The incessant drip-drip-dripping of water on stone slowly brought Sylvanas back to consciousness. She had been given no chance to sleep after being "caught" trying to sneak into the Scarlet Monastery. Instead, she'd been dragged from her hiding place to the crypt under the chapel and thrown into one of the cells. Of course, she knew quite well what they would do to her. The Scarlet Crusade was so utterly predictable.
Her arms and legs were shackled, chains from the ceiling and floor binding her wrists and ankles, respectively. Her cell had no windows to speak of. It being underground most likely didn't help in that regard. Small and dank, it had barely enough space for an admittedly comfortable-looking bed and a bucket where living prisoners would relieve themselves, a testament to the Scarlet Crusade's way of making foes of both the living
and
the dead, given that the Undead had no use for such amenities. The only light came from a single torch on the other side of the door, casting its flickering light on Sylvanas's full figure, her curves overflowing from the corset-like armor and leather leggings she wore.
The only way Sylvanas now possessed to measure how long she'd been captive was the growing hunger, that excruciating stirring in her loins and the increasingly frequent erections that would torture her randomly as her thoughts drifted to decadence. While undeath had slowed most of her body's needs or had stopped them completely, it seemed that her lust, that incessant desire to stuff cunts full of her seed had only increased. With no way to relieve herself, all she could do was wait for her boners to pass, even as she wanted nothing more than to blow a fat, creamy load of cum into the first whore she could get her hands on.
"
All part of the plan,"
she reminded herself.
It had never crossed her mind that imprisonment could have been an issue. Her abilities as a banshee should have allowed her to possess the guards for an easy escape but her light-wielding captors had anticipated these dark powers of hers and had woven their Holy Light into the very stones of the room. As such, she could not bring herself to leave the confines of the cell, no matter how much she desired it.
But she did not need to escape. If her plan worked, then she would destroy the Crusade from the inside.
The distinct sound of high heels clicking against stone outside her cell pulled her from her reverie, forcing her gaze towards the thick wooden door. As usual, she couldn't see who approached; but the woman's tone, at once authoritative and sultry allowed for immediate identification. No other woman could arouse such deep feelings of helplessness, compliance and arousal with so few words before one had even laid eyes upon her.
Sally Whitemane, High Inquisitor of the Scarlet Crusade pushed open the door of Sylvanas's cell, frowning at the sight of such an undead creature beneath her holy monastery.
Sylvanas didn't give a single fuck what kind of face the white-haired human made, for her eyes immediately went to the woman's fat, wobbling tits and those delectable thighs, so thick that every movement made them jiggle lewdly, barely contained in the slutty stockings the woman wore. The Banshee Queen felt her cock slowly stir to life at the sight.
"Hrmf," Whitemane's harsh stare bored into Sylvanas. "For one with a reputation such as yours, I was expecting you to put up more of a fight."
Sylvanas grinned, her gaze never meeting Whitemane's, instead staring at the High Inquisitor's luscious, delectable curves. Her legs only appeared that much longer thanks to the whorish heels she wore. No wonder Whitemane had a reputation for keeping her soldiers in line with all manner of salacious activities, thought Sylvanas. The sight of the woman's dark red-and-gold attire, of that indecent corset pushing her massive tits up, of the piece of fabric covering her ass and cunt, could only invite the most impure of thoughts.
"Not one to speak, are you?" the Inquisitor said, turning to close the door behind her, allowing Sylvanas to catch a glimpse of that monstrous, wobbling ass. It was of such breadth that the diminutive piece of cloth dangling from her waist to cover it seemed wholly inadequate, being swallowed between those colossal cheeks of pale flesh. "Imagine that, being bested by a brick head like Herod," she chuckled.
Sylvanas felt her cock stir once more, pushing against the tightness of her leather leggings. One would have had to be blind to not see the outline of that indecent tool.
Every part of Whitemane's body seemed to scream sex. Avoiding such a tantalizing view would be impossible, not that the Banshee Queen even wanted to. It felt like eons ago she'd last seen a woman, never mind one as full-figured as the white-haired priestess that now stood before her. Though the inquisitor's words were meant to wound her admittedly burdensome pride, Sylvanas was too focused on that huge ass and those mindboggling knockers, her thoughts drifting to images of her painting the sultry human with gallons of sticky banshee nut.
"Herod doesn't seem to be the only idiot around here," Sylvanas said, her red eyes finally meeting Sally's. "Imagine thinking it could ever be a good idea to antagonize the Horde while your base of operations is right next to one of their capital cities," she laughed.
Of course, the Banshee Queen's cock had now hardened to a point where ignoring it was nearly impossible for Whitemane, and Sylvanas noticed a brief, almost imperceptible glance downward. If she was to escape, it would be with the only weapon she had left. Unlike her bow which could be confiscated or her banshee powers which could be nullified, being stuck in a cell for so long only strengthened the Dark Lady's unholy appetites. She wouldn't let the chance slip away.
Whitemane arched an eyebrow. "They won't attack while we have you captive."
Though the Inquisitor appeared cool and collected, recent attacks by Horde and Alliance adventurers had left her forces somewhat diminished, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they sent a force strong enough to overtake the whole Monastery. A religious zealot she might have been, but a fool she was not. She could not let her doubts show in the face of a foe like Sylvanas Windrunner who could exploit any and all weaknesses.
"Oh, they will," Sylvanas continued, her dark red eyes burning with malice. "And then they'll have their way with you, as the rest of your order has," she added.
A flash of light burned at the tip of Whitemane's staff and Sylvanas felt a searing pain envelop her, forcing a silent scream from her lungs. "Shut your clever mouth," the human said, risking another glance down at the bulge growing between the banshee's legs. It was already so massive, surely it would not grow any bigger - could - not grow any bigger.
"Now, now," Whitemane said, the light from her staff dimming considerably, though not entirely. "I'm sure you know as well as I do that cooperation is the only way you'll make it out of here painlessly."