Heleion Archives

12th of March, 51st of the Neo-Dawn Era. Hegranes Heimrad, Eptirrion Mountains, Nairenthian.

            "You were right, the sight up here is gorgeous," Gudlangtriel said, her ophidian golden eyes glinting with cold yet seemingly emotionless wonder. She gazed through the window panel of the Flottirion, a box-shaped magicraft sky carrier. Its outer hull was painted in raven black, with the mark of the Black Rose adorned on the wide door's side in platinum snow silver. The snow-blanketed, grayish peaks of the Arkadien mountain range formed a natural border around the nation of Nairenath, clearly visible on this warm March day. 

"Told you so!" Zinaida says with a victorious smile curving wide on her soft, peach-colored lips, gleaming as the warm daylight enters through the window. Gudlangtriel notices the excitement on her fellow classmate's highly attractive face, which is to be expected from all members of the Black Rose. They possess a secret formula that grants them semi-immortality and a fraction of the elven beauty their founder possessed thousands of years ago in her lifetime.

Zina herself is a native Naurdian from the Noyachny heimrad, hailing from the Boyarova family. The female lineage of her family has been enlisted in the Black Rose since the Druid Uprising in the heart of Heleion in 1045 ASC. Zina herself doesn't appear to be older than twenty-four, blessed with the distinctive mark of her family—a striking opulent silvery hair with mauve edges that resemble rows of fangs.

Her hair cascades down onto her shoulders, draping over the stiff black collar of her blouse, resembling the darkness of the northern midnight sky. The collar is wedged between the larger collars of her jacket, with edges framed in liquid Adramantyrium, nearly matching the color of her hair. She wears a simple, evenly trimmed thick fringe that conceals her forehead.

Her eyes are an intense blue, reminiscent of the clear northern sky. Even before joining the Academy and the Black Rose Order, her face had a youthful beauty, which was attributed to her mother being a member of the Order, passing parts of her enhanced beauty to her daughters and sons.

The Nairenthian Academies' dragonid faux leather jackets follow the old hussar design, featuring a double-breasted style with a shoulder strap that scrapes against the jacket's collars in the middle. Below the chest, there is a large square-shaped lapel adorned with horizontal stripes of snow silver. The jackets have long sleeves with cuffed ends and are adorned with two rose-shaped buttons, primarily for decorative purposes.

A slim corset vest, made of the same faux leather material produced by the Black Rose Order themselves, is worn between the Aetherna Satin blouse and the thick jacket. The blouse collars are loosely buttoned down for both girls, and their snow silvery ties are part of the attire for the Subterfuge Class. On the bottom, they wear the issued Black Rose pants, with the inside made of aetherna satin similar to the jackets, while the outer layer is made of dragonid faux leather. The pants are tucked below the knee into combat high boots.

"Look, we're almost there," Zina says, without hesitation, as she sits in her friend's lap, hoping to elicit a reaction from her Dracorith Elven companion. However, it is Zina herself who ends up with reddened cheeks, as the beautiful burgundy-reddish scaled hands, peeking out from her friend's sleeves, lock in front of her abdomen.

Gudlangtriels’ right hand slips into her pants, and slowly starts massaging her vulva while her face invades to her neck, her sweet hot breath arousing Zina as it sneaks between her collars as the Dracorith’s chin pushes them.

“Not right now.” She tries to resist, gently grabbing her wrist while unconsciously leaning close to her mauve red elven lips. “Will you punish me if I don’t stop?” Gudlangtriel asks with a faint smirk as she lean closer, her medium length layered hair with the rich color of fine wine, with the center parted revealing her glistening fair, smooth forehead.

"I will, regardless of whether we make it in front of the servants or not," Zina adds before their lips briefly meet. Then she sits back in her seat, facing Gudlangtriel as if nothing had happened, although her cheeks are even redder than before.

"I wanted to ask, but what's in that?" Gudlangtriel points at the large baggage beside her best friend.

"That is a surprise," she says, putting her index finger in front of her lips, a smug look adorning her gorgeous face. While the outer hull shakes a little, the interior remains still as the Flottirion parks down at the edge of the marble platform, overlooking a deep chasm with no visible end below.

The wide door separates in the middle and slides to both sides, while a ramp connects down to the platform. "Welcome, Mistress!" The maids, dressed in gleaming northern velvet dresses with frilled shoulders and contrasting aprons against their raven black maid outfits, greet Zina and her friend with a bow.

"It won't be necessary," a sol elven maid with warm fair skin tone and bright orange short hair rushes to take the baggage from Zina. However, the young Boyarova raises her hand and gently refuses, piquing Gudlangtriel's curiosity even more about the bag's contents.

"Let's head inside." With that, the two of them proceed into the large mansion perched atop one of the peaks, the wind gently rustling their uniforms as they walk across the bridge connecting the floating platform to the flat top on which the mansion rests.

**

"It may be late to ask, but are we okay with giving them space for the night?" Szairon, the Arach Folk Hirdriar of the Black Rose, asks her dark elven superior, standing beside her on the long balcony. The two of them watch as Zina and Gudlangtriel step out from the protective ward and onto the bridge where the winds blow hard.

Her jet-black tresses cascade down her shoulders, artfully parted to the right, framing her face with elven elegance. Their dragonid faux leather suit-jackets boast chin-high folded collars, their edges meticulously crafted to embrace their necks, or in this case, their metallic silver blouse's collars, adding a touch of sophistication. The collars are slimly framed in liquid Adramantyrium of a snow silvery hue at the bottom edges, contributing their metallic gleam.

“It’ll be fine. Not like anyone would want to climb the mountain to steal some war baubles.” Viaraema, her assigned superior says while the pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her tight faux leather mini skirt pocket, its space expanded by enchantments woven into the clothing. Under it a skin tight fishnet makes sure that her legs stay warm in the cold climate running to the bottom clad in the issued knee high combat boots of the Order.

“That seemed oddly specific.” Szairon replies jokingly while leaning onto the railing, taking out her own package from the inner pocket of hers’.

“Well, you never know. I heard that Godborn thief has been quite active in the region for the past few months.” Szairon lifts her index finger over her cigarette, a bright spark appearing above the tip, lightning it up.

“The other thing that I wanted to ask.” She starts speaking as she puffs out a cloud, shaping it into a web. “You do ask a lot today.” Viaraema interjects with a smile on her violet lips, her hair expertly trimmed into a sleek bob style, each strand perfectly aligned and flawlessly sharp, rustles as she turns to her Sister. Her red eyes focus on Szairon's soft pale white neck peeking out from between her blouse's high folded collars, while the inner walls of her suit jacket engulf them in a soft silvery glow as the sun lands on them.

"What can I say, I'm an ever curious one. But why do they want all of us to leave?" she asks while watching as the two and the maids carrying their luggage disappear under the balcony.

"Let's just say she has her reasons. And for that, they need privacy." As the dark elf answers her, Szairon gasps in understanding. The rest of their smoke break is spent discussing what to play during the night.

**

The glowstones illuminate the large bedroom as Gudlangtriel wakes up from her post-dinner nap, having indulged in a hearty meal of grilled hippogriff. With great effort, she crawls out from the silken sheets, their overly pinkish colors not to her taste. Her toe claws scrape against the enormous carpet beneath her feet as she stands up.

"Amazing," she murmurs after walking up to the large windows facing west. The scenery of the plains unfolds before her, vibrant green with hints of white scattered here and there, illuminated by the starry night sky. Though her eyes remain calm, a glimmer of wonder can be seen within them. Satisfied with the beauty of her nation, she then walks over to the long couch with Nightoak frames, their surfaces softly gleaming in the warm light of the room.

She picks up her uniform, starting with the soft and velvety undergarments before slipping into the pants and boots. Next, she reaches for the midnight black Aetherna satin blouse. The thick fabric enhances the color even more, and its surface remains durable and wrinkle-free. As she holds it out, she notices its garish, gleaming texture, reminiscent of the clear water flowing in the rivers of the North. She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the blouse, the image appearing slightly distorted.

She lets out a sigh of pleasure as the soft fabric caresses her smooth skin and scales. However, as she wears it on her slender body, the blouse loses its softness and becomes more rigid, like the shirts and blouses commonly worn by others. She swiftly buttons it up, ensuring a neat and proper fit. Then she slides into her corset vest, folding down the collar. This time, she decides to leave it open, exposing the mauve red scales on both sides of her neck. Finally, she slips into the jacket, quickly pulling up the zipper to her ample chest. She leaves the large collar open, giving it a relaxed look, before straightening it.

Then she remembers Zina asking her to tie her hair in either a bun or a ponytail. She quickly searches through the drawers and finds black ribbons in the one near the door. Standing in front of the mirror, she playfully bares her fangs before securing her medium-length, rich wine-red hair into a high ponytail. As she does so, her long, pointed ears, which typically peek out from under her hair, become fully exposed.

With that, she strides out into the vast corridor of the second floor and makes her way towards the main hall, the same way they entered. Her steps create a soft echo that reverberates through the long corridor until she reaches the large main hall, dominated by a double twisting staircase descending to the first floor. To pass the time, she casts her gaze upon the imposing figure of a frozen centaur at the center of the hall. The centaur's body is adorned with a crude amalgamation of armor from the Khanate in the south, and it holds a replica of their stave rifle firmly in its arms.

While centaurs do inhabit the southern regions of Naireanth, this is Gudlangtriel's first encounter with one in her thirty years. She takes a moment to observe the frozen centaur before shifting her attention to the imposing totem that Zina's mother acquired during her service in the Colonial Wars. Each level of the intricate woodwork represents a different beast, starting with a bat-like creature at the top, followed by an avian with large golden beaks, then a lupine and feline, with a Sleipnir head at the bottom holding the entire structure seemingly aloft.

She recalls Zina sharing a story about her mother's capture by rebels during her guard duty at one of the Black Rose bases in Central Eoran. They had left her completely bound in a storage room, but fortunately, it only resulted in her missing out on a promotion that she eventually received after the war. However, Gudlangtriel's cheeks start to redden as she imagines herself in a similar situation, tightly tied, and gagged.

"I hope you slept well," Zina's voice interrupts her, causing her hands to cease their movement towards her own pants. She manages to compose herself and turns slowly to face her friend. "Ohhh, so that was in your baggage," she gasps as she notices the lacquered arachnid faux leather dress beneath Zina's Academy jacket. The dress, completely pitch black, gleams intensely, and as Zina moves, waves of darkness seem to ripple across its surface. The neckline matches the height of the jackets, following the ancient design of dark elven tunics, snugly fitting against the skin when zipped up. The lower part of the dress transitions into a tight mini skirt, similar to that of the Hirdriars'.

"Just the feedback I hoped for," Zina notes, observing Gudlangtriel softly biting her lower lip, her cheeks flushing with a tinge of embarrassment as she indulges in her fantasies of punishment. "But there's more. The others are waiting for us in the room," she says, gesturing for her friend to follow as she begins walking towards the arched opening that leads into the corridor on the first floor.

The two quickly arrive at the far end, directly below Gudlangtriel's room. Her calm eyes gleam with excitement as she takes in the sight of what's laid out on the table. "What are those?" she asks, her voice soft and curious. "Those are Lady Bhinredith's enchanted ropes that induce intense arousal in anyone bound by them. And her latest invention, a ball gag," Zina explains, lifting up the glossy ball by its disconnected black leathery straps. The surface of the ball resembles a crystal orb with a pristine, red sheen, with spots of light dancing across its surface.

"Will that break my fangs?" Gudlangtriel asks, her expression uncertain as she walks closer. Zina chuckles and reassures her, saying, "Nah, don't worry. It may look hard, but it's actually soft. I've already tried it out." Gudlangtriel's worries fade away, replaced by heightened excitement. Pointing at the black sealing tape with its oily, glass-like texture, she asks, "And what about that? Is it different from regular old sealing tape?" Zina picks up the roll and explains, "It's similar to the rope. According to the marketing, it creates a once-in-a-lifetime arousal experience."

"Now, shall we begin?" Zina asks with a mischievous smile. Gudlangtriel nods eagerly, wrapping her arms around Zina's waist as they embrace in a long, passionate kiss. Zina's hands skillfully unlock Gudlangtriel's arms and bend them behind her back, while the rope floats through the air. Zina grabs the rope when it approaches and expertly knots it around Gudlangtriel's wrists. "Now, it's time for our little practice," she says, positioning themselves so that she can easily guide Gudlangtriel into the chair.

The Dracorith Elven friend of hers lifts her bound arms, allowing them to slide behind the chair's soft and sturdy back. As Zina secures her elbows and the area above, Gudlangtriel begins to feel a tingling sensation against the soft material of her blouse. As Zina moves in front of her, using the sealing tape first and then another coil of rope, Gudlangtriel's breathing becomes heavier and more intense. She feels a growing weakness as her skin starts to perspire continuously, only for the sweat to evaporate each time due to the enchantments of her uniform.

"Already feeling it, huh?" Using the chair's arms for support, Zina leans closer to Gudlangtriel, whispering into her ear. Her lips feel cold against Gudlangtriel's neck, causing her to let out a soft yelp. "Good," Zina adds, forcing her lips onto Gudlangtriel's, their tongues intertwining briefly. After their passionate kiss, Zina proceeds to bind Gudlangtriel's torso tightly to the chair's back using additional tape and the last coil of the matte red rope.

"And for the finishing touch, say 'ahh'," Zina says as the ball gag levitates into her hand and she slowly places it into Gudlangtriel's opened up lips. Gudlangtriel tries to speak, but her words are muffled by the gag. As she bites down, her tongue is pressed against the surface of the ball, and the disconnected leather straps merge at the back. The soft sensation is accompanied by a hint of cherry flavor, causing her cheeks to redden. "A little mercy, if you will," Zina says, her hands gently touching Gudlangtriel's jaw as she kisses her on the cheeks and whispers into her ear.

"Now, I can't wait to be in your position, so free yourself as soon as you can. Otherwise, you'll be treating me for a month in the cantina," she says with an envious smile before leaving Gudlangtriel, who is moaning and struggling against her restraints. The bindings, along with the constant state of arousal that never seems to reach climax, leave Gudlangtriel longing for release.