The commotion outside of Sylvanas Windrunner's tent blared to life as the latest messenger slipped inside, the outside noise immediately dying out when the tent flap closed behind him.
"Warchief." He saluted, his lean green shoulders plastered with sweat and his chest heaving from exertion. Whatever his message was, she could already tell of its increased importance over the usual banal news. "I have a message from Tyrande Whisperwind."
"A message of capitulation I hope," she said, looking back down at the stack of papers on her desk and sifting through them.
"In a manner of speaking."
At that, Sylvanas gave the orcish messenger her full attention. He was young and strong, a future prospect of hers if she ever got the time to enjoy herself. "Well go on then. In what manner?"
"In any manner," he said, handing her a scroll. "Here."
Annoyed, she took it. She read it. She smiled.
"Anything, hm?"
***
Dust clogged her nose, heat baked her skin, and the sun blinded her nocturnally predisposed eyes. All around her orcs watched, stopping in the streets as she moved by, their hulking forms, clothed in simple tattered leathers, betraying curiosity, surprise, and smug amusement.
Orgrimmar was a horrid place for a night elf. Especially the night elf matriarch.
"This way, Your Majesty."
The orc behind her prodded her in the back, causing her to stumble through an open gate leading into an alley. Tyrande resisted the urge to call on Elune and sear a hole through his chest. Instead, she kept walking until her brutish entourage instructed her to stop inside of a plain orcish building constructed of wood and clay.
"This is the place," a different orc said. "Hope you got a good night's sleep, priestess, we'll be back in thirty minutes."
He patted her on the ass, and when she whirled to strike him he'd already stepped away. "Make sure you're naked when we get back."
The two guards left her, their hateful laughs and rough voices fading back down the alleyway they'd come from. She was alone, albeit not for long. She'd done her best to prepare for this ordeal, told herself it was worth it, but anxiety still sought to crush her into the thick fur pelt decorating the floor of her temporarily private room. She had no idea how long each orc had with her, but she presumed it to be no more than fifteen minutes each. Perhaps even less. No doubt it would feel double that amount.
Stripping of everything but her panties and carefully placing her clothes upon the floor, she sat down, folding her legs and closing her eyes, praying, forcing herself to be calm. A single day, that's all it was. Twenty-four hours of being used by ignoble savages in exchange for the safety of Teldrassil. Her dignity for a thousand lives.
When the guards returned thirty minutes later, they found her in that exact same position upon the floor, a flourish of beautiful colors and curves within a room of dull stone and tanned hides. Tall and toned, she was an elf of such superlative beauty she stood out like a sparkling gem amidst a sea of dull rocks. Her power commanded respect, her curves commanded attention. Today, she would receive only one.
"Ready to get fucked?" one of them asked. The other snickered.
Standing up, her beauty drew their lecherous eyes and caused them to fall momentarily silent. "Do whatever it is that you wish, but let's get on with it."
"That eager?"
She offered him no reply, and they left with incomprehensible grumbles upon their lips. She could only surmise that their poor temperament was due to the fact that they had guard duty and as such probably weren't allowed to join in on the vulgar event about to unfold.
Seconds later, her suspicions were confirmed when an orc the size of a mountain lumbered in like an awkward ape. Bull-necked and bursting with muscle, he cut an imposing figure, although it seemed as if he knew not what to do with it. No doubt he'd heard stories of her—her power, her beauty, her reputation—and this knowledge was reflected in his uncertain disposition.
"Uh…" His voice rumbled and shook the room.
She stared up at him from the floor. Her heart pounded like a war drum, but her face lay concealed behind a blank, expressionless mask. If this orc wanted to waste time, so be it. That suited her just fine.
A loud thud made her ears twitch. Her eyes flickered to the leather trousers crumpled on the floor and then slowly widened as she looked up the orc's body. Apparently he didn't care much for her idea of wasting time.
His tool matched his oversized body, a verdant green tree trunk that sprouted from the mass of grassy hair furnishing his groin. Beastly and no doubt virile, it dangled threateningly before her, only a few cubits away. She eyed it warily, a frown twisting her features. This would be her first orc; the idea made her sick. Fighting back her disgust, she looked into his beady black eyes.
He stepped towards her then, his semi-flaccid cock swaying, drawing her gaze back and forth, making her breath catch. When he stopped in front of her, he took his manhood in hand and jerked it, imbuing within it an iron-like hardness in only the span of a few seconds. At full, the beast of a cock throbbed dangerously, radiating heat like a furnace, its veins pumping and bulging all the way up to a round and startlingly large cockhead that glowed pink.
Naturally, she knew what was coming. But even so, disgust rolled over her and turned her stomach. She had to fight it down again when he pressed the tip of his beastly appendage to her lips, smushing soft skin into the hard teeth behind. This was to be her fate: a plaything, a cocksleeve for any orc within the city who cared to take her for a spin.
Vile creatures.
"Suck," he said.
Silently, she fumed. How repulsive! How grotesque! But she was committed. There could be no reneging of her agreement with Sylvanas.
Brow furrowed and a scowl on her face, she took him between her plump lips and for a moment simply held him, his cockhead snugly enveloped within the heated depths of her mouth. But then her tongue moved, like a snake slithering to life, probing at the bulbous head of his cock. Lathering him, tasting him. The flavor—strong—repugnant—overtly masculine. Nausea sluiced through her as a wave, but she fought it back and drove forward, dragging her sensual lips further down the unnamed giant's meaty green shaft, trailing saliva and pleasure in her wake.
Rumblings of appreciation befell her long ears, and even as she took him in deeper and deeper, straining her slender throat full of an overabundance of cock, an idea struck her like a lightning bolt inside of her brain.
If only she could get him off quickly. No, not quickly. She'd have to time it right, so that he couldn't recuperate before the next orc shuffled in to take his place. Nothing could make this experience pleasant, but blowing them was certainly a better alternative to being penetrated by a literal horde of filthy orcs.
With this goal in mind, Tyrande slowly worked his tool, her nose, her lips, her eyebrows, and even her ears twitching as she struggled to fit him into her mouth. He was the biggest she'd ever had and she was fiercely ill-equipped to deal with a monster of such titanic size. Her mouth gaped, her lips stretched to their limit, and her throat bulged with cock, but despite her best efforts she could not take him in his entirety.
Opting to change tactics, she reclined backwards and allowed his slimy cock to slip from her mouth until only the head remained. With her lips sealed tightly around it, she slurped upon his crown and serviced it with her nubile tongue. Reaching up to grasp the base of his tool between both hands, its great girth pulsed and throbbed to life beneath her fingertips as she simultaneously jerked him off.
Although it had been awhile since she'd sucked dick, she nevertheless had plenty of experience. About ten-thousand years of it in fact. So, despite his immense size, she felt confident in her ability to direct his orgasm as she saw fit, and the orcish grunts raining down on her from above attested to that fact.
Time ticked by, hot, wet, and slippery. Sucking, twisting, wringing him out with tongue and fingers. A cart rolled past the building outside in the alleyway, but the suckling, slurping of her mouth masked the sounds of its creaking wheels.
She counted the minutes as best she was able, excruciating every one of them. His hand rested gently atop her head now, and though the touch aggravated her, she was grateful that he did not direct her like some men were inclined to do. It was possible that her careful suckling and twisting-jerking of his shaft pleased him enough, or perhaps he just liked to sit back watch as Tyrande Whisperwind debased herself by voluntarily slobbering on his cock. Either way, it worked in her favor.
Or at least, she thought it did.
A haggard grunt sounded the warning of his immediate climax, but before she could pull her lips from his manhood the hand on the back of her head tightened, holding her firmly in place. A split second later and the first volley of jizz flooded over her tongue. Great gooping globs of creamy cum spat forth from the head of his cock, a green monster vomiting up white lava. Three pulses, three spurts of cream.
She made a choking noise and swallowed some of it by accident. There was so much, too much to immediately swallow. She wanted to spit it out, but the hand on her head prevented her from escaping. The idea of having a mouthful of orc cum reviled her more than the taste itself, and so, with nothing else to do, she swallowed his seed.
In great heaving gulps, drinking it down and filling her belly, she consumed it all.
After emptying his load, the orc sighed contentedly, and spoke in heavily accented Common, "You give good head."
Tyrande scowled hatefully, brushing at her lips with the back of her hand as if to scrub them of the deed that had just transpired.
The good news was that she'd gotten him off as planned, with little time to spare until the next orc arrived… or so she figured. The bad news was that his cock still stood as impervious and rock-hard as ever, and there was no way he was about to let this opportunity go to waste.
He commanded her onto her back without words but rather with action, pushing her onto the floor and kneeling between her rebellious legs. Every instinct told her to fight him off. Power trembled on her fingertips, eager to destroy him, but for the sake of her people she gritted her teeth and laid back upon the floor, staring up at the domed ceiling of her temporary prison. Her plan had failed, but at the very least there could only be a few minutes left before he'd be interrupted mid-act by her next assailant.
She held onto this faint reassurance as the orc took her by the hips and dragged her towards him. Then, with a thumb parting her panties and exposing her naked sex, he hitched himself at her entrance and pushed inside.
The immensity of his member caused her to hiss a surprised gasp of air. Pain seized her by the throat.
"No!" She cried out instinctively as he penetrated her, his inhumanly large cockhead parting her petals and sinking deep into her cunt.
Unsurprisingly, he didn't relent. Not in the least. From the way he stretched her pussy it felt as if he'd somehow grown even bigger, magnified to a degree far beyond what she'd earlier sucked on. She gripped at fur and dirt beneath her, tried to relax, but it was in vain. How could she, with that big behemoth stretching her beyond belief or comprehension?
His muscled body loomed over her, hulking and powerful, bearing down slowly as he inserted himself inside of her like a very large key in a very small lock. Inches upon inches of throbbing, saliva-covered orc cock disappeared within her purple pussy, carefully, and with wriggling rolls of the hips as if he couldn't quite get it to fit due to her tightness and anatomical incompatibilities.
He made it work, however. He bottomed out inside of her, sheathing the entire massive slab of orc meat within her long, slender body. In disbelief, she looked at where their bodies joined, the stark green on purple and the obscene orc-shaped bulge distending her flat stomach.
"Unbelievable," she groaned through clenched teeth, dipping her head back onto the floor.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Of course not!" she spat. "I'd sooner enjoy a bed of hot coals or a kodo for a mate you despicable brute."
He shrugged. "You will," he said, and his tone was neither cruel nor mocking, but flat and matter of fact. As if he knew. As if he'd done this before.
The thought disturbed her, and she dared not contemplate the obvious truth of it.
He pulled back, withdrawing the majority of his tool and then, as if remembering he was on a timer, thrust all the way back into her.
She groaned. He grunted. Gradually, the pain dimmed and dulled, morphing into something unpleasant but not altogether terrible. The pace at which he moved was hurried, but not exceptionally fast. It allowed him to savor every stroke, to delight in the way her pussy contracted and clung defiantly to him. Tyrande had experience, but not with anything like this. Never anything like this.
Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her debasement. The orc's huge balls battered against her ass, and her pussy made wet squelching cries for help as it was ravaged. He didn't have much time with her, but he made good use of what he had, resizing both her pussy and her expectations, pounding out her body until even the discomfort no longer remained. In its place, a mild tension. The slight burn of pleasure.
He tweaked her nipple and squeezed her breast, drawing out a breathy sigh. With her eyes closed it was easy to forget that the one touching her was an orc. A damning realization.
He'd seemed out of sorts and awkward when she'd first seen him, but truly he was anything but. The skillful touch of his hands and sensual pumping-grinding of his hips displayed a keen awareness of the female body. An awareness that currently made it hard for her to control herself.
She cursed Sylvanas' wicked mind and opened her eyes, watching the orc's muscles strain as he hilted himself inside of her again and again. Her large breasts jiggled with every thrust, growing more frantic, more wild, as the orc gradually picked up the pace; and she knew that he wasn't only seeking out his own orgasm, but hers as well.
Airy gasps bubbled up from her lips, mixed with the greenskin's savage grunting. Holding, gripping, clenching the rug, she resisted pleasure, resisted her own orgasm even as he sought to fuck it right out of her.
Impossible, of course. She couldn't orgasm. Not with a man other than Furion. Not with an orc.
Slap slap slap
Slap slap slap
That damnable noise continued, sharp and loud within the compact room. Her back arched off the ground, every muscle taut. He gripped her firmly under the knees, spreading her out wide and slamming her now, deep-dicking her quivering pussy and bouncing his balls off her ass. Wet juices splattered against her thighs, coated his cock, slicked her pussy so as to make it even easier for him. A humiliating, betraying mess.
Slap slap slap
Slap slap slap
The sound of her body being abused was oddly melodic. It taunted her, infuriated her, but that fury only seemed to rile her up further. Unmistakable pleasure welled up inside of her, growing and expanding to that same incessant beat. Threatening to burst.
Slap slap slap
Close. Too close. His grip on her tightened and he splayed her out as much as physically possible this time, leaning into her and driving his virile manhood all the way home. His pace increased again, becoming faster and more urgent, fucking her into the floor, hammering her cunt into a sopping mess.
This was the brutality she had expected from the orcs. This was what inevitably got her off.
Her mouth opened in a cry and her body trembled delightfully, her little elven pussy spasming around the fat cock pounding in and out of it. All of that anger transformed into pleasure, and all of the breath in her lungs transformed into one loud, orgasmic cry that no doubt echoed out past the door and into the alleyway.
The orc accompanied her soon after with his own climax, withdrawing from her well-fucked cunt and hastily crawling forward on his knees so that he was straddling her chest, his pulsating shaft mere inches from her face. Tipping her head forward, he brought the tip of his cock to her full lips, and, in a daze of sexual gratification, she accepted him back into her mouth, sucking on the smooth spongy tip of his manhood while he shot ropes of creamy white seed across her tongue. The viscous liquid pooled in her mouth, a salty lake that she swallowed without hesitation.
The door swung open with a creak. "Time's up, Gor."
Quickly and without a word, the orc—Gor—redressed and left the room, leaving behind the heady scent of sex and Tyrande's twitching body.
***
Tyrande groaned and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Gor had had impeccable timing, blowing his load and then leaving her recovering on the floor as if she was of as much interest or import as the rug beneath her or the torches ensconced upon the walls.
The shameful impersonality of it sickened her, while the fullness of her stomach reminded her of just how much she'd sucked out of his balls. Two loads, and all that from one orc. Would the rest of them be the same?
The first had been, all things considered, accommodating. The same could not be said of the second orc.
He strode into the room with purpose, his eagerness to inflict all sorts of vile deeds upon her clear as day. When his eyes saw her they lit up, and his ugly face twisted into a grin.
"Look who it is," he said. "Tyrande Whisperwind, naked and waiting for me." He beckoned her over with a gesture. "Come here."
Shooting him a glare that could freeze felfire, she moved to stand up.
"Uh-uh. Crawl on over here."
She hesitated, fighting back her desire to obliterate him on the spot before sense took hold and she fell to her hands and knees. As she crawled towards him, her supple ass raised and hips swaying, he dropped his trousers, freeing the beast within.
It was her second time seeing an orc's cock, and it looked much the same as the first: monstrous and festooned with protruding bumps that made it appear even more grotesque than it otherwise would have been. This one was of a lighter, brighter green than the last however, and of a slightly smaller size.
But only slightly.
"Suck it little elf slut." He brushed his semi-erect tool against her face, tapping her on the nose, cheeks and lips. "But first, get out of those panties. That's right, there you go."
Tyrande tossed them aside and kneeled before her tormentor, his hulking body towering over her like an ogre before a gnome. Taking him in hand, she gave him three quick strokes before mustering the courage to wrap her lips around his bloated cockhead.
"That's it," he encouraged, patting her on the head as she gulped down his tool. "Show me how much you like it."
Although he was still partially soft, she found her second helping of orc dick to be easier than the first. Even when he hardened to full it didn't slow her down, as if her throat had already become accustomed to being stuffed and clogged with such an absurd amount of cock. This may have concerned or even disturbed her, but it at least gave her a slight advantage. More control could prove useful.
She bobbed obediently, her brow furrowed in concentration and her thin cheeks hollowed out while she sucked and slurped. Thanks to her slow yet consistent pace, only rarely did she gag or sputter, and judging by his labored breathing as well as the tightening grip on her head, he was enjoying her newfound ability for throating orcs.
A few minutes in, he forcibly removed her from his cock.
"Clean my balls," he ordered.
Lifting his tool, he allowed it to drop onto her face when she ducked her head to suck on his nuts.
Somehow she felt even more unclean servicing his balls than his shaft, but she did as commanded, issuing forth her tongue and pressing it flat against his sack. Lapping at it, feeling its abnormal weight on her tongue and varnishing it in a clear, glistening layer of saliva. The taste didn't bother her much anymore. In fact, she'd already grown so accustomed to these men that she didn't notice the pungent flavor when she took his testicles into her mouth, one at a time, sucking and massaging them between her lips, letting them escape with a sharp pop before alternating to the next.
As she bathed his sack, the massive slab of orc meat resting on her face jostled and nudged against her, smearing pre-cum into her luscious green hair. His hand, once light on the back of her head, tightened and pushed her against him, muffling her complaints by smothering her with his balls.
Open-mouthed and struggling against him, her tongue slid clumsily over his sack, slobbering all over it as she grunted in annoyance.
"Alright," he said, yanking her head back. "Lay down."
Tyrande gasped for air and then gritted her teeth, resuming her earlier position, this time resolving herself not to cum. The first time had been a fluke. Now, at least, she had a better idea of what to expect.
Settling into position before her, the orc took hold of her legs and notched himself at her entrance, prying her petals apart with his fat cockhead. There was no warning or easing into things this time, only a single stroke that buried every monstrous inch of him inside of her poor, constricting cunt. Hundreds of pounds of muscled brute collapsed on top of her, plugging her with such force and speed that she saw white.
Tyrande grunted, her face a portrait of pain and rage. The orc's own ugly visage was close enough to kiss, his awful, heavy body leaning into hers and pressing down against her, folding her legs back like a pair of pliable twigs.
"Now don't try and enjoy yourself too much," he said.
"Never!" she hissed. "Never with—ungh—you!"
His hips drew back, taking her tight pussy with it, and then slammed forward, bottoming out inside of her with one smooth stroke of unbelievable severity.
Her glowing eyes bulged and her mouth opened, eliciting a croak of surprise. A second passed, during which two more strokes rattled her to the core.
"Like I said—" Two more strokes, harder now. Her pussy trembled helplessly around his momentous girth. "—don't enjoy it too much."
"Bastard," she breathed, her voice shaky. She dared not speak any more, lest an unwanted grunt or groan escape her lips.
She squeezed her eyes shut and darted out her hands to clutch at the rug. She cursed him, vowed to kill him if she ever saw him again, but there was nothing she could do but lie back and take it.
Every thrust and every inch. He laid into her in brutal fashion, wielding his disproportionate manhood like a weapon, drilling and pounding and railing her elven pussy to the carnal sound of unmistakably primal, animalistic sex. She took all of it, her big beautiful tits flopping wildly about and her ass stinging from the incessant thwacking of his saliva-coated balls slapping against her cheeks.
Damn Sylvanas, and damn these orcs!
Mating pressed on the floor of a foreign building in a foreign city by an orc she didn't even know the name of—the indignity made her flush with embarrassment, and the repeated, insufferably humiliating slapping of his nuts against her ass did nothing to alleviate her shame.
But the pounding she was receiving did. It soon became hard to think or recall the ability to even feel ashamed with this rampaging orc brutalizing her, stuffing her pussy to the brim. Sadistic and cruel, he took joy in abusing her, in seeing the smoldering hate in her eyes even as her pussy spasmed needfully around him.
On and on he went. For nearly fifteen minutes he rutted into her like a wild beast, filling her, claiming her, beating her pussy in true orcish fashion. When he finally finished up and left the room, she lay panting and twitching upon the floor, her gaping cunt leaking a river of pearly white seed. Eyes unseeing, brain struggling to recuperate.
Two more orcs came and went, each time taking her in much the same fashion. Each time leaving her, inevitably, trembling and gasping for breath.
Some of them were larger than others, but to her all were large. Massive even. Enormous. The difference in size was appalling.
As she lay recovering from her last session, a troll woman entered the room carrying water and other accouterments within a wooden box. The woman cleaned her without a word, her touch skillful and her demeanor indifferent.
Just as abruptly as she entered, she left.
Shortly thereafter the guards from earlier arrived and took her outside, marching her through the darkened alleyway and into the beating sun of Orgrimmar's green heart, where crowds gathered and watched with hateful amusement. She knew not the reason for such a transition in scenery, and could only guess that it was devised to break her spirit before showing her off to the public.
She kept her eyes closed the entire time, blocking out both the light and the detestable looks of those jeering at her. At last when the guards stopped she opened her eyes, squinting against the sun and the orange Durotar soil.
An army of hostile faces stared at her.
She brushed hair from her eyes and looked around, standing up straight and defiant despite her nakedness. Like a proper spectacle or event, there were both refreshment and food stands already set up, with their owners no doubt poised to make a fair amount of coin at her expense. The area immediately around her was cordoned off, with a blood red tapestry laid out upon the ground, marking the area of her degradation.
Wobbling through the crowd, an announcer took stage atop a sandy mound near the main street, calling out to everyone, encouraging onlookers and participants alike. More and more people gathered, combining into a sea of green. Soon, the debaucherous festivities would begin anew.
"That's right, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you!" the announcer, a despicable weasel of a goblin in a black tux and bowtie shouted. "This is the one and only Tyrande Whisperwind, Matriarch of the Night Elves, brought here for your viewing pleasure by our most wonderful warchief, Sylvanas Windrunner!" The crowd exploded in cheers, and Tyrande nearly shook with fury. "For the next—" He glanced unnecessarily at his pocket watch. "—23 hours, all orcs are welcome to join the show or watch from afar. And don't forget to check out the food stands! Old Logar makes a superb…"
An orc stepped forward, chest bared and his loincloth pulled aside. She groaned despairingly when he directed her to the ground, rolled her over and hooked his hands beneath her pelvis, yanking her ass up to meet his groin.
Hands kneaded at her plump ass cheeks, his fat tool thumped upon her rear, and then he was in her, without warning, mercy, or care, filling her up and claiming her as so many had done, as so many would do. His hands encircled her waist with an inescapable grip, holding her locked in place as he pounded his hips forward, making her cringe and gasp every time his fat cockhead kissed her cervix.
Some within the crowd cheered, while others gasped or stood in silent disbelief at what they were witnessing. All of them watched, wide-eyed and awed.
Tyrande, similarly wide-eyed and similarly awed, clawed at the ground, the muscles in her back and thighs flexing under the strain of her brutish partner. He exercised an indomitable hold on her wide hips, keeping her steady as he railed into her, sawing his length in and out of her defenseless cunt at a speed that could only be described as merciless. The act itself was bad enough, but in front of the entire city no less…
She kept her head down and her face curtained by hair, blocking out the onlookers as much as possible while the orc continued to work her from behind.
Huffing, puffing, exerting the full extent of his powerful body, his strokes battered against her defenses with smooth and proficient strikes. She felt everything—the entirety of his gargantuan length, every throbbing vein and rounded, protruding bump sliding and grinding and stuffing her little pussy to the limit.
Sweet, agonizing friction burned away her body's resistance, replaced it with a budding tension that blossomed quickly, compounding pleasure upon pleasure.
As her pleasure grew, so too did her hatred. The two wrestled with one another, inseparable and unquenchable. Neither could be extinguished, and in turn this created a potent cocktail of humiliating desire.
"Look!" someone shouted. "She's enjoying herself!"
Her head darted up with murderous intent, and it was then that she discovered her mouth open and panting—moaning even!
Snarling, she shook her head and glared, only to be chastised with a searing strike against her ass, an open-handed slap that burned a large handprint upon her thick purple cheek.
A yelp bolted out from somewhere inside of her, and she had to bite her lip to contain a moan. Ducking her head again, she withdrew beneath the shades of her forest-green hair, ears twitching, body inundated with an infuriating amount of pleasure.
The sound of sex was somehow loud amidst the hollering of the crowd. A steady beat and a steady pounding, accompanied by vulgar thwacking and plapping and squelching of flesh on flesh, hips against ass, cock within cunt. The sound unnerved her, disturbed her even, but she resolved herself to ignore it until gradually it became as much a part of the background noise as the cheers and chuckles and perverse mumblings of the audience around her.
Yet she could still feel everything happening to her, the hands kneading her ass cheeks, the thumb prodding her back door, and, most of all, the overwhelming pounding of orc cock stretching her insides out to such a degree that it seemed unfathomable. Ridiculous inches pumping in and out, pulsing and throbbing, big enough to reshape her entirely around his massive manhood.
Despite her cognitive objections, her body ached for release. And, as if this orcish stranger somehow understood her deep, dark desires, he hammered it out of her with long strokes accompanied by a sadistic flurry of spankings, delivering smack after smack onto her ass. It jiggled and clapped and glowed with a sick discoloration, sharply painful and wickedly sweet. More strokes. More spankings. More orc dick pummeling her pussy until it squirted and drooled like a waterfall. Her body tensed, her pussy spasmed and clutched at the cock pumping into her, and then with her body shaking in abject satisfaction, she screamed.
Like a dirge she screamed. A throaty wail of pent up, long repressed desire. Smoldering lust released for all to see, back arched and sweaty skin glowing under the Durotar sun.
And all the while the orc continued his assault on her body to the cheers of an ecstatic crowd, his hips bewilderingly fast despite delivering an unbreaking series of long, deep strokes all the way from tip to base. Her full, womanly tits swayed beneath her prostrated body and her round ass, bearing the brunt of the load from his muscular hips colliding into her, rippled with steep, oceanic waves.
"Let's see if I can get your purple ass pregnant," he rumbled.
Disgusting, but an impossibility. Not because elves and orcs couldn't produce twisted halfling spawns, but because she'd already taken precautions against such an outcome. Still, a creampie was bad enough on its own.
He erupted with animalistic grunting, his grubby fingers digging into the meaty flesh of her ass and hips. All the way, balls-deep, he released a miniature ocean of jizz inside of her well-fucked cunt, pulling her into him as he grinded his hips against her.
Groaning weakly, she accepted her fate as a receptacle for his seed, her ass cheeks smushed against his pelvis while his balls churned and his cock pulsed with spurts of hot potent jizz.
After what felt like ages, he withdrew. Unplugged, a healthy stream of seed trickled out of her ruined pussy. Her body quivered and the jeers of the crowd finally filtered back into her pointed ears. She did her best to ignore them, not desiring to acknowledge their existence or meet their mocking eyes.
Even the return of the troll woman she ignored, accepting her care and the rejuvenation potion she handed her but otherwise sitting, unmoving and lost within the confines of her own mind.
Soon, another orc took the last one's place.
Then another.
And another.
On and on, more and more. Soldiers, peons, shopkeepers. An endless procession of foul-mouthed orcs rutting into her like vengeful beasts as the hours slipped by. The rejuvenation potions kept her body strong enough to keep up with them, but the experience took its toll nevertheless.
Lying upon the ground, she peered up through disheveled strands of hair at the next orc approaching. Limned by sunlight, his bulky form temporarily obstructed another, smaller figure behind him.
Two of them? At once?
"On your hands and knees, elf."
She dreaded what was to come next, but complied without resistance.
Positioned on her hands and knees once again, she found her chin being lifted by the orc in front of her, his bulky fingers prying at her cheeks. He leered down at her and then pressed his cock to her lips. Automatically and without thinking, she took him into her mouth, swallowing his fat cockhead and inching forward while his hand moved to the back of her head, guiding her along his shaft.
"Use your tongue. That's it, there you go."
As she worked, the uncorking of a bottle caused her ears to twitch. Moments later, some sort of liquid splashed against her ass. Startled, she attempted to look back at the other orc, but the hand on her head kept her firmly attached to the dick in her mouth.
Wide-eyed and anxious, she could do nothing as the second orc wielded his manhood and prodded the mushroom-like tip of his appendage against her asshole. She'd been instructed to prepare for this, but as of yet none of the orcs had opted to use her third and final hole. Clearly that was about to change.
The crowd cheered, jumping and angling for a better view as he forced her sphincter to yield to his invasion, stretching it out around his prominently orcish prick. As with all of the others, his size was absurd, but in her virginal ass it felt even larger, even more filling. Thankfully, whether it was the lube or the result of her body being pounded out by a train of orcs for hours on end, there was no pain, only a feeling of odd discomfort as he stretched out her ass.
Groaning and in dire need of some sort of stamina potion, Tyrande lazily sucked upon the first orc's cock while her rear end got stuffed, packed, and brutally rearranged. There was a lot of dick to take, but she took it surprisingly well, her muscles clenching and constricting around the invading green giant. His hands, big and rough like leather mittens, pried her round cheeks apart so he could watch her little hole take him all the way to the hilt, easing in and out, back and forth.
Together, the two orcs double-stuffed her, impaling her lush body at both ends and rocking her backwards and forwards like a cheap elven fucktoy. A piece of meat to be used and abused. Tears welled in her eyes, her throat bulged obscenely, and the tight ring of her ass quivered and clung to the goliath ravaging it. Slowly, but so deep and so very very much.
It was an intense experience of pure hedonistic depravity. The orc behind her took the lead, withdrawing until little but the tip of his cock remained, then pressing forward, balls-deep, his hips crashing against her plump behind. Filling her up in a way that was so different than before, more different than she could have imagined, with strokes that were more pleasurable than she would have liked.
Strokes that made her toes curl. Strokes that made her want to scream. Increasing by degrees, slowly, gradually, until the sound of his pelvis clapping her ass cheeks was steady and swift. Like a musical instrument played for the perverse pleasure of every onlooker around. And how many there were! The entire city no doubt. She was the star attraction, the talk of the town, a living symbol of Horde dominance as they used her like a common whore, pumping her royal ass with so much orc dick she couldn't take it anymore.
She wrested herself away from the cock in her mouth and shouted out a cry of utter satisfaction, sublime in its tone, clear in its message. Tyrande Whisperwind had orgasmed from having her asshole pummeled by an orc.
The crowd roared in response.
When the two men finished, they left her with a face dripping with seed and an ass full of cream.
Day changed to dusk. Lamps and torches were lighted. More orcs, more potions to keep her stable. The rest of her torment passed as an amoral green blur of unbearable pleasure and degradation.
And as the final set of orcs took their turn and stepped away, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her ruined form lay twisted upon the ground, a spool of beautiful and luscious green hair tangled into a cum-stained mess of curls and disheveled knots. Eyes dull, skin glossy with seed and sweat. Long ears drooping under loads of dried cum.
Footsteps briefly roused her. Peeking an eye open, the last thing Tyrande saw before she passed out was a goblin standing over her and a blinding flash of teeth and light.
***
"Here you are, Warchief. The pictures you requested."
Sylvanas took the color photographs, shuffling through them with a wicked smile that grew larger and larger with every picture she saw.
She laid one upon the desk and tapped at it with a gloved finger. A near ground level face shot, it depicted Tyrande mid-orgasm on her hands and knees, open-mouthed and face contorted as an orc laid into her from behind. "I ought to have copies of this framed and delivered to every tavern in Kalimdor."
"If you wish, My Lady."
Slowly, as if debating it still, she shook her head. "No. There are better, more nefarious uses for photos such as these. And judging by these pictures, she may even come to enjoy them."
***
When Tyrande awoke, clothed, cleaned, and resting in a comfortable carriage of elven make, she gasped as if awakening from a nightmare.
"Are you all right, Your Grace?"
Alert, her eyes slowly drifted over the seated forms of two Sentinels, donned in equal amounts armor and concern. Glancing out the window, she was met with the familiar tableau of Ashenvale greenery.
"Yes," she said, running a hand over her stomach. "Better now… now that it's over."