A request featuring Tyrande Whisperwind from WoW having a train run on her by orcs.
***
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.
