Dicked Down In Dire Maul

A request featuring a night elf diplomat and a fel orc. This story is about Elindia Dewshadow, a character from my previous story,

Dealmaker, Elfbreaker

***

The goblin's office smelled of money and the stale urban air of Orgrimmar's Drag district. An expensive Sin'dorei jewel lamp glowed upon his desk, but otherwise no light persisted within the room. Elindia Dewshadow, a night elf woman that had the much in-demand qualities of both intelligence and curves, crossed her long lavender legs and, looking at ease in a well-upholstered chair across from the goblin's desk, said, "This is highly unusual, Mr. Sinkle. I'm not typically propositioned by members of the Horde for work."

"I'm not a member of the Horde," the goblin insisted, "and unusual circumstances call for unusual pay." He seemed to be always holding a coin, and at this he tapped it against the desk for emphasis. "You see, the Venture Company has plenty of gold but not enough men."

She smiled haughtily, a woman well aware of her worth and the lush assets she owned, all of which were proudly displayed by the black dress she wore. "If it's men you're after, I'm afraid I'm not qualified."

"That," he said, eyeing her chest as if he'd been eager to do so for some time and had just been given an excuse, "may certainly be true, but you

are

qualified to recruit them."

Elindia's eyelids leveled evenly and her elven ears stood firmly at attention. "I am not a military recruiter. And besides, if you think I'm going to recruit soldiers--"

"Not soldiers, Miss Dewshadow, bodyguards." The little goblin gestured around the office with one of his oversized hands. There were at least three safes she could see out in the open without even inspecting the room. "As I'm sure you can see, we are in great need of skilled men to protect our assets from the dangers of this uncivilized society we live in."

The elf relaxed back into her chair, her lovely features juxtaposed with a manner of barely concealed boredom and distrust. "Go on."

"Of course. Yes, well, to get to the heart of the matter, we'd like to send you to Dire Maul. There is an orc by the name of Trahlan Spinebreaker that runs the arena there. Gruesome stuff, but that's not important. His men are highly competent, but the main man himself isn't easy to deal with." Sinkle grinned knowingly. "However, a woman of your incredible talents should have no problem securing a deal on behalf of the Venture Company."

Elindia, who moments before had been sitting with mild disinterest, brightened, her glowing blue eyes reflecting curiosity. "You want me to negotiate terms with Trahlan Spinebreaker?"

"That's right."

Unconsciously, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She crossed her legs again, then said in a voice that seemed purposefully controlled. "Payment?"

"Two-thousand," he replied with all the finiteness of a cheap goblin miser unwilling to spend a single copper more.

Surprised, she asked, "Gold?"

"That's right," he repeated.

Two-thousand gold pieces and an opportunity to meet Trahlan Spinebreaker. Elindia couldn't decide which pleased her more: the money or the man. Failing to contain a smile, she rose from the chair and placed her hands on the edge of the goblin's desk, offering a good look down the loose neckline of her dress at a pair of all-natural Kaldorei mountains.

"When do I leave?"

***

Likely she would never grow accustomed to portal usage. First Darnassus to Orgrimmar, now Orgrimmar to Dire Maul. The change in climate would be hell on her hair. But then again, most likely so would negotiations.

The day following her discussion with Sinkle, while the Venture Company sent word to one of Spinebreaker's servants of her arrival, she'd changed into something more suitable for negotiations. One must adapt to one's surroundings, and the dress she'd had on prior simply wouldn't cut it.

She wore now an expensive bra of gold, a cupless design that did nothing at all to cover her breasts and instead sought only to emphasize her womanly form. It dangled with jewels and was accompanied by a matching thong set with one large purple gemstone right atop her nethers.

Rather than the heels she'd worn when meeting Mr. Sinkle, she'd equipped herself with a pair of ivory thigh-high boots that tapered at the thigh into segments of fabric in the style of flower petals, and these were as a whole richly ornamented with wire-thin gold stripes that wound up the leg. A pair of fingerless opera gloves of the same design just about completed her salacious outfit.

Not to be completely indecent however, she'd also donned a white mageweave piece that crossed in an X-like pattern over her chest, leaving her stomach and the majority, but not all of, her cleavage visible. This tight mageweave piece crisscrossed over her shoulders to meet at her lower back, ironically offering more back coverage than frontal coverage. And while her thong had a long flowing strip of mageweave cloth that hung between her legs in the front, it offered no such protection in the back. Her ass, therefore, enjoyed complete freedom except for the thin strip of gold thong that could just barely be seen between her prominently developed ass cheeks.

As she stepped away from the rapidly closing portal and surveyed her surroundings, she caught the eye of a number of orcs. Under more casual circumstances this may have intrigued her, but today she had business to attend to. Shielding her eyes from the sun which peaked out through raggedy clouds draped across a bright blue sky, she surveyed her surroundings in search of the guide she'd been promised would aid her.

From behind a crowd of onlookers an old orc who'd been waiting shuffled toward her. His skin was red and bulging with muscles. His back was slightly bowed and his nails, more apt to be referred to as claws, were about as long as his beard. Still, as aged as he appeared, she sensed that a power lay within him, dark, potent and deadly. The old orc was a warlock.

"Good day," she said, gently bowing her head. "Elindia Dewshadow, at your service."

The orc stopped two cubits or so from her, eyed her up and down, then burst out into a wheezing cackle, revealing chipped teeth and what might have been a broken tusk. She could smell his breath from where she stood. "The Venture Company sure knows how to pick them, eh?"

"They have an eye for talent," she replied judiciously.

"Ha! Yes, I'm sure you're very talented--especially with your tongue."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

The old warlock cackled again, thumping the butt of his staff against the stone floor. "I'm sure! You can't fool me though, elf, I've done my research. There's a good reason why you work with orcs so often."

"Research? Then you're..."

Ignoring her, he made a twirling gesture with one of his long fingers. "Ya looking fine from the front, elf. Turn around, lemme get a good look at you before I bring ya to the master."

"The master? Please, state your name, orc."

The warlock gave an exaggerated bow. "Braz, servant of Trahlan Spinebreaker. Now listen here," he said, tapping his staff against her broad hips. "Turn around, purple lady. I have to assess you properly lest the master get upset."

Elindia frowned but complied. She'd much rather be dealing with the target of her mission as opposed to his underling, but such demeaning customs were sometimes necessary in her line of work.

After a moment of inspection, Braz said, "Not bad. Ya got a nice hump back here. Matches those fat tits of yours." He snickered, poking her ass with his staff. "Nice recoil. Good and round."

When he poked her again she whirled indignantly. "Are we through?" she asked.

"Relax, girl. Come, come, this way. I will take you to the master."

Rubbing her behind, she nodded, collected herself, and said, "Very well."

The old warlock directed her through Dire Maul, passing a number of scarred brutes who stared at her with either open hostility or naked lust. There were mostly orcs roaming about, but a number of other beastly looking men from a variety of other races lurked within the gladiatorial city, preparing for what she could only assume to be their next fight. The smell, surprisingly, was not offensive--far less so than Orgrimmar even--and the air was cool rather than hot and humid. The surrounding forest must be doing wonders to purify the place.

"Is he very far?" she asked.

Braz grunted derisively. "Of course not, elf. Ya think I can walk far?"

She side-eyed him but said nothing. Old or not, the warlock had more muscles than an orc half his age.

"Not far at all," the eccentric warlock continued, casually this time as if they were two friends on a walk. "You ever been in the military? Sentinel? Priestess?"

"No," Elindia replied. "I am a diplomat with the Kaldorei government." At his confused expression, she said, "Why do you ask?"

"Ya look like military. Every orc from Arathi to this backwater knows Sentinels are the best piece of ass there is, and with what you've got..."

"Is that a fact?" she said sourly.

"Undeniably," he went on. "I myself have had my fair share, so I know firsthand." At this he grinned and stood up a little straighter. "Half a dozen, maybe more."

Elindia rolled her eyes before fixing him with an incredulous stare. "Really? You? Half a dozen?"

"Well, maybe it was just one."

"Really? You? Just one?"

Braz scowled. "Are you making fun of me, long-ears?"

"Never. It's just that I expected an orc such as yourself to have lain with at least a dozen Sentinels. No doubt they would throw themselves at you."

He eyed her for a moment beneath his bushy brows and then suddenly grinned. "I like ya, girl. Ya skilled with your tongue in a way I hadn't expected. Most elves are only good at archery and sucking dick."

"...Thank you," she said with a little bow of the head. "You have been a most interesting guide so far."

Braz's entire deportment changed. Suddenly he was very serious. "Guide? Yes, I suppose you do need guidance." He stopped and tapped her on the arm. "Listen up, elf. If you don't want to end up like that fool"--raising one of his long, gnarled fingers, he pointed to a pair of orcs exiting a nearby building, one of which carried an unmistakably dead night elf upon his shoulder--"then you'll keep in mind that the master has a short temper. Ya can make your demands on behalf of that goblin company you're representing, but when push comes to shove you do what he says. Understand?"

"Completely," she said, gracefully bowing her head again. Her eyes, however, followed the two orcs as they walked by. While she appreciated Braz's advice, she already had a fair idea as to how to deal with his kind. After all, he had been right about his research.

The warlock led her to his master one hobbled step at a time, past training grounds, soldiers' barracks, a blacksmith, and into an ancient building of stone not constructed by orcs, but furnished in such a manner that made it clear who currently inhabited it. Upon entering, humidity assailed her nearly immediately. A strong scent of something burning, perpetuated by numerous flames ensconced within braziers, tickled her nose. Within this vestibule stood two very large orcish guards carrying axes and attitude. They nodded respectfully at Braz as he passed, crudely eyed Elindia as she sauntered by.

She ignored them and kept going, following next to Braz until at last he ceased walking and directed her attention to a modest sized room. But not just any room, a bedroom.

"I don't see your master here," she said suspiciously.

Confused, Braz said, "Why the hell would he be in my room? On my bed--"

"On your bed?" she interposed.

"On my bed," he said angrily, "is an outfit I left for you to wear."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Nothing. You look like a proper elven whore. Biggest slut in Orgrimmar. Or Darnassus, whatever. But the master prefers something... less."

"Less?"

"Less."

Elindia contemplated for a moment then shrugged and stepped inside the room. Smiling, she said, "All right, but no peeking."

She found some purple strings on the warlock's bed, alongside some netting. Then, she realized those were in fact the clothes he'd spoken of.

"Less, huh?" she muttered, holding it up to inspect before climbing into it.

Some people in her line of work objected to Elindia's everyday attire on the grounds that it was too revealing. Clearly, they had never seen the outfit Braz had picked out for her. Extending down from an iron collar to be clasped about the neck, it consisted of little more than two thin straps in the front designed to cover her nipples. These straps continued down, merging at the nethers before winding around back to cover just about one-fifth of her plump behind. All in all, it was little more than two strips and a circle, and what she thought had been netting had in fact been a pair of fishnet stockings.

Still, she thought, inspecting herself in a nearby mirror, she had to admit it looked positively delicious on her. And with one tiny strap in the back that went all the way from the back of her neck down to the cheeks of her ass like floss, it also offered the same amount of coverage for her ass as her own outfit: very little.

Exiting the room, she found Braz near the right of the entryway. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

"Are you sure your master will appreciate this?" she asked, adjusting a strap so that it properly covered her nipple.

"Absolutely."

"But for a business meeting--"

"Wear it or go back to Orgrimmar. Makes no difference to me."

Withholding a sigh, she said, "I will defer to your wisdom then. Lead the way."

Not long after, Elindia and her guide arrived at an antechamber where more of Trahlan Spinebreaker's guards were posted. This simple room had an immensely high ceiling, naked stone walls of symmetrical masonry, and a single rug of animal hide that covered the majority of the floor. Situated within an ancient archway at the far end was a more recent edition: an iron door about as tall as four orcs stacked atop one another and nearly just as wide.

"I take it we've arrived," she said.

"Indeed." Braz, who'd procured some sort of chain from his person, said, "Come here, I've got to leash you up."

"

Leash

me up?" Elindia exclaimed, pushing the orc's hand away. "Like some kind of dog?"

"Like a wolf."

"Excuse me?"

Braz smiled. "Orcs value wolves. However, they are expected to be obedient."

Glancing at the iron door whilst fingering the collar of her new outfit, she bit her lip and then turned to face him. "All right, but I will be very disappointed if I don't nail this deal."

"As will I."

It was in this manner that Elindia was paraded into Trahlan Spinebreaker's quarters, crawling on her hands and knees like a war prize as Braz led her by leash through a dark and lengthy corridor. At the other end of this dimly lit corridor sat the master of this arena-city, glowering down at her from atop a throne of jutting bone and smooth, black stone. Even from a distance she could tell that he was massive, a fel orc with skin like hellfire and wicked red eyes to match. His throne was large, but somehow he seemed to make even that look small.

"Wiggle your hips!" Braz whispered, yanking almost imperceptibly on her leash.

Not accustomed to crawling but immediately realizing her mistake, she quickly corrected herself, lowering the upper-half of her voluptuous body closer to the ground and allowing her hips to sway. Her ass, thrust into the air, waved tantalizingly as she drew closer to the target of her mission.

"Great Master," Braz began with a booming voice, coming to a halt in front of Trahlan's throne and bowing his head. Upon seeing this, Elindia, expert in propriety as she was, respectfully touched her head to the floor. "This elf is representing the Venture Company. She has arrived swiftly and without issue so that she may see you. I believe that--"

Trahlan Spinebreaker waved an enormous hand. "Enough. She can speak for herself. You are dismissed, warlock."

With another bow, Braz handed over Elindia's leash to his master then hurried out of the room. Along the way he stopped briefly next to her and whispered, "Remember what I said earlier."

After the old orc had slithered out of the throne room, Trahlan eyed her for some time before speaking up again. "Well?" he said impatiently. "Why is a whore of Darnassus at my feet?"

She met his gaze for the first time, his broad face half-hidden by shadow. Then, she endeavored to stand up but was quickly brought back to the ground by a yank on her leash.

"I asked you a question, elf. I did not tell you to stand."

Elindia took it in stride. Her voice was clear and pleasant as she spoke. "Apologies, Your Eminence. As your servant stated, I have been employed to represent the Venture Company on a business matter regarding you and your men."

"Hmph! Goblins." He gestured impatiently. "I know who you are so get on with it."

"The company has coffers and coffers of gold," she said, "but not enough men. Your men--naturally given their leader--are highly skilled. As such we would like to come to an agreement with you whereby your men would be hired as bodyguards."

"And the sniveling vermin sent you, a night elf, to conduct the affairs of goblins."

"On behalf of the Venture Company, I will do everything I can to facilitate such an agreement."

"I'm sure you will," he sneered.

"Indeed," she continued, ignoring the hidden meaning of his remark. "In total, we are willing to pay six thousand gold pieces a year for a period of three years. In other words, forty men at one hundred gold pieces a year, each, and an additional two thousand gold for yourself."

Seemingly more interested in her than in a potential contract with the Venture Company, Trahlan Spinebreaker instead rapped his fingers against the arm of his bony chair while openly eyeing her prostrated form. She had her head raised from the floor so she could look at him, and this position emphasized the impressive width of her hips and ass, the latter being visible like a pair of round purple moons. Eventually, he met her gaze and spoke again.

"I don't trust goblins. They'd sell their mother for half a piece of copper."

"The Venture Company is very reputable when it comes to payment." Elindia smiled reassuringly. "I myself can attest to that."

His face twisted into a scowl, but he nevertheless appeared to be considering. "Make it ten thousand. I will have to find additional men to replace those you take. And like you said, your company has 'coffers and coffers' of gold, so the price shouldn't be an issue."

Ten thousand? Sinkle had authorized her to accept up to eleven thousand, but she'd hoped to secure the deal at less than ten. Still, the old warlock had been rather adamant in his words.

"I-- Yes, that is very fair, Your Eminence. Ten thousand it shall be."

Satisfied, Trahlan grinned. "There's just one more thing."

"Name it."

"If the Venture Company is to receive my men, I wish to receive one of theirs."

"I don't follow."

"You, elf. For a year."

Surprised, Elindia almost sat up and risked another yank on the chain. Instead, her eyes widened as she contemplated his demand. Certainly she had already expected something like this, as she always did when negotiating with orcs, and it was true that she herself often encouraged such matters to benefit her side of negotiations... But for an entire year?

"I have official government business to attend to, I can't remain here all day for a year."

"Fine," he said, waving his hand. "You may work, but when you come home you will be coming home to me. Here."