Warcraft Fan Fiction ❯ A Savage Land ❯ Cult of the Damned ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

- -

“Surprisingly, we have two very loyal women bound to you, and while that is all and good, my love, we cannot forget the plan,” Aylenn mentioned after they left the keep together.

Nathaniel strapped his bags to his drake, keeping his emotions from his face. “I am content with these two, and both were former servants of Arthas, like yourself.”

Aylenn read the unspoken protest in his voice, turning from her undead gryphon to approach him and lay her hand on his arm. “Are you feeling uncomfortable, dear? The plan was for those that we would otherwise kill for their actions, punish them in a way that benefited us and destroyed all that they are.”

He relaxed to her touch and brought her palm to his cheek, leaned into the mild chill of her soft skin. His thoughts remained the great mystery to her, smiling as he asked, “Who do you propose for next?”

“I want our Dark Ranger soon, but right now I'm interested in the warmth of the living. Back to the slopes of Icecrown. The Cult of the Damned.”

-

Merette flicked the vial of luminescent green fluid, smiling when she found it the right consistency. Wiping a stray few strands of black hair from her eyes, she showed the vial to her 'guest' and shook it. “It should be right this time. If you're lucky, you won't end up a half-melted pile of goo like the other guy. Instead, your resistance to my Lord's will should crumble, making you into my perfect little slave girl. My Lord will be pleased to see his former enemy so ardent on his side.”

In her private tent over looking Aldur'thar, the Desolation Gate, Merette felt safe from the war that plagued the snowy lands around her. She was but a researcher for the Cult, away from the dangers of real field work. She knew she wasn't near as fanatical as some of the other followers in their dark fellowship, but the Cult was the only place where she would be allowed to fulfill her curiosities.

Orders from the Lich King, her Lord, had given her a pair of Alliance prisoners to question information out of: a human male and a night elf female. The man had been a burden to the quiet study she needed for her work, so she had cut out his tongue not long into the captivity. After, he refused to speak to her, no matter what technique she had tried. She finally had devised a potion that would remove that stubborn will of his, but some ingredient got mixed in somewhere, and he ended up... Well, she'd need a mop more than anything to clean him up.

The woman had been a quieter defiance from the start, a holy priestess who believed firmly in the light and divine vengeance. Merette took great pleasure in seeing that devotion crumble as days turned to weeks in her care. Already the elf had given up some crucial information about the positioning of Alliance forces, but Merette was sure that there was something even better that she was holding out.

There were her own experiments to think about as well. The potion that would bind someone's will to herself was her main interest. The thought of having eager, docile slaves devoted to dotting on her had her insides tingly pleasantly, and she smiled happily at the vial in her hands. All her work came together for this one potion...

“Drink up, little Sylva,” she sing-songed, reaching inside the elf's cage and forcing her jaw open. The purple-skinned woman no longer fought her, eyes vacant as she weakly opened her mouth and began swallowing the green fluid as Merette poured it in her mouth.

All that was left was the waiting. Merette sat down on her work bench, smiling as she studied Sylva. It took only a minute for the elf to gasp, hands coming to her too-thin stomach. The gasp turned into a pained moan, and the hands began gripping her stomach.

“It... burns...” Sylva panted, then made a pained sound that was nearly a scream. “Water... please!”

It shouldn't interfere with the internal chemicals and she needed her captive alive, so Merette retrieved the flask and handed it over, corrupted blue eyes watching with rapt attention as the elf drained it, dropping the skin to pant and writhe on the metal cage floor. When it ended finally, after several minutes of Sylva's whining, the elf merely lay curled up, looking nearly asleep.

At least her insides didn't melt out. Time to test it. “Sylva, your mistress demands that you roll over.”

The elf remained motionless. Right as she began fearing that she may have killed another, the elf whispered softly, “Not... my mistress...”

“Shadow blinded-!” Merette cursed, cutting it off to whirl and head back to her notes. She scanned them, finding it all flawless to her calculations.

“You may find that troll mojo serves to prevent will-enslavement, not enhance it. More ghoul essence instead would have given it a better chance of working,” the voice of a death knight drawled from the tent's entrance, and Merette clenched her fists. She didn't like visitors, but death knights were given the Lich King's personal blessing, already a higher status than herself.

The words made sense though, and with a quill she jotted down the necessary notes before facing her visitor. A female blood elf death knight, thin and pretty, hair a nice shade of red. Forcing down her disdain, Merette smiled at her and asked, “How may I assist you, chosen one?”

“Well, first, you may tell me your name,” the elf said, entering further into the tent. Her blue eyes took in the prisoner dispassionately before returning to her.

Biting back the comment not to touch anything, she answered with forced politeness, “Merette. I am a researcher, doing important work for our Lord, as always.”

Aylenn smiled ironically, eying Merette's shape through her Cultist robes. “I find it interesting how you've isolated yourself from the main encampment of Aldur'thar. No one around to hear any screams.”

Merette stared at her, confusion evident. She gestured to the remaining captive. “That was the point, chosen one.”

A pity for you. Aylenn gave the signal for Nathaniel, and his body faded into view right in front of the Cultist. Merette's eyes widened at the sudden appearance, and he reacted before she could. His fist batted her weapon from her slacked fingers, and then he shoved her backwards. Aylenn lifted her chin as little Merette crashed into crates and a storage of vials, spilling chemicals to the floor.

The pale woman wasn't down yet, panic obvious in her movements as she called shadow energies to her hands in an attempted spell. Nathaniel kicked her, and the spell died in a sudden rush of air. Merette coughed, clutching her stomach briefly before attempting to back away from him.

“No... No, no, no!” she panted, unsuccessfully trying to get away. “I'm not a field agent! Please, don't kill me. Please!”

Grabbing her by her long black hair and her shoulder, Nathaniel hauled her to her feet and dragged her over to the two cages. He pointed at the bubbled mess in the one on the left. “Did you do that?”

“I- I was ordered too,” Merette mumbled meekly. “Pl-”

Nathaniel threw her back to the floor and drew a dagger, expression falling into that dangerous flat of his. Aylenn hid her smile as she watched him. The night elf prisoner's curiosity had been peaked by the noise, having moved to rest her back against her cage, clutching her stomach as she watched the events with lifeless eyes.

“Nooo,” Merette moaned, the sound coming from low in her throat. She eyed the blade fearfully, transfixed by what would be the agent of her death. “P-Please, I-I don't want to die. I'll do- I'll do anything you want, just don't kill me.”

The man stopped suddenly at that, and Merette felt a surge of hope. Surely there was something that he'd want from her that she may escape with her life! A boot suddenly landed on her chest and shoved her back to the ground. Merette gasped at the blow, looked up to see the death knight from earlier staring down at her. Ebon Blade? No, I would have known.

“Hold fast to those words if you wish to live, for we will hold you to the very letter,” Aylenn told her, voice carrying the cold promise of death.

Stunned and hopeful, Merette nodded. “Anything.”

The death knight leaned forward, resting her arms against her knee and applying more weight against Merette's chest. Her frosty eyes were frightfully intense. “Are you so sure? You would degrade yourself to the most vile of tasks, strip every last shred of dignity just to claw for the fleeting state known as life?”

Images came to mind for what the death knight meant, and Merette closed her eyes and began shaking. To live a life like her dear Sylva wouldn't be worth living, yet... she'd do anything to escape death. She didn't want to agree to that! She couldn't allow herself not to! An awful feeling settled in her stomach, and she had the surreal thought that she must be dreaming. Not ten minutes ago she was working as usual on her research, life in the Cult as usual but always progressing towards her goal. Now she was faced with the choice of death or... or...

For the first time since years before she got the tattoos that adorned her cheeks under her eyes, Merette felt like crying. This just couldn't be happening to her. The arrogant facade she'd always shown her fellow cultists was just that: a facade. She didn't have that great fury against the living they did, the fanatical view of the Lich King and suicidal approach to destroying his enemies, nor any other cultist stereotype. She just had her research and her life. Both of which were at jeopardy.

Her eyes, marked by the metallic shine that the dark energies of the Cult left behind, clenched shut and opened. Trying desperately to gain a hold of her own voice and cursing herself for her cowardice, Merette began to ask, “M-M-My research, it-”

Aylenn cut her off. “Your research will be burned, whether we decide to kill you or not.”

Merette's eyes shut again in frustration. The pages and pages of her notes flashed through her mind, years of work in the Cult all carefully scrawled into her one notebook. And she was so close to finally achieving her goal. Notes can be rewritten; lives can't, she reminded herself. Knowing that she truly would do anything without hesitation in order to live, she began strengthening her resolve towards it. Anything for now, and when they slip, I'll escape. I'll escape and continue my research.

“Now, if you truly wish to live, you will start by stripping yourself of every bit of clothing,” Aylenn ordered, lifting her boot and waiting.

Merette shivered at the demand, expecting it and its implication. Steeling herself, she reached up and removed the silver, gem-studded circlet from her head, feeling the cool air caress her skin in its absence. She looked down at the circlet, feeling the last vestiges of hesitation. This is my crown, the standing symbol of my free life with the Cult. Discard this, and it is truly gone.

She watched it slip from her fingers into the dirt, her kingdom lost. Heart blazing with a frosty fury and humiliation, she unbuckled her shoulder plates and dropped them. Her cheeks burned as she reached for the straps of her robe and began to slide it off, inch by inch.

Nathaniel watched the girl strip from behind Aylenn. He kept a tight fist on his emotions, reminding himself that she was a part of the Cult of the Damned and responsible for the two captives behind him. This wasn't the first Cultist's tent they had entered, either. Several males and a female Aylenn deemed too repulsive for their purpose lay dead elsewhere, their own prisoners freed. There were enough Cultist fish in the sea to be picky about who they wanted, and Nathaniel agreed that this Merette was a pretty one.

Her eyes were blue with a silver sheen, a sign of her corruption. Straight black hair hung to the small of her back. Her face had a nice oval shape to it, not as attractive to him as Aylenn's angular features, and the tattoo's under her eyes were both something unique and a haunting reminder of what she was. Her full lips were painted black, as were her nails. As she undressed, he got a look at more of her, seeing the expected fit of those part of this war, though as a researcher she had a bit more curve than Aylenn did.

A black bra held a bosom bigger than Aylenn's as well, and that came off to reveal her pink nipples, currently stiff and surrounded by goosebumps from the cold. Merette's expression strained, hands trembling as they hovered over the last stitch of her clothing. Finally, she grasped it and pulled it down, leaving her completely exposed to them. Her mound was shaved save for a patch over her womanhood, and the curve of her ass was something impressive. Finally there were her pale legs, smooth and well-shaped. The whole of Merette was unexpectedly lovely.

Studying Merette expressionlessly, Aylenn said, “You will become a mere pleasure girl for this man, and you will be tasked to pleasure many women as well, including myself. If you prove unsatisfactory, you will be punished.” She smiled frostily. “And should you attempt to escape, you will either be tortured and killed on the spot or a much more... strenuous punishment will be administered. Are we at an understanding?”

Merette nodded, eyes on the floor and fists balled.

Nathaniel began to pick the lock of the night elf's prison, and he opened it to her throwing her arms around him. “Thank you so very much,” she rasped, the enigma of her race absent in her relief.

“Return to the Alliance. A path to the Shadow Vault has been cleared,” he told her, getting her to her feet and releasing her from his arms. His attempt to step away from her, however, only had her latch tighter to him.

“Please, hero... I don't think I can- I can face the outside anymore,” the woman continued, still rasping weakly, eyes now closed as she held onto him like he was a lifeline. “I dreamed... so long of freedom, but knowing- knowing that I could...” She began choking up, tears falling from her eyes. “...knowing that at anytime another cultist can capture me and- and do the same... Please, let me stay with you.”

Hesitating, Nathaniel glanced towards Aylenn. His wife shrugged and hauled the nude cultist over her shoulder. “Take her; we can sort things out from home. I will take our new pleasure girl.” She smirked, giving Merette's rear a few pats. “You get to fly with the knowledge that your entire body is exposed to any denizen of Northrend that decides to look up the entire way back, and we are flying low just for you.” Love, I realize you are too soft to be comfortable humiliating someone like this, no matter how deserving. I'll handle her for now.

-

Flying back, Nathaniel studied the elf he found to be called Sylva as she rested against him. She was taller than his wife, with much darker skin, and her malnourished thinness could make Aylenn look hefty. However, the long pointed ears of an elf was similar, and he smiled slightly as he pondered on if it was as sensitive as his wife's.

Sylva didn't notice his eyes. For the first time in weeks, she felt hope. The man's arm was around her, and while she had never preferred humans to her own race, at the moment he was the most wonderful thing in the world, the safety that single limb provided enough to keep her going. Never in all her many years had she ever felt so grateful and indebted to a single person, and she knew she'd give all that she had and more to make for what he'd done for her this day.

She also recalled the cultist's predicament, and her eyes cracked open to see the woman stripped of all dignity as she lay stretched out on the bone gryphon, her most intimate and private of places exposed like an audacious slattern. Knowing what was in store for her former captor, Sylva smiled and closed her eyes again, vowing that she'd be there to witness it.

-

“You may rest in this room. Have no fear of the cultist, she will be caged well elsewhere in the keep. My wife and I are in the room down the hall, top of the stairs and to the left if you need us. Sleep well, Sylva,” Nathaniel muttered, waiting for the night elf to finally release his hand and retire for her much needed rest. A platter of food had already been laid next to her bed.

Once she was dealt with, Nathaniel left to find the two other inhabitants of the keep. He found them on Tyr's Terrace, locked in battle.

Varna loosed an arrow from her bow, to which Sigrid only slashed it out of the air with her polearm. Another arrow met the same fate, and Sigrid spat, swooping forward to engage Varna. The large woman drew her axe and attempted to parry. Instead, the blow staggered her back several feet.

Sigrid followed up with a second strike, but Varna had learned fast not to meet those head on. She side-stepped, somehow agile and graceful despite her size, and struck with her axe. Sigrid deflected the blow easily, then gave a battle cry as she returned with her polearm.

Varna leapt back out of range, tensed her legs, and like a cobra shot back towards Sigrid. She tackled the Val'kyr of equal size, sending both to the stone ramparts. Varna drew a dagger from her belt in a flash, trying to gouge the Valhalas contestant, but Sigrid managed to get her fists together and bash Varna off her in a single blow, sending the Vrykul crashing to the stone.

Sigrid's polearm found its way to her hands again, and she prepared the finishing blow. “Rrragh!” she shouted, thrusting downward in a lethal impaling blow, and the weapon buried its way at least foot in.

Varna panted, staring up at Sigrid. She looked to her left, where the weapon was buried in the stone next to her head, then back to Sigrid.

The Val'kyr wrenched her weapon free. “You are weak, and your fighting spirit is not of the arena.”

“I am a hunter,” Varna returned, her distaste at the defeat obvious. “I strike down my prey from the distance, before they sense me. I do not belong in an arena.”

Sigrid slammed her weapon down again, this time to the right of Varna's head. “You are our Lord's wife! I will not stand to see any form of weakness from you!”

Varna's lip curled in a returning snarl, but she didn't argue.

“Tell me, Sigrid, do you wish to be my wife as well?” Nathaniel asked. Both women looked startled to not having noticed him standing there.

“In life, it was a thought when I trained to slay you,” the ethereal woman answered. “But without flesh, I am content with being a concubine.”

“ An honored concubine, Sigrid. I didn't ask for you just for pleasure, or to humiliate you. I wanted you.”

“Such foreigner drivel. If you wish to sweet-talk a Vrykul or a Frost Vrykul, do it in action. Nothing could arouse me more than you taking me in the middle of a battle to the death,” Sigrid said, but she was grinning at his words.

Varna saw that Nathaniel wasn't going to reprimand her and added, “Show that you desire me so much that you take my body without permission. That is sweetest thing a man can do for his woman.”

Nathaniel threw back his head and laughed, a rich sound of genuine amusement. After, he shook his head at the two. “We will bridge the gap between our races eventually, but not today. For now, we have another woman here, but unlike you, she is not here willingly.”

He led the two of them back indoors to his bedroom, where Aylenn was watching Merette. The nude cultist was meek, resting upright on her knees on the stone floor, head bowed. She made a small sound when she noticed the newcomers.

“A pleasure girl,” Varna repeated as she caught sight of Merette. She studied the human woman, then snorted. “I'd have made a much better pleasure girl than this puny toy.”

“I thought that was the thing you didn't want to become?” Nathaniel questioned, then recalled her words on the Terrace.

Varna folded her arms. “Just because I don't want to become it doesn't mean I wouldn't be better at it.”

Ah, a pride thing then, Nathaniel registered. He saw Aylenn looking at him expectantly, and he inclined his head. “After tonight, any of you are free to use her as you want. You may punish her if needed, so long as you don't damage her.” Merette shivered, and he clamped his emotions again, recalling the man in the cell next to Sylva then Sylva's pitiful state of health.

“Do you want her to stay in my room at night after you're done?” Sigrid asked suddenly. “I found that in my ascension, I no longer sleep. I can watch her cage.” Nathaniel agreed, and she left the room, taking Varna with her.

Stepping up to Aylenn before the kneeling cultist, Nathaniel heard the clicking of his wife's fingernails against her armor. “So, a pleasure girl. I doubt that she dances, I wouldn't trust her to fill drinks or carry food, and I can see inexperience written all over her in intimate matters. Probably broke her own maidenhead to avoid being a virgin in the Cult.”

Merette's head snapped up in surprise. Aylenn shook her head in response and said, “You said you'd do anything if we spared your life, cultist. Time to live up to that. Or you will receive the death you deserve.” She began to undo her armor, Nathaniel doing the same.

Once they both were naked, Nathaniel caught Aylenn's hand and pulled her to him. His lips found hers, pressing his arousal against hers – relishing the familiar chill of her body – and they acknowledged the full extent of their feelings for each other in a single kiss before separating.

Painfully aroused by his wife, Nathaniel faced Merette and her lovely body. She seemed to be waiting for him, either hiding her true feelings on the experience or determined to prove that she shouldn't be executed. With her, he felt sure it could be either. “Lie on your back.”

She obeyed, lying against the cold stone floor with her body on full display, and his eyes roved her frame more appreciatively. The situation felt wrong – her actions warranted worse than this, but that didn't justify his own actions. However, exposure to so many horrors, from the shattered parts of Outlands to everything he'd seen in Northrend, in addition to Aylenn's firm, twisted moral code had him much more accepting. Aylenn had repented from Arthas for him – redemption was possible – and Merette found death, his other option for her, worse than this. He had enough excuses to sleep soundly this night.

Lowering himself to his knees, Nathaniel spread her legs wider and drew closer to her. He lowered his head over her mound, eyes watching hers for some change in reaction. None. He turned his attention down, eyes studying the small patch of hair that covered her womanhood. His hands came to her thighs, slowly sliding up to grip her hips. His thumbs stretched to the center, and he used them to part her slit. Merette was biting her lip as she watched him.

Lowering his head, Nathaniel had a taste of her. Amazing how after all she had done, all the inhuman dark rituals, she tasted like a normal girl. Nose tickled by her hairs, he set about to preparing her, licking and suckling with a skill he had picked up with his wife. He could hear her breathing deeper as he worked.

Once satisfied, he moved further up, running his hands up her sides, feeling the soft of her. He cupped her breasts, a good size, and brushed a thumb over her nipples. His mouth tasted the skin of her throat, still surprisingly normal and feminine, then reached her face. Body hovering over hers, arousal still yearning, he simply gazed down at her, studying her face. How could such a woman be so vile and horrible? he asked himself, but the Cult of the Damned markings under her eyes matched the metallic shine over her blue orbs.

He kissed her, eyes closed to feel the normality of her, then opened them to take in the entirety of the action. Kissing a cultist. Her naked body under his. He knew he was showing this vile being, this new pleasure girl, a passionate approach to making love, but he couldn't find it in himself to take her like how Aylenn wanted. He didn't have the sadism to make her first time with a man an experience more scarring that it likely already would be, no matter how deserving.

No matter how deserving. Such an awful quote.

Still kissing her, Nathaniel lowered himself and guided his length inside her, warm tightness enveloping him. He moved slowly for her, allowing her to adjust, and waited when he was all the way in. Only when he felt she was ready did he begin. He almost found himself resting his forehead against hers, but the memory of Aylenn burned through his mind and he canceled the action.

He'd never openly admit it to Aylenn, but this plan of theirs was... difficult for him. With her, she had wanted it after he spared her, begged for it. Varna was an enemy meant to be killed, a servant of the Lich King, yet it wasn't until she was mostly okay with it that he began. Sigrid, they were already a love-hate, and his experience with her was better left unmentioned. Merette, however, was one that deserved the worst treatment, and she was getting it. Yet beyond taking her against her will, he could only make it as pleasant as possible for her.

Perhaps it was the future that was coming to mind. He had no doubt she'd try to escape eventually, but the chances of her succeeding were laughable. Unless she showed signs of repentance from her present life, she'd be indefinitely locked in this roll of pleasure girl – an occupation banned in most civilized cities. If anyone of them wanted quick pleasure, they'd use her to find it, turn her into entertainment.

Justice, to Aylenn. Revenge, to Sylva. Punishment, to him.

His doubts aside, Merette had a fantastic body. Her folds were heavenly – he caught the irony there – and the rest of her simply molded onto him, the perfect figure for his arms, the complete curves of a woman. His arm holding her to him, he rolled them so she was off the cold floor and he took her place. She was awkward in her returning motions, but it only served to amuse him as he held her form and set a pace.

Watching her reach an orgasm felt somewhat rewarding to him, and relieving. She collapsed on top of him after, and he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her to her back, then kept going.

Her cheeks and chest were flushed as she stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, panting. Small moans escaped under her breath like whispers. At some point, her arms had come around him, holding onto him in return as he kept his steady pace in her. Her eyes closed, head tilting back as she arched herself into him.

As he felt his end approaching, Nathaniel leaned his head down to whisper to her, even as he kept going, “Pregnancy is an issue with you. I'm going to pull out, and you are to use your mouth to finish me off. Remember to use your tongue.” She nodded, appearing in a daze.

He reached his final stretch and pulled out, immediately wishing he hadn't. It took him urging Merette to get her moving, and she scrambled to get her head to him. She pulled a strand of black hair behind an ear as she stared at him, slick with her fluids, then grasped him in one hand and guided her mouth to him.

Absolutely nothing on Aylenn. Hardly any pleasure beyond a warm space and a tentative tongue brushing along him. However, he was close enough for it to finish him, and he came inside her mouth. Merette swallowed on reflex, showed no reaction to the taste, and released his shaft with it still coated in seed.

Aylenn came into view at that, shaking her head. Her nude form walked between their bodies, and she bent to take him in her mouth instead and cleaned him. She sat on his lap afterward as he began to soften, and he could feel the extent of her own arousal just from watching them.

“Pleasure girl, or soul mate?” she whispered to him teasingly, legs wrapped around him and chilled form resting against his heated one.

“Sorry,” he muttered back. “I thought that just once she should have something good, especially for her first time. Doesn't change the fact she was forced into it with threats.”

He leaned up to take her right ear in his mouth, brushing his tongue along it. She hummed in pleasure. “Her first time is over, though, dear. I'm getting a turn with her now, and she will have to be taught how to pleasure a woman.”

“Then go get her, tiger.” He nipped her ear. “In a few minutes, I'll be ready again myself.”

She stood from him, and as she turned, Nathaniel gave her ass a good slap. Aylenn's hips jerked forward, and she shot a wry look over her shoulder at him. He smiled back at her.

Shaking her head, Aylenn turned her attention to Merette, seeing her still sprawled out lewdly. “Sit up,” she commanded.

Merette did, focusing on Aylenn, then she seemed realize what was to come next. She glanced at Nathaniel briefly, seeing him not part of this, and gulped. She saw Aylenn sitting across from her, and the girl's nude state took a new meaning. Her eyes dipped to the elf's womanhood, imagining what exactly she was in for. She had never once in her life found an attraction for females.

“How often do you play with yourself?” Aylenn asked bluntly, one corner of her lips stretched in amusement.

Merette blushed at the question. “Sometimes when I channel shadow energies, the feeling is so great and it can get to be too much...” Remembering the question, she glanced away. “Often.”

“Good, that means you know how to please yourself. This is the same, just a different perspective.” Aylenn spread her legs, displaying her dripping sex. “We'll get to mouth techniques later. For now, just your fingers.” Merette hesitated, eyeing the feminine arousal. Aylenn huffed, dragging a finger near herself. “Don't keep me waiting.”

With a wince, Merette reached out and felt the other woman's mound, running her fingers along the smooth, shaved skin, feeling the slickness where it had spread. It was cool to the touch, unlike when she touched herself. Her fingers reached the slit, hesitating on entering. The death knight gave her a look, and something about it reminded her of the axe hanging over her neck. Anything they ask, and eventually I can escape.

Twisting her wrist to get a more familiar angle, Merette swallowed and dipped her fingers in, feeling the foreign walls pressing around her fingers. She started then, trying to mirror what she usually did for herself with the blood elf. She focused on the task, the memory and reproducing it, not on the fact she had her fingers buried in another woman, not on the pleased sounds the woman was making.

Bringing her other hand up, Merette bent forward, still focusing on her task. She tried to bring up the mindless flow of research, concentrating on new theories and potions. It was like that, hand working off the mind's instruction, nothing outside the fact. One hand had fingers working inside her slit, the other focusing on the clit.

Aylenn felt her hips moving to the rhythm Merette was setting, thought to herself, She is off to a good start. One of her own hands came to her breasts to pinch a nipple, thoughts wandering not to the woman across from her but the man behind her. She remembered vividly the intensity in which he had taken Merette, the slow passion that worked its way up.

She had been jealous watching her husband perform that on someone else, but it was a fleeting thought. It was mainly frustration that she had to watch it without satisfaction herself, and she felt that using her own hands with a pleasure girl right here was simply ridiculous, and so she had waited. Impatiently.

And now that excruciating slow wait was replaying in her mind, her husband performing it on her just how she remembered. His powerful presence, sure motions, his loving hold over her as they made love, not simple fucking.

So entranced by the fantasy was Aylenn that she didn't even realize her orgasm had crept up on her, and she came with Merette's fingers still working away inside her. Coming down, she stopped the cultist. “Lick your fingers clean.”

Face twisting with distaste, Merette brought her hands to her face and licked each finger clean, obviously loathing the practice. When she finished, Aylenn nodded. “Good.”

Crawling forward, still feeling a lingering tingle from her orgasm, Aylenn brought a hand to Merette's chest and pushed her back down to the stone floor. She rested atop her, breasts pressed together, and kissed the human, testing her reaction to a female. She grimaced, but weakly tried to return to the kiss.

“Only one more thing to practice before I am done with you for the night,” Aylenn said after the kiss. Lifting herself up, she turned so that their heads were near each other's mounds. “You know how it all works already. Simply use your tongue this time... And if I get another grimace about this from you again, I will make you do this to me every morning for the next three weeks.”

Merette quickly repressed her next grimace, grudging frustration rising inside. She knew she was doing this to live, but she loathed the task. She did not like the taste of a woman in the slightest. What she had done with Nathaniel was simply amazing, and compared to this, she would be happy to pleasure him everyday until her escape.

She looked up to the parted folds above her face, seeing the pubic hair shaved to just above the slit. She was positively dripping, obviously greatly aroused by this humiliating play. She noticed the slender elf's thighs too, leading up to an ass men would obviously enjoy. The woman that would be her killer wanted her to thrust her tongue inside her womanhood and pleasure her so that she could get the unappetizing taste of a woman's fluids drenching her mouth.

I will escape.

Apparently the elf was tired of her hesitation, and she lowered her entire cool body to Merette, the feel of breasts pressing against her stomach and her own breasts under a light weight. At the same time, those wet folds met her mouth in an abhorrent mockery of a kiss, yet in her own womanhood, something blissful darted lightly, similar yet different than when Nathaniel had been pleasuring her with his mouth.

With no real choice, Merette grimaced – Aylenn couldn't see her face – and started to return the favor. The pungent taste of the woman immediately filled her mouth, the scent assaulting her nose, and Merette felt sick. She kept licking, trying to finish the death knight as soon as possible. The cool womanhood had the grisly reminder of licking a corpse.

Aylenn's eyebrows rose when she felt Merette's hands come to her rear, cupping the flesh and beginning to message it. It didn't particularly add much, but it did feel rather nice. Her own hands left the cultist's thighs to snake under her, feeling the more impressive ass, and she lifted Merette's hips to have better access to her slit as well as knead the flesh of her ass.

Eventually, Aylenn reached a second orgasm, and Merette immediately broke away from her, relieved. She wanted to wash her mouth out. The elf clambered off her, allowing her to sit up finally. She looked to see the 'master' and 'mistress' sharing a tender moment and glared at them before hiding the look before they could notice.

She just had to get through these kind of duties for a couple of days, and she could get out of here alive. She would be able to get back to her research, finally have her own obedient slaves. In sheer spite, maybe have one a blood elf female that she made pleasure her every day.

Aylenn separated from Nathaniel to grab Merette in a painful hold over her arm and dragged her to her feet. Retrieving her own undergarments, Aylenn again grabbed Merette and began leaving the room with her. As they walked down the stairs, Aylenn said, “Now you know what is expected of you. What you must work on if you are to be satisfactory is enjoying it. Pretend if you have to.”

How dare the elf put her through all that and call her unsatisfactory! It wasn't like Merette went around like a honey-licker to other women, let alone have experience with men. She wanted her to pretend to enjoy it? Merette's thoughts brooded darkly, planning revenge and escape, but her face remained impassive as they reached Sigrid's door and entered.

A cage had been added to the room, no bigger than what Merette had been using to house her captives. Aylenn stuffed her in it, latching it with heavy locks that even a rogue might have difficulties getting out of, and she left the room, leaving Merette to herself and a single torch for light.

She tried to find an accidental way out in the meantime, but after many attempts of no success, the door opened again and the Val'kyr entered. “Pleasure girl. Tomorrow I will see how well you live to the title.”

Merette groaned, slumping against her bars.

-

After an additional round of making love with Aylenn, they and Varna went to bed. However, as Nathaniel had expected, the night wasn't over just yet.

The door opened quietly, and a figure had a silhouette with torchlight behind it. It was tall – not Vrykul tall – and slender. It seemed to hesitate once it caught sight of the situation on the bed, something else Nathaniel expected. He shadow-stepped to the shape, seeing finally who he expected.

“Sylva,” he addressed calmly. The night elf jumped and spun, and he got a revealing flash that she wasn't wearing anything under the single robe she now wore.

It took the elf a moment to steady herself, but when she did, she stepped outside the room with him. Her voice had regained the seductive undertones characteristic to the night elves. “Nathaniel, I... I don't know how to properly explain how much I appreciate what you did this day. I'd do anything to make up for it, give anything as a reward. And when I was with you today, I felt... safe. More secure than I have in my entire life, and believe me when I say that it has been long. I also... What I'm trying to get at is...”

Her fingers found the straps of her dress, and it fell from her shoulders to the floor. Still in her nervous reverence, she muttered, “If you'll have me.”

Nathaniel received an unavoidable eyeful. The elf's purple hair cascaded down her back, looking much better after her bath. Her face was elfish-angular but also longer, with markings of blue around her silver eyes, and as he tended to be encountering often lately, she was beautiful – like most elves were, to be honest. Under that she had a slender neck, then her chest. Her breasts were small, but that was to be expected because of the next thing he noticed: she was thinner than even Aylenn, still needing time and healthy meals to recover her rightful weight. However, she, like Aylenn, was a slender beauty, and her long legs were something to stare at even in her present state. Apparently she had shaved herself since her captivity, likely to appear her best for this confrontation.

With a sigh, Nathaniel closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving the two alone in the hall. “Sylva, first of all I love Aylenn with all my heart. I would never sleep with a woman behind her back.”

The determined, grateful elf didn't seem deterred. “I saw the women in your bed. A harem is fine with me too; I can be no more than a concubine. Please, I want to be with you, I want to show you how much I appreciate and – dare I say it – love you.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “I'm sorry, Sylva, but that isn't how this works. You don't really love me. You are just so grateful from the rescue that you think you do. You feel so indebted to me from escaping those horrors that you feel whatever you do can never be enough, and so you offer the one thing most important to you: yourself. Were I a lesser man, or perhaps even a single man, I'd accept, but Sylva, dear, this isn't to be. Return to your home in the night elf lands, find someone truly worthy of your love. Should you wish it, I'll accompany you the entire way back.”

Sylva clasped her hands before her bared breasts and lowered her head. “I will not leave. Even if you will not have me, I cannot leave you. I... I don't feel safe out there. Even if you don't believe me, I don't feel safe without you nearby.”

“Because I'm the only one who rescued you from that place, Sylva,” he countered gently, then shook his head. “You are welcome to stay however long you wish, but I promise you, you will only find heartbreak if you remain with hopes pinned on me changing my mind.”

He bent down and retrieved her robe, handing it back to her so she could cover up. He bent to kiss her forehead, the only act that seemed right, then reentered his bedroom. Sylva still had yet to move when he closed the door behind him.

- -
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