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The goblin’s office smelled of money and the stale urban air of Orgrimmar’s Drag district. An expensive Sin’dorei jewel lamp glowed upon his desk, but otherwise no light persisted within the room. Elindia Dewshadow, a night elf woman that had the much in-demand qualities of both intelligence and curves, crossed her long lavender legs and, looking at ease in a well-upholstered chair across from the goblin’s desk, said, “This is highly unusual, Mr. Sinkle. I’m not typically propositioned by members of the Horde for work.”
“I’m not a member of the Horde,” the goblin insisted, “and unusual circumstances call for unusual pay.” He seemed to be always holding a coin, and at this he tapped it against the desk for emphasis. “You see, the Venture Company has plenty of gold but not enough men.”
She smiled haughtily, a woman well aware of her worth and the lush assets she owned, all of which were proudly displayed by the black dress she wore. “If it’s men you’re after, I’m afraid I’m not qualified.”
“That,” he said, eyeing her chest as if he’d been eager to do so for some time and had just been given an excuse, “may certainly be true, but you are qualified to recruit them.”
Elindia’s eyelids leveled evenly and her elven ears stood firmly at attention. “I am not a military recruiter. And besides, if you think I’m going to recruit soldiers—”
“Not soldiers, Miss Dewshadow, bodyguards.” The little goblin gestured around the office with one of his oversized hands. There were at least three safes she could see out in the open without even inspecting the room. “As I’m sure you can see, we are in great need of skilled men to protect our assets from the dangers of this uncivilized society we live in.”
The elf relaxed back into her chair, her lovely features juxtaposed with a manner of barely concealed boredom and distrust. “Go on.”
“Of course. Yes, well, to get to the heart of the matter, we’d like to send you to Dire Maul. There is an orc by the name of Trahlan Spinebreaker that runs the arena there. Gruesome stuff, but that’s not important. His men are highly competent, but the main man himself isn’t easy to deal with.” Sinkle grinned knowingly. “However, a woman of your incredible talents should have no problem securing a deal on behalf of the Venture Company.”
Elindia, who moments before had been sitting with mild disinterest, brightened, her glowing blue eyes reflecting curiosity. “You want me to negotiate terms with Trahlan Spinebreaker?”
“That’s right.”
Unconsciously, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She crossed her legs again, then said in a voice that seemed purposefully controlled. “Payment?”
“Two-thousand,” he replied with all the finiteness of a cheap goblin miser unwilling to spend a single copper more.
Surprised, she asked, “Gold?”
“That’s right,” he repeated.
Two-thousand gold pieces and an opportunity to meet Trahlan Spinebreaker. Elindia couldn’t decide which pleased her more: the money or the man. Failing to contain a smile, she rose from the chair and placed her hands on the edge of the goblin’s desk, offering a good look down the loose neckline of her dress at a pair of all-natural Kaldorei mountains.
“When do I leave?”
***
Likely she would never grow accustomed to portal usage. First Darnassus to Orgrimmar, now Orgrimmar to Dire Maul. The change in climate would be hell on her hair. But then again, most likely so would negotiations.
The day following her discussion with Sinkle, while the Venture Company sent word to one of Spinebreaker’s servants of her arrival, she’d changed into something more suitable for negotiations. One must adapt to one’s surroundings, and the dress she’d had on prior simply wouldn’t cut it.
She wore now an expensive bra of gold, a cupless design that did nothing at all to cover her breasts and instead sought only to emphasize her womanly form. It dangled with jewels and was accompanied by a matching thong set with one large purple gemstone right atop her nethers.
Rather than the heels she’d worn when meeting Mr. Sinkle, she’d equipped herself with a pair of ivory thigh-high boots that tapered at the thigh into segments of fabric in the style of flower petals, and these were as a whole richly ornamented with wire-thin gold stripes that wound up the leg. A pair of fingerless opera gloves of the same design just about completed her salacious outfit.
Not to be completely indecent however, she’d also donned a white mageweave piece that crossed in an X-like pattern over her chest, leaving her stomach and the majority, but not all of, her cleavage visible. This tight mageweave piece crisscrossed over her shoulders to meet at her lower back, ironically offering more back coverage than frontal coverage. And while her thong had a long flowing strip of mageweave cloth that hung between her legs in the front, it offered no such protection in the back. Her ass, therefore, enjoyed complete freedom except for the thin strip of gold thong that could just barely be seen between her prominently developed ass cheeks.
As she stepped away from the rapidly closing portal and surveyed her surroundings, she caught the eye of a number of orcs. Under more casual circumstances this may have intrigued her, but today she had business to attend to. Shielding her eyes from the sun which peaked out through raggedy clouds draped across a bright blue sky, she surveyed her surroundings in search of the guide she’d been promised would aid her.
From behind a crowd of onlookers an old orc who’d been waiting shuffled toward her. His skin was red and bulging with muscles. His back was slightly bowed and his nails, more apt to be referred to as claws, were about as long as his beard. Still, as aged as he appeared, she sensed that a power lay within him, dark, potent and deadly. The old orc was a warlock.
“Good day,” she said, gently bowing her head. “Elindia Dewshadow, at your service.”
The orc stopped two cubits or so from her, eyed her up and down, then burst out into a wheezing cackle, revealing chipped teeth and what might have been a broken tusk. She could smell his breath from where she stood. “The Venture Company sure knows how to pick them, eh?”
“They have an eye for talent,” she replied judiciously.
“Ha! Yes, I’m sure you’re very talented—especially with your tongue.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
The old warlock cackled again, thumping the butt of his staff against the stone floor. “I’m sure! You can’t fool me though, elf, I’ve done my research. There’s a good reason why you work with orcs so often.”
“Research? Then you’re…”
Ignoring her, he made a twirling gesture with one of his long fingers. “Ya looking fine from the front, elf. Turn around, lemme get a good look at you before I bring ya to the master.”
“The master? Please, state your name, orc.”
The warlock gave an exaggerated bow. “Braz, servant of Trahlan Spinebreaker. Now listen here,” he said, tapping his staff against her broad hips. “Turn around, purple lady. I have to assess you properly lest the master get upset.”
Elindia frowned but complied. She’d much rather be dealing with the target of her mission as opposed to his underling, but such demeaning customs were sometimes necessary in her line of work.
After a moment of inspection, Braz said, “Not bad. Ya got a nice hump back here. Matches those fat tits of yours.” He snickered, poking her ass with his staff. “Nice recoil. Good and round.”
When he poked her again she whirled indignantly. “Are we through?” she asked.
“Relax, girl. Come, come, this way. I will take you to the master.”
Rubbing her behind, she nodded, collected herself, and said, “Very well.”
The old warlock directed her through Dire Maul, passing a number of scarred brutes who stared at her with either open hostility or naked lust. There were mostly orcs roaming about, but a number of other beastly looking men from a variety of other races lurked within the gladiatorial city, preparing for what she could only assume to be their next fight. The smell, surprisingly, was not offensive—far less so than Orgrimmar even—and the air was cool rather than hot and humid. The surrounding forest must be doing wonders to purify the place.
“Is he very far?” she asked.
Braz grunted derisively. “Of course not, elf. Ya think I can walk far?”
She side-eyed him but said nothing. Old or not, the warlock had more muscles than an orc half his age.
“Not far at all,” the eccentric warlock continued, casually this time as if they were two friends on a walk. “You ever been in the military? Sentinel? Priestess?”
“No,” Elindia replied. “I am a diplomat with the Kaldorei government.” At his confused expression, she said, “Why do you ask?”
“Ya look like military. Every orc from Arathi to this backwater knows Sentinels are the best piece of ass there is, and with what you’ve got…”
“Is that a fact?” she said sourly.
“Undeniably,” he went on. “I myself have had my fair share, so I know firsthand.” At this he grinned and stood up a little straighter. “Half a dozen, maybe more.”
Elindia rolled her eyes before fixing him with an incredulous stare. “Really? You? Half a dozen?”
“Well, maybe it was just one.”
“Really? You? Just one?”
Braz scowled. “Are you making fun of me, long-ears?”
“Never. It’s just that I expected an orc such as yourself to have lain with at least a dozen Sentinels. No doubt they would throw themselves at you.”
He eyed her for a moment beneath his bushy brows and then suddenly grinned. “I like ya, girl. Ya skilled with your tongue in a way I hadn’t expected. Most elves are only good at archery and sucking dick.”
“...Thank you,” she said with a little bow of the head. “You have been a most interesting guide so far.”
Braz’s entire deportment changed. Suddenly he was very serious. “Guide? Yes, I suppose you do need guidance.” He stopped and tapped her on the arm. “Listen up, elf. If you don’t want to end up like that fool”—raising one of his long, gnarled fingers, he pointed to a pair of orcs exiting a nearby building, one of which carried an unmistakably dead night elf upon his shoulder—“then you’ll keep in mind that the master has a short temper. Ya can make your demands on behalf of that goblin company you’re representing, but when push comes to shove you do what he says. Understand?”
“Completely,” she said, gracefully bowing her head again. Her eyes, however, followed the two orcs as they walked by. While she appreciated Braz’s advice, she already had a fair idea as to how to deal with his kind. After all, he had been right about his research.
The warlock led her to his master one hobbled step at a time, past training grounds, soldiers’ barracks, a blacksmith, and into an ancient building of stone not constructed by orcs, but furnished in such a manner that made it clear who currently inhabited it. Upon entering, humidity assailed her nearly immediately. A strong scent of something burning, perpetuated by numerous flames ensconced within braziers, tickled her nose. Within this vestibule stood two very large orcish guards carrying axes and attitude. They nodded respectfully at Braz as he passed, crudely eyed Elindia as she sauntered by.
She ignored them and kept going, following next to Braz until at last he ceased walking and directed her attention to a modest sized room. But not just any room, a bedroom.
“I don’t see your master here,” she said suspiciously.
Confused, Braz said, “Why the hell would he be in my room? On my bed—”
“On your bed?” she interposed.
“On my bed,” he said angrily, “is an outfit I left for you to wear.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?”
“Nothing. You look like a proper elven whore. Biggest slut in Orgrimmar. Or Darnassus, whatever. But the master prefers something… less.”
“Less?”
“Less.”
Elindia contemplated for a moment then shrugged and stepped inside the room. Smiling, she said, “All right, but no peeking.”
She found some purple strings on the warlock’s bed, alongside some netting. Then, she realized those were in fact the clothes he’d spoken of.
“Less, huh?” she muttered, holding it up to inspect before climbing into it.
Some people in her line of work objected to Elindia’s everyday attire on the grounds that it was too revealing. Clearly, they had never seen the outfit Braz had picked out for her. Extending down from an iron collar to be clasped about the neck, it consisted of little more than two thin straps in the front designed to cover her nipples. These straps continued down, merging at the nethers before winding around back to cover just about one-fifth of her plump behind. All in all, it was little more than two strips and a circle, and what she thought had been netting had in fact been a pair of fishnet stockings.
Still, she thought, inspecting herself in a nearby mirror, she had to admit it looked positively delicious on her. And with one tiny strap in the back that went all the way from the back of her neck down to the cheeks of her ass like floss, it also offered the same amount of coverage for her ass as her own outfit: very little.
Exiting the room, she found Braz near the right of the entryway. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
“Are you sure your master will appreciate this?” she asked, adjusting a strap so that it properly covered her nipple.
“Absolutely.”
“But for a business meeting—”
“Wear it or go back to Orgrimmar. Makes no difference to me.”
Withholding a sigh, she said, “I will defer to your wisdom then. Lead the way.”
Not long after, Elindia and her guide arrived at an antechamber where more of Trahlan Spinebreaker’s guards were posted. This simple room had an immensely high ceiling, naked stone walls of symmetrical masonry, and a single rug of animal hide that covered the majority of the floor. Situated within an ancient archway at the far end was a more recent edition: an iron door about as tall as four orcs stacked atop one another and nearly just as wide.
“I take it we’ve arrived,” she said.
“Indeed.” Braz, who’d procured some sort of chain from his person, said, “Come here, I’ve got to leash you up.”
“Leash me up?” Elindia exclaimed, pushing the orc’s hand away. “Like some kind of dog?”
“Like a wolf.”
“Excuse me?”
Braz smiled. “Orcs value wolves. However, they are expected to be obedient.”
Glancing at the iron door whilst fingering the collar of her new outfit, she bit her lip and then turned to face him. “All right, but I will be very disappointed if I don’t nail this deal.”
“As will I.”
It was in this manner that Elindia was paraded into Trahlan Spinebreaker’s quarters, crawling on her hands and knees like a war prize as Braz led her by leash through a dark and lengthy corridor. At the other end of this dimly lit corridor sat the master of this arena-city, glowering down at her from atop a throne of jutting bone and smooth, black stone. Even from a distance she could tell that he was massive, a fel orc with skin like hellfire and wicked red eyes to match. His throne was large, but somehow he seemed to make even that look small.
“Wiggle your hips!” Braz whispered, yanking almost imperceptibly on her leash.
Not accustomed to crawling but immediately realizing her mistake, she quickly corrected herself, lowering the upper-half of her voluptuous body closer to the ground and allowing her hips to sway. Her ass, thrust into the air, waved tantalizingly as she drew closer to the target of her mission.
“Great Master,” Braz began with a booming voice, coming to a halt in front of Trahlan’s throne and bowing his head. Upon seeing this, Elindia, expert in propriety as she was, respectfully touched her head to the floor. “This elf is representing the Venture Company. She has arrived swiftly and without issue so that she may see you. I believe that—”
Trahlan Spinebreaker waved an enormous hand. “Enough. She can speak for herself. You are dismissed, warlock.”
With another bow, Braz handed over Elindia’s leash to his master then hurried out of the room. Along the way he stopped briefly next to her and whispered, “Remember what I said earlier.”
After the old orc had slithered out of the throne room, Trahlan eyed her for some time before speaking up again. “Well?” he said impatiently. “Why is a whore of Darnassus at my feet?”
She met his gaze for the first time, his broad face half-hidden by shadow. Then, she endeavored to stand up but was quickly brought back to the ground by a yank on her leash.
“I asked you a question, elf. I did not tell you to stand.”
Elindia took it in stride. Her voice was clear and pleasant as she spoke. “Apologies, Your Eminence. As your servant stated, I have been employed to represent the Venture Company on a business matter regarding you and your men.”
“Hmph! Goblins.” He gestured impatiently. “I know who you are so get on with it.”
“The company has coffers and coffers of gold,” she said, “but not enough men. Your men—naturally given their leader—are highly skilled. As such we would like to come to an agreement with you whereby your men would be hired as bodyguards.”
“And the sniveling vermin sent you, a night elf, to conduct the affairs of goblins.”
“On behalf of the Venture Company, I will do everything I can to facilitate such an agreement.”
“I’m sure you will,” he sneered.
“Indeed,” she continued, ignoring the hidden meaning of his remark. “In total, we are willing to pay six thousand gold pieces a year for a period of three years. In other words, forty men at one hundred gold pieces a year, each, and an additional two thousand gold for yourself.”
Seemingly more interested in her than in a potential contract with the Venture Company, Trahlan Spinebreaker instead rapped his fingers against the arm of his bony chair while openly eyeing her prostrated form. She had her head raised from the floor so she could look at him, and this position emphasized the impressive width of her hips and ass, the latter being visible like a pair of round purple moons. Eventually, he met her gaze and spoke again.
“I don’t trust goblins. They’d sell their mother for half a piece of copper.”
“The Venture Company is very reputable when it comes to payment.” Elindia smiled reassuringly. “I myself can attest to that.”
His face twisted into a scowl, but he nevertheless appeared to be considering. “Make it ten thousand. I will have to find additional men to replace those you take. And like you said, your company has ‘coffers and coffers’ of gold, so the price shouldn’t be an issue.”
Ten thousand? Sinkle had authorized her to accept up to eleven thousand, but she’d hoped to secure the deal at less than ten. Still, the old warlock had been rather adamant in his words.
“I— Yes, that is very fair, Your Eminence. Ten thousand it shall be.”
Satisfied, Trahlan grinned. “There’s just one more thing.”
“Name it.”
“If the Venture Company is to receive my men, I wish to receive one of theirs.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You, elf. For a year.”
Surprised, Elindia almost sat up and risked another yank on the chain. Instead, her eyes widened as she contemplated his demand. Certainly she had already expected something like this, as she always did when negotiating with orcs, and it was true that she herself often encouraged such matters to benefit her side of negotiations… But for an entire year?
“I have official government business to attend to, I can’t remain here all day for a year.”
“Fine,” he said, waving his hand. “You may work, but when you come home you will be coming home to me. Here.”
She contemplated for a moment. “And I will suffer no abuse.”
“None that you won’t enjoy.”
It didn’t seem like she had much of a choice. Particularly when she’d already accepted payment from the Venture Company.
“All right,” she said, ”I agree to your terms. So long as you honor your end of the agreement I will remain here for precisely one year.”
A grin crept across the orc’s chiseled features. Overall, his impression was of a hyena salivating over a meal.
“Don’t worry,” he said, rising from his throne and towering over her, “I’m an orc of my word.”
Trahlan Spinebreaker hauled her to her feet. The straps of her newly acquired outfit had slipped out of place, revealing a glimpse of her areolas. She dared not move to adjust them however, for he stood as imposing as a monument before her, his eyes silently roaming the exquisite curvature of her body. For a moment she thought he would take her right then and there, but instead, he seized her by the arm and pushed her in the direction of the back of the throne room, where a normal sized door, no doubt connecting to his private chambers, awaited.
“Walk,” he ordered. Then, with a snicker, “And don’t pull on the leash or I won’t give you any treats. I won’t suffer a disobedient pet.”
Such crass speech did not affect her. She was accustomed to it just as she was accustomed to the characteristics of all races she worked with. So, she walked, strutting across the stone floor of the arena-master’s throne room, the metal leash clinking behind her, her hips snapping as if she were attempting to draw an audience. Her gait was easy and smooth, silver hair gliding behind her, the chain not at all limiting her ability to express or highlight her womanly curves. With each step her long ears wiggled, her breasts jiggled deliciously, and the prime piece of elven ass that Braz had talked about swayed with just the right amount of wobble to hypnotize a hot-blooded orc into stepping forward and delivering a hard smack to it.
Elindia squeaked at the unexpected sting of the orc’s hand upon her ass, a shock ricocheting up her spine.
“Behave, pet.”
Elindia apologized but in doing so feigned innocence, her lips performing a little pout. Then she resumed her strut, just as she had before, except this time hot tension began to build up inside of her belly. Anticipation for what was to come nearly made her giddy.
No additional smacks on the rump came, but she heard a pleased chuckle as she opened the door and slipped inside.
Trahlan Spinebreaker’s bedchamber seemed almost as large as his throne room. It was constructed from the same ancient stonework as the rest of the building, with a domed roof and simple design devoid of paint, plaster or frescoes. A number of artifacts and battle trophies furnished walls and shelves: yellowed bones, wicked weapons, figurines, demonic relics, jewelry she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. And in the center loomed what would for the next year be the center of her existence: a very large, unkempt bed.
“Better get used to it,” he said, noticing her gawking. “You’ll be seeing a lot of this room from now on.”
“I am looking forward to it.”
The orcish brute brushed past her into the room. He hung his axe on a rack upon the wall and began to shed the few articles of armor he had on, revealing even more of his hulking figure. She looked away to resume her inspection of the room, but when she heard the sound of his belt she turned from her surveying of the room to instead observe him, partly to massage his ego with a bit of feigned curiosity and partly because her curiosity was not entirely feigned.
Needless to say, her curiosity was thoroughly piqued when his loincloth dropped to the floor and freed the beast within. Like any monster, it instilled both excitement and fear within her. A tingle in her belly confirmed her feelings, made her flush violet.
“Get to it, elf,” he commanded after sitting on the edge of the bed.
With a quickness that did absolutely nothing to hide her desire, she brought herself to him, her womanly body small compared to his beastly form. Her gentle hands feathered over his red skin and honed muscles, openly admiring him. Elindia had never been with a fel orc before, but she found both his color and enlarged muscles thoroughly arousing. Bending forward, her long hair brushing against his thighs, she kissed his abdominal muscles, drew her tongue over them and up to his chest then back down again, licking, tasting.
Their eyes met as she did this. Something passed between them that made her shiver. Wordlessly, she continued to kiss and lick, worshiping his muscles before slowly sinking to her knees between the broad pillars of his muscular legs, each as big as she was. Her mouth followed and left behind erotic kisses, marks of her adoration, her desire for him. A thick rug cushioned her knees. His scent tickled her nose. Without hesitation, she leaned forward with an anxious lick of her lips until his manhood nearly poked her in the eye.
Thick, elephantine and just barely engorged by the beginning of his arousal, Trahlan’s impressive cock hung limp over heavy balls that looked as if they could impregnate a dozen elves at once and probably produce triplets in each of them. This was not lost on her. In fact, it excited her, and, suddenly feeling her appetite coming on, Elindia licked her lips once more then repurposed her tongue as a sponge for the orc’s mighty shaft, bathing him in saliva that made his powerful cock shine with a thorough amount of elven spit.
“Enjoying yourself?” he rumbled as she slapped his meat against her tongue.
Elindia’s glowing eyes flickered up to him. She slapped his cock against her tongue again. A sly expression painted her cock-drunk features. Purring, she nudged his cock against her lips, enjoying the taste of his sticky pre-cum upon her tongue. Wordlessly, she kissed his fat cockhead like a lover she’d been missing for a long, long time, her eyes already glazed with molten hot lust. Her breathing quickened, her pussy tingled. Another long lick from his balls to his tip and she took him into her mouth, her intelligent lips sealing themselves tight around his orcish prick so she could do her diplomatic diligence and milk his balls dry.
“Mmmmn.” She moaned unabashedly, suckling on his bulbous cockhead, eyes glistening. The taste of him inflamed her, spurred her on to new heights of depravity, and her moans soon became intermixed with strangled gurgles and lewd squelches each time she dipped her head further and further, clogging her mouth with dick. Cock hit the back of her throat and, after a momentary struggle in which her throat squelched and her tongue wiggled spasmodically beneath his shaft, the orc’s meat continued on down into her gullet.
With a huge slab of fel orc cock lodged down her slender neck and her eyes gazing steadily up at him, Elindia gently undulated her head while working the muscles in her throat, eliciting a grunt from Trahlan for the first time since she’d begun gobbling his manhood.
“How fitting that an elven diplomat has such an accommodating throat,” he sneered. “I’ll be sure to make good use of it over the next year.”
Elindia, lips stretched wide over a faceful of dick, merely blinked, her long eyebrows twitching from strain.
After that dubious praise, he placed a hand on her head and shoved the rest of his fat cock down her throat, grinding her face into his groin until her eyes began to bulge and water and roll back into her pretty head. Grunting, he bucked into her a few times just to ensure that she’d swallowed every inch then gradually dragged her struggling head off of his tool. An abundance of sticky pre-cum and throat slime were dredged up as he did so, making a mess of her mouth and chin.
Upon being freed, Elindia gasped for breath, inhaled a gulp of air and got another girthy helping of orc dick along with it as he slid his length to the hilt back inside of her mouth.
“Umph!” she protested, gargling his cock at the back of her throat while her tongue thrashed beneath the length of it. She loved it, being treated like a piece of meat, but the lack of air was beginning to get to her. Cock plugged her mouth to the brim, balls pressed against her chin, her nose lost in a forest of bristly black hair. Helpless, she sputtered and gagged, eyes tearing up. “Gurk!”
Trahlan finally showed mercy to her after a few more seconds of abuse, withdrawing his length which now gleamed with a sloppy, dribbling mess of bodily fluids. He allowed her to catch her breath, then ordered her to open back up and stick her tongue out.
No thoughts, no hesitation. Elindia Dewshadow complied immediately, rolling out her tongue with her mouth wide open. Eager. Hungry for more. How many times had she been face-fucked by an orc? Too many times to count, but this one was special. She steeled herself and clutched at his legs, submitting herself to him and obediently swallowing his cock when he dropped it like a weight upon her tongue and stuffed her face again. And every time he directed her pretty face along his shaft she felt her arousal building, her pussy drooling around the thin strip of fabric she’d been instructed to wear.
“That’s a good elf,” he said, bottoming out in her throat then placing a hand on her forehead and slowly peeling her off of his shaft until only the tip remained. Her normally full lips quivered thinly around his girth. “Keep it up and I really will give you a treat.”
Elindia moaned.
Fel orcs were not known for their self-control. This one, at least in that regard, proved no different. After a few more strokes deep into her gullet he seized her firmly by her long pointy ears and raised himself off the bed, his hips a blind fury of non-stop violence as he pounded out her throat, making her entire luscious body tense up, tears flowing freely from her eyes like rain on a stormy day, his huge balls slapping against her neck.
Elindia prided herself on her experience in such… earthly matters. Yet, it had been some time since she’d been subjected to such harsh facial abuse and her jaw ached due to being out of practice. Trahlan however seemed to possess a relentless sexual appetite, his power unrestrained as he sought to appease it by treating her mouth like a goblin manufactured fuck doll. Digging her nails into her thighs, she did her best to withstand his assault, brow furrowed in concentration as she listened to the squelching of her mouth being fucked and the orc’s heavy balls slapping against the outside of her bulged-out throat.
At some point he stopped. She did not know if five minutes or ten had passed, but when he withdrew from her lips she suddenly felt very empty and very needy. Not to mention very dirty and a little lightheaded.
“Your turn,” he said, slapping his hard cock against her lips and smearing them with seed as if he were applying lipstick.
Right now Elindia needed air.
But, she also needed dick.
Her glowing eyes crossed as she looked up at the immense cock shadowing her face. It pulsated in virile fashion, long veins snaking their way along it like molten red pipes. The swollen balls that had beat her throat a darker shade of purple hung with the powerful promise of extreme orcish potency. Likely she had never seen a more beautiful sight.
She swallowed a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. Then she swallowed his cock again, suckling on the fat tip with all the enthusiasm of a dehydrated adventurer being offered a sip from a water skin. Her full lips enveloped his cockhead, formed a seal beneath the ridge, tongue swirling, tasting, probing, while her skilled hands gripped his behemoth at the base and stroked up and down, twisting, turning, milking Trahlan’s giant orcish prick as best she could.
Trahlan’s face-fucking had scraped away her urbane exterior of trained diplomacy and now, as she slobbered all over his cock, her gorgeous features distorted around the dick in her mouth, she appeared as no more than an exotic whore with an addiction to orc meat.
“You,” the arena-master grunted, revealing for the first time strain on his face and in his voice, “are either the best or the worst diplomat I’ve ever heard of.”
Elindia's eyes twinkled and a throaty laugh signified her enjoyment of this little arrangement, a coy smile on her face as she ducked her head beneath his manhood and latched onto his balls, sucking at them in no less messy a manner as she had sucked on his cock. They were impressive, hot, and full. Purely masculine. She enjoyed their taste, enjoyed their scent, simply could not get enough of them or his massive fuckstick. She moaned wantonly around a mouthful of testicle, varnishing it in saliva before pulling back and letting it escape her loving lips with a lewd pop. Afterwards, she gave the same slobbering treatment to his other testicle, her ears wiggling in excitement while she alternated between lathering his balls in saliva and burying her face in his sack while jerking him off, tongue lolling out as if his nuts were coated in an irresistibly delicious honey.
Eventually the pull of his cock became too great. Elindia lifted her head, greeting the orc’s throbbing pussy pleaser with a kiss that soon transitioned into a mouthful of cock and the steady but exultant bobbing of her head in his lap. She slurped, swallowed and sucked, filling the room with the filthy noises of Kaldorei diplomacy in action and the reason why she almost always got her way. The fel orc overlord’s stamina surprised her, but at some point even someone as stubborn and teeming with stamina as he had to blow his load.
It took a while, but, like always, she accomplished her goal. Another fifteen minutes or so of sucking his sack and throating his dick like a magic trick and he finally came.
A lot.
She had been so engrossed in her favorite pastime of dick swallowing that she hadn’t properly anticipated his release. And so when he abruptly roared and unleashed a hot load of jizz that splashed onto her tongue she squealed and went wide-eyed with surprise. Elindia expected large loads from orcs, knew how to deal with such loads as part of her self-imposed “training” regimen, but Trahlan’s load was just a little too rich and a little too thick to swallow in full.
Without missing a beat she gulped down his initial load then siphoned out another load, and then another, moaning as his baby batter slid smoothly down her throat into her stomach. But then it began to overwhelm her, flooded her mouth, coated her taste buds, bulged out her cheeks, dribbled around her plugged-up lips onto her chin. Sputtering, she pulled away in a panic, drooling and coughing up cum onto her thighs, her big purple tits and the tiled floor, all the while receiving gooey blasts of stray cum to the face that splattered and streaked over her elegant features.
Controlling her coughing, she opened her mouth again and sat obediently still, one eye sealed shut from a wad of cum and the other squinting with the expectation that another would seal that eye shut as well. She was right. By the time the orc finished she had enough jizz on her face to paint the room white. Her mouth, still wide open, seemed so full as to be a reservoir for orc seed. Glistening chandeliers of the stuff hung from her ears; her extensive eyebrows appeared glued to her face with a droop on the ends; and her forehead, covered in a three-part mixture of cum ropes, sperm globs and semen icing, looked more like an abstract piece of art in a Stormwind museum.
Trahlan, using his thumb to wring out a final dollop of cum that fell upon her nose, said, “Clean yourself up. And don’t waste a drop.”
Elindia couldn’t see anything but the blackness behind her eyelids, but she could still hear fairly well despite the sperm in her ears. She took a great big gulp of cum, draining the reservoir in her mouth, then cleaned her face by scooping up jizz with her fingers and drawing them to her lips, then doing the same for all of the cum that had dripped onto her tits and thighs.
Next she demonstrated her commitment by licking the cum from the cold stone floor, using both tongue and fingers to ferry it to her mouth.
When she’d finished devouring his cum like a seven-course meal she looked up at him, looking a whole lot more purple than she had a few minutes prior. A deceptively innocent face belied what had just occurred.
“Thank you for the treat, Your Eminence,” she purred. “Are we finished?”
The answer to that question came swiftly and severely. One moment the elf was on the floor and the next she was on her back upon the bed, purple legs spread and hitched up against Trahlan’s sturdy shoulders. The fel orc’s massive red body loomed over her, huge and terrible and swollen with muscles, his intent clear as day from the look in his eyes.
He tore the bottom strap of her outfit, revealing her soaked pussy. Then his monstrous member thumped down, slapped against her cunt, made her wonder how such a beast could possibly fit. She didn’t need to wonder for very long. Trahlan fisted his cock, parted her petals, notched it against her opening and shoved inside, plowing through any potential resistance in typical orcish fashion.
“Zin-al-Elune!” she grunted, eyes bulging almost as much as her stomach.
“You think I’d finish before breaking you in?” he roared, grinding his hips against her and making her squeal. He took hold of her slender legs, straining her fishnet stockings, and spread her legs to get better access to her quivering pussy before beginning to break her one deep, cervix-striking stroke at a time.
Elindia did her best to brace herself. After pounding out her throat, it was evident that Trahlan was equally eager to give her pussy the exact same violent treatment. Despite their difference in size, he laid into her without mercy, grunting like a wild animal as he desecrated her body and stretched her pussy around his throbbing girth, doing a fine job of reminding Elindia exactly why she preferred to work with orcs. Each stroke rattled her brain and sent pleasure streaking like lightning through her body, driving her crazy with lust to the point where her cries flowed like water and transformed the orc’s private quarters into a debaucherous concert performance of husky groans, delirious wailing, and obscene Kaldorei curses.
But it wasn’t that she couldn’t contain herself; Elindia simply didn’t care. The dick-loving diplomat squealed and shouted without a spare thought given as to who could hear, and the rapid thwacking of the orc’s body against her, of her tight little pussy being slammed with cock, reverberated with agonizing sweetness throughout her cock-drunk brain.
“I’m beginning to think this wasn’t much of a price for you to pay,” Trahlan said, continuing his assault on her cervix. He altered the angle of thrusts, sliding smoothly in and out of that sopping elven cunt. “Maybe I should keep you for as long as I like.”
By this point Elindia could barely register words. She huffed air desperately, those big beautiful tits that she liked to show off flailing, freed from their inadequate confinements, her lust addled mind withstanding only a few more deep strokes before she came apart.
An orgasm exploded the tension in her belly, rocking her body with an earthquaking climax of pleasure that had her body going taut, back bowed off the bed, eyes wide in amazement as she let out a husky groan before collapsing, momentarily spent. Her body twitched. Her pussy clenched up around him. An accumulation of sweat and semen gave her an almost ethereal glow, but her breasts heaved from the rapid intake of air into her lungs and her eyes remained only half-open to view the orc still rutting into her trembling pussy.
Under Trahlan Spinebreaker’s aggressive ministrations—which is to say, from the wonderful way in which he beat her pussy full of his fat orcish prick—she soon resumed her pitiful yowling, her hands clutching at the fur bedding and her ponderous breasts bouncing wildly as she was conquered one stroke at a time. For a savage killing machine he was surprisingly disciplined, fucking into her with expert precision, an orc intimately aware of how to please elven sluts with an affinity for big cocks. As such it didn’t take long for him to drive her to another powerful climax just as tremendous as the last. Afterwards, she nearly went limp, her legs weak and trembling, the room still echoing with her pathetic cries.
Taking note of this, Trahlan shed her legs from his shoulders and adjusted himself, leaning his weight forward so that he all but completely encompassed her beautiful body, his rugged face a hair’s breadth away from hers. Dazed, she gazed up at him half stupefied, every nerve within her alight with arousal, conscious of little else but how good it felt to be so utterly stuffed full of cock.
This brief interim of adjustment was the only respite he gave her. Then the dicking began anew, a brutal rough-and-tumble that had the sturdy bed shaking like a ship on the ocean. His muscular body flattened her into the bed, pummeled her needy pussy, claimed it as his own every time he went balls-deep inside of her. Fast. Steady. Brutal. The two of them rattled the room with their grunts and groans, Trahlan’s balls smacking against her ass and beating it a dark shade of purple, her pretty elven cunt getting abused so sweetly that her juices puddled upon the furs that comprised his bed.
“So good,” she moaned, raising her legs and hooking them around her new lover’s waist in an effort to draw him closer, a blatant admission of just how much she craved his cock.
Her hands similarly grasped at him, manicured nails digging into his coarse skin as he demonstrated his prowess to her in bed one stroke at a time. And, somehow, the intensity of his strokes increased, making her whine and cling even more tightly to him, her little feet dangling in the air behind him.
“I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long, elf,” he said, roughly palming at one of her breasts. “Maybe I really will keep you for myself.”
Elindia almost agreed, but instead she just moaned, too far gone to speak again but reveling in the feeling of the orc’s manhood filling her up and his big beefy hands pinching her nipples, squeezing her breasts.
His pace didn’t change, but soon his position did.
Lifting her up off the bed, he hoisted her into the air, supporting her with his massive arms tucked beneath her legs and holding her in such a way that easily facilitated the only thing he was interested in: bouncing her on his cock. And so, her legs jutting out helplessly from his sides and his hands gripping her ample ass, he guided Elindia up and down as if she weighed nothing at all, impaling her on his shaft over and over again in swift, fluid motions.
“Fuck!” she cried, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck for stability and continuing her tirade of curses in bursts of elvish.
Seemingly intent on doing whatever he could to break her, the orc wielded her body as a personal sheathe for his cock, a plaything for his amusement, pumping her with enough dick to make her go cross-eyed. Her warm velvet depths enveloped him, clutched at his tool and struggled to milk it, her need for his seed evident by her desperate cries and the simpering manner in which she gazed adoringly at him.
“You’re much more resilient than most elves,” he said with a grunt, slamming her down and burying his cock to the hilt inside of her. “But I can already tell you’re addicted. By the time I’m done with you you’ll be begging for more.”
His words, combined with the grinding of his hips against her pussy, caused her to emit a pitiful cry then gasp as if she were struggling for air, her bright preternatural eyes fluttering and her pussy contracting around his powerful cock, still lodged so deeply inside of her. Orgastic pleasure sluiced through her. Her vision seemed to blur. And when the orc recommenced his thorough subjugation of her pussy, fucking her through her orgasm, she cried out again, climaxed again, pleasure overwhelming her senses.
Trahlan’s ragged grunts and roaring battle cries became even more ferocious, signalling his own climax, during which he slowed but did not stop, thrusting into her like a madman with shallow strokes until he unleashed a climactic roar and emptied his balls deep inside of her, flooding her pussy with enough seed to require two contraceptive spells. During this period in which her womb was being sprayed with baby batter the scorching flames of passion consumed her, and she pressed her lips to his in a moment of blind ardor, peppering him with kisses, seeking his tongue, making out with her new orcish master as worked to inseminate her.
Once he was finished Elindia slumped against his chest, her large breasts acting as cushions between her and his muscles. Her head rested upon his shoulder, silvery-white hair curtaining her face, body spent, mouth huffing air. Semen leaked from her pussy, and the orc’s greedy hands upon her ass reminded her of just who she belonged to now.
Then his voice rumbled like an avalanche within her head.
“Don’t think we’re done yet, elf.”
He deposited her unceremoniously upon the bed, using her leash to pull her up onto her hands and knees. Tired as she was, Elindia could not deny the desire already rising up within her. An experience such as this did not come very often. Accordingly, she expertly assumed a position that would best allow the orc to take her from behind, her legs properly spread, back arched, forearms firmly planted, and her round ass presented for his enjoyment.
As a diplomat she’d had a lot of practice after all.
The bed squeaked as Trahlan settled into position, his enormous body gleaming like an angry crimson giant, looking all the more intimidating and all the more delicious as she glanced back at him, wiggling her exquisite behind like the horniest prostitute in Darnassus as opposed to an esteemed diplomat. But did she care about decorum in the bedroom? Not in the least. There is a time and a place for everything, and at this particular moment her place was underneath this colossal fel orc, getting her back blown out and her pussy dangerously creamed.
Only this time the orc set his sights on something else: that one twinkling star hiding between the hills of her plump purple ass cheeks.
When he grabbed her ass and prodded at her hole she stiffened reflexively. She was not averse to taking it in the ass, in fact she had a certain masochistic streak in her that allowed her to enjoy it, and had even prepared for such an occurrence, but after their previous romps she was drained and not in the best of shape to get her prestigious behind ploughed by an orc. Not that it mattered, of course. What Trahlan Spinebreaker wanted Trahlan Spinebreaker would receive.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said, forcing his massive knob of a cockhead past her delicate rosebud and into her ass, stretching wide the tight ring of her anus and proceeding further into her depths.
Elindia merely ducked her head and groaned, her silver hair masking her features. She did her best to relax as the orc bore into her, but her muscles strained and the slender curve of her back quivered as she gradually took him in his entirety, his enormous girth somehow all the more apparent now than it had been before.
Slowly, inch by pulsating inch, he slid into her, a titanic slab of angry red orc cock filling her, stretching her, parting her bubble butt with the sheer size of his ridiculous shaft. Beginning the ruination of her third and final hole.
“You know your place, don’t you?” he said, his two bulky hands squeezing her ass cheeks. She’d taken about half of his length into her behind now, and once again she could only manage a moan. “You might just be the best pet yet.”
He emphasized his words with a smack on her ass that pierced the room like the crack of thunder. At the same time he bucked forward and gave her absolutely everything, stuffing her tight elven rump with all the dick he had.
Her body flew forward, her ears flattened against her head, her eyes rocketed up into her skull, and she let out a long, husky groan that continued for another half-dozen thrusts, all of which were delivered with little care for her weary state of being. Trahlan simply fucked, inconsiderate perhaps, yet keenly aware of what her perverse urges desired. Maybe better than she herself knew.
His hands moved to grip her tiny waist, holding her steady so that he could well and truly demolish her ass, his muscular body exhibiting the full force of its potential every time he slammed into her, making her plump cheeks ripple like water. Over and over, in and out, bouncing his hips off that big elven booty and going balls-deep every time. Driving her to the limits of her own sanity, until she shouted and squealed, whined and mewled, completely lost to her base instincts. To pleasure. To the fat orc cock stuffing her asshole and clapping her thick cheeks. No doubt her compatriots would fire her if they saw her in such a sorry state, regardless of how successful her methods were, but the dumb, awestruck look on her face revealed, if nothing else, that she cared little for their prudish opinion.
“Fuck me, Your Eminence!” she cried, tossing her disheveled hair back over her shoulders like a wave of cascading silver.
Trahlan’s battle cry could have frightened an army. He pulled back on her leash and spanked his handprint onto her ass, making it jiggle even as his thrusts did the same. Little could stop an orc in battle, but in bed they were just as ferocious, just as unstoppable. Rock hard cock stuffed her at a bewildering pace, her little asshole straining from how impossibly stretched it was, quivering around his girth, tight and incredibly pleasing. Looking like it might well and truly break at any moment.
The force of his thrusts caused his balls to slap against her pussy and her big tits to swing and shake. A heady scent of sweat and sex engulfed them. Bodies slapped violently together. Womanly cries played like music to a vocal chorus of elven curses. The savage and the civilized commingling for one explosive sexual encounter.
Eventually, Elindia, weak, overstimulated and overfucked, collapsed. Still shaking, still burning with pleasure, her prone form did not dissuade Trahlan Spinebreaker. He followed her down, straddling her body and continuing to pump her ass full of cock, watching it bounce and swallow up his tool every time he sawed his length back and forth into it.
Exhausted and looking more than a little worse for wear, she turned her head to the side, her sweaty face partially obscured by hair that shone like moonlight. Proneboned by a fel orc, she mused. Elune, I love this job.
In the space of a deep breath she came again, hitting a climax weaker than the last but nevertheless pleasurable, her eyes closing and a weak moan bubbling up from her lips. The slender muscles of her sweaty back rippled, her ass constricted around the cock inside it, her pussy squeezed, and her toes curled. Trahlan, whose hands were pressing down upon her lower back as he rode her ass and attempted to flatten it into the sheets, finally faltered.
“Here it comes, elf,” he grunted, still pistoning into her at a blistering pace. The force of his base-to-tip strokes made her ass wobble, her rotund cheeks jiggling and becoming misshapen every time he slammed home into her bowels, until at last he hilted every throbbing inch of his gargantuan fuckstick inside of her, making her ass clap like thunder one final time before he exploded.
He roared.
Elindia sighed weakly.
Cum sprayed her insides for the third time that day as a flood of glutinous sperm drowned her ass like a cave inundated with water. Hot and sticky, it pooled in her overstretched asshole after he pulled out to jerk himself off onto her body. Ropes of cum webbed across her back. A final load glazed those plump purple ass cheeks, once a gentle lavender but now a dark violet from all the abuse her behind had suffered.
One final drop of cum dribbled out onto her skin, coalescing into another puddle of shimmering white seed just above her ass at the base of her spine.
“Welcome to Dire Maul,” he chuckled, lifting her head with the leash to observe her exhausted countenance then letting it drop back onto the bed with a weary groan.
Splayed out on her belly atop the orc’s bed, her breasts squished, her body bruised, and her ass looking like an iced muffin, Elindia quickly slipped into a much needed slumber, still leaking seed from both of her overfucked holes. She would need her rest for the year to come.
***
Only a month later and Elindia had grown at ease with this new lifestyle provided to her by Trahlan Spinebreaker. Her normal diplomatic duties, which she managed by way of portals to and from Darnassus every day, did not interfere to any great degree with the requirements set by the agreement she’d forged with Trahlan Spinebreaker on behalf of her employment with the Venture Company. She was, for all intents and purposes, a special guest afforded the utmost of privileges, and so long as she pleased her new master her stay in Dire Maul would pass without issue.
Pleasing Trahlan Spinebreaker did not simply mean pleasing him however, but his two bastard sons as well.
Earlier she’d been instructed to wait inside of a well-furnished tent about the size of a house. It contained anything she might need, and she lounged until the shadows grew long and the orange sky became subsumed by darkness. Here at dusk they came, two red orcs of the same stock as Trahlan. Large, bulky and menacing, Dul and Durg were the spitting image of their father, although the years had not yet chiseled into them the same sort of warworn ruggedness their father had.
The two had just arrived home from some sort of mission, and they entered her tent eagerly, reinvigorated at the sight of her luscious elven body spread out upon the bed. Soon, moans and the rigorous slapping of flesh on flesh began to flow freely from the tent out into the night, and Elindia’s wails did not stop until dawn.