Forbidden Heat Ch 03

A request featuring Sylvanas, a worgen, a blood elf, and a tauren; all from WoW.

***

It was still early when they finally arrived, bathed in pre-dawn light before the sun truly rose overhead. Silence reigned, inert and oppressive. There were no birds, no chirping insects, not even the soft, melancholic howling of wind. The inside of the carriage was as a coffin for two, but the Dark Lady was oblivious to the eeriness surrounding her, and an odd sense of elation warmed her. Beside her, Nick sat, similarly oblivious.

"Wake up." She nudged him with her elbow and received a growl in response.

"Are we there yet or are you just trying to annoy me again?" he asked.

Sylvanas ignored him and opened the door, stepping out into a world of silence and cool, still air. Her head, cloaked in blonde hair and a hood, turned as she surveyed the area. There wasn't a creature in sight--undead or otherwise--only blackened soil, sparse patches of grass wet with the morning dew, and gnarly trees that twisted and bent as if in macabre reverence to the devastation that had befallen the land decades prior.

Home, for her. Or at least it used to be.

The stone path leading up to Windrunner Spire was dull and dirty, an observation that could similarly be used to describe the rest of the Windrunner home. But outside of its dilapidated appearance that seemed at its cause rooted in a miasma of preternatural makings, there was little about it that had truly changed since the Scourge's invasion of Quel'thalas.

Situated upon a tall promontory, various buildings jutted out from the cliffside in impossible fashion typical of Sin'dorei architecture, while the home's namesake loomed high in the sky against a backdrop of distant storm clouds and a cold, dead sky. The three towers at the apex of the spire glowed with magical power, fainter after all these years left unattended, yet still humming with energy that pulsed through the settlement as if through veins, reverberating through the air. Beneath their trio of peaks, a statue of Sylvanas remained, dusty in its years of solitary confinement. The fountain outside stood as it had always stood, grimier now, but nevertheless churning out water.

Ultimately, Windrunner Spire elicited an aura of near palpable sorrow, a somber and subdued shadow of its former self that reminded observers of what had been, and what was now. For most, it was something to be forgotten, something to be sparingly glanced at and then hurriedly left behind.

Not so for the Dark Lady.

Sylvanas began to move up the sloping hill that led up to her familial home, boots clicking against stone. Nick fell in beside her, sparing a glance back at the carriage and its driver, now mysteriously absent.

"Now that we're here, are you going to tell me

why

we're here?"

"I will tell you once we're inside."

His eyes drifted down to her chest as she walked. She was tall even for an elf, but he towered over her in worgen form and got a good look at her tits as they jiggled with each step she took, too large and healthy to be properly contained within her breastplate. "Fine," he said. "I'm looking forward to it."

***

He had been, too. He'd been curious about their destination since the beginning of their little expedition, but the only thing greater than his curiosity was his desire.

"You couldn't wait five minutes?"

Shaking his head, Nick kept his eyes on her bouncing breasts as he took her on top of a table in an area once used as a sitting room for guests. Her breastplate and trousers had been tossed haphazardly onto a nearby sofa in his hurry to mount her, and although she'd been incensed, she had reluctantly agreed after he'd released his titanic erection from the stuffy confines of his pants.

Now she glared up at him, molten fire in her eyes but exultant moans on her lips. Her arms were thrust out at either side of her so that she could grasp the edges of the table, hanging on with a viselike death grip. Her legs formed a wide V against his shoulders, and he held onto them tightly while he graced her trembling pussy with long, smooth strokes.

They must have fucked about a dozen times over the course of their journey, but one look at Sylvanas' sinful body and his arousal began to simmer and gradually boil over. Those big bouncing tits of hers were fantastic enough, but they were just one of many luscious assets she carried. A trim elven waist blossomed outwards into wide, meaty hips which in turn led to a pair of thick and powerful thighs. Muscle highlighted her athletic frame, accentuated her womanly curves, the gentle rolling hills of her abs as he distended them each time he impaled her on his fat cock.

"Disobedient mutt," she breathed. But her eyes were closed now and her voice unsteady. The more dick he beat into her the more she moaned, and it didn't take very long at all until Sylvanas shook with an orgasm, barking a Thalassian curse and arching her back up off the table as her body convulsed in a fit of blissful tremors.

Nick slowed but didn't stop the pumping of his furry hips. Briefly, as she came, he watched her gorgeous face contort in an erotic display of pleasure, but then he returned to gazing at her tits, entranced and enthralled by what normally lay hidden beneath her armor. Her nipples, prominently erect, were a berry purple, standing in lovely contrast to the beautiful blue skin of her breasts. They danced to the rhythm of his thrusts, bouncing in oblong patterns atop her chest. He liked the way they moved, the way they sprung forward and recoiled. Without warning or thought he slammed forward and dealt unto her a brief series of strokes that made her purr an appreciative

Mmm

that tapered off into a whining moan. Her tight elven cunt clenched up around his cock, but her deliciously fat tits flailed in blurring fashion, wild and unpredictable in their trajectory across her chest.

Faster. Faster.

Faster still, until her wicked red eyes widened and she took to grunting like an animal. Her arms reached back above her head to grip at the table edge, and somehow this made the view even better, even more tantalizing. Her massive mammaries jolted forward as if in a straight line now, the kinetic energy of his powerful thrusts causing them to nearly smack against her chin.

He kept this up for some time, refusing to let up and give her any sort of reprieve, pumping the Banshee Queen with feral strokes and brutal efficiency. Wetness accumulated atop the table from their combined juices leaking down between her legs. Sweat cast her body in an erotic sheen, and her silver-blonde hair fanned out messily across the table. There was no silence now, only the profane and downright depraved carnality of their affair disturbing the morning tranquility of a desolate land and abandoned household. Fur and muscle and cock struck against her at a downward angle, pounding her out like a hammer on nail. She came frequently, and each time she writhed, moaning in a husky spectral voice that only enticed him to keep going, to slam her quivering pussy until he couldn't take it anymore.

Back and forth at breakneck speed, he withdrew and drove forward again and again, using his thick canine prick to turn her brain into mush and stretch her pussy out as he saw fit.

The Dark Lady was an object of fantasy and, to some, worship. Terrifyingly beautiful and terrifyingly powerful in equal measure, the thrill he derived from fucking her senseless and turning her into a cocksleeve could not be overstated. Normally tall and imposing with an aura of deadliness, Sylvanas now appeared almost tiny beneath him, splayed atop the table with the lovely, uniquely elven lines of her angular face contorted in savage fashion. Strained grunts mixed with moans as she coasted along towards another climax, teeth bared, eyes unseeing, body thrashing atop the table in an effort to resist her impending orgasm. He fucked her like an animal and she reciprocated in kind, wild and sex crazed, a stubborn slut addicted to worgen cock and having her holes fucked, knotted, and pumped full of hot viscous seed.

"Yes! Yes! Yess!"

she babbled in her native tongue, her voice a delirious snarl. Then she laughed as if deranged and whined out a moan, head upturned so she could watch his massive cock laying into her pussy, its massive, pulsating length glistening a stark crimson against the blue of her skin.

Nick's eyes flicked up to the slender curve of her neck, the pronounced cords, the small dip between her collar bones, and found a new target. Letting go of one of her legs, he reached forward and seized her by the throat, squeezing just right.

She moaned immediately, her pussy contracting around his plundering tool.

"That's it," she croaked. "Give it to me. Fucking knot me you beast."

Without sacrificing speed, he increased the strength of his thrusts, pummeling her pussy and making the sturdy table rock on its legs. Each stroke forced what sounded like a painful grunt out of her, yet there was no doubt as to her enjoyment of the savage dicking she was receiving, the delectable humiliation that came from being used and laid low by a drooling, howling wolfman. Sylvanas enjoyed dominating and being dominated in turn. She enjoyed rough sex, violent sex, the kind of sex that left even her resilient body sore, and it didn't get much better than being manhandled by an enormous worgen, his claws prickling her throat while his cock destroyed her pussy.

"More!" she demanded, her voice strained yet echoing with power.

A dark, sinewy vapor began to build up around her naked body, sticking to the table like morning fog. Offshoots of tendril-like appendages branched outwards, seeking new ground, trailing down the legs of the table and pooling upon the floor in a puddle of stygian smoke. It billowed up about them as if curious, and the more he pounded her the more of it arose from her.

"More!" she repeated.

Emboldened by both her cries and his own feral nature, he gave her everything he had, black fur bristling while his muscles flexed and his lips curled back in a wolfish snarl. Her pussy spasmed, milking his cock and reveling in its own destruction. And every time he slammed his body into hers, every time he plugged her slutty elven cunt full of worgen meat, his knot tapped against her, threatening entry. Threatening to give her exactly what she wanted.

Sylvanas huffed a continuous stream of gratuitous grunts that accompanied each stroke into her core and was only occasionally broken by an animalistic growl. The banshee within her had long since leaked out of her, if only partially, affecting not only the swirling mist about them but her skin as well, now a lavender similar in color to a night elf. Her arms flailed aimlessly about the table, sending smoke whirling before she again grasped at the edges of the table. A noise signaled the cracking of wood under her fingers. Searing red eyes stared up at him, glowing in hellish fashion, brighter than usual, illuminating her face from beneath her skin.

He moved his hand along her throat, gently, like the fond caress of a lover with concealed intent, and traced his clawed thumb up the underside of her chin. Her teeth were bared and firmly ground together in an effort to retain her sanity, but when he pressed his thumb against her she opened after a brief moment of hesitation, sliding his finger across her tongue and sealing it between her lips. She sucked on it greedily, ignoring fur and claw. The rest of his fingers wrapped around her head, holding it like a pebble in his much larger hand and keeping her firmly in place as he carried out his primal obligation.

The tension within Sylvanas was as tight and unstable as she was. It boiled, it strained, it ached, and when Nick's final stroke buried the entirety of his magnificent red rocket inside of her, knot and all, she shattered. An explosion went off inside of her like a cartful of goblin dynamite, compounded by her leaking banshee powers that desperately sought release. Her pussy quaked and quivered around both manhood and knot inside her. She wanted nothing more than to scream, to shout her release with all the magical force she could muster, but with his thumb in her mouth it was impossible to do so without injuring him.

But she didn't want to let go either. Some part of her felt an irresistible compulsion to keep sucking on his thumb despite the storm of power and pleasure roaring inside of her, threatening release in the form of a decimating banshee scream. She kicked her legs against his shoulders, body taut and tense as a bowstring, breasts swaying erratically. Inside, she focused, doing everything she could to contain herself as she had never quite done before, but the torrent of her climax and the rush of dark power within her crackled and crashed

Nick had little idea of her predicament at first. He was too busy consummating his conquest, depositing a hot sticky load in her royal womb while the bulb of his knot expanded to an absurd degree. The way her pussy rippled and milked his tool made him hum appreciatively, and it was only then, when he was finished creaming her insides and ballooning her stomach outwards, that he realized her groans had stopped and her legs had ceased kicking.

No longer caught up in the fog of his own lust, he soon realized what had happened and swiftly removed his thumb from her mouth. The dark mist that had surrounded them while he was working her over was gone now, her facial features normal, her skin blue again. She always screamed when forcibly dragged into her banshee form during sex, and so the cause of her unconsciousness was as blatantly obvious as the knot lodged inside of her. Between the worgen dick stretching out her pussy and the sudden need to control her banshee scream, Sylvanas had passed out.

Well this is new

, he thought, grinding his hips against her and tugging on her pussy with his knot. Silver hair stuck to her forehead, while her eyes remained open yet unseeing.

Turning her head from side to side, he inspected Sylvanas for a moment then used the opportunity to take one of her long elven eyebrows between two fingers and tweak it. For some reason elven ears and brows had always interested him.

Curiosity sated, his attention soon returned to her breasts, glowing with sweat and lying helplessly atop her chest like a pair of big blue melons perfectly suited for occupying his time and hands until she woke up.

One, perhaps two minutes of kneading her tits passed before she came to.

She said nothing upon waking, and he had the sense that somehow she was embarrassed by what had occurred. Combing her hair with her fingers, she then used that same hand to procure a swirling, undulating mass of purple energy that she quickly snuffed out, leaving behind a puff of black mist that dissipated into nothingness.

"Everything in order?" he asked.

She responded with a vague noise of acknowledgement, and they didn't speak again until his knot had shrunken enough for him to withdraw from her, letting loose a deluge of jizz that pooled upon the table.

"Now that you're finished," she said, placing her feet against his chest and pushing him away, "I have things to discuss with you." Sitting up, her breasts hung tantalizingly in accordance with their hefty weight. "Come with me."

Sylvanas didn't so much as step off the table as flew off of it, swooping through the house and up a set of spiraling marble stairs in ghostly fashion.

Not so much interested in talking to her as he was with fucking her brains out again, Nick followed her upstairs in a rush of motion, bounding through a doorway, knocking over side tables and furniture before hitting a set of winding stairs on all fours, leaping three steps at a time until he caught up to her in the bedroom.

She was leaving her banshee form as he entered the room, the swirling purple-black mist coalescing into her full and very shapely figure. Jumping across the room, he tackled her atop the bed, forcing a surprised grunt from her. She twisted beneath him, but he shoved her head down into the sheets and gave her a crackling smack on the ass that reverberated throughout the room and made her big booty jiggle.

A frenzy of lust controlled him by this point, mad and impossible to contain. It spread to her like a vulgar, lustful contagion. Sylvanas snarled, wiggling her behind back against him, feeling his enormous girth sliding over her ass cheeks. Needing it like he needed her.

She wrestled half-heartedly against him for the sake of putting up a resistant front. He grinded her face further into the bed and then let go. She stayed like that, face down and ass up, hands clutching the sheets in front of her, impatient and very very willing. Keeping one possessive hand on her plump behind, he spread her cheeks apart and guided his cock into her, pressing the pointed tip of his manhood against her innocent little rosebud. A gentle touch, like a kiss almost. Her asshole was a soft purple, and almost delicate looking next to the enormity of his veined, hulking tool of vivid scarlet. When he applied pressure, it stood no chance of rejecting him.

The tapered tip of his canine cock speared into her with all the ease of a stampeding kodo through a wall made of paper. He stretched the tight ring of her sphincter, kept going and going, feeding her every inch until she'd run out of dick to take and was balls deep full of worgen meat.

The primal frenzy of his worgen curse surged through him, an instinctual drive that temporarily eclipsed his humanity. He spanked her again, took pleasure in the way her fat ass rippled on impact, the way she squirmed back against him like a needy whore. Leaning forward, he moved his hands to her little waist and began his assault on her bowels, withdrawing his gleaming red Banshee Slayer from her quivering asshole and then slamming back home, all the way to the hilt.

It didn't take long for her to voice her approval.

"Belesa menoor am'ovel!" she hissed into the sheets, fingers ripping and tearing at cloth.

"Shindu fallah aranel. Anar'alah vendel'oohh

, ffuck!" A brief intermission of deceptively slow strokes followed by a slap on the ass and an abrupt flurry of deep, hard thrusts interrupted her rambling. The bed creaked as it bounced beneath them, whilst she let loose an unrestrained string of exultant cries.

Sylvanas took it up the ass better than anyone and likely enjoyed it more than anyone, but a weakness to anal was something no one would have predicted of her. He knew better though. The Dark Lady was a butt-slut. Combine that with a worgen humping her like a breeding bitch and making her ass clap and she didn't stand a chance.

His hands hooked around her, holding her frantic, cock-addicted form in place while he leaned forward and battered his pelvis against her thick behind. Wicked strokes claimed, pumped, and demolished her asshole, hollowing her out and stretching the quivering ring of her sphincter around his enormous girth. It hugged him, squeezed him, and he rewarded it with the violent thrusts of a monster on a mission.

A mission to knot the Banshee Queen's glorious booty and make her scream good and hard in the process.

He hammered her with bed-breaking speed and power for the first five minutes of her anal pounding, but then he slowed, leaned back, and savored the feeling of her hot body on his cock.

Dawn peeked into the bedroom, a silent voyeur, brushing past the window curtains and illuminating their silken edges in an orange glow. Light creeped over them atop the bed like long golden fingers, but the majority of the spacious room remained shrouded in shadows. Fitted to the wall were a number of old-looking paintings, the regal individuals within their frames covered in a layer of murky dust. Surprisingly, the air was crisp and pleasant within Windrunner Spire, and inside the house it was almost peaceful albeit for the incessant

thwap thwap thwap

of Sylvanas' ass impacting against his pelvis echoing loudly throughout the house.