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Even though I am the Warchief, I can hear the whispers. I can see their side-eyes checking me as I stand on my seat, giving my orders.
Nazgrim can avoid their gaze or nod sheepishly. I can almost hear the snort from Baine, as if he ignored how I became Warchief. I am sure he thinks that was retribution.
Gallywix? He’s too pusillanimous to ask, but I can see his curiosity in the twinkle in his eyes.
They can keep wondering and asking themselves what happened during my short captivity in Stormwind before I had my soldiers free me from the prison. No. They can keep wondering as long as they follow my orders and keep quiet.
So long as they fulfill their missions.
I clap my hands before I stand up, my legs stiff and my body even stiffer. A slight shift and the tension within me grows… But so is the need for a break.
“There is nothing more to say.”
“But. What about the treasury?” asks a Goblin paper pusher I chase with one waved hand.
“Another day. Treasury can wait, not war,” I scoff.
A few huffs and growls, a few glares at me. But I glare back, making sure they can see how I care about their disdain before their heads bow and they step out. One by one.
Blood Elf. Forsaken. Tauren. Goblin. Troll. But not Nazgrim. I cough to get his attention.
“Where are you going?”
“Fulfilling your orders, Sir,” responds Nazgrim, somber.
“I have other orders for you. Follow me.”
“Ah… Another moment?”
I can almost hear his frown as I lead the way to my private quarters near the Hold, feeling the eyes of my Korkrons on me. But they will keep quiet. They know that if they don’t, they will regret it. Yet, they keep watch on my domain in the stone… Far from prying eyes.
And so… My room welcomes us. My shoulder pads are unstrapped and then set aside while I advance, going for my bracers, for my belt. The air itself reeks, but I grin.
“They are growing suspicious,” says Nazgrim, still at the door.
“Do I look like I care?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder to see Nazgrim stripping down, too.
He might have the green skin of the corruption, Fel runs in his blood… But he is loyal and efficient. And tight-lipped when necessary. And he doesn’t ask questions anymore, not as my pants, finally letting go of my bare body before I sit on the bed’s edge.
The mere sensation of the fur on my posterior gives me the shivers. I cannot stop my lips from curling, his feet tremble. I even curl my toes, already feeling my gaped cunt about to give up.
I cannot stop that smile while I lean back, my hands on the neck, while Nazgrim strips… And appears in his entire pride.
Naked. Erect. Excited.
He doesn’t need much for his cock to be stiff. He might have that corrupted greenskin… But even compared to the others, he is a fine soldier. Uncut foreskin, a purple glans that is steadily peeled back… Veins all over the length, and a pair of testicles covered with fuzzy dark hair.
And though he hides his arms behind him, he follows when I beckon him… When I force him to approach so that I can have him kneeling on the bed…
So that I can kiss those testicles, stroke them… Press my lips and tusks against them while I take a whiff of Orc musk. It is not as good as what I need, but that’s enough for me to wait as my hands slip between my legs.
My clit drips and gushes inside my cage, all over my taut nuts. But I ignore it as I reach for my buttcheeks, on my taint I pry open as I clench and… Moan.
“Warchief. This is… Indecent,” huffs Nazgrim.
He can huff, puff, and act gruff all he wants. His cock is already stiff and dripping over my face while I slurp his testicles, slightly gnaw on the skin, and continue to clench… And relax.
And clean again. And relax again. An effort, a steady effort as the squelching noise fills the room alongside our raw breath… Alongside our regular moans, while my clit drips as much as his cock… But his precum is stickier, marking and branding all over my face and the piercings while I swallow the sweat sticking to his skin.
“The Korkrons told me what you thought when you were not here,” I say. And he gulps.
I have him in the palm of my hand. And figuratively, as I squeeze his testicles, he huffs. But his cock bounces against my forehead, his precum dripping all over my nose and making my breath stench… Stench I cannot bear it lest they ask questions.
The squelching continues, as well as the tickling… The sensation of giving birth, of the facsimile slipping out of my orifice… before I moan and throw my head back.
It doesn’t take much more for that dildo to slip out of my rim.
For that fake of a Horsecock, the size of my cock, to slip out of my ever-gaping ass. Of my hole that is so swollen, so glazed, it is almost a cunt.
A cunt Nazgrim tugs on, yanking on it and making my worthless clit shots inside the cage. He can be so stuffy… But at that moment, I can only kiss his balls as he plays with my ass… As he makes it explode with pleasure by his fingers alone while he pulls on my swollen muscle, on that donut that can get that… Vertical split.
“Your cunt looks ready, Warchief,” mumbles Nazgrim.
“Damn… Alliance,” I mumble.
But we both know it’s a lie.
They might have done so to torture me, but my hole. My hole is such a boon. One I cannot stop using to take the biggest cocks around. I tried to hide it at first or do it only with my fellow Korkrons. But none was as big-dicked.
None is so long that the Goblins don’t find a way to give them one of those sweaty, greasy… Equine cocks.
“The researchers say they’re almost done with the solution”, says Nazgrim, almost reading my mind. We both know what we want from it, more so, I kiss his cock’s underside and see it throb and then shoot… Plastering all over my face as he continues to insert another finger.
“Good.”
I close my eyes, feeling as he adds another finger. Then another. He leans forward, his balls rubbing my face before they abandon it, and he steps off the bed.
He is not hard anymore, but I can feel the envy in his eyes as he approaches with his raw, calloused hands and… Grips the edge of my asshole between his hands.
He gives my cunt a firm squeeze, almost yanking out and forcing my asshole to prolapse in a rosebud. Almost… Before he relaxes his grip and instead inserts one finger… Then two. Then three, testing my current gape.
Even if it never ends and I can no longer live without wearing dildos… I need regular stretching. Stretching as he breathes on my hole and inserts four fingers inside and wiggles them. My asshole clenches… My prostate is already teased and again… My clit shoots all over Nazgrim’s face, forcing him to lick his lips.
“You are particularly… Wide, sir,” he says. Unsure.
“I had one Tauren and a Direwolf for me while you were away… You might have loved to see it,” I say.
And as much as those Taurens can be despicable, Baine among them with his Alliance-loving tendencies… Their greasy, flared cocks are something else. Something much better than what Nazgrim could do with his six inches.
A cock that is once again hard as he slips a fifth finger inside, his hand going deep inside while my asshole… Sucks on my wrist, squelching and spraying lube over it.
“Hmph… But you can watch what I have prepared tonight, Nazgrim.”
“I… Can?” he asks, unsure before I snap my fingers.
The Korkrons outside were listening well. Enough for them to prepare Today’s prize as they tug on the ropes and enter the room, forcing someone else to follow them.
The hooves stomp on the ground, but the gagged mouth produces almost no sound. Still, the Centaur is straining on the ropes while that brutish face, almost bestial, glares at me.
And Nazgrim keeps watching us both, watching that brute and then me.
“A centaur?”
“A centaur who will ride me unless he wants to become a Gelding.”
The Centaur rolls his eyes, but I can see the tremor in his hind-legs while the Korkrons attach him to a phantom mare, purposefully built for my weight.
But it matters little as I reach for Nazgrim’s face, stroking it.
“Fist me and prepare me for my future ride.”
I can see the curiosity and stupor in the Centaur’s eyes, similar to the envy Nazgrim feels when he eyes my entrance. He cannot deny his interest, his lust… Nor can I, as I open my legs wider, gripping on my own buttcheeks.
There is no point for any of us to fight it… No point as Nazgrim’s hand closes and goes deeper, forming a tight fist that pushes deeper… And deeper… And deeper.
My hole aches for a release, my cunt aches for a proper pounding, as it always does.
Nazgrim’s fist?
It is a caress, a luxurious embrace as he wiggles his wrist to get more room inside my orifice. He titillates the wall, nudges my prostate to the point my clit gushes on my swollen balls.
I can hear him inhaling near my balls, huffing them, and licking them.
No, I can feel his raspy tongue going over my testicles, pulling on the wrinkly leathery skin with that dedication of a pervert.
He is mine. My pervert: loyal, efficient, and so needy he should one day get trained like I am.
I can sense my itch growing. He keeps tugging, and it feels great. Good. Adequate.
His wrist is entirely in, and he’s pushing to the elbow, one inch at a time.
His hairy arm tickles my rim, making it clench and close… But he is so quick to move his arm, to give my swollen prostate a squeeze, I open as soon… And burst.
When I returned… I tried to find a solution.
I asked our Shamans, then a Priest, even one of those Monks coming from those Pandarens. I had asked many to find a solution for it at first.
It is stupid, but I thought I could have put everything the Alliance has done to me behind me. I would not show any weakness, so I desired. But that affliction, what they… Awoke in me.
It wouldn’t go. They said it all: Ruined prostate, swollen organ, unaligned chi, deep corruption. All the words they needed to tell me about my condition were beyond repair.
I scoffed. But they were telling the truth.
My body… Is beyond repair.
Even now, I can hear the squelching noise as natural lubricant, another gift, is sprayed all over Nazgrim’s arm as he is near the elbow. His arm is pressing under my abdomen; I can see it and feel it pressing against my muscles.
It would have hurt on the first days when the Alliance ‘trained’ me, amidst the haze of drugs and abuse. But now? It feels warm. It is warm. A warmth that invades my guts and makes them feel… Strange. Pleasant.
“What are you thinking about, Warchief?” asks Nazgrim, certainly picking up on my silence.
“Go deeper,” I huff, closing my eyes as I can feel another tremor shake my lower belly and then… Another shot he is licking. “We need prisoners.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is no point in asking about the loyalty of soldiers. That Tauren, Beven. He tried to reveal my secret to the soldiers.”
“It was… Yes,” replies Nazgrim, his elbow now tickling my rim.
His arm is so wide… It now bulges through my belly, and if we work together, I could almost touch his knuckles. But he stops, allowing me to breathe and catch my thoughts.
I wipe my brow and then relax, digging further into my thighs to keep them spread while Nazgrim continues to lick and clean my testicles.
“All the dissidents… We will use them. As well as the soldiers we captured on Pandaria.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me,” I huff, drumming against my buttcheeks. “Keep the Worgens and the Draeneis aside. They are the most endowed.”
“It will attract the eyes and the anger of the Alliance. We have treaties,” he mumbles.
“Who cares? They are invading a land we claimed as our own. We will not… Hrmph. Falter.”
I grunt and frown, but Nazgrim moved his arm at the wrong moment. He certainly knows he shouldn’t interrupt me when we are talking about such topics. Nevertheless, he did. And so, I raise three fingers.
“Do not interrupt me again. And use your arm,” I growl.
“Yes. Warchief.”
Dull as he is, he is efficient in that he pulls on my rim as he removes his arm. The sticky strands tickle my rim, but the caresses are good. So is the touch on my asshole, so is the pressure on my prostate as I feel it crushed and titillated by the whole girth.
What I used to hate, that pleasure, has become my routine. And… I can feel that routine having its effect on me.
My ass is bigger, my balls full. My clit aches when I am not caging it and handling my needs.
Perhaps that’s what the Alliance wanted? To strip me of a heir?
“Something is bothering you? You keep scoffing.”
“Nothing, move that arm,” I huff.
I huff again, feeling that arm moving with a rowdiness I’ve come to like from Nazgrim. Contrary to the few ‘whores’ I’ve had the displeasure to join for that desire, he is rough. He is brutal. He doesn’t care if it hurts my guts or if he might maim me at that point.
He is in, and that bloodlust is taking over, making him pump that arm inside and out, even if it's with a few inches of movement.
But the movement, the sheer strength, the tension, the might… It is all I require when I grunt and feel my dicklet again shooting and my prostate-ache reduces.
My toes curl, my fingers dig deeper so much I can feel the blood dripping again… But it matters so little. So little compared to the intense pleasure that makes me shudder, and my whole chest elevates.
My grunts are a rumble filling my quarters, and the intense orgasms, ‘Faggasm’ keep hitting me. Keep hitting me as I hear that arm slip out with a loud squelching.
I should hate to let another male do that to me.
But nothing feels as good as when I have my rim stretched to the limit, when I can feel their seed swelling me. Or… When those arms dig so deep.
“Use your other arm,” I grunt.
“Warchief. You didn’t want to be prepared?”
“That Centaur is hung, and he is enjoying the sight. So get on with it.”
Oh, that Khan bastard is enjoying it.
He might have looked away at first with his snarling and his attitude, like he is too mighty to do this. But now, his eyes are locked onto my body, and we both know about his cock that has slipped out of its sheath and is now slamming against his belly.
That flare is hard, black like charcoal, and covered with grease. The… Kind, I can appreciate when I need to handle that itch.
Even from so far, I can imagine it throbbing and bulging within my guts when it’s inside… And I can imagine when the flare goes against my prostate, making it buzz. It is… Humans use the term exhilarating. But it is true.
It is all true, as I could lose myself in riding or worshiping such flare. Instead, I have Nazgrim’s other hand press against my rim while his first arm is still wrist-deep inside me.
My ass aches, burns, and tingles. But I can feel the rim, swollen like a donut, open up and then… let it in. Let that second hand stretch me to the limit.
My knuckles might go white and hurt. My ass can bleed from the scratches. But the more that hand slips inside, the more it stretches my asshole to the limit. And the better it feels. The more stretched I am, through and through, the better I feel.
And… It is the best thing I’ve lived.
I can abandon myself as Nazgrim’s arms move together, the arms covered in lube as they slip inside and out, one after another. One goes in, the other out. In and out. In and out.
Soon, the squelching of my ass clenching tight on those fingers is like music.
Not like the war drums or the cries of battle. But something almost as delicious, if not more. I crave it. I crave it at night when my asshole clenches and wakes me up. I crave it during the day, when I can only wear the smallest plug, so my belly won’t budge.
All those hours spent listening to the blabbering fools instead of appreciating what I have.
And… It is my duty. My honor to do so.
An honor I wouldn’t refuse. Yet, I enjoy when those arms are pumping faster in me, with Nazgrim’s breath going raw and earnest. He doesn’t know how to control himself.
His face is darker as he grinds his teeth. Worse, his arms are bulging obscenely while the tension within them is like ropes.
Then… There’s his breathing, louder than a beast of burden. Even his movements are more brutal, with even less consideration for my sphincter; he’s almost yanking out.
But I don’t want it to stop. I can hear him gargle and strangle himself over that task, but the pleasure that’s growing inside me? I need it.
I need that pressure on my prostate, that constant crush while feeling a throb inside my guts.
Goblin toys do nothing to me. Magic is pointless. A phallic tool is cold and unfeeling. But the rage and frustration and eagerness on Nazgrim’s face?
In his punches? I tremble. I quiver. And I cum again, feeling my groin bursting, though I am yet to approach a real orgasm. Still, my clits shoots, and he smiles as if he’d won something from me. He has not.
He should not act so proud and satisfied when he only manages to coax the minimum out of me. But I can feel the envy to be praised… The wants.
Then, as I growl and spray his face. He stops. He huffs, he pulls his arms slowly while pushing against my rim and guts to keep everything inside.
He looks so satisfied, so chuffed, so proud as I lower my legs and sit down. Sure, my asshole aches like after a good bruising. But my sack still feels as heavy as before.
“You did well… For someone with such a small cock,” I say to him, standing up despite the typical queef, my steps guiding me to that bound centaur.
Oh, that Khan bastard is laughing; he has that glimmer in his eyes. He relishes as he watches Nazgrim’s satisfaction crumple. Before my General can speak a word or regains his composure, I reach for the Centaur’s chest, smacking it.
“You think you can do better than him?” I ask the Centaur, who tries to throw his head back, his cock smacking against his belly.
A cock that sprays that reeking and intense precum. One, I inhale. The stench of a stud.
“Maybe you can. But I have taken Taurens bigger than you,” I say, before snapping at Nazgrim. “Help that bastard.”
Nazgrim… Poor Nazgrim, who’s still hard, with his green cock dripping between his legs. He is looking at his greasy arms, then he looks at me… Then at the Centaur.
I can almost see the gears spinning in his head, thinking about what he should do. He could flee or stop it. I can see the glimmer of envy in his eyes and that thirst… For humiliation.
Nothing but a craving pet as I lay on the phantom mare, spreading my legs while I wrap my arms around it. All the cushions on it have been carved to make it easy for me to plant my head inside it; within that hole, carve a hole so I can stay low… And still get fucked.
I press my body against it, down to my belly with that small space left so I can take the dicking and the bulging without suffering too much.
And then… I hear Nazgrim grabbing the Centaur by the reins, pulling on him like that Warhorse I stole from those bastards of the Alliance.
That Human, that cunt, thinks he can get his beast back. He thinks he can strong-arm me. But that stud has a dick like no other, and when it crushes my prostate, squeezing it until I cannot move for a day… I don’t want to give it back.
Yet, it is suspicious that I’m keeping it around… But a centaur?
“Something’s funny?”
“Yes. Your inability to please me,” I huff. “Help that stud fuck me. Hold his cock.”
I can hear the scowl from Nazgrim.
At the same time, I know he’s pissing himself at the idea while wrangling a mast bigger than him. A cuck. That’s how Humans call men like him. A cuck. A pathetic and eager to please Cuck who will bend on any occasion.
Even when he has to grip someone else’s cock, grip that greasy mast and align it with my ruined, gaping pucker. With my ruined and abused cunt.
I know how it is… I know how stretchy I am… And I know that rim can look like fine lips.
“Are you sure?”
“I have never been so sure,” I growl. “Do it. Or I’ll have you serve with the Forsaken.”
Again, he might be scowling. But he reeks of neediness and that shaft… That horsecock is pressing against my ass. The flare is already there, with so much blood pumped inside that shaft it might be a mace. A mace to breed and fuck. To ruin a mare and claim it as his own.
I am sure that bastard thinks he can claim me as well, make me buckle and bend below him until he can do whatever he wants to me.
He wouldn’t be the first. He wouldn’t be the last.
To his advantage, he got something that can almost get heart-deep within me and makes me feel good. Even Gallywix can’t hope to get such a deal out of our situation.
And… As that cock pushes within, as my cunt clenches and sucks onto that flare before it slips deep inside… I can hear him moan.
That Khan is moaning and groaning like a grunt, incapable of controlling his needs, while I clench my sphincter, while my cunt closes on that greasy dick to massage and squeeze it.
I have him under control. He cannot even escape my grip. He can’t do anything against me.
Even if his legs are free and he buckles, even as he stomps onward… It is I who holds his dick, slowing it down. Slowing the progress so much, it must be painful and terrible…
I don’t need to hear him scowl and grunt. I know he’s silently begging to spirits or whatever he fancies. It might even be a demon.
He’s impotent as I keep everything under control. And the sole thing he can do is please me with that humongous cock. He can buckle, press onward. But the mere presence is enough to make my prostate tingle and warm up in a good way.
“You look pleased, Warchief.”
“Because I am. Now. Let me enjoy a real stud’s cock,” I grunt, closing my eyes and listening to Nazgrim’s gasp. Then, his hand gripping his own cock, he squeezes on that small foreskin to peel it back to expose his cocktip.
He can only be needy or envious. Envious of that greasy shaft slipping inside my cunt, pushing against my buttcheeks and prying them apart. No queef, nothing… Only a few droplets of precum and lube that squeeze out from between, while my ass swallows it.
Nazgrim moans, and so does that gagged Khan. But none dare to speak as I relax.
Below, my clit continues to shoot. My balls are pulled closer to my chest, to the point they start to hurt and burn. But I cannot stop there. I don’t want to stop there. I know… I know my orgasm is drawing near.
Something real, something not as pitiful as me shooting on the phantom mare. And I feel it growing alongside those tremors going through that cock… Alongside the throbs whenever that bastard is forcing another inch within me. Or I allow it.
He is about to explode; I can feel it as his barrel rises and falls… As he gargles despite the gag. As he huffs, his breath raw and intense. It continues, it grows…
He keeps shooting precum within my cunt, stuffing it, filling it. And the throbs are growing more intense as I can feel my prostate warm up… But.
He neighs.
Oh, he neighs like a horse. Pathetic.
His forward legs buckle while he pushes with all his might to have his cock entrenched within me. He forces within my ass, pushes until his bulge presses against the phantom mare below… He shoots. His testicles slam against my ass, beating my buttcheeks and making them tingle good. But it is not enough. Not enough, as my cunt is stuffed, as I feel that warm, hot cum being pumped inside me.
I grunt, I growl… And then I snap my fingers while the door to my room is flung open.
I press my arm against my forehead, steadying myself while the buckle rocks me and the phantom mare… As the wood under me creaks and shows signs of weakness.
But I endure… I endure despite feeling that cum being pumped within me, bloating my belly… Even as I raise my eyes to find the two Dark Shamans and one gray-furred Direwolf between them.
Nazgrim is already trying to mouth some excuses, gasping and spitting a few words about his titles. But my Shamans follow my eyes and my lips.
“Keep him prepared. And let me have a moment with my Pet.”
They look at me for a second, then they nod to disappear behind me with Nazgrim already asking them questions: “Who are you? What are you doing with that totem?”
And… That bastard Khan neighs above me, finally chewing through the fabric gagging him.
“GET THAT OUT! GET IT OUT!”
“You’d think you could win or be better than me, Khan? Do not overestimate your utility.”
I hear him catch his breath, but a shaman again gags him while they are surely finishing to insert that totem inside that ass.
It must burn, itch, and be terrible. But it has to be because I want him to suffer. To be in pain and regret his pride, while he cannot control his libido.
“I have no need for a Centaur. I only need pets,” I say, watching the Direwolf approach.
His breath is raw, with hints of spoil and flesh. But as soon as his mouth is near, his tongue licks my face. Then my lips.
And no, before long, I have that tongue slipping in my mouth, tangling with mine while I suck on that saliva… While I enjoy kissing my Pet… While getting stuffed by another.
I suck on that tongue, gulp down that saliva like a whore ought to have done with me.
As my body buckles, I am rocked by that cock that throbs even harder within me.
I can feel the veins bulging underneath the skin. I can feel the tension within that shaft as it pummels, hits, smacks… And pushes the phantom mare to its limits.
My body to the edge of that orgasm, to that desperate pleasure I want.
Pleasure… That’s what I want from those I use. I do not need them to mouth the truth, to divulge what I have become. In that regard, pets are worthier.
Pets… With their knots or their flares. Pets with libidos they cannot contain. Maybe I’ll have that Centaur trained to become one Pet, too. But for now.
For now. I can enjoy that tongue pushing into my throat, making it bulge while I suck and swallow that saliva. As I feel that fuzzy tingle while my cocklet continues to shoot and shoot.
And my prostate, my groin, warms up. It is near. It is close.
I feel the shudders going through my legs, my toes curling while Nazgrim continues to huff, awe, and masturbate.
He can observe it. He can watch me. He can be a witness as I can feel that Centaur again cumming inside me, making my guts go round from the pressure with the indent in the phantom mare welcoming my stuffed guts.
I can feel the pressure building inside them. The pressure is building against my prostate while the stupid Khan keeps hitting …
Keeps humping. Keeps pouncing. The totem inside his ass pushes him to go further, stopping him from going limp.
He is probably rolling his eyes or foaming at the mouth.
But I…
Can feel it. I can feel it. The pleasure, the delight. The pressure. My asshole clenches, my cunt clenches around that cock. Once more, my dicklet shoots, but the liquid is blank. My balls are pulled to the point of hurting like crushed.
But… I feel it. The pleasure. The delight as I choke on that tongue, as I hear Nazgrim cumming, too…. And I drop, my mouth liberated for one second before my forehead drops against the phantom mare.
All my strength has been drained. My body is a wreck. My muscles, my whole body is sore. But I can only gargle one thing: “Again.”
I came. But I want to be spent. And I will be, whether or not that Centaur likes it. Or if I have to let my Pet mount me instead. I will be… Satisfied.-
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