Duty and Degradation

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."