The Breeding of the Moon Elves

Her hair whipped in the wind as she ran, blood pumping fast, boots thumping against the cool, damp earth. She wasn't running—not really, anyways. Merely putting distance between her and the orcs. It was best to fight the greenskins at a distance; their size made them dangerous in close quarter combat.

Sensing from experience the need to turn and rejoin the fight, Bellatrisk Nightmist dived into a patch of brush, hugged the trunk of a great tree, and quickly peered back towards the center of conflict. Their patrol had gone out with nine Sentinels and encountered what appeared to be an equal number of orcs. This was not ideal, as typically they preferred to maintain a numerical advantage during encounters. Unfortunately things did not always go as planned.

Currently, she could see seven of her sisters battling with all nine of the orcs. Not advantageous in the slightest, but they were holding up fine for now. One of the Sentinels was on the ground, alive, clearly, but injured. Her hands clutched at her gut, but no blood seeped from any wound.

Bellatrisk and another Sentinel, acting on pre-planned strategic maneuvers, had quickly broken off at the first sight of the orcs in order to provide ranged support. She did not know where Liana had run off to, but she had a job to do regardless of where her fellow ranger had relocated to.

It had taken her less than six seconds to sprint away and position herself accordingly. Now, she lifted her bow, infused it with magic that glowed a lustrous moon-silver as she took aim at an orc swinging wildly, and let an arrow fly. It struck smooth and clean through the fumbling orc's neck. Blood spurted, gushed, dribbled so dark it appeared black, and then the orc fell, his descent aided by the arcing glaive of a fellow Sentinel slicing his throat.

The orcs did not seem to pay any attention to their fallen comrade; their arms continued to flail, axes howling madly against elven steel and empty air. Were they blinded by bloodlust or was it well-honed focus that drove them onwards? She didn't think it over. She notched an arrow, prepared to fire, felt a warning prickling at the back of her neck. Though she did not hear or see or truly sense anything to be alarmed over, she trusted in her instinct and whirled around just in time to see an orc stalking silently towards her, only a scarce handful of cubits away.

With skin as green as the Ashenvale vegetation and with arms as thick as tree trunks, he appeared just as surprised as she for a split second, his black eyes widening as they saw and recognized each other as the enemies they were. Then he charged, and she did not have enough time to impale him with an arrow. She dodged, barely, dropping the bow and reaching for her short sword instead. But he reached for something as well—her arm—and caught her by the wrist. He was fast despite his size.

Quick as a snake she yanked her arm back, hoping to break his grip before it formed. She was only semi-successful however, and his hand gripped hers, palm against palm in a mockery of an intimate gesture. She fought briefly, realized it was hopeless, grabbed for her sword with her other hand. The ground left her then, or she left it, weightless, the blurred tableau of Ashenvale flora flashing before her eyes as she was whipped in a semi-circle and slammed back into the tree she'd been hiding behind. Her head must have struck the tree, but she did not feel pain or anything at all. Blackness claimed her in an instant.

***

Voices wrested unconsciousness away from her as if it were an octopus, its tentacles clutching hard, reluctant to let go. Drowsy, dreamy, and fatigued, her head swam, but she managed to open her eyes, not quite awake, and felt an extreme sense of oddness. It felt strange to be awake, to be aware of her fingers, her legs, her toes. She shifted upon the bed and the linens brushed her purple skin. That, too, felt strange.

Again the voices needled their way into her skull. She blinked some of the blurriness from her eyes, turned her head, beheld a vision that, if she were in her right mind, would have startled her.

Very near her were an orc and a female troll, the latter of which was bent over a table, her robe pulled up over the blue hump of her behind. The orc was naked, a state easily achieved given their tendency for wearing loincloths, and ferociously pumping away at her.

It had been the woman who had disturbed her slumber. The feminine moans and ecstatic cries, combined with the thudding of wood as the table lurched forward.

Bellatrisk watched for a few seconds then looked away. In her current hypnagogic state she could not be certain that what she'd seen had even been real. Her mind was too fuzzy, her senses dulled and shapeless. She closed her eyes again. The troll and the orc faded away as if they had never existed.

***

When next she awoke she did not feel quite so strange. Initially she did not realize where she was, but keen alertness quickly took hold, and with it a rush of understanding. She sat up then, wide-eyed, immediately conscious of the fact that she had likely been taken captive. Her body functioned as it normally did, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened. Clearly she'd been injured though, which meant that someone had healed her. A shaman, perhaps.

The room she was in was a small thing, with slightly curved walls of greystone partially covered by hides, tapestries, and medical equipment. A few plants took in sunshine beneath a small window. To her left, a bare wooden table, vaguely familiar.

She threw off the blanket that had covered her and stood up, discovering that she'd been clothed in a thin white gown. No shoes, certainly no weapons. The only thing she could repurpose as a weapon within the room was one of the small potted plants, but she did not bother attempting such a foolish thing. Instead, she crept to the window, glanced out, saw little but a number of orcish buildings without any actual orcs to accompany them. The area looked deserted, though she knew otherwise. As for where she had been taken, she could only guess somewhere near the border of Ashenvale and Azshara, given the sparse flora she could see outside. A fair distance from where she'd been prior to her run-in with a tree.

Quickly but quietly she stole towards the door and tried the handle. She had not expected it to be open, but she nevertheless felt disappointed. The window was too small to fit through, the door too big to break. She was not skilled at picking locks and even less skilled in the arcane ways of teleportation.

She had no alternative but to wait.

Two hours passed before she heard the unmistakable sound of movement, of feet striking earth and drawing nearer. Bellatrisk would have felt more at ease with a weapon, but she had to make due with what she had, and what she had was a bed.

She laid down, covered herself, and closed her eyes.

The door clicked open, gently thudded shut. A rustling soon arose from whatever her captor was doing, and so she felt okay risking the opening of her eyes.

Only little more than an arm's length away stood a night elf woman. She was turned to the side with her face partially obscured by luscious green hair, but the long ears and visible facial features left no room for doubt.

Something prodded at the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Surprised at seeing another elf, Bellatrisk blurted, "Who are you?"

The woman jumped a little, clearly surprised herself, then turned, revealing a kind face and glowing blue eyes that roamed over her appraisingly. "I am Esyll," she said, "and as you might have noticed given how quickly you've recovered, a very fine healer." She stepped forward, suddenly serious. "But how are you? I intended to let you rest another day."

"Good enough to leave," Bellatrisk said, demonstrating just how well she was by tossing the blanket aside and standing up. She wanted to leave as soon as possible. This place did not seem right. No longer worried, she glanced out the window. "Where is my gear? And how long have I been here? I would like to see my sisters." She paused, looked at the priestess. "Thank you for your help. I really must return to my duties though, otherwise I get very restless."

"Restlessness won't be a problem, I assure you," Esyll murmured. "And I imagine you will be seeing your sisters very soon."

Bellatrisk detected an odd note in the other woman's voice, a solemness that had not been there previously. The prodding in the back of her mind grew sharper. She was about to open her mouth to say something when movement outside the window caught her eye.

"An orc!" she hissed, ducking instinctively. Esyll did not move. "You didn't answer me before," Bellatrisk urged. "Where are we?"

Esyll smiled, reserved but not exactly sad. She brought a hand to her belly where a noticeable bump bulged out her robe. "A breeding facility."

The door opened.

***

Bellatrisk remembered the dream and realized rather late that it had not been a dream, and that had not been a troll. The woman whose cries had awoken her had been Esyll, who, as a healer, was rewarded special privileges within the facility. One of these so-called privileges apparently included the right to have a monogamous partner. An orcish partner. Some privilege.

"Keep moving," the orc escorting her grunted. He'd learned some rudimentary Common, but he still sounded like a boar trying to speak through a mouth full of rocks.

Bellatrisk wished she could tear his throat out. Nothing would give her greater pleasure.

The hideous creature had come to check in on her while she was talking to Esyll. He'd seemed pleased that she'd awoken when she did. She, on the other hand, could not be more displeased with her current predicament.

After having cleaned up with the assistance from the priestess, who informed her that she'd been recovering here for two days, the green-skinned oaf had wasted no time grabbing her by the arm and whisking her away towards "a place she'd love." She did not believe him, particularly when she'd been forced to remain nude after washing, equipped with nothing but sandals; but nor could she fight her way out of his grasp. Even if she managed to escape or incapacitate him, this so-called breeding facility was surrounded on all sides by a tall, insurmountable wooden fence festooned with wire and traditional orcish spikes.

Her captor moved quickly, as if he were late for something important, and whenever she lagged behind he would pull her arm and yank her forward, dragging her reluctantly behind him.

"Almost there," he grumbled. "Then you see sisters."

For some reason Bellatrisk did not like the sound of that. Soon, she found out why.

The orc led her into an area fenced off from the rest of the facility that required a key to enter via a sturdy iron gate. A watch tower overlooked it, glaring down in oppressive fashion. Beyond the gate were about a dozen medium-sized buildings arranged like a horseshoe around a yard with a guardhouse located in the center.

As he directed her towards the back of the bunch, her ears twitched, picking up queer, foreboding sounds from each building they passed. Rhythmic thumping, cries muffled by brick. A cacophony of unintelligible and barely audible voices, so low that she was not exactly sure if she were truly hearing them.

When they reached their destination and the door opened the noise exploded, and her stomach turned over. Orcs and elves were crowded inside of the building. Liana, Velene, Luciel, Shyela and the other four elves from her patrol were in various states of, as the orcs would say, breeding.

"All of your sisters here. You're ninth cumdump."

Four of the captured Sentinels were arranged side-by-side upon their hands and knees, faces twisted into scowls, heads hanging or thrashing about. Behind them, orcs worked them over, hard, fast, mercilessly, hands clutching greedily at their slender bodies, lush with curves, spearing into them in beastly fashion. The room reeked of sex. The walls seemed to shake from the force of the ordeal. Breasts swung wildly beneath the elves, their muscles straining from stress, their asses jiggling under the rapid thwip thwip thwip thwip of the orcs' pelvises striking against them.

The rest of the elves who had not been lined up were scattered about the room on their backs, their smaller forms covered by bulky green bodies. Dreadful, sickening noises reverberated inside the room and crowded the building.

"What kind of animals conduct war this way?" Bellatrisk demanded, her hands tightening into fists.

Her orcish escort shrugged his huge shoulders and said, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as what he'd eaten for breakfast, "You kill us, we breed you. Fair trade." The orc nudged her forward. "Join in, little elf." His hand slipped down to her ass then, and when she jerked away he smacked it. "Maybe not so little."

Laughing, he left her there, the great sturdy door of the building locking shut behind him.

Rubbing her ass, Bellatrisk backed away towards the wall and tried to make herself look small. A hard endeavor. The orc was right, she wasn't little. She stood tall on long legs, her athletic body refined and enhanced over centuries of exercise and warfare. She had hair like deep twilight, so purple that at times it seemed highlighted with blue, a flat stomach, powerful thighs, arms capable of firing a bow for extended periods without trouble, and a firm ass that was perfectly rounded and perfectly squeezable. Her breasts, a byproduct entirely of her elven genetics, were full and heavy.

Compared to most women, Bellatrisk was an amazon, heavy only insofar as the fact that she was well-endowed in the front and back.

There were nine elves and over a dozen orcs within the building, with plenty of room for all. Her and her Sentinel sisters had faced worse odds on the battlefield, but nothing as hopeless as this.

Surprisingly though it took nearly an entire minute for one of the orcs to spot her. After that she had little choice but to participate in this twisted orgy of unmitigated depravity and perverse design. Fighting the orcs unarmed, although she certainly tried, proved ineffectual. And so when that first orc grabbed her, forced her protesting to the floor upon a thick layer of unused bedding, and buried his head between her thighs, resistance proved to be as ineffective as punching at a water elemental.

He wasted no time. He restrained her hands with one of his own, used the other to part her legs as his mouth found her sex and ate her out, evidently enjoying the taste of elven pussy. His tongue traced her slit, lapped at her folds, her clit, speared into her warm womanhood until she was as wet and ready as she would ever be.

When he sat up she got her first good look at him. The orc loomed over her in more ways than one, his freakishly large body sporting a cock that matched his overall size. It was fat and thick and long, a throbbing, dark green monster with a head like a fist waiting to pound her silly. Flooded with white hot anger, Bellatrisk cursed and kicked at him, but it did no good. He grabbed firmly ahold of her and, notching that fat cockhead at her entrance, drove himself all the way into her.

She gasped from the initial penetration, but her gasp turned into an angry hiss as he slid deeper and deeper inside of her hot, velvety depths, hilting himself fully inside of her. Connected now as they were, the orc allowed his hold on her to loosen slightly, and he watched her with visible satisfaction, enjoying the way her face contorted as her tight elven cunt was stretched to the brim with its very first orc cock. Stretched to a degree far beyond what she'd ever felt before or ever desired to feel. It did not particularly hurt, but the indignity of it further enraged her, disgraced her, humiliated her to have this beast's hands on her, to look and see her purple pussy stuffed balls-deep with an orc's oversized appendage, his green skin and wiry hair pressed against her.

"Good," he grunted, and she was not sure if it was a statement or a question, but she glared up at him and said nothing.

He drew back suddenly, both hands now holding her beneath the knees and splaying her legs apart so that he had better access to her defenseless pussy, bald save for a small tuft of purple hair. Slowly, whether to acclimate her to his size or simply to torture her, he began to thrust, making every stroke count. One stroke, then another and another, smooth and deep, his monstrous member scrambling her insides and bulging out her flat belly. It felt as if he were scraping every nook and cranny of her pussy, stretching her out utterly and impossibly. She cursed again, muscles flexing, her pussy gripping his cock.

How many orcs had she fought? How many had she killed? And now one was on top of her, enjoying her as a spoil of war. Desecrating her body and pumping her pussy like it belonged to him.

All around her she could hear the startled cries of her sisters, the monotonous clapping of flesh on flesh as powerful and ominous as any war drums. Bellatrisk did not look, however; she stared at the ceiling, growing more incensed by the second just as the orc in turn grew more and more pleased.

A rush of energy and anger caused her to sit up, but he pushed her back down and punched the back of her pussy with his cock, harder than before, harder than ever. She grunted and grimaced, eyes wide, nails grasping futilely at the floor as her assailant picked up the pace. Her muscles strained, her large breasts jostled and jiggled atop her chest. Unsurprisingly given how they fought on the battlefield, the orc did not sacrifice power for speed, nor did he lack in either category. As his pace increased the force of his strokes pushed her forward, but he held her still with one hand on her little waist, directing her body against him while he pummeled her pussy. Made sure she'd never forget what it felt like to be taken by an orc.

Power and speed combined with stamina to form a sexual beast that would have likely been supremely satisfying given more consensual circumstances. Instead, the greenskin's stamina only prolonged her righteous seething and made the odd sensations wrought by his fat plundering cock all the more enraging. His tremendous girth stretched her, molded her, every time he pounded his hips forward and bottomed out inside of her tiny spasming cunt, adding her disgruntled groans and harsh cries to the chorus of other elves scattered throughout the room.

Eventually, after what felt like forever, he erupted with a roar, his cock throbbing and his grip on her tightening, holding her in place while he splattered her insides with an explosion of hot sticky cream, virile and orcish. The first of its kind to touch her womb and, unfortunately for her, not the last.

He'd barely finished emptying his balls inside of her womb when another orc, having recognized her as a newcomer and wishing to break her in, took the other orc's place. Without warning she found herself flipped over onto her hands and knees, a hand the size of an anchor pushing down on her back, forcing her face down with her firm, round ass raised up in the air. Bellatrisk flicked her hair back over her shoulder and glanced behind her just as the orc, no less humongous than the last, sheathed his shaft inside of her cunt.

"Beast!" She growled through clenched teeth, clutching at the bedding, her beautiful body taut as a bowstring.

Her outburst earned her a sharp smack on the rump that made her ass ripple. Although it had not been an especially hard smack, the area where he struck stung hotly, and her lavender skin darkened slightly.

Bellatrisk bristled at the indignation of it all, an anger that worsened with every stroke of the orc's cock pounding upon her cervix, hammering home the position she was in. Helpless while a filthy orc rutted into her. And unlike the first orc, this one fucked her fast and hard from the very start, knocking the wind out of her as well as a number of Kaldorei expletives that were drowned out amongst the cacophony of sexual deviancy resonating within the room.

How her sisters had dealt with this for two whole days while she'd been incapacitated she did not know. Five minutes with these animals was bad enough.

And the animal working her from behind did nothing to change her mind. He was relentless, fucking her like a mindless beast while his tusk-faced brethren did the exact same to her sisters, pulling her back into his thrusts, his savage grunts acting as a loud and primal accompaniment to her desecration. Breaking her in, claiming her, breeding her—his intentions clear as day by the merciless manner in which he pounded out her tight elven cunt. Plugging her pussy and giving her no time to orient herself, the pulsating mass of his cock felt as if it would ruin her. Physically and mentally.

Again she attempted to pull away from him, again she failed, and again he smacked her ass, hard enough to leave a handprint this time.

"Don't move." He grumbled without stopping or slowing, maintaining a constant pace of fast and measured strokes.

His enormous hands clutched her tightly about the hips, fingers digging into her skin while he fucked into her with ridiculously long, tip-to-base strokes, serving up every thick, throbbing inch of orc cock as if he never intended to quit, purposefully giving her all he had. So much dick. Too much dick. A man of such size and power was meant for an orcish woman, not an elf, and her body struggled to keep up with the seismic sensations quaking through her, rattling her mind, straining her senses.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, one of his hands reached forward and gathered up her hair, twisting her long purple tresses around his fist so that it formed into a rough skein before yanking on it, pulling it back and forcing her head nearly straight up to the ceiling while he rode her body and deep-dicked her trembling pussy. Grunting hard, pumping fast, squeezing one of her plump ass cheeks as he struggled to get himself off, to utterly ravage and ruin her.

The tremendous power behind his thrusts caused her tits to flail, swinging pendulously below her slender elven frame. And gradually, the more he beat up her pussy, the less angry Bellatrisk felt, for she could not manage more than astonishment at how full she felt and the overall absurdity of her situation, on her hands and knees while an orc of all things abused her body, slammed her pussy, made it hard to think with how roughly his hips were clapping her ass.

Moans began to leak from her, but she did not realize, could not even recognize them as hers. The entire room was filled with the moans of the other eight Sentinels, undignified elven cries mixed in with the erotic tattoo of flesh on flesh, of orc on elf. Of her and her sisters being conquered one stroke at a time.

Like a piston that fat cock pounded out her pussy, violent but decadent, until at last she yielded to him easily. Incomprehensible sensations supercharged her body, her nerves, and when he drew back harder on her hair, yanking like she were but a mount, and buried himself balls-deep inside of her cunt, she came with him. Her tight body quivered, her pussy spasmed, her ears twitched. An intoxicated moan bubbled up from her lips while her eyes fluttered. For a moment she saw nothing and heard nothing as she orgasmed, but then she came back down to earth, her pussy leaking orc cum like a trickling stream. She could feel ropes of the stuff sticking to her back. If not for her exhaustion and her overloaded body, she would feel shame as she'd never felt it before.

The orcs did not give her time to feel shame, nor exhaustion. They lifted her up and set her down upon her hands and knees side by side with Liana. Her sister did not even notice her; she was far too busy being plugged at both ends by a pair of the orcs that had captured them.

Bellatrisk looked up as another orc stepped in front of her, his broad features eyeing her suspiciously. She recognized him as the one that had grabbed her in the forest. "Bite and your sister hurt." He indicated Liana. The threat was clear and uncontestable.

So, when he fisted his girthy prick and brought the tip of it to her lips, she could not help but grimace and open her mouth. Wide. Very wide. She could barely fit the green behemoth in her mouth, and when she finally managed it her lips became stretched in a taut circle, her fine elven features distended almost absurdly around the greenskin's massive log of a prick. His hand took hold of her head then, guiding her back and forth, deeper every time, ignoring her helpless gagging and sputtering. And as he did this a second orc, who had clearly been waiting, dipped his cock into her already abused pussy and sank all the way inside of her.

Again Bellatrisk found herself stuffed to the brim with a pussy packed full of orc dick, only this time even her mouth had not been spared.

Although she'd already taken two creamy loads by now, the size of the cockmeat stretching out her pussy nevertheless made her squeal around the dick in her mouth. The orcs did not seem to mind her discomfort, however. The one fucking her face pumped his hips until every inch of his ridiculously fat prick was lodged inside of her gullet, sealed tightly between her plump purple lips, withdrawing and advancing in forceful movements that made Bellatrisk's mouth water.

Slobber gradually marred her chin, and the orc ceased punishing her throat only when instructing her to suck on the tip or lap at his balls. Beside her, Liana did the same.

The orc claiming her cunt did so without much variance in the cadence of his thrusts. He demolished her pussy almost lackadaisically, like it was an easy, everyday occurrence. Smoothly, with long strokes, fast but not nearly as fast as he could have been, his hands holding onto her hips and ass, massaging her supple cheeks with his thumbs. The almost music-like smacking of his muscular body against hers reached her ears, made them twitch, and highlighted each and every moment that his bulbous cockhead kissed the back of her pussy.

In this way they double-teamed her, treating her to every inch of their orcish manhoods whilst she was lined up with the rest of her sisters in a dehumanizing row exemplary of typical Horde savagery, their bodies bouncing back and forth from one cock to the next. The inevitability of their breeding made apparent by the deep hammering of their cunts, the rapid, rhythmic clapping of their upturned asses while they slurped on the cocks being fed to them.

Bellatrisk did not have the time nor the wherewithal to worry about her Sentinel sisters. Getting stuffed and stretched at both ends was taxing enough, but the heat of the room did not help matters any. Her luscious body gleamed with a heavy layer of sweat, shining brilliantly even as she moaned around the orc dick in her mouth, quivered as her pussy was stretched to the whims of these brutal invaders.

The muscles in her athletic figure strained under the dual assault of the orcs, driving her to her limit from a combination of physical stress and intense sensations made worse with every passing minute.

"Good elf," she heard an orc say, and she glanced to the right of her to see Liana suckling on a huge greenish-purple cockhead. Liana seemed rather spirited given the circumstances, guzzling down sperm as if it were water, and when the orc pulled back to glaze her face in semen she did not attempt to avoid it.

A harsh smack jiggled her ass and brought Bellatrisk back to the reality of her own situation. Just like Liana, she was slurping on the fat cockhead of an orc. No cum came. Yet. Behind her, the orc pounding out her pussy into an overstimulated mess did so in the fierce, animalistic fashion that she'd come to expect from these green-skinned offworlders, his tempo increasing by degrees. They lived like savages, fought like savages and fucked like savages. To underestimate them and their very large, very deep reaching capabilitieswould do her no good at all. A fact she had perhaps realized too late.

An agony of minutes passed, slowly on the part of time, bewilderingly quick on the part of the orc railing her pussy and doing his best to fuck her brains out. Given her complete lack of ability to think straight, she'd probably have to admit that he was doing a good job of it.

Due to the limitations of her mouth, the orc fucking her face did so at a far slower pace. However, his grip on her head remained firm as he scraped her tongue with the underside of his prick and abused her throat, sliding in and out, her lips quivering around his bulging girth, eyes watering and leaking tears, her long, pointed ears flattened uncomfortably against either side of her head.

After she'd long since become acquainted with the taste of orc cock, she was at last given a break.

The pumping stopped and so did he—while lodged fully down her throat. Grunting, hips grinding against her, he dropped a creamy load down her gullet but saved the rest for her face, decorating her lovely features in a heaping layer of orc jizz and leaving strands of the stuff dangling from her long ears and eyebrows like gooey icicles.

The ridiculous amount of cum barely even disgusted her. She was grateful for the break even if she was covered in cream. Even if the orc behind her kept on going. How long he'd been at it she didn't know, but she expected him to reach his limit soon.

As her luck would have it, the orc did not reach his limit any time soon. In fact, he slowed down, savoring every stroke of his monstrous cock into her constricting Kaldorei pussy. Admittedly, Bellatrisk was finding it more and more difficult not to savor it as well. Her inner walls clenched tightly around him, her pussy gripping firmly at his cock, recognizing its new master even if she didn't. But the friction of their joining—the feeling of that fat orcish prick stretching her out—

She moaned involuntarily and lowered her head to the floor, submitting to him now as the rest of her sisters had done. Regret could come later. Right now she could think of nothing, feel nothing but the agonizingly sweet treatment her pussy was receiving. The dicking of a lifetime by a hated enemy that had thus far managed to convert Esyll and her sisters.

After that, he fucked an orgasm out of her like it was nothing. Then, apparently satisfied over having done that, he allowed himself to cum, spending himself inside of her pussy and pulling out to spray her body, icing her ass cheeks with baby batter, spurting ropes across the toned curve of her back and knotting her hair with gooey seed.

Bellatrisk groaned, her body twitching with the remnants of her orgasm. For a short period of time she was left alone to recuperate, but then more orcs got hold of her and she was once again thrust into the center of depravity, alternating through a variety of positions and experiencing every orc in the room.

Unlike their Sin'dorei cousins who were gorgeous yet soft, Bellatrisk and the rest of the Sentinels had figures tempered for war: strong, toned, graceful of movement. But their athletic bodies, combined with their natural elven beauty, made them perfect targets for the orcs' fiendish breeding plans. They took all the orcs dished out, the abuse evident by their fuck-mussed hair, cum-stained skin, bruised bodies and eyes glazed with lust.

Bellatrisk had killed orcs with Velene many times before, but now she sucked the cock of one with her, shared a heaping load of jizz with her. She rode the orcs, half-forced, half of her own free will. She allowed them to fuck her big tits without protest, to ejaculate between them as if trying to stick her breasts together, then lathering her hard nipples in seed.

And when they slapped their cocks against her delicate elven pussy, spreading her purple petals around their orcish members, she came at last with jubilant cries husked from a throat abused by dick and strained by hours of shouting.

***

At some point a servant arrived, a peon carrying water and fresh cloth for cleaning. Most of the orcs had left by this time. Most of the Sentinels lay on their cum-soaked bedding as if comatose, their vitality apparent only by the rising and falling of their chests and occasional exhausted groans.

A few of them, like Bellatrisk, were still preoccupied.

"Nice legs," the same orc that had captured her said. He'd taken not only a liking to her, but to her legs as well.

And her feet. Which happened to be as slender and curved as the rest of her, smooth and lavender toned, with toes that were perhaps slightly long.

Presently, she sat back and rubbed the soles of her feet over his manhood which was still hard as stone and leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. The sticky fluid trickled between her toes as she did her best to jerk him off with her feet, toes wiggling and massaging the huge bloated head of his cock.

"When will you release us?" she asked, glancing up at him.

He shrugged. "When you can't be bred anymore."

A dollop of pre-cum oozed out of his cock. She smeared it with her toe. "Or until we're rescued."

"Hum…" He considered this for a moment. "Maybe, but usually not work. Usually capture your rogues. Keep them in building eleven." He grinned stupidly. "Gonna need new building soon."

She didn't like the sound of that. It would mean more captured Sentinels. But by this point she didn't particularly mind what she was doing with her feet. Amazing what one could adapt to in such a short time.

The speed of her feet rubbing up and down his manhood increased, becoming more spirited, toes stroking as best they were able, desperately trying to milk his hulking green cock and tracing over every jutting vein and bumpy protrusion. She was not accustomed to this practice but she learned quickly despite her exhaustion.

The sheer length of his cock made traversing all the way from tip to base with her soles bothersome, so she alternated between long forceful strokes and squeezing his spongy cockhead between her feet and toes, applying delicate pressure, pushing him closer and closer to the edge until finally he erupted.

He grunted. Her eyes widened. Jets of cum spurted out of his cock onto her toes, the entirety of her feet, dousing her in sticky white seed. Like a dam unleashed he kept on going, successfully coating the last areas of her body that were not already lathered in a veneer of orc cum.

Bellatrisk pulled her feet away, rolling her toes distastefully. It looked as if she'd stepped in lotion. "Finished?"

She'd long since observed the incredible stamina these orcs possessed, so she was only slightly surprised when he pushed her fully onto her back and positioned himself between her legs. Her breasts jiggled as she fell and her hair, matted with semen, draped the floor like a tattered purple rug.

Briefly, his cock slapped against her pussy, smeared her slit with cum, and then shoved inside.

Bellatrisk winced at the intrusion and clutched at the bedding beneath her, mouth falling open to let out a light gasp. Her body yielded to him easily, accepting him deep inside of her core as he fed her every thick and throbbing inch of orc meat that he had. And by Elune, he had a lot.

Slowly, his enormous body bore down on her, stretching her pretty elven pussy until it quivered and clenched; and when he withdrew and gave her that first real stroke, she moaned. And when he beat into her fast, filling her completely, balls slapping against her round ass, she wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out. Shamelessly, her body wanting nothing more than to be bred, fucked, and ruined.

"Thara dormil, Elune!"

Every slam of that fat cock against her cervix made her eyes roll. Her breasts bounced on impact, large and heavy, and her voice was deep and erotically feminine as she expressed her pleasure through husky moans and carnal cries. Pumping, pumping, pumping, bodies slapping together, her nails digging into his skin, her pussy ravaged by more dick than it could take, that yearning tightness inside of her shattered and an orgasm earthquaked through her.

Bellatrisk arched up into him, grunting, mouth open in a silent scream as she trembled all over like a leaf in the wind. The orc kept thrusting despite her orgasm, until he, too, came, claiming her pussy for the Horde and conquering her womb one potent spurt of cum at a time.

When he pulled out, a flood of jizz trickled out of her pussy, and she knew, even as he exited the building and the door clicked shut behind him, that she would not leave this breeding facility without serving her purpose. Perhaps multiple times.