Who a Ing Must Do

The force Anduin assembled was only a thousand soldiers strong. 200 of his personal guard, 300 night elven sentinels and warden, 100 of the Valarjar, led by the Val'kyr, 200 of Dalaran's finest mages, and 200 elite soldiers of the various other races that made up the Empire of Life. Besides them, Anduin stood with all 36 of his wives and personal sex slaves.

A stronger force had never been amassed in all of Azeroth's history.

The people of Stormwind watched as Anduin marched to the grave of his father. Lion's Rest memorial towered over the gleaming host. Wearing his own plate armour, Anduin placed his hand on the altar, under which the keepsakes of his father were buried. There was no body to bring back with his newfound powers, no ashes that had been found, and even if he could have, Anduin did not know if he would have brough him back. His father deserved the rest.

"I'll finish this," Anduin pledged, then stepped away, turning to his gathered army. A single nod towards Azshara, and the naga queen, greatest mage that the world had ever known, began to weave together a massive teleportation spell. All those that could help did, aiding the brilliant woman in her arcane machinations. Jaina, Stellagossa, and Modera were first and foremost among those that helped in putting the circle together, their own arcane knowledge expanded by helping one another master all aspects of the craft.

With the cheers and farewells of the people sounding in their ears, the army was swallowed up by a wave of blue and purple light. One moment, they stood near the waters in Stormwind's eternal summer. The next, they were in a landscape of a different kind of heat. A much drier, desolate kind.

The red sands of Durotar greeted them with vast emptiness. A horn was sounded after a few seconds, a second following soon thereafter. Several of the Valarjar readied themselves to immediately locate the sentinels that had spotted their arrival, but Anduin raised his hand. "Let her know we're coming."

They had arrived at the south-western border of Durotar, where a river separated the desert peninsula from the Badlands. This was as close as they could get without rubbing against Sylvanas' teleportation protections. To brute force their way through those had been an option, but Anduin did not wish to invade in force.

Leading the way on foot, Anduin followed the main road to Ogrimmar. Already, he had sent word to Baine Bloodhoof and the Tauren. They would stand down during this conflict. The blood elves were already on Anduin's side and the goblins would not resist the invading force. The prosperity and sexual liberation that the Empire of Life offered made the short greenskins too interested in joining him.

This left the trolls, orcs, and forsaken as their enemies.

After half a day of marching, the army made tireless by the numerous blessings their good life and the presence of their leadership bestowed them with, they arrived at the gates of the Horde's capital. Tall walls of sharp metal and wood stretched between the entrance to the system of valley that the orcs main city was located in. A singular gate barred them from entrance, over a dozen centimetres thick.

Atop the wall, numerous archers had drawn their bows. "So far and no further," shouted a gruff orcish voice. In the absence of Saurfang, they had found another ork general, it appeared.

Anduin calmly took a step forwards. A hundred arrows were loosened. They froze, were incinerated, turned into motes of light, or were simply blown away by the protective layers of magic that wrapped around the Emperor. "This far and no further," Anduin shouted back. "The divide of Azeroth ends now. Surrender and let me see Sylvanas."

"You are bold, little lion."

The booming voice of the Banshee Queen announced her, moments before she stepped up to the edge of the palisades. She was... sexier than Anduin remembered. Her blue breasts nearly spilled out of the tight confined of the metallic bra, the single article of clothing she wore on her torso. A combination of thigh-high boots, torn stockings, and a thong were all that covered her lower half. The thong barely covered her pussy and Anduin wondered if he was seeing the outline of a dildos base through the stretched fabric. Certain was that her hips were wide and her thighs thick enough to rival Sallys.

The leader of the Horde held an ornate bow in her armoured hands, the only part of her that seemed properly equipped. Pale, greyish-blonde hair framed her deeply attractive face. Her sinister red eyes stared down at him and, for just a moment, she bit her lower lip. The sultry, full purple near immediately returned to a mocking smile.

"If you wish to talk so badly, we will do so on my terms. You come into my city alone, unarmed, and unarmoured."

"I accept," Anduin answered immediately. The people on the wall were more surprised by this then the people behind the Emperor of Life. Swiftly, he rid himself of his twin swords and the thick plate that covered him. In its place, he put on a plain brown robe. Afterwards, he gestured for his army to fall back, to give Sylvanas all the security she wanted.

"Best of luck, Anduin," Jaina hung around for just a moment longer, exchanging a kiss with her husband, before joining everyone else far away from the walls.

"Meet me in the stronghold," Sylvanas declared, as the gate opened.

Anduin walked inside. The thick metal closed quickly behind him again. A circle of orcs, trolls, and forsaken surrounded him, as he marched into the city. Its crude structures greeted him as an example of barbaric architecture. The smell was terrible, the heat of the desert mixing with the lack of sanitary installations to create a vile mix of sweat and excrement.

Although Anduin held no hate for them in his heart, he could not help but find all those that surrounded him ugly. The trolls with their warty faces and long limbs, the orcs with their bent backs and almost piggish faces, and the forsaken with their decay all made for unappetizing sights.

When he entered the stronghold at the centre of the main plaza, the difference was stark. Incense burned to keep the outside smells at bay, replacing them with the simple smell of herbs and whatever else Sylvanas could get her hands on. All advisors besides Sylvanas' core of rangers had been dismissed -- an exclusively female force of fallen elves. They were infinitely better preserved than the average undead. Only the lifeless colour of their skin and their red eyes hinted towards their true nature.

There were ten of them in the chamber, each of them covered in leather armour and a tabard depicting a shattered mask -- the symbol of the forsaken. The armour was tighter than Anduin remembered, and all of the metal bits had been removed in favour of clips that seemed very easy to remove.

Sylvanas, in all of her tight clothes, lounged in the broad throne. It was too large for her, build for orcish proportions, but she filled it out all the same. An elbow on one armrest, her meaty leg slung over the other, she half-lied in the throne. Her legs were spread wide, her crotch one slip of her thong away from being on full display, and her right nipple partly peeked in purplish pink past the rim of her metal bra. It was as if she taunting the entirety of the room.

"You are an idiot," the Banshee Queen declared and lazily executed a gesture of her hand. The ten Rangers in the room immediately readied their bows, but did not fire. "What, did you really expect me to talk to you? I'll kill you, then use your corpse to break your little army. I'll have them revived under my sway and then... and then..."

Sylvanas stopped, because Anduin did not. He advanced towards her, until he had climbed the stairs of her throne and stood right before her, casting a shadow over her. She gulped.

"W-what? You think you can just waltz in here and get what you want? You think everyone is a pervert like you and will just submit? Get a grip! You are nothing but-"

Anduin ripped the bra off the bratty tyrant. Before Sylvanas could do anything else, he gripped by her the throat and forced her into a different position. The Banshee Queen's face flushed, while resurrecting magic poured into her.

The life that she had wanted so desperately to get back flooded back into her. Her heartbeat went from a distant drum to a powerful surge. While warmth returned to her, excess energy flowed outwards and reached the rangers that, in recent weeks, had repeatedly joined their frustrated queen. The blessing Anduin had given Sylvanas, the partial return to life and lust, had spread to them and now her true revival also spread to them. Bows fell clattering to the ground, as their loins throbbed.

Weeks of gossiping about the lack of proper men around came to a harsh point, when Anduin pinched one of the nipples atop Sylvanas's fat tits. He twisted, as he declared, "You're a slut, Sylvanas. A selfish creature that never should have been allowed anywhere near leadership -- but that's over now. I'll put you in the place you belong, the one you know you wish to be in."

The revival concluded. Hard and hot, her blood rushed through her veins. Her skin and eyes had remained the colours of her undead existence, for reasons Anduin could only guess at, but she was returned to life. He could sense it in her heat, concentrated most between her legs.

Anduin let go of her at that moment and looked down at her. Heavily panting, the Banshee Queen laid in the throne. Only her head really connected to the backrest. Her legs and hips extended beyond the seat, her torso was placed in it.

Sylvanas tried to beat back the accusation. She tried to formulate any answer that would satisfy her. 'I'm not a slut!' she wanted to say, but her pussy was leaking around the dildo she had carved. 'I don't want what you can give me!' she wanted to say, but immortality and power had been her goal for a long time. 'I don't want to be put in a place by you!' she wanted to say, but his hard, blue eyes did not allow her to speak such a disagreement.

In an effort to gather her mind, she turned her gaze downwards. There, she beheld his cock, revealed due to the winds of magic blowing back his robe. Thick, hard, and girthy, it stood at attention, throbbing as much as her womb was throbbing. One moment beholding his manhood and the final lies crumbled.

Sylvanas pulled off her thong, removed the dildo from her cunt, and raised up her legs. She pulled them back further with her arms, until her sopping wet cunt was on full display for him. She reached down to spread her blue labia and reveal the pretty pink within. "Please enslave me, Master," she begged. She did not care to pretend anymore. She could not pretend anymore. The masked had cracked and the denial was undone. She had masturbated to him, fantasized about him, deluded herself that she wanted a man she could dominate, when really she just wanted to be pressed down and bred by him.

She had lost the instant he had walked up to her.

Anduin's cock smacked down on her cunt, causing Sylvanas an immediate jolt of rewarding pleasure. The Emperor leaned over her, smacked her across the face, then grabbed her gorgeous face and squished her cheeks with his powerful hand. "You've been the bane of so much, the death of so many," he berated her.

Fear rose in Sylvanas. Fear that she may be denied this, after having surrendered herself to him already. The part of her that would get angry and petulant about being denied had already withered away, was melting under the heat of the cock resting on her sopping wet quim.

Just when she started to stammer an explanation, an apology, a plead, Anduin's gaze turned softer. The hand holding her fact relaxed, moved to one cheek, and brushed some of her pale blonde hair away. "You have much to repent for Sylvanas. I'll make you redeemed. You won't hurt anyone anymore. Do you know why?"

"N-no?" Sylvanas asked, her tone meek yet eager. She was taut like a bowstring. Her bubble butt and stretched thighs quivered.

"Because you will be my breeding slave," Anduin cocked his head slightly and transformed the statement into a question that way.

"Yes!" Sylvanas shouted immediately, to the gathered swoons of the other rangers that understood their (former) mistresses agreement. Peeling out of their armours, the red-eyed, formerly undead elves crawled towards the throne. At a respectable distance, they remained, rubbing their cunts while they watched the events unfold.

Anduin bowed down further, until her filled out the Banshee Queen's field of view completely. "You want me to remake you."

"I want you to remake me!" Sylvanas agreed readily, entranced by his might, endeared by his eyes, and made unfathomably horny by the weight of his presence. "Break me! Break me for all I did! Remake me so I can't even think of myself as that person anymore! You gave me a third life, do with me as you wish, please!"

There wasn't even a part of her that wailed against those words. That voice in her head that had thrown itself against the bars first Lichking's chain around her independence, it was gone. Dead. Killed by the sheer weight of the lust and guilt she felt. She realized now what she had done and what punishment was appropriate. She realized that she was just a clever bitch getting put in her place.

Finally.

Anduin squeezed one of her massive tits and she curved into the touch. She gasped, while his fingers sunk into the pliable softness, then screamed when the touch turned rougher. Her pinched one of her nipples and twisted. She had tried to emulate it so often, but his touch was so much beyond what she could do to herself. Her body was on fire. Her slick cunt rubbed against his manhood, while she bit back a submissive whine.

"What will you be?" Anduin asked, in a deep, husky voice that made the broken woman quiver.

"Breeding slave," she pressed out between pre-orgasmic shivers. "Yours. Property. Yours. Holes. Yours. Slave. Yours. Yours. Master's. A toy, to be bend, abused, and used. Yours. Yours. Yours. Yo-UUUUUUUUUUUURS!"

Anduin was finally pushing into her cunt. The engorged head of his girthy cock pressed into her folds. They tried to push him out, yet also tried to pull him in. Sheer tightness competed with the urge of her body to follow what her mind put her too. He was barely inside her, that her shivers turned into spasms.

Had he not grabbed her face again, Sylvanas' head would have been tossed back. Between his demandingly closed fingers, her pillowy lips and checks were squished. Her flawlessly smooth, blue skin and attractive were all distorted by this and the bliss wrecking through her revived nerves. She orgasmed like she had dreamed she would orgasm, during the lengthy masturbation sessions of her life, and the even lengthier masturbation sessions of recent weeks. Every orgasm she had pretended she imagined herself on top of Anduin off, while she pumped toys in and out of her cunt, was put to shame.

Then the realization that she was underneath him fully hit. Not sex toys, none of her rangers getting dominated by her to try and reassure herself that she wasn't a submissive sex toy, just the honesty of a set of holes getting stuffed by the man she begged to be owned by. He sunk deeper and deeper into her, making the stars dancing in the edge of her wide-eyed vision ever more numerous, the bliss ever deeper.

"YOU'RE BREAKING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Sylvanas shouted, her voice filled to the brim with glee. He tongue lolled out. Folds that had been stretched by sex toys meant to emulate his girth were stretched further by the genuine article. She had never felt this full.

"I haven't even started yet," Anduin chuckled, when he was fully inside her.

Sylvanas let out a girly little giggle, half-drunk on bliss already. Then, Anduin pulled his hips back. Her folds clung to him on the way out, begging him to stay in her deep, hot, wet embrace. Slowly, he drove back into her -- and in the process drew Sylvanas mad with ecstasy.

The bitch queen of Azeroth, the current leader of the Horde, was on her back, getting pressed into her own throne. Her stretched legs put her knees next to her head. Her feet peeked over Anduin's shoulders. Her arms, stripped of all armour at some point, reached around his broad chest and scratched at his back. Her breasts were still getting kneaded by one of Anduin's hands, while the other moved to her throat. Sylvanas curled her fat ass up a little higher, so he could plunge into her easier. Her tight folds clenched further, when he put pressure on her throat.

The Banshee Queen's orgasmic shouts came to an end. Her eyes rolled up, as the asphyxiation put into perspective just how real her new life was -- and how much she loved that he was in control of her having it. His thrusts accelerated rapidly, driving into her cunt with ever greater vigour and demand.

"She's getting bred," one of the rangers swooner. "The mistress is-"

"No mistress!" One of the other rangers interrupted immediately. All their own denial had crumbled with Sylvanas, if not faster. They had been the toys of Sylvanas' attempts to be dominating the past few weeks and as their bodies had relearned lust, their minds had been shaped by what they saw in her mirrors, what she played out on them. "She's his slave! We're just even lesser slaves!"

"Sssssex slaves!" a third ranger cried and came at the mere thought. The typical elven submissiveness completely broke their pretentiously proud minds. All elves, as was so thoroughly proven by this point, were cocksleeves.

Sylvanas was no different. If anything, she was a prime example. All of her wickedness, just a tamper tantrum so that someone would finally tell her that enough was enough, tear her ridiculous outfit off her breedable curves and mount her.

Anduin could see it in her eyes. In those rolled up rubies was only the will to be enslaved. He let go of her throat for just long enough for her to take a single breath, then silenced her again before she could let out a scream. Her pussy was gushing and spasming under his hammering thrusts. Whichever tit he did not knead at the time was jiggling in its confines between her plump thighs.

Harder and harder still, he drove into the cocksleeve. Her hourglass curves were his to toy with from now until eternity. He would make certain of that. He was approaching the final moment of making her his. Not in her mind, there was nothing left to conquer there. The moment his magic had first touched her, she had lost. Although there had been no chance for her to win to begin with. Once her lust was a factor again, Sylvanas would have always folded.

Because she was a sex slave by nature. A good one, for all of the wickedness she had enacted, with tight holes, firm tits, and wide hips. As a person, it would take her aeons to be forgiven for her crimes. As his personal property, she would be accepted like Azshara and Onyxia had been. There was independence left in her to enact evil. She was just a cumdump, a part of his harem, on a leash as long as he cared to let her have.

They both knew it. They both craved it. They both awaited the moment when his thrusts turned from a smooth in and out of her squirting pussy into jerking descends. The rangers around held their breath and came just as his balls tightened and the last mighty slut of Azeroth was truly enslaved.

Anduin came. He came and came, pumping wave after wave of cum into her. He drove into her depths, laid claim to her womb, just like he laid claim to all of Azeroth, and in both cases he was obeyed.

Sylvanas felt the magic fill her, felt the leash get anchored to her as a black mark on her lower abdomen, and gave what the magic needed to work: her consent. She gave everything she was to him in a moment of absolute bliss. His seed pooled warm and thick in her womb, her spine arched, and her eyes somehow managed to focus on his face.