Warcraft Fan Fiction ❯ A Savage Land ❯ Cult of the Damned 2 ( Chapter 12 )

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

- -

“Those that escaped the raid, including Lasariel, returned to liberate the captives, my Lord,” the sole surviving Vrykul reported gruffly. “The one called the Nameblighted still lives. I had three of our best huntresses track the pathetic pack of stray dogs. They returned recently with their new location.”

The Lich King hummed, stabbing his dreadblade into the ice and fixing a gauntlet. “Your incompetence should be punished, but I now have all of them together again. Perhaps you are worth keeping alive. Let us waste no more men on this vermin extermination. Have the Cult infiltrate Alliance forces. Tell them to convince the leaders to solve our problems for us.”

The Vrykul growled his acknowledgment. There would be vengeance now against this ridiculously stubborn cockroach.

-

“No. No, no, no, no...” Tassaria muttered, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. Her head rested against her knees, silver hair a superficial mask from the world.

Selendre was more composed, but not by much. She sobbed, face growing blotchy. “How did this happen? How could this happen?!”

“Silence, you simpering whelps,” Thora snapped, sitting beside her chained form with no physical restraints, instead an uncontrollable command from the death knight Sapph holding her in place.

Nathaniel and Aylenn stood before them, powerful in presence and brimming with restrained violence. The one the conspirators had thought dead bore a frightening flatness in his expression, blue eyes cold as one hand rested lightly on one of his daggers. The woman they had tortured promised nothing kinder, fist clenched even as she stared down at them with elf-haughtiness and disdain.

Behind them stood the survivors that had been wronged, all but the slain Eydis. Varna and Sylva, formerly captive and humiliated by them. Merette, tormented for the pleasure of the two cultists. The new Val'kyr Gard was there, body dead because of their ploy. Sigrid, healed of her near death from the purging fires, and beside her Sapph, forced to guilty inaction by them. Fritha was there, gold eyes twinkling amusement regarding them.

Treacherous bitch won't be so amused when our Lord takes revenge for her betrayal, Thora thought furiously, wishing her body was free so she could wring the wench's neck.

“We pass judgment on you,” Nathaniel said finally, voice as dead as his expression.

Thora spat in his direction. “Will you rape us like you seem so fond of? Or will you- ahhh- ahhHHH.” Her furious rant broke off in a surprised sound, then a low moan that grew increasingly louder.

Aylenn smiled frostily at her. “For you: whore of the harem. Forever will the mere sight of my lord husband turn you into a desperate slattern, ready and yearning for him to fill your loose snatch with pleading intensity. The very thought of him will arouse you. Also, a compulsion upon you to ensure you never attempt betrayal or escape, as well as a compelled subservient temperament when a woman seeks pleasure from you.”

“You bi- ahhhh! BIT- AHHH!” Thora's head tilted back, angry shouts turning into deeper moans.

Aylenn had always wanted to do that!

Nathaniel drew his dagger and approached the shivering, nude cultists. The silver tip lightly pressed into the soft flesh just above Selendre's knee. “For you two, you are given a choice. I will grant you death if asked. My blade will start here and slice up your body, one cut all the way to your neck. Once I reach the end, it starts here again, a second, deeper stroke up. That will continue until you are dead, slow agony in return for what you did to my wife.”

Aylenn came and crouched next to him, regarding her former captives. “Your other option is, of course, to be pleasure girls. You will try to prove yourselves worthy of the position, and if we find you anything but perfectly pleasing, we revert back to his option. And if we kill you, be reminded that all your work in the Cult will be for naught, your ascension into the Scourge forever denied in place of the abyss.”

“I should add that if they decide to kill you, I get to bring you back as toy ghouls. I hear that your mind becomes trapped in the controlled bodies until I release you, and dears, I intend to have my version of fun before I do that,” Lasariel told them from behind the kneeling couple, grinning at the cultists.

Tassaria whimpered, while Selendre closed her eyes and forced herself to think about it. There really was no choice. Death without ascension was never an option for her. However, this time she wasn't being allowed defiance, instead eager pleasure girl or abyss, straight and simple. Was there the option of later plotting? Would her Lord again send aid for them? No, twice we failed him. Death awaits us in Icecrown as well.

Could she willfully turn herself into something like Merette? Selendre glanced at the subdued Sister of the Cult, hoping to find some sign that the position wasn't as dreadful as it sounded. Oh, blighted night, I don't want this! I don't want to be some sex toy for this man. Her mind filled itself with terrible images of what it might mean, horrifying acts being done to her body as he took her against her will over and over, and she had to pretend to like it else she would be killed.

Tassaria began shaking her head, silver hair swaying. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow and pressed the dagger point to her leg questioningly. “Have you decided?” Tassaria made an undignified sound and shivered violently, shaking her head more frantically.

Repressing a tremble, Selendre opened her eyes, feeling tears swelling and trying to blink them back. “What- What are your ground rules?”

Now standing behind Nathaniel, Aylenn grinned to herself. Her husband answered the question: “I am your lord and master, and all of these women – including Merette – are your mistresses. You will address us properly. When called for pleasure, you will answer – and answer enthusiastically. No attempts to escape will be tolerated. You will always be presentable as your best. Anything done wrong – a dirty look, looking dirty, behaving suspiciously, a slipped title – and you will face death.”

All expected. Selendre cursed herself for the selfish urge to die only with the assurance of ascension, begged forgiveness from her Lord. Darkness, preserve me. Oh, darkness, darkness! “I-I-I... s-s- Night! I'll- I'll do it...” Quietly, she added, “My Lord.”

Nathaniel nodded, turning towards Tassaria. The woman was still beautiful even in her distress, more so than Selendre's blotchy countenance. He pressed the blade harder against her milky thigh, the flesh pinching downward to the blade point. “I'll make this simpler,” he told the woman, seeing her still struggle in denial. “Nod if you accept being a pleasure girl. Shake your head if you wish for death.”

For a long moment Tassaria's head kept still, moved only by small tremors. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly. Her head began to turn to the side, the beginning of another denial. Before her fate was sealed, she deflated, body going slack against the restraining chains, and she nodded weakly.

So it was done. Nathaniel sheathed the blade and rose, gathering Aylenn in an arm and walking away from where the girls were tied – one of the altar's inner walls outside the main building. The others parted a path for him and began to disperse, many sending a glower at the three captives – Thora still panting in arousal.

Aylenn smiled at Nathaniel once they were out of earshot. “They believed you would actual do that to them!”

Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow. “They didn't have much of a choice to doubt.”

“Still, what would you have done if one denied it?”

Nathaniel was cold as he told her, “I would cut out her throat. I won't torture them, but I will not easily forgive them for what they did to you.”

Aylenn smiled again and patted his arm. “Don't get so worked up, dear. Tortured death knights hardly feel pain.”

Nathaniel tugged her, squeezing her body to his. “If you can feel pleasure, you can feel pain. Now, let us plan our next move.”

-

Nathaniel spun when his ears caught a sound behind him, something very quiet and cautious to have snuck that close. He saw the sleek form of the goddess Har'koa and relaxed, sheathing his weapons away. The snow leopard goddess curled her feline face in amusement. “Greetings, Nathaniel.”

“Har'koa,” he returned, smiling at his old friend. Aylenn stepped beside him, interested in the Loa goddess.

She had sleek white, spotted fur. Aspects of her head glowed with blue fire – eyes, nose, mouth, and several of her spots. Two fangs nearly as long as Nathaniel was tall stretched from the upper portions of her mouth, protruding below even her lower jaw. She was a fearsome beast, cunning, and as he well knew, powerful. She was huge too, the ridge of her back nearly thrice his height. Somehow, she still prowled in near silence.

Har'koa studied them, particularly Nathaniel. “I noticed you sought to desecrate my altar with acts of passion with your women.”

Nathaniel blanched suddenly, a greater reaction than he gave most things. “I didn't even think of that. I'm so-”

Har'koa laughed, deep and feminine voice sounding normal yet was an unnatural sight from an animal maw. “Be at ease. My mate and I have done far more on my sacred ground.”

Nathaniel sighed in relief, giving her a look. She had become more open since the uprising trolls' fall in Gundrak, but her personality combined with her frightful power made her unpredictable for how to best treat her.

The snow leopard goddess turned her head towards another part of the temple. “Those you hold captive, however. I see you intend to mate with them as well. I ask that you find another location for it. I would not appreciate the defilement here of them in such a ritual.”

Nathaniel nodded his acceptance. Har'koa sat herself down, studying him again with her burning eyes. “What happened to you, Nathaniel? When you saved my life, you were with the Alliance, working your way towards Icecrown to overthrow that accursed king. That was months ago. Now you come, beseeching my mercy, carrying not one wife but several.” Here, she turned amused. “In addition to several concubines and slave girls. However, I hear stirrings in the factions of this land. Many whisper slanders against your name, including former allies. They call you... Nameblighted.”

The quiet Aylenn turned her attention to Nathaniel, touching the back of his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He showed no signs of distress. “I tired of the Alliance's petty squabbles with the Horde. I joined the Argent Crusade. However, at what is now called the Broken Front in Icecrown... So many of us died. Horde, Alliance, the Crusade. I did what I could, assaulting the leaders, but... It was a loss, we all knew it.”

His arm going around Aylenn, he continued, “I had grown weary of the Crusade before that battle, but still I followed. In the final throes of it, I encountered this woman, lieutenant of the Scourge forces. I beat her, subdued her, and offered her mercy if she renounced Arthas. She did, and with her now under my protection, I left the Crusade.”

Har'koa made a pensive purr. “Smart to join the Crusade. This doesn't explain the hostile forces moving against you.”

Aylenn grinned wryly. “We are taking the Lich King's useful subjects and subduing them under us, shaking the foundations that hold his kingdom high. This has incurred his wrath. At the same time, the Alliance desires their deaths instead of our short-leashed grace, and our refusal has them falling over themselves in 'righteous' anger. The Crusade, of course, rejects Nathaniel for turning his back during the battle, grew hostile when they heard of my seizure.”

Studying the pair for a silent moment, Har'koa finally nodded slowly. “Your standards of justice are different than my own. I see no wrong in your actions, natural among beasts to dominate your foes. Though, it appears redemption is a path you leave open. Regardless of others, I know you to be a good man, and I still owe you a great debt, Nathaniel. It has been nice to finally speak together. I will see you again.”

The goddess prowled away, vanishing in the woods of Zul'Drak, scarred but no longer tainted with the evil of the Scourge to the extent it once was. The corrupted trolls had been purged in the many adventurers' passing. Nathaniel and Aylenn watched Har'koa go, the higher being's parting seeming rather abrupt.

Once she was gone, Aylenn hummed softly to herself. “I wonder if she has a human form...”

Nathaniel glanced at her, saw the sparkle in her eyes and realized her implication. Covering his face with his palm, he muttered, “Yes, and let's try for Alexstraza herself while we're at it.” Aylenn clasped her hands together and smiled gleefully at the thought.

-

“Honey, please don't tell me you're the one that blew this necropolis out of the sky,” Aylenn said as they climbed the slopes of Kolramas. “Because this is just ridiculous now.”

Nathaniel laughed, shaking his head. “It was down when I came here. Though, it was a paladin and I that slew those still occupying it after its destruction. That was just before I met Har'koa.”

Once at the top and finding it free of Scourge, they both jumped into the central chamber, looking around. This is where they would handle Selendre and Tassaria for the 'breaking in,' as Aylenn affectionately dubbed it. Nathaniel sat on one of the left over crates, feeling the aged and weather-exposed wood creak painfully at his weight.

Folding his arms, Nathaniel turned to Aylenn. “Am I spending too much time with you of late?”

Aylenn paused her inspection, turning towards him and brushing a strand of red from her eyes. “Considering recent circumstances... No.” She turned from him, giving a small sigh and a shrug. “Considering jealousy from the others, yes, much too much on me.”

“I have a problem with that,” Nathaniel said. “I will not have limitations on my time with you. If they are my wives and lovers, you are my queen.”

“ I'm sure they already understand that, but it won't hurt making it a point,” Aylenn told him idly, though she felt warm satisfaction at his words. Nathaniel's queen... Shaking her head, Aylenn continued, “You should break in the pleasure girls alone, however - separated into singles at a time, of course.”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Won't they need to experience a female?”

“Oh, those two have experienced females often enough already,” Aylenn said, grinning.

Blinking in surprise, he asked, “How do you know?”

Aylenn shrugged, giving him a wink. “Intuition.”

Nathaniel smiled and shook his head. “Alright, let's get the first.”

-

Selendre felt a shiver pass through her that wasn't from the cold. Nathaniel took her hand and pulled her from his gryphon, sending the bird off. That left her, shamefully bare, and him in the protected pocket of this fallen necropolis. This building was a powerful reminder to her, a silent statement that the Scourge were not entirely unbeatable. Nathaniel navigated this ruin like he knew it well, and she was afraid to ask why.

She turned from her quick study of the room to see him laying out a blanket, and that terrible reminder passed through her of what was in store. She felt trapped to the path, like there were ways out she was only missing. Nothing was coming up, and now enclosed in this room with him, she felt the opportunity had passed. She barely stopped a low moan of despair, naked body shivering.

He had told her that during the first time, none of the rules were in effect yet. Technically, she felt she could try and escape without punishment, but she knew there must be limits. Still... there was an easy way out of the room. The thought bore consideration, trying to distract herself of what had to be coming.

“Lie down,” he told her, and Selendre closed her eyes, hovering back for the moment while furiously thinking of another way. When her pause grew too long, he said again, “Lie down, Selendre.”

Selendre obeyed, moving slowly. She sat on the blanket, and his hand gesture had her lie back. She wanted to cover her body from his eyes, those blue orbs that had threatened death so casually, but it was much too late to hide anything. Still she thought, tried to find ways out, ignored the way her heart accelerated while sinking when she noticed him beginning to remove his armor.

She shivered when his naked torso came into sight. He was handsome – and there was a strange allure to that jagged hook down his chest – but it didn't change her situation, the beast of her own imagination showing her a thousand cruelties, the revulsion of this man taking her body without her consent.

Even knowing she was one of the enlightened and her open approach to pleasure, she was still a woman. That she'd do the same to any captive didn't relieve her even slightly, instead urging the thought that she might never do so again if he'd only just let her go. She remained quiet, simply shivering when his eyes returned to her.

His boots came off, followed by his pants. Selendre closed her eyes again, pretending she was elsewhere, but the sound of the final clothing being removed stirred up all of the present. She knew he was standing over her, only moments from taking her. Why couldn't she have chosen death!

She heard him begin to move, and all resolve crumbled. Selendre's eyes opened, catching his nudity, seeing him beginning to lower himself to her, and she gasped. Turning her body, she tried to move away from him, to escape, to avoid it.

Hands found her shoulders, pulling her back to the center of the blanket. “Nooo,” she moaned, struggling against him futility, acceptance to her fate warring for dominance again.

Nathaniel stared down at her, expression devoid of what his thoughts or feelings might be. Selendre cared little, only wanting to get away, but she forced herself to calm, relax, knowing it was necessary. Once she was still, the man's expression softened with something akin to care, and he moved to lay atop her.

Something hard and warm brushed her leg, and all of her fears and doubts came back again. Tears began to sting her eyes as she fought him, arms coming to his chest and shoving at him, legs curling up so she could stand and run. The man was solid, resisting her force, and instead he pushed her down again, legs straddling her and sitting on her to keep her down.

His rear on her was warm, only another reminder, and Selendre found her arms fighting against his hold. She voiced no complaint, knowing her physical attempts were no more than just more delay.

Nathaniel watched her struggles, another struggle within him trying to clamp down the response of his emotions. There were things a man was taught in boyhood, and he now was in nearly all ways defying that teaching right now. However, it was... necessary. Odd, that thought felt as hollow now as it did with Merette.

Thinking of the pleasure girl bolstered him, however, and he hoped that one day this attractive young... woman, murderer, rapist, monster would one day come to accept it like Merette had (did those words not apply to him as well, only as a man?). He pinned down Selendre's arms, feeling her hips still writhe against his in pitiful efforts.

The black haired cultist was a cute one, another part of Nathaniel noticed. Her body could be compared to Merette's, pale skin and pleasant curves, the style of their black hair no different when splayed out against the bed like this. The differences were there though with darker nipples, lower hanging breasts, completely shaven womanhood, rounder thighs. The main difference was her face: the generous mouth most eye-attracting before her smooth features, the small nose, her ears peaking out a contributing factor.

Already aroused by her, Nathaniel's length pointed upward from where he sat on her. He used one arm to hold down both of hers, barely ignoring the blotchy cheeks on her face and the damp trails from her closed eyes, and he lowered his hips. His free hand and knee spread her legs, feeling them trying to snap back shut, and she was presented to him.

He guided the head to her, felt her buck away and saw the tremble run through her. The camp flashed through his mind; Merette screaming in pain as they used unholy arts for pleasure, Aylenn's battered form, Eydis no longer among the living... The last flashed through him fiercely, and Nathaniel pressed himself inside her.

Her flesh gave way in surge of pleasure, the mildly damp walls giving a more intense friction. Selendre gasped and made a sound, shaking her head, but it was already done. Her struggles against him ceased, eyes opening up to view her taking. Nathaniel only looked down at her, the cultist tattoos and shined-blue eyes. They were united as one now, the sinner and the letch.

“Bring your arms around me,” he told her, releasing her arms and brushing hair back from his eyes.

Selendre did so, loosely holding his toned back, noticing the ripples of the muscle under it with an odd fascination. She was in the hopeless state now, patiently waiting for when his cruelties unveiled themselves. Ruthless fucking, humiliating acts, perhaps even her rear role claimed. The feel of him inside her wasn't unpleasant – yet. She could feel the bulge of his sac resting against her near the base of his length.

He started then. Selendre felt him leave her depths then return, the new thrust another jolt of pleasure. Again, and again. He was lying with her normally, so for now she took her pleasure while she could, watching his form move above her. He was attractive. Another situation, and she would be pleased to have him a love slave for her.

He continued long enough for Selendre to begin to wonder. It had become quite pleasant, and she was consciously restraining any moans or sighs. Of course, this paled so far from the experience of sex while channeling, but it still was pleasure at a natural form. She opened her legs wider for him to have deeper access, and his rhythm accommodated smoothly.

The moment finally came when Nathaniel slowed, and Selendre almost began to regret the loss of his steady pumping into her. She hardened herself for whatever might come next, satisfied that she got at least something out of it. With him still inside her, filling her, his arms surrounded her body and... rolled them over so she was atop him, legs straddling his either side.

“Continue, pleasure girl,” he commanded softly, studying her naked torso, her face. He was glad to see her face had cleared of her woes, no matter how deserving. Eydis made that one justified.

Selendre felt his eyes on her and heard his words with disbelief. He was going to let them continue and let her control the pace? Did he want to reach an end before stuffing her holes with unpleasant objects?

A hand slapped Selendre's ass with a loud crack, and she shrieked in surprise, arching her back and thrusting her chest at him. Both of his hands cupped her rear, fingers massaging and fondling the stinging flesh. Selendre understood the message, and she braced her hands and began to bring herself up and down over him, finding a rhythm of pleasure that had her bouncing on his length.

She admitted he was a good size, feeling wonderful inside her as a small distraction from her urge for the channel-pleasure. With some angling of her down thrusts, she got his shaft to hit the right spots inside her, and she couldn't prevent sighing in pleasure at it. His hands on her she felt move, one palming the bottom of her stomach and beginning to slid up. Her breasts tingled in anticipation, the tips tightening.

Nathaniel was glad to see her active, her voice even owing up to the pleasure. Finding her bouncing breast with his hand, he used his fingers to give it attention, especially the large nipple standing stiff for him. One of her hands came up and held his, urging his hand on. Her skin was soft against his, much like her had felt when lying atop her.

He left the supple flesh of her chest to return to her waist, running his hands along her thighs before holding them. He was nearing his end. He told her as much, adding, “Use your mouth.”

“I'm almost getting there,” she panted, continuing her motions.

Nathaniel's eyebrows rose, and he quickly pulled himself into a stern look. He spanked her a second time, seeing her movements jerk to a stop in surprise, and he gave her a hard third for good measure. “Now!”

Selendre scrambled off, eyes wide, and she muttered softly, “Yes, master.”

She quickly took him into her mouth, beginning with a suck and running her tongue over him, surely tasting herself there. A pleasure girl had to grow used to her own taste. She slid her head up and down, sliding her lips and tongue over him, and he felt himself on the verge of orgasm.

Selendre was incredibly cute even with her mouth occupied as such, the ears poking through her black hair the definite decider. Her cheeks had drawn in, her lips nearly made for this work. One hand fondling his balls was the finisher, and Nathaniel felt himself release in her mouth.

At first she appeared indigent, eyes opening angrily, but she met his own gaze and her look dropped. Her tongue gathered his seed and she swallowed dutifully, making sure she got everything before giving a final suckle and releasing him from her mouth. She licked her lips once, then turned a pleading look at him, convincing by sheer attraction.

“Please, I need to finish now. I-”

Nathaniel sat up quickly and grabbed her, then he turned her over his lap, rear upright. “As a pleasure girl, you don't get to ask for pleasure. Also, you must address me by title.” His hand cracked down on her already reddened rear, drawing back for another.

He had to admit, she had a delightful ass.

-

Tassaria. By the light, that woman was gorgeous.

Nathaniel admired her nude form, open to his eyes with her fists clenched tightly at her sides. She seemed more composed than Selendre had been at the beginning but also more resigned to hopelessness. Her eyes remained closed, not clenched shut, while her features were smoothed and relaxed. Her wonderful legs were closed, however, leaving only a view of the small patch of silver curls.

Stripped again himself, he approached her. He kneeled on the blanket beside her, finding her lovely even up close. Her skin, that flawless ivory, looked like a layer of silk over her body. He was sure it was as soft. Having reached a climax not too long ago, he had patience, instead wanting to discover her body more in depth.

“To start, I am going to inspect you,” he said. She might be the first he did, but Aylenn was fond of the practice.

Her eyes opened, showing cultist blue with their unnatural shine, and she said simply, “Yes, my Lord.” And her eyes closed again.

Nathaniel started with her face, chiseled features angular and sharp like an elf, with high cheekbones and a small mouth. His fingers touched the dark cultist tattoo, tracing along the curved mark. Touching her skin, it was cool and enchantingly soft, exactly what he expected yet unique. From the tip of her nose he traced up, curving along the rim of the eye and feeling the fines hairs of eyebrows. He reached her full, lustrous silver hair, felt it well-maintained and pleasant. He concluded with brushing lightly across her lips, looking forward to kissing them.

Her neck and shoulders were slender, her arms the same yet not bony. He felt along her left one, light muscle defining it under that silk-for-skin. Her hands were the same, smallish but nice, and he moved on. Her breasts were bigger than Aylenn's, rounded nicely, and although nothing impressive in size, her timeless beauty demanded this for perfection. He cupped them, weighed them and tested the flesh. Her nipples were the color of rose, attractive buds for the mounds of her bosom.

Down the marble sculpture he went, stomach tight, his hands feeling it all, enthralled in this woman. Even her bellybutton received a dip of a fingertip. He spread her legs for her womanhood, noting the slender strength to them. His hands continued with her pearled thighs, rubbing up to where they met her core, slowly brought them together. The pubic hair was sparse, confined above similar to Aylenn, and the hands that saw for him only passed through the brief curls to reach her womanhood, feeling the shape of her mound, the definition of her slit and the lips of it. She was beginning to dampen.

Having her roll over, Nathaniel's hands continued along her back, a treasure meant for a backless ballroom gown – and it would be more teasing than a slattern's loose blouse. After the dips of her back, his hands found her rear, two cheeks of not curved flesh but a sculptor's perfection. He had her flex it, seeing them draw together under the same spelled appeal, then pulled them apart for more, seeing the valley left, then felt down to the end of her rear to where it ended at leg, the backs of those all the same conjoined parts of physical allure.

“Finished,” he muttered to her, keeping his wonder out of his voice. Here was a woman he admitted to match Aylenn. He would enjoy this woman in his room each night, a private pleasure girl reserved only for him.

Tassaria turned over, and she saw the approval in his eyes. Her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile she never allowed to finish. Even an enemy, her captor, felt drawn to her. Men thought much through their pants and not their heads regarding women, but this man, her 'lord,' had studied her with more than lust, his hands her guide to his thoughts. He appreciated all of her, like many did, and she felt at least that even if the rest of her existence was hell.

His hands had felt nice on her as well, enough to get her arousal started – making sure she had something so it wasn't painful when they truly began.

Coming back to his real senses, Nathaniel noticed he was painfully erect. He was eager for this woman, length straining in its want. However, while Tassaria's physical form was outstanding, the way she presented it wasn't as flattering as she could – hands not yet on the deadly weapon of pleasure girl seduction. She appeared almost normal the way she sat and watched him, and it helped disillusion him from her body's charm.

That was a matter for the future, when Aylenn or Lasariel got hands on her. In the present, she was his for the taking, only one last blow to his moral spirit before matters finished and he could truly enjoy all that which was his – and Aylenn's. Leaning over Tassaria, his hand buried itself in her hair and gently brought her head up for the first testing kiss.

Her lips were damp, soft, unfamiliar as they hesitated in how to respond to his own. From the hand holding her head, Nathaniel's thumb brushed along her cheek when they separated, his eyes studying her face as she stared back at him. Again a cultist in a situation that wasn't bloodshed, nearly the exact opposite, though he knew she would gladly try for his life given the first opportunity.

Choosing which girls to take with Aylenn was a slow process, involving stealth, observation, and patience, given such massive pools of candidates. Merette had been attractive enough but mostly convenient while they tested the possibility – could they truly acquire a cultist? For the latter two, Selendre was also attractive enough and an important figure. Tassaria had been the same, but how surprised they had been to find the jewel beneath those obscuring robes!

Presented with two options now, to take the marble statute with a sense of reverence or to begin the conversion of pleasure girl, Nathaniel chose to see her body in motion. He moved them so she had mounted him, resting on his thighs and blank to the doubts and fear Selendre had displayed. His manhood stood between her and his eyes, while her corrupted orbs lowered to pass judgment on him.

No stranger to intimacy, Tassaria still felt an idle curiosity for the man she found herself bound to. More lean and fit than any of her previous toys, strength a silent presence in the outlines of his battle-forged muscles, his extremely noticeable red gouge down his chest intriguing – she recognized a cursed wound when she saw one and wondered how he came across one so potent, as well as how he wasn't sobbing in the agony it must be causing him.

His standing member drew her attention, knowing it would be her source of pleasure (and potential torment) if she were to ever have any. It would do well, and past urges made her want to run her hand along the skin of it, vaguely remembering warmth and the pulse, the skin oddly soft to touch. Knowing her new position, she felt it might be best that she did so anyways.

She tentatively grasped him in one hand near the base, everything she remembered true with him, and she stroked upwards, watching him for reaction. This Nathaniel didn't strike her as anything but the silent lover, not easily swayed and moved by such pleasures. Her hand subtly did her own exploring of him, etching the shape of him in her memory, while her other hand took the task of the rest of his package, under the ready tool.

Foreplay hadn't been expected by Nathaniel, but he settled himself for enjoying it and watching her ministrations. The woman was no stranger to her actions, but she moved with an odd air of intent study. He felt spoiled by previous encounters for thinking it, but he recognized that her handwork needed improvement.

When she finally released him, Tassaria's loins yearned for the next occupation. With recent efforts of her Lord in Northrend and the subsequent war, it had been long since she had even seen a naked man, let alone felt one. This one was physically appealing and equipped well enough to please her. Channel-pleasure with Selendre was an empty pleasure, no matter how great, and now she wanted something full, deeper.

Pleasure girls were supposed to be eager, appearing joyful when pleasuring their partners. Tassaria couldn't bring about any such facial expression, but she managed to assume it internally: eagerness for him. Mental focusing and the ability to make her body feel particular emotions was an old lesson in the arcane school she had defected from, now controlling her thoughts to make her a pleasing pleasure girl. She refused to disappoint and face bloody execution.

Raising her hips, Tassaria brought herself over his manhood, feeling the last strand of hesitation when it was lined up to penetrate her slit. There was no other option, neither realistically or even internally anymore. She lowered, feeling him began to spread her folds to sink inside her, and the warm appendage filled the channel all the way until she reached his hips. Feeling it pulse inside her was a surprise, not remembering it from the last time she had done this.

Not for the first time, Tassaria cursed the sexual ritual she had partaken in several years ago. It ruined the sensation of honest pleasure, only a throb and tingle unmatched to that mind-shattering ecstasy. That was all relative, however, and she knew that the pleasure now was real as it would be otherwise, and the something was preferred to nothing.

She ground herself up and down his groin instead of raising her hips, the motions moving his length inside her while keeping her filled. She felt herself smile, remembering her favorite motion with a man. The lusts she demanded of herself kindled themselves of their own volition, a true want for this on a primal level.

Sliding herself forward and back became a focus, picking up pace. The motions of his length against her walls weren't large, but it came rapidly, a constant sliding along her that sent unending bursts of pleasure inside her core. The most of the work came from her stomach, and the intense work she put into making herself so irresistible had granted those muscles the perfect endurance for this work.

There were times Aylenn had moved in similar ways to this with Nathaniel, usually a grinding lull after a release, but the way Tassaria committed to it produced something of equal pleasure to full thrusting. She slid around his entire length in rapid motions, back and forth. However, the real interest for Nathaniel was the show her body produced for him. Her abs contracted and released with each motion, hips pumping along his body. It appeared a mesmerizing dance, the movement of her body an erotic spell.

Nathaniel turned his eyes away from Tassaria to gaze at the open sky above them, arms behind him to hold him upright. The pleasure continued, but he found his thoughts clearing, the image of her still burning in his mind. I haven't been so foolishly obsessed by a woman since my first time with Aylenn. Always back to her, his cherished wife. Compared to Aylenn, some of Tassaria lost her luster.

He focused back on his present lover, not losing himself again. Tassaria was merely beautiful, and he was quite glad to have her. All those allusions to statues his mind produced about her, Nathaniel found himself considering it in a more literal sense. An admirable piece if they were to have one sculpted in Tassaria's image. They would need a home before he could afford to consider such luxurious decorations, however.

Tassaria saw his gaze return to her, no longer so mad with lust as he once had been. It was disappointing in a way, yet relieving in another, knowing his mind was with her now. She was growing tired, the muscles of her stomach burning. Regretfully, she slowed her rocking and began to thrust against him in traditional intercourse, feeling momentarily empty when her hips raised to take him in again.

He didn't leave all the work to her from there, returning her small thrusts with powerful movements of his hips. She fell into a trance of the motions, physical exertion and pleasure coming together in a kind of alchemy that transfixed her, began to define her state of mind. All became centered on finding her release, using him to get there and giving back the same opportunity.

At some point she had laid herself against him, arms clutching him while his encircled her. One of his arms was stooped low and supporting him in his returning motions. Tassaria barely realized she had grown vocal, breathing intimate cries into the space beside his head, the sounds finding his ear.

That they were enemies lost meaning to her, instead now consumed with something deeper and more primal than animosity. Nothing else mattered in this moment – the war, the Cult, the Lich King – only this man and her, their union, the impending release. She forgot the pleasure girl business, his ownership over her. She held him and rode him like a soulbound lover, blinded by the forgotten love and passion.

Nathaniel felt the deeper meaning of her motions, her countenance. She had fallen into an illusion about them, dispelled only to revert back back to the starting state of quiet loathing for him, and her release was the other end of it. Still, he reveled in their coupling, the mating that was growing more and more desperate between them.

Only Nathaniel's time with Selendre allowed the silver haired woman to finish first, gasping as she held him tighter, her womanhood squeezing him. Her hips had slowed, each thrust distinct and meaningful. Nathaniel was too close and too enthralled to slow now, and he quickly rolled them so she was on her back and continued, her sounds coming surprised and mixed with moans.

He clutched her slender body to his, more familiar now with it. His hips met hers with soft sounds, his sac loosely slapping her bottom. The smell of their lovemaking had overridden everything, from the dank necropolis to her fragrant perfume, while his mouth found her neck and tasted her skin – now colored with a soft flush. All five senses filled with Tassaria, and his body could hold out no longer, too late for having her mouth finish him.

Nathaniel pulled out at the last split-second, seed bursting out onto the blanket between Tassaria's parted thighs. His breathing was shaky, orgasm an extended experience with multiple powerful releases, ending with an exodus of energy from him. He lowered himself beside Tassaria with a great sigh, feeling himself begin to soften, still wet with her fluids.

True to his assumption, Tassaria's illusion broke, eyes coming to him and lighting with increasing realization. Eventually the corrupted orbs flicked away from him, her satisfied expression wiped from her face. Emotions masked, she asked, “Was I pleasing?”

Nathaniel considered the boundaries of a pleasure girl, what he might not be allowed to do. He decided to ignore whatever her resulting thoughts might be and brought a hand to her stomach, rubbing the perspired skin. “You were. You will be allowed a bed tonight, sharing with Merette and Selendre. I expect no more misbehavior from you.”

“Appreciated, my Lord,” she told him, still free of any sign of her thoughts. She hadn't reacted to his touch.

“You will not be allowed to bathe alone yet either,” Nathaniel added, remembering Aylenn's words. “One of the girls or I will always accompany you.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He was curious after her thoughts, but he doubted questioning her would invoke any answer or conversation of meaning. Instead, he used a hand to turn her head towards his and kiss her again, unconsciously gauging her reaction to it. There was a pause from her, then she settled into responding, mouth moving with his.

They slowly drifted apart, and Nathaniel felt disappointed that he hadn't found the reaction he was looking for. He didn't know what it was exactly, but he felt foolish for trying to find it. Perhaps he meant for something similar to Merette, but that was a ridiculous hope, especially this early.

He roused them from the blanket, getting her to stand – seeing her wobble before steadying smoothly and walking gracefully to the side to wait for him. He used the dirtied blanket to clean himself off, offered it to her for the same, then called down his gryphon. He packed the blanket away for washing later.

Tassaria watched her new lord dress in silence, sheathing his body in the leather armor. She wondered now why she had expected anything harsher from him than simple sex. Perhaps a reflection of herself, or his intensity when he made the promise of their deaths. He was weak, however, tender with her body even after she had assisted in torturing his wife. This new life would be easy, and she bet it would be boring as well when not tasked to pleasure someone.

He mounted his overgrown bird and offered a hand to help her up. Tassaria took it, allowing him to pull her up and touch her body as he positioned her before him. He had finally claimed her, she acknowledged, despite all her plotting to end his life. Now he would live only to regret that decision, she vowed. She'd let him establish trust in her, prove herself worthy of it, then strike low and hard and escape, Selendre and Thora be damned.

-

Aylenn smiled. “Nathaniel is weak regarding cruelty. He will not treat them wrong. We can take advantage of that.”

Lasariel laughed throatily, standing beside her and watching the milk-skinned beauty be deposited from the gryphon. “They do not yet understand that the true punishment will come from us. Before long, they will find our lord husband's softness an unspeakable pleasure and relief, eager to escape to him and away from us.”

“And thus we have eager pleasure girls and not plotting harlots. We will break them into proper conditioning,” Aylenn finished. She respected Nathaniel's command to not damage the pleasure girls, it only made sense, but she would take her vengeance for their actions against her. Her fingernails would take weeks to grow back to normal, and some scars were still noticeable on her.

“Selendre seems fun for me. You may have Tassaria,” Aylenn told her, and Lasariel agreed. Once Nathaniel had moved elsewhere, they began to approach the two nude girls.

Har'koa wanted them to take it away from her altar. All the better then.

-

“You think she will stop at all tonight?” Gard asked, watching with Sigrid over the captives. The cultist trio was sleeping, Merette between the others, as was the Dark Ranger – at least in appearance.

Thora was not truly a captive they needed to watch over, but it didn't hurt. However, the compulsion over the Val'kyr had worked its wonders. Several exposures to Nathaniel had whittled down her will, while lingering thoughts invoked the burning lust. She had shown humiliation and rage at her condition, venting at times, but eventually her hands began to stray along her body. It was subtle at first, brushing the cloth over her mound, getting caught with her hand under it and quickly stopping, but now...

Thora panted, clothing yanked only partly down, fingers working furiously inside her before their eyes. She was quiet in her shame but unrelenting, eyes focused either upwards or on her task. Multiple releases had been found, but until she could stop focusing on Nathaniel – even in rage – the urge wouldn't stop.

Beside her, Sigrid sniffed. “No. She is a weak woman. Tomorrow morning she will beg for him while still continuing.” And no less than she deserved. Sigrid would have done much worst to her, but thus was Nathaniel's judgment.

Resting lightly, Sigrid remained vigilant. Together with Gard, they had agreed to become Nathaniel's Battle-Maidens. Thinking she had lost him in the raid had been an experience Sigrid surprised herself by, having felt such deep sorrow and anger. Realizing her devotion to him and not wishing another occasion, she prepared herself for his sake. When Gard had heard, after her own resurrection, she had pledged herself to the same, closer tied to her lord in undeath than life.

Regarding her lord and the... remaining girls, remembering Eydis, Sigrid found that her place as honored concubine had grown hazy of late. Without the royal home, treatment towards royalty had grown lax, and it appeared much as if she and the concubines were equal in rank. Of course they'd listen to her in fear of incurring her great strength, but it wasn't respect of her title.

The sight of the last Val'kyr, now forever alienated from them, disgusted Sigrid – both her hand in the raid and the current state Thora allowed herself to be reduced to. Sigrid took her self-imposed duties of protecting her liege seriously, and she felt it would be safest if she eliminated the potential threats: Thora, Selendre, and Tassaria. She wouldn't allow herself to break his command they be left alive, however.

Nathaniel. She missed him, despite seeing him each day. There hadn't been much time for speaking or his wonderful loving recently. She and Varna had spoken often, discussed the small races. She knew he didn't appreciate her style of taking her in the throes of a struggle, yet each time he chose to do so she felt more and more pride and respect for him. If he'd but request it, she would gladly allow any of his customs instead in return.

Sigrid didn't feel the urge to take any of the pleasure girls for intimate companionship in the meantime, mainly because they couldn't hold up to what she wanted like Nathaniel could. She had tried Merette once to experience a small race pleasure girl, grown amused by the tiny, inexperienced figure as she struggled to figure out the Val'kyr body, but that was it.

Now that Thora had been reduced to a similar state, however... A woman who knew Vrykul bodies and also Val'kyr. The treacherous vermin now compelled to obey and please other women when requested. Sigrid knew she could get Thora to turn it into a challenge, and while she would overpower the women, there were intimate ways of domineering that she could try from the other side for once.

The thought required more consideration, not even possible until at least morning.

-

“The idea has merit,” Aylenn said, gesturing towards where Merette had her head meekly bowed. They met in the prophet's temple as a surrogate war council, all but the new captives, Lyana, and Gard who watched them. “We can infiltrate the harpy lands in Dragonblight here, subdue the people – without causalities – and peacefully live among them as allies if not part of their nest.”

“You wish us to live with the vultures? The puny scavengers?” Varna scoffed, but her words were only her thoughts on the matter, turning towards Nathaniel for his opinion.

Sigrid showed the other Vrykul side: “There is honor in subduing them rather than living under the blessing of the goddess here. We will be our own people then.”

“What of the duration?” Sapph put in, leaning against her axe. “Will this be temporary before finding a true home, or will we immerse ourselves as royalty among the harpies? I accept either, though the second will require adjustments to their culture if we can peaceful coexist after initial hostilities.”

“We remain there until an opportunity arises. It could be years,” Aylenn said.

Varna scowled. “We will hide ourselves from the world like cowards?” Sigrid stirred at that, showing less support for the idea.

“We will do what it takes to survive,” Nathaniel said quietly, holding the attention of the room for when he finally spoke. He gave no opinion on the harpies.

Sylva stepped forward, closer to the map. She was embarrassed, but still she asked, “Have you considered... leaving Northrend?” Gasps and shouts from some, but they turned towards Nathaniel again.

Both he and Aylenn shook their heads. “Not an option. We don't have the transportation, and both the Horde and Alliance are too powerful on the other continents for us to even hide among them.”

“Can we not return to Storm Peaks?” Sigrid asked. “My homeland will hide us in its confusion, and we may find many honorable challengers to face when things grow dull.”

Nathaniel noticed that Lasariel had remained quiet during this, the woman only watching him. She was interested in how it played without her involvement, he figured. His own opinion was solely regarding safety, not luxury. Scalawag Point in Howling Fjord came to mind, off in the middle of nowhere. It would be challenge getting the Vrykul to adjust to a pirating life, though.

He found himself not against the harpy idea, felt Aylenn's pinning for the plan. Avian women, could be interesting. Sigrid's was valid too, but at the same time not. There would be no home in Storm Peaks, only wandering and hiding. He scanned his mind for past adventures, names of places turning up but none standing out.

Some of the more dangerous places promised better safety after the threat, and he kept their names on mind. Perhaps one day, once they better established themselves, they would take a land or city for themselves, get it inhabited so the world didn't become confined to just them.

“Tomorrow,” he said finally, mind already stocking their supplies and what they might need to accomplish this, “we go to those harpy lands. We subdue them and make peace. We'll occupy our time learning to exist with them, meanwhile wait for Arthas to make his fall or the balance of forces to shift.”

Not all were entirely pleased by it, but they accepted his choice, disbanding the meeting. Several lingered, hoping to spend more time with Nathaniel, and he complied, trying to make up for his inattentiveness. When he made no promises of lying with any that evening or night, several expressed displeasure and left in search of the pleasure girls.

When it was down to him, Aylenn, and Sapph, the redhead turned to him and said, “You should organize the concubines, send for multiple to grace your bed and get them used to the idea of sharing you with another woman. That way you can more efficiently divide your attention.”

Nathaniel's eyes went out the door, seeing the rear-shifting walk one particular Vrykul was performing for him, and she glanced back for a suggestive grin. To Aylenn, he said, “Fritha will only come in a group of pleasure girls. I find that the only way.”

Both women laughed, while Sapph leaned into him and said, “We wives may remain singles beyond actually sleeping, of course?”

Aylenn pouted when Nathaniel acknowledged agreement, said, “Come on, Sapph! Just one time with him and I won't hurt.”

The blood elf smiled wryly and shook her head. “No, Aylenn. We can rub shoulders, but my parts are for him and him alone. I'm not even curious about women like that.”

“Husband, tell her how hot it would be if we both together had you,” Aylenn demanded.

Nathaniel hid his amusement, nodding gravely. “It would be hot.” Sapph rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking away from the redhead. Nathaniel's arms went around her, holding Sapph to him.

The next day they would be leaving, off to the next action and danger. This time they should be mostly safe, hidden well and in the least likely of places. This night he decided on Sigrid and Thora, finally binding the dubbed 'whore' (which was just an elaborate name for the charmed pleasure girl) and making up for lost time with the wild Sigrid. He felt rested enough to deal with her the Vrykul way.

Leaning over Sapph, Nathaniel exchanged a kiss with Aylenn, and he smiled at her in a way that said, We are finally living the plan.

- -
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