tagNonHumanTwilight's Pleasure Ch. 03

Twilight's Pleasure Ch. 03


Author's Note: Sorry for the wait (if anyone's even reading this series), but here's the next part. Introducing the new night elf prisoner, and the return of the lust wyrm! Might not be my best work, but it's mostly a filler chapter. :)


Ditharia Moonsinger groaned softly in discomfort, blinking open glowing silver eyes and looking blearily around, wondering what had happened and why her head ached. Her memory was fuzzy, and she groaned again, this time in frustration as she lolled her head from side to side, trying to figure out where she was and why she felt so cold...

There was stone all around her, she saw, and the room apparently darkened, at least to human eyes - night elves such as her, with their enhanced night vision, had no problems seeing in a dark room. She was laying on a hard surface, stone if she wasn't mistaken, and the tips of her long ears brushed the warm stone she was laying on. With a jolt, she realized that she could feel the smooth texture of the stone all along the back of her body, and she bolted up into a sitting position - or at least she tried to, but found herself stopped cold by the restraints around her wrists and ankles, holding her hands beside her head and her legs spread.

She managed to raise her head, her temples pounding harshly in time to her pulse, and she looked down to confirm that yes, she was indeed completely unclothed. She was honestly more concerned with the fact that she was restrained than she was with the fact that she was naked. With her light violet skin, long silver hair, generous breasts, slim waist, and full hips she was a fine example of night elf womanhood, standing at a striking 6"3 feet tall and sporting darker purple markings around her eyes. She wasn't ashamed of her body in the slightest, and her nudity was one of the last things on her mind as her heart began to speed up, horror welling up inside her as the thought of what might have been done to her while she'd been sleeping reared its' head.

However, she was a proud member of the Silverwing Sentinels, and she took long, deep breaths, her breasts trembling as she forcefully calmed herself down, taking stock of her body and trying to see if anything felt off. She wriggled her fingers and toes, flexing the muscles in her arms and legs as best she could, and breathing a sigh of relief when there was no pain in her pelvic region. Now came the most important part, finding a way to free herself of the manacles retraining her so that she could find out where she was and then escape. As she struggled, turning her wrists and ankles this way and that, the pain in her head cleared enough that she could think clearly, and as she attempted to slip out of the tight grip of the shackles, her memory gradually began returning to her.

She had been on patrol in northern Ashenvale, she remembered, shuddering as she recalled the brief battle with some Warsong Outriders that had ended with the orcs dead and her quiver half-empty. Her silver armor had been stained with orcish blood, and her bow had been left in pieces after she'd used it as a shield against one of the green-skinned brutes' axe-swings. The foul creatures, ever since Garrosh had become Warchief, had grown bolder and had sought to encroach further into Ashenvale, which neither she nor her sister Sentinels would allow without a hard-fought battle.

The woman had been about to return to Silverwing Outpost, leaving behind the corpses of the orcs she had slain for the animals to take care of, turning her back on the battleground when...nothing, her memory of what had happened stopped there. Everything went black after that moment, and her breath hitched as the thought occurred to her that perhaps one of the orcs had simply been playing dead, waiting until she had let her guard down before attacking. That would mean, she thought with no small of horror, that she had been captured by the foul beasts, and the fact that she had woken up stripped of her clothing boded nothing well for what the creatures planned to do with her.

Her mind raced to find another possible answer, as she had been sure that all the orcs she had fought had ended up dead, but she supposed that it was possible that an orc rogue or scout had been hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike. She furrowed her brow, concentrating intensely and, for the moment, abandoning her attempts to find a way to escape her restraints as she focused on coaxing more of the memory of her last patrol to the surface. For an unknown amount of time, all her efforts resulted in was a slight headache, but then she was rewarded when she recalled, hazily, that she had felt a surge of magic behind her and felt something tightly constricting her limbs before everything went blank.

Obviously a spell had been used to knock her out and restrain her, she deduced, frowning in anger as she doubled her efforts in finding a way to free her hands. It had been a cheap trick to use, but it showed that the one who had captured her had been smart enough to fear confronting her in an actual battle. She wasn't a Sentinel for nothing, after all, and even without her favored bow she was still a force to be reckoned with when wielding the shortsword she had carried at her side for close-quarters combat.

Soft grunts and hisses of frustration filled the cell as she worked to loosen or slip the restraints around her wrists, twisting and arching her body in instinctive reaction to her failure to escape. Her attempts, as had her previous ones before her memory returned, met with abject failure, and she uttered a vexed, "Moon curse it," under her breath as her body once more lay flat against the heated stone table. She was panting from exertion, her breasts heaving as she drew in needed breath after her failed efforts at escape, when she abruptly heard a sound other than her own pounding heartbeat.

It was a strange noise, almost like the hiss of a snake but with a soft 'click' sound at the end of it, and she was instantly on guard. "Fandu-dath-belore?" She called out, raising her head off the table as best she could as she demanded in Darnassian to know who was there, looking around for anything that might have been the source of the sound, but seeing nothing to her sides that could have made it. With a feeling of dread, she looked down towards her feet, unable to see past her lush breasts but able to somehow sense that something was approaching her spread legs. She noted, with a slight feeling of horror, that her nipples were hard, the dark purple nubs distended to almost a full inch in length in reaction to the colder air caressing them.

"Whoever you are, you will get nothing from me by playing mind games!" She called out, hiding her fear behind defiance and hoping to goad her captors' into revealing themselves, her glowing eyes narrowed as she tried to work out why someone would capture her, strip her naked, and then restrain her without appearing as soon as she'd woken up. Attempting to break down her resistance by letting her feed her own fear was a possibility, but she refused to give out any information because she was afraid. She was sure that her captor or captors were watching by some means, likely magic, but she wasn't sure how.

She couldn't afford to think too deeply on that now, however, as raw terror gripped her when the source of the noise she had heard finally came into her view. It was a mana wyrm, but somehow different: instead of being a blue color, this one was a soft pink hue, and its' fins were smaller and sleeker than a mana wyrm's usually were. It was floating just inside her line of sight, and fear joined the terror as the serpent-creature began slowly descending between her thighs, making another of the hiss-click sounds she had heard and heading towards her exposed female flesh. She didn't know what the thing planned to do, but she instinctively began to thrash in denial, a scream lodged in her throat as she braced herself for the agony that would surely come if the thing planned to bite her tender mound as she suspected it did.

But it turned out she was wrong, as what the wyrm did was so much worse. A minute after she had seen the thing, the floating creature was hidden from her terrified silver gaze by the swells of her breasts, and she tensed when she felt warm, scaly flesh brush against her clit. It nuzzled against her bare flesh, as all elves lacked hair on their bodies except for their heads, in a sick parody of the most intimate of kisses. A moment later a scream of denial escaped her as she felt the head of the thing slide inside her, her dry, unprepared passage burning at the intrusion, inner muscles clenching in resistance to the intrusion as she began to struggle in her restraints. Desperation gave her strength, and she twisted and bucked her hips in an attempt to force the violator out of her body, but just like her attempts to escape her restraints, the effort resulted in failure, the pink wyrm sliding into her channel another inch.

"No, no, no, no! Don't!" She screamed, feeling the thing violating her slide inside her channel yet another scant inch, and she felt sick to her stomach at thought of the creature going any further, and it was all she could do not to vomit at the thought that she knew would soon become reality. The intrusion burned, sending pain rippling through her body as the wyrm forced the first of its' fins passed her outer folds and into her cunt, sending renewed waves of pain washing through her. She refused to give in to this unholy torture, though, clamping her lips shut even as her body undulated in pain, her dry passage clenching around the creature's head in an effort to stop its' intrusion.

It didn't work, and the Sentinel had to swallow to keep from being ill as she recalled with horror that, from the brief look she'd had of the pink wyrm, the floating serpent-creature had been at least two foot long. Her breasts heaved as her body bucked and twisted, her ample tits jiggling and bouncing as another scream forced itself from her throat, feeling a wave of agony tear through her as the wyrm slid even further into her pussy, her channel beginning to moisten and ease the violator's passage against her will as one of the beast's fins brushed against the pleasure spot inside of her.

Whimpers and moans of denial slid passed her lips as she tried her best to ride out the pain, almost unable to fathom the perversion that was being forced on her body. She grit her teeth, however, and staunchly refused to break under the strange rape she was enduring. Her captors, whoever they were, would get no information from her no matter what they did.

She didn't know how much time had passed, consumed as she was by the conflicting feelings of agony and pleasure that the mana wyrm - the creature now fully inside her - was inflicting on her. She writhed, mimicking the motions of the creature now filling her, her voice almost hoarse from screaming as she felt the wyrm twist inside her cunt, pressing hard against the pleasure spot inside of her and sparking off an intense orgasm. She wailed, tears now flowing freely down her face, which was flushed from anger, humiliation, pleasure and a dozen other conflicting feelings that swelled inside her in much the same way as the waves of orgasm rolled through her.

Humiliation didn't even begin to describe what she felt in the aftermath of her first - but far from the last, as she would soon come to learn - orgasm as a prisoner. She wanted to vomit, feeling unclean all throughout her very being, but all she could do was cry and scream in anger as the manacles keeping her chained to the table remained stubbornly solid, not giving her an inch of movement as she bucked and jerked against the restraints. She refused to break under the torture she was enduring, she thought fervently, a sickening slurping sound coming from her dripping pussy as the wyrm poked its' head out and then turned around to reenter her channel, stretching her to the point that the agony overwhelmed the pleasure.

The chained Sentinel screamed at her unseen captors with all her might, Darnassian words dripping like poison from her lips as she cursed the ones putting her through this humiliation with all her heart and soul.

Oh Elune, she mentally prayed, please give her the strength to endure the violation of her flesh that was being visited upon her. Her mental prayers vanished from her mind underneath a tidal wave of ecstasy as another orgasm tore through her, wrenching a scream from her throat as she arched as best she could in her shackles. She could feel every inch of the mana wyrm writhing and twisting inside her, pressing against the walls of her channel and filling her to the point of pain. In fact, though she tried fervently to deny it, she almost imagined that she could feel each individual scale against her tender inner flesh.

Her screams, more suited to someone being unbearably tortured than to a woman climaxing, echoed through the room, the shrieks comparable to that of a banshee's instead of a night elf's. Against her will, she came again and again, one orgasm after another rolling through her body, until an unknown amount of time later she mercifully passed out, fading gratefully into the blackness of unconsciousness. She felt a savage sense of pride, however, that despite all that the mana wyrm did and was still doing to her, she hadn't once spoken of her race's secrets or plans.

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