get the image of her out of my head. But the memory of seeing her briefly naked four months ago came unbidden to me. I turned away, snapping my eyes shut, but the music was in my mind she was in my mind. I felt myself began to harden, my heartbeat faster, and thoughts of she and I intertwined entered my mind. A rhythmic dance sexual, sensual. I wasn't sure what was happening; it all seemed surreal. Finally, Leta had noticed me. Finally, she had come to me. Our bodies merged in the candlelight. I had no idea what was going on around me, how much time had passed. All I knew was the pleasure of her body. And when a shot rang out and she lay dead in my arms, I saw her for what she really was. Her skin was pale, her unmoving blue eyes stared into the distance, and the dagger she was about to plunge into my back in a death grip in both her hands.

I felt hands pull me up. And laughter. They were slapping me on the back, congratulating me. As they dressed me in cultist robes, the only thing available, I heard John say,

"Way to take one for the team you dog! You managed to distract them long enough for us to recover, and what a distraction! You're lucky we saved your ass."

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at Leta. All I could see was the expression of pleasure on her face and blood on my hands. A stray thought that I grabbed and held onto the red. Yes, that was it. The red of my companions blood. I began to get angry, sickened. Yes, how the blood flowed. My eyes flew open, seeking a target for revenge, but there was only a corpse there just another dead cultist.

It was the profound realization of just how mortal and of flesh and blood I am, we all are. The insignificance of it all. And when you peel away the thousands of layers of conditioning, society, you are left with just instinct. The instinct to kill, the instinct to mate, the instinct to hold power over others and use it for yourself. And that instinct drove me to serve their dark god for a time. All the while I could not look a female in the eye. When I saw a girl, I saw Leta and I playing together as children, despite not even having met her until a few months ago. When I saw a woman, she was always there encouraging me, telling me how I saved her, how much she loved me. And when I saw an old woman, that was the end of the cycle, as we had grown old together and she shared her favorite memories of us. It was too much.

When I finally regained my sanity, it was like I had lost two years of my life. Two years of never looking another person in the eye for the shame I felt in betraying a trust. I admitted it to myself I was having sex with a doppelganger of the person I called a friend when she was at the mercy of the cultists and I didn't spare a single thought for her. I was in paradise with a mockery of the woman I most admired while she lay paralyzed on the floor; cultists doing who knows what to her before the others got to them. She doesn't speak of what happened to her. I smiled when I then realized that everyone has their secrets.

It nearly broke me again. But now I was stronger. I giggled to myself. I would show them. I would carve them up like turkeys, each and every cultist and anyone to which they had ever spoken. I looked to Leta who was on lookout with me. It seemed that she knew something was wrong these last two years and avoided me, but we had been paired on guard duty on yet another mission. It seemed fitting that she would be the first. I didn't pause to wonder where or how I got one of the cultist's knives. I just knew I couldn't allow her to be defiled, and now it was me or her. My hand was sure as I hugged her, drawing the blade out from under the back of my shirt. Just one nick and the poison would do its work.