Who a Ing Must Do

Anduin lost no time.

He only took care of the important things, looking over the new developments of Stormwind and properly introducing his new haremettes to the rest through a unifying orgy. After that, when his harem of willing sex slaves was in a climax-induced coma, he moved to Icecrown.

The roof of the world, they called it. The polar land was desolate, in more ways than one. No tree could survive in these temperatures and no life could truly flourish. There were the Vry'kul, who carved out a meagre existence, but they were by far below the true ruler of this place: the undead.

Icecrown citadel was a segmented fortress, spanning the entirety of the area. Massive saronite walls loomed rigid and black above the obsidian ground, littered in corpses whose animation was suspended by the will of their master. The Lichking, who sat atop the great tower at the end of the superstructure.

Anduin emerged right at the steps leading into the main citadel. The guards, giants of bone, directed their gazes at him for one moment. In the past, they would have immediately turned hostile, but a new Lichking governed the Scourge. Bolvar Fordragon, a great paladin, father of Taelia Fordragon -- and Anduin's warden for many years.

When Arthas had been cut down, a new Lichking had been needed to make sure the undead tides did not run rampant. Bolvar had taken that suffering upon him and since acted as jailor of the damned. A fate that Anduin could now liberate him from.

Anduin stepped past the giants and past the open gate. Many sights he would have expected. A welcoming committee of undead that would struggle against their cleansing, directed by a fragment of Bolvar's mind overcome by the crown of domination. Guides that would take him to the crown. Even dead silence would have been more expected than what he found.

An ornate priestly robe of gold, black, and white with a tall mixture of collar and hood sat neatly folded on the ground. Ornate jewelry, heavy on jewels, laid on top of the folded robe, all of them very carefully arranged, like laundry freshly made. A pair of decorated shoulder pads sat next to them. Underwear was on the other side.

More important than all of that was the person who had once worn and folded the clothes. Her forehead rested on the ground, Leaving only her carefully brushed, pale blonde hair to be seen. It was swept right side, a couple of braid adorning the left temple. All of it eventually became part os the same orderly tide. Her hands were folded under her forehead.

Her head was as low as it would get and her ass as highly raised as it could be while maintaining her kneeling position. A round ass and thick thighs were on full display. The juicy cheeks trembled softly with nervous anticipation. Enormous breasts were squished under her curving chest, spilling out under the sides of her slender torso.

She was, like all the gorgeous women Anduin called his own, slender and yet soft in all the right places. She was among the more voluptuous, for certain, slotting in with women like Jaina and Taelia. She was different, however. Her skin was as white as marble, with a tinge of blue to it. A manifestation not of the freezing environment she prostrated herself in, but of her nature. Anduin sensed no life from the woman.

"Raise your head," Anduin said, wishing to sort out of the last doubts before he continued.

"Yes, Master," she swooned and followed his demand, revealing fine features and eyes of a gorgeous silver. Her lips were of a pale pink and full. Nothing about her appearance immediately gave away her undead nature. The light pulsed within those eyes, a most unusual way to be reanimated. As a matter of fact, Anduin only knew one.

"Calia Menethil," he said, more to himself than anyone. As he approached the kneeling, naked woman, he extended the reach of his magic beyond his skin. Inner fire that had only warmed him now warmed the entire room, melting away frost that had existed longer than the building itself. "I did not expect to see you here. I heard nothing of you in recent months."

"The Light revealed to me your rising grandeur, Master," she lightforged Undead declared, her every voice a whisper. "I awaited your coming, knowing that I would have my place as yours."

The Emperor of Life stopped in front of her. He placed a hand on her cheek and that was already enough. Her belief in him was so absolute that the Shadow flowed into her from a mere touch. Pink, the energy beat in the shape of hearts in her eyes, while his mark appeared on her lower abdomen amongst orgasmic twitches.

Even Anduin was surprised by this deep devotion, but Calia only purred, nuzzling against his palm as she fully gave herself to his cause. The last Menethil, sister of the previous Lichking, and heir of Lordaeron -- the now undead realm of Sylvanas ruled from Undercity. The Emperor's surprise only lasted for a second and he instead scratched her finely swung ear.

"You trust me?"

"You are wreathed in divinity beyond that of the forces that saw fit to bring me back, Master," Calia answered with a strained voice. Every second his warm hand sat on her skin, she experienced her orgasm prolonging. The mark above her womb pulsed with a heat her deathless body had long forgotten. Pleasures of the flesh re-asserted themselves.

Ba-dump.

The first heartbeat made her bite her lower lips. Warm blood pumped slowly through her veins again and while the muscles pulsed, her womb throbbed with purpose. "The Menethil line only has one purpose," Calia moaned. "To lead to this day, where you reignite my blood and turn me into your cocksleeve, Master. I'll be another one of your queens, a wife to slate your lust, a womb to carry your line, an administrator to make your realm prosper. Lordaeron's future is under you -- just as mine is!"

Her words got more and more heated, her heart beating with increasing frequency. Just by marking her, he wrestled her from undeath -- for no cumdump of the perfect Master could ever be allowed an infertile existence.

Already, Anduin gathered her knowledge about her state and added it to his own. It was incomplete, a mere first chapter. Not enough to truly restore her to life, for her womb to do more than remember its purpose -- incapable of fulfilling it.

Still, her surrender demanded a reward and Anduin dismissed his clothes with a simple thought. Calia shouted with glee when his cock smacked across her features. "The purpose I serve," she said, her voice resonating deeply with conviction. Her mouth was wide open and she got everything she hoped for.

Anduin grabbed her pretty head with both hands and thrust inside. Already, her mouth was warm and wet. Colder than that of a truly alive women, yes, but far from the distasteful coldness of a corpse. He pushed deep inside, knowing that she could take it.

Calia's body changed as his cock advanced. Her features got that bit more attractive, her skin that bit tauter, her lips that bit plusher. Her breasts became firmer and larger at the same time, only drooping as much as was required to remain natural in appearance, while now truly being equal to Jaina's massive tits. A drop of milk leaked from the areola. What signs of life she was showing were all preparing her for the inevitable. Her hips and thighs got even thicker. She looked every bit like what she was supposed to be: the new mother of a dynasty. Whether it carried his or her name did not matter, only that she served in his new world of peace, justice, and sexual perfection.

Calia's eyes rolled up, when he rammed the rest of the way down her throat. Her pussy gushed, overrunning with a wetness that he returned to her. Slow and yet agitated heartbeats drummed in her chest. His fingers dug into her hair, utterly ruining the pale blonde display that she had perfected for days just for this moment.

She loved every moment of his digits dishevelling her hair.

His grip loosened, only so he could pull back and thrust back in. "A proper slave!" he complimented her, while fucking her face. "You know your place. You did not stir trouble, while you waited for me to become capable of gathering this final puzzle piece!"

"Yesshhh!" she screamed, muffled, between thrusts. Beyond that word, there was only the GLACK! GLACK! GLACK! Of a willing comfort hole getting pounded. Her heart beat and the mark pulsed, rewarding her with pleasure for every moment of submission -- a reward that did nothing for her being there. It felt good, it felt fantastic, but that pleasure was secondary to her knowledge of who she was submitting too and the bright future they would forge together as husband and one of many wives and slaves.

Anduin accelerated, until his hips were a blur. Fat tits, ass, and thighs jiggled under the intense thrust. Calia kept gushing, soiling the unfrozen ground. The ecstasy she felt was something she would not have dreamed to experience when alive and had thought impossible even in echos until recently. Her entire life, the Light had told her she was chosen for a great service -- had she known that being that service was being a sex slave to the perfect Master, her younger self would have masturbated with so much less guilt whenever she fantasized about a strong man fucking every last one of her holes.

"Here you are now, with purpose on your knees!" Anduin practically read her thoughts. A feat that did not even require magic, he knew how his perfect submissives ticked. "A good -- little -- cum slut!"

Calia had never tasted cum before, but she knew she was exactly what he told her before he came inside her. He felt his cock tense and his seed rush down her comfort hole. All she could think of was... nothing. There was no thinking involved in her position, just being used and letting him guide. Then, when he pulled away enough to let her taste his seed, there was only the instinct to swallow something so delicious to beat.

Anduin backed away full, to see Calia swirl his seed in her mouth. He watched her probingly for a few moments, before giving the simple order. "Swallow." Her mouth closed, she took a heavy gulp, then she revealed her empty mouth. "Good girl."

Calia's eyes rolled back up at the compliment, another intense orgasm tingling through her.

Taking it further would have been as simple as it would have been just. She had made herself his property quicker than he could even consider, had been fated for that for months now. However, fucking her here would have been wasteful. For as much as her womb yearned to be filled, she was not capable yet. His ability to revive had not yet crossed the threshold that truly restored the body.

Calia knew this. With quivering hands, she grabbed one of the items before her and offered it to Anduin. It was a collar, complete with a ring to attach name tag and leash too. The final submission she could offer.

Anduin did not lose a second's thought in wrapping it around her neck and pulling it tight. Calia breathed a wanton sigh, as the slave collar pressed against her warm skin. Only once he had created a new name tag for her, elemental magic made conjuring of the necessary materials a simple task, did she rise to her feet.

"The Lichking awaits you, Master," the blonde stated, folding her hands in front of her waist. It was a servant's pose and one she had always found more elegant than the many more confident 'regal' poses that her tutors wished her to assume. "I've counselled him for your arrival."

"Did you now?" Anduin put an arm around her, squeezing her plump backside as he pulled her along. Fresh pussy juice ran in rivulets down her naked thighs. Her old garments, Anduin whisked away into his storage space with a flick of his wrist. She would not need them again soon, or possibly ever, but that would be for him to decide. He enjoyed an occasion sexy outfit to tear of his sex slaves. "I find it interesting how much has been prepared for me recently."

Calia's voice quivered as much as her thighs with every step. "Greater powers, albeit powers now lesser than yourself, Anduin, have been tracking your successes. When you erected the Summerwind Cycle, they became interested, when you brought the enticing remains of the Legion to heel, they became respecting, when you made the Dragon Aspects your playthings, they knew their time was coming to an end, and when you leashed N'Zoth, they surrendered this plane to you, Master," Calia explained what her visions had shown her. "Your supremacy cannot be denied and, further, it asserts itself. Like you have done with the elements, your radiance and the shadow it casts have been spreading their influence in the Light and the Darkness. Your might bends the world to your whims, my Master. Your victory is a mere formality now."

Anduin's cock twitched at the revelations, all of which he had felt already. He could feel his own presence across the planes of magic, dominating everything with his sheer might. He was less drawing on them than he lorded over them, his strength too complete through all of the connections he had with his harem across the fragmented powers that made up reality for any one of them to influence him in turn.

Once he had put his faith in the Light. A secure but ambitionless belief that the good would triumph. What he had been, rather than good, was moral in the way he changed the world towards something that was more fun and prosperous for everyone involved.

The old world would disagree with him, naked as he and his 35 th sex slave were. What did he care? He had thoroughly proven that his world was better, devoid of unnecessary bloodshed and filled with enticing moans instead. Those like Thrall, who rejected this new world, would have their place in it. His strength was absolute and he had no need to force his way on everyone. They could be happy where they were, as long as they were peaceful.

"Mhhhmmasster," Calia moaned. Anduin only now realized that his fingers had wandered to her cunt, pushing into her hot folds. Every step he was fingering her, his magic moving her along smoothly. Once he had noticed, he simply continued. Her quivering curves, entirely shaped for a breeding she would soon receive, were much more interesting to look at then the skull iconography of this desecrated place.

They climbed up the central spire, using arcane means to teleport between segments, until, eventually, they arrived at the heart of power of the Scourge. Atop a massive pillar of eternal ice, surrounded by the metal framework that had been forged in the years after, up a long flight of stairs, stood the frozen throne. In it sat, of scorched skin and ever-glowing fire lines, the Lichking Bolvar Fordragon. On his head, a grey and blue that fit the environment but not him, sat the Crown of Domination, with its many spikes and the large blue gemstone.

A layer of frost covered Bolvar, stronger even than his inner fire, but not stronger than Anduin's presence. The Emperor of Life approached, his eyes darting over to the woman next to the Lichking.

Her expression was solemn, although Anduin was certain that had less to do with the current event and more with her situation at large. Her eyes glowed blue from the reanimating might that kept her away from the afterlife. Black marks surrounded them, like a natural mascara, partly extending in sharp lines downwards like warpaint. Her skin was, much like Calia's as pale as marble, with the blueish undertone of undeath giving it an unwanted colour. Her lips had lost their red, but her figure was kept intact by the necromantic magic pulsing through her veins.

Large breasts, not as large as the largest of Anduin's harem but large nonetheless, were, somehow, the least eye-drawing part of her attractive form. A thin waist gave way to hips so wide that none of Anduin's magic could have ever dared to touch them even further to optimize her for the purpose of his submissives. Her thighs were, similarly, thicker than Calia's, thicker than any woman Anduin currently had in his harem, taken in relation to her tall size. She was human and, even before her fall, she had been a legend. A legend of zealotry, a negative example to many, but a legend nonetheless.

Sally Whitemane's heart-shaped face moved slowly, following Anduin's approach up the steps. The wild, colourless mane that inspired her name waved in the frigid winds, much like the tabard she wore over the armour that utterly failed to hide the curves so wasted in service to undeath. Her truly magnificent ass stretched the cloth of the pants to their maximum

"I know why you are here," Bolvar greeted him. There was a mere ember of the warmth the man's voice had once contained in the rough, booming voice that left the crown more than his mouth. "I cannot believe that this is what things have come too."

"Neither can I," Anduin confessed, "but it is better this way -- We avoid a much worse tale." The Emperor of Life looked at Sally Whitemane. "I take it you are what was prepared for me?"

"Yes, Anduin," the undead woman responded in an emotionless tone.

"The brilliance she had for the Light was turned to necromancy as one of my knights," the Lichking announced. "She will give you what you need."

Anduin fully faced the woman. He put his hand on her cheek like he had done with Talia. There was an understand here that he could mark her if he wanted to. She was willing enough, but only because there was only a broken will behind those eyes. 'That won't do,' Anduin thought. He had 'forced' himself on Vanessa and that was as far as he had been willing to go. He would not mark someone incapable of consenting.

Closing his eyes, he send a surge of his power into Sally. Suddenly, the undead woman took a trembling breath, filled with grief and hope. More power flowed into her, now calmly. The touch of the light gave Sally a moment to recall who she had once been, what she now was, and the strength to face it all boldly.

When Anduin opened his eyes again, he looked at a face that was still pale, but not deathly so. The blue glow of her eyes ebbed away, revealing the striking red that had filled them in life. "Understand what is asked of you," he whispered. "Serve because it is your choice, not because it is ordered."

The lower lip of the former High Inquisitor quivered. She, who had pledged her self to burning away the undead scourge upon her homeland of Lordaeron, now was to be the vessel to give him knowledge of the magic she hated the most. She would be obliged to keep the knowledge alive, to expand it even further, to increase his control over it.

Such power was dangerous to entrust to one man. A man that knelt before her, an undead, and took one of her hands between both of his. He waited patiently for the answer that she knew she had to give. "I never treaded the easy path," she spoke, her voice feminine and hard at the same time. "Arise, my Master. The Light has spoken. I shall serve you."

Anduin kissed her ring finger and his power now rushed into her in another form. Sally had prepared herself for much. For another eternity of torment or at least a temporary burn. She had not been prepared for an orgasm so intense, the gushing of her pussy soaked through the thick cloth of her army pants in an instant.

Sally felt her breasts swell slightly in size, until they almost but not quite rivalled Calia's. The queen of Lordaeron watched the surrender of the High Inquisitor with great glee. The mark shaping up above her womb shone even through the saronite plate. Armour that Sally tore from her body instinctively, finding its cold touch so irksome above her heating limbs.

She kept on gushing. She remembered every little masturbation session she had snuck in when she had been an aspirant in the monastery and the ever more depraved ways she had tried to satisfy herself once she had become high inquisitor. The whips and chains she had dreamt of someone would put her in. No one ever did, all to taken by her holiness no matter how enticing an outfit she put on, hoping someone would snap.