Copyright Notice:
All characters and individual material is © Daniel Riverton 2011. All rights Reserved.
The "World of Warcraft" Setting is ©2004 Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. World of Warcraft, Warcraft and Blizzard Entertainment are trademarks or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. in the U.S. and/or other countries.
This is fan fiction only. This work may not be reproduced for commercial, marketing republishing or copying purposes. The work is sexual in nature and may not be to everyone's individual taste. Please do not continue reading unless 18 years or older.
The alleys of Silvermoon
Satharil strode down the boulevard with easy steps. He knew exactly where he wanted to be. For several years, every week on the same day he had done the same thing.
Whoring
.
His calm, self-assured smile grew. He knew he was attractive. To anyone but an blood elf, he was probably stunning. To anyone from his race, he was well beyond exceptional with glowing green eyes, a well-proportioned and tall figure, not to mention the thick mane of brown hair cascading from his scalp.
Quick steps brought him past a pair of guards -- male and female -- standing at one of the massive gates into another quarter of Silvermoon. They gave him a short smirk -- knowing fully well why he, like others had come here.
The female guard actually gave him an appraising glance and cocked her hips, twisting slightly. He smiled and her and her lips quirked. Their armor didn't show much, but Satharil thought he could distinguish a very attractive body beneath the plating.
Still, the woman was no whore. Trying to bed her would require hours of coercion, and he had no mind for that this day. He moved on.
Silvermoon was a grand city. Not like the pig sty they called Orgrimmar, or the old ruins of Lordaeron, now more suitable for corpses than for the living. Thunder Bluff was the only city he had found beautiful -- though rugged -- out of those he had visited.
Still, his home city had it's seedier parts, and this was one of them. The alley into which he strode had little of the otherwise magically-infused grandeur. Trash littered the streets in small heaps, thugs crowded the doorways. A mingle of nationalities and backgrounds, including blood elves themselves.
An orcess with muscles as thick, legs as corded as any man's stood in one of the open doors holding a thick club. She eyed him suspiciously as he passed, but didn't hinder him.
The thick-bladed sword on his back discouraged
anyone
from really trying to hinder his passage. Other than the weapon, he wore little in ways of protection. Most of the thugs, the guards and the whores here knew him however.
He was a regular customer, after all.
There were the old, familiar faces. He saw several. A lithe troll seductively flashed her teeth and miniscule tusks, her nearly-naked body twisting as she performed a little introductory dance routine he knew very well. Satharil had tried her, and she was good. More than good, really.
But today...
He walked past a waist-tall goblin without even glancing at her, despite the cleavage and naked bosom she flashed. Her pixy-like face was an expression of insulted affront.
Today he was in the mood for something a little more..
.close to home.
"Ilaine!"
His voice rose over the mingled talk in the alley as he reached a small door of a filthy little hovel. Well, truth be told the part of the building that
wasn't
the cellar was quite fashionable, a tailor's shop.
But Ilaine lived in what would be the cellar, if it wasn't furnished and embellished to serve as a home.
His knock made the door creak and open, revealing a small room holding only a sizable bed, a bath tub and a drapery-covered part which he knew held her clothing, valuables and small things she wouldn't want visitors to see or find.
Not that she had much of value.
"Hey! Don't you wait for an answer anymore, you blood-cursed beast?"
Ilaine stood from the filled bathtub, water splashing over the side and onto the coarse floor. She climbed out, unconcerned by her obvious, sun-touched nudity.
Satharil licked his lips. She was a beauty, truly too beautiful to be in
this
place of town. He walked forward, cupping her full -- comparatively full, at least -- breasts in his hands, squeezing the mounds firmly. Her eyes were shaped like those of a feline and she had hair like spun gold as well as a lithe, petite body to go with it all.
Ilaine glared, slapping his hands away with one hand.
At least, she
would
have been elsewhere in town, if her forehead didn't hold a thick scar that made her unsuitable for anything...noble.
"You haven't actually payed yet, you idiot. And what makes you think I'm even
done yet
?" She spat venomously, stepping backwards towards the bed.
He eyed her from head to toe.
"Let's remedy that, shall we." He pulled a thick purse from his belt, counting two thick golden coins into his palm. With one hand, he grasped her hair and turned her, face towards the bed.
Then he pressed her down, one hand circling the back of her neck, eliciting a sharp '
ngh'
from her.
With the hand holding the gold, he reached over her head and dropped the coins onto the floor next to the bed before shoving
her
down the soft bed.
She looked back at him, uttering a coarse oath.
"Do you think you can treat me like a piece of gutter trash, just because you pay to use my body, you horse's ass?" She snarled.
Her eyes widened when they fell on the coins lying on the floor.
"Yes." He replied simply. "Unless you'd like me to take the coins
back....."
he trailed off.
For answer, she spread her arms on the bed, moving her legs apart to bare her naked body to him. She leaned, her perfectly curved back arching slightly.
Satharil curved his lips, knowing full well how much he had offered her. Enough for her to accept a
beating.
He disrobed smoothly and trailed his palm across her smooth, soft back, cupping her delicate buttocks with both wide hands. She quivered beneath him. Whether from anticipation or rage, he did not know.
He pressed his thick, already erect shaft up from behind against her sex.
She's completely shaved
, he felt and smirked.
Ilaine moved her hips when he didn't enter her, trying to push back with a frustrated growl.
"You don't dictate when I begin, do you, whore?" Grabbing her hair firmly in one hand, he twisted her head and forced her to face him. Her eyes glowed, her lashes delicately curved and trembling. The whore's lips were parted.
"No" She said, her voice still sharp.
"Exactly.." He kept her hair firmly in his hand and slammed into her with brutal force, groaning loudly at the sudden feeling of her tight, warm, wet sex enveloping his cock from glans to lower shaft.
"Ancestors" He breathed "You feel
perfect
..."
In response, she raised her hips slightly, looking up at him with a mixture of desire, amusement and hate. She bared her teeth.
"mmm...come here, you little...
bitch
." He reached with his other hand, pulling her upper body up against his by way of her chest.
"Enjoying...yourself?" Her voice was slightly strained and the fingers which gripped her surprisingly fine sheets quavered, alternating between digging into the fabric and releasing.
"You...
better
...be"
"You talk too much when I fuck you, Ilaine. If I want you to talk" He grasped her hair harder, tugging her head up and eliciting a surprised gasp from her. "I'll
tell you, bitch."