Chapter 5 - Of Strawberries, Ambassadors, and Elvish Assholes

The Gladiator’s Prize
Chapter 5: Of Strawberries, Ambassadors, and Elvish Assholes
As Quentin rounded the track on the compound’s perimeter, he stopped at the creek that ran alongside its western border, bending down to drink a handful of the cold water, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the stream’s surface; his facial hair was shaved close, with just a peppering of stubble on his jaw. His black hair, drenched in sweat from the run, was long and messy on top and shaved short on the sides. Brenan, still skilled with a knife from his cutthroat days, served as the impromptu barber for most of Crazk’s gladiators, including Quentin, though there were some, notably Ellern and Sanren, who preferred the more expensive salons in Gurubashi. 
                It was three months, give or take a few days, since Quentin started training as a gladiator, and he admired how his muscles had grown in that time: his chest was more defined, shoulders broader, waist narrower, and his arms had grown appreciably, but he had yet to participate in an actual gladiatorial match. This frustrated him more than a little, though he could feel his time was coming. Quentin was stronger and faster than he had ever been in his life, now giving as good as he got in his sparring sessions, occasionally besting some of the more experienced gladiators.
                Quentin stood and looked at his reflection once more, with what he felt was some well-earned vanity, and smiled. While it was true that he had never struggled pulling women, he had noticed a considerable uptick in interest from the fairer sex. Even though he had yet to step foot in the arena as a combatant, gladiator groups were already throwing themselves at him.
                He savored the memory from their most recent trip to Gurubashi where he picked up a night elf woman at The Rose & Crown. She was young, for an elf, lean and graceful and fucked Quentin like a wild animal in the room they hastily rented in the pub’s upstairs inn. He bent her naked body over the table and fucked her tight, purple pussy hard and passionately, and gods was she loud and exuberant….
                Momentarily lost in reverie, he shook himself out of it and remembered that he still had a lap to finish and would catch hell if he took too long, so he hurried to complete the course. 
                
 
Later that day, as the men were finishing their training and another sunset was on the Stanglethorn skyline, Quentin saw Sorek approaching him, which was a rarity outside of his sparring lessons; Quentin felt his anticipation rising, and, when the old orc reached him, he simply said:
                “I’ve informed Crazk that you’re ready to fight in the games. You will be entered into a match this weekend. Prepare yourself.”
                His message delivered, the orc turned and left Quentin, whose grin was spreading wide across his face.
                Finally, he thought, walking towards the barracks, excited to tell Brenan and Ellern.
 
 
                After a week that felt like an eternity, the weekend finally arrived; Quentin’s anticipation had grown with each passing day. It was finally settling in: he was going to be an actual gladiator. When they delivered the armor that was tailored for him, a simple black leather jerkin and matching pants and boots, he could barely contain his excitement. As they prepared to leave for Gurubashi that afternoon, Quentin unpacked his swords from his trunk and bundled them in with his brand new armor and joined the rest of the gladiators.
                When the company reached Gurubashi, Quentin was again roomed with Brenan, Sanren, and Ellern, as it had become a tradition; however, he turned down their off for drinks at The Rose & Crown, choosing instead to turn in early so that he would be well-rested for his upcoming match. He awoke at the crack of dawn the next day, feeling a mix of fear and anticipation; the gladiators left the inn, using the same back alley paths as usual until they came to Crazk’s side entrance into the arena. This time, Quentin went down instead of up, joining those who were to fight. 
                Brenan, sitting out this weekend, wished him luck.
                “There’s nary a better feelin’ than winnin’ in the arena, Quent.”
                Quentin arched an eyebrow. “None?”
                “Nay, not even that, jest wait, ye’ll see,” Brenan said, laughing. The dwarf said his farewell and departed.
                Ellern and Sanren joined Quentin, among others from Crazk’s stable. Hacut and Sohka, as usual, were already in the preparation area, or the pits, as gladiators called them. The dark tunnels wound downwards until they leveled out into a small antechamber at the arena’s floor. There was a large metal gate that looked out onto the sands. Quentin saw Sohka, looking fierce and beautiful in her armor, practicing with Sorek. Hacut sat in a chair and eyed the human contemptuously. Quentin, in his few months of training, had a few run-ins with the draenei. The worst of which came when Quentin narrowly defeated Sanren in an impromptu tournament that the men had put together.
                As Quentin celebrated, helping the laughing blood elf off the ground, whom he now called friend, Hacut stomped over and challenged Quentin to a duel, which he had little to choice but to accept, and the draenei had beaten him so badly that Quentin was confined to the medic’s hut for the following three days. It was beyond Quentin’s ability to understand how he had angered Hacut. At this point, he stopped trying to understand. All he could do was train hard enough to eventually beat the draenei.
                When Sohka broke away from her light sparring session, Quentin approached her.
                “I heard his lordship is having his cherry popped today,” Sohka playfully mocked him, giving him a grin.
                Quentin smiled back at her. “Yeah, they say the first time is painful. I hope you’ve not forgotten our deal? When I win, we’re getting that drink.”
                “If you win,” Sohka corrected. “Sure, we’ll share a drink.”
                “Just the two of us. Somewhere other than The Rose.”
                “Just us, so you better not lose. Best of luck, your lordship,” she said, giving a sardonic bow. Sohka sauntered away to join her friends, giving her ass, covered in leather armor that clung to her form tightly, an exaggerated sway for Quentin’s enjoyment.
                Thoughts of money and glory left the human’s mind; all he could focus on was the possibility of a date with this orc woman, the absurdity of which was not lost on him. Ellern joined Quentin and chatted lightly as the announcer, somewhat muted to those waiting in the pits, made his way through the introduction and the opening fights. Quentin felt his nerves grow as the fights progressed; his stomach was bubbling, and his throat dried up. At last, Sorek came to him and told him it was his turn.
                “Remember your training and what you were told about your opponent. Do your best to ignore the crowd and fight well,” he told Quentin, ushering him to the gate. Quentin felt light-headed. He heard the announcer’s voice echoing through the arena. Quentin fingered the grips of the swords hanging from his hips, feeling the horse and raven head pommels between his fingers.
                “Now, in his debut match, fighting for Crazk Fizzhook,” the portcullis in front of him started inching upward. “Hailing from Elwynn Forest, of the noblest birth,” the announcer said, with an exaggerated flourish. “He’s the scourge of every fair maiden, born both high and low.” The gate was now past Quentin’s shoulders. “Exiled from his homeland, introducing Quentin CARRINGTONNNNN,” the announcer finished just as the gate slammed open completely. Quentin looked out at the sand, bright and shimmering with heat from the sun beating down on it. He stepped out.
                The applause were modest, as befitting an unproven gladiator fighting in an early match. Quentin looked around at the crowd and reckoned he had never felt so small in all his life; he again felt his stomach churning and took a deep breath, pulling his swords from their scabbards and raised them in the direction of Crazk’s box. He could have sworn, though he might have imagined it, that he heard Brenan’s cheering voice above the others. The light applause died down, and the announcer introduced Quentin’s opponent.
                He heard little of what the announcer said next, focusing on calming his nerves. Quentin already knew who his opponent was: a forsaken man named Alfredo Darby, from Lord Ryston’s gladiators. Quentin also knew this man fought with a truncheon and shield, which made him thankful for all the time he spent training with Brenan.
                The announcer wrapped up as Darby entered the arena. As the undead man trudged closer to him, Quentin could see the man’s jawbones jutting through rotted flesh, protruding under his helmet. Darby walked with a hunch, and Quentin wondered that the man could stand at all, almost insulted that this was his opponent. The human gripped the sword’s handles firmly, reminding himself that he was warned not to underestimate this opponent. He looked straight ahead at Darby, who was now twenty or so paces from Quentin.
                The forsaken man stopped.
                Quentin took another deep gulp of air.
                “Begin,” the announcer boomed, voice echoing through the stadium. 
                They approached each other slowly, deliberately. Quentin was close enough to see the forsaken’s bright yellow eyes, glowing through the slits in his leather helmet. 
                When Darby was in range, Quentin attacked, slashing down at his opponent’s wooden shield. Darby didn’t yield an inch. Quentin fell back, creating space between himself and Darby. Darby charged Quentin with surprising speed, catching him off-guard and slammed his shield into the human, who was knocked on his back. Quentin rolled quickly to the right, narrowly avoiding the downward stroke of the undead’s truncheon as it bit the sand. He scrambled to his feet and stabbed at the off-balance Darby, but Darby turned him aside with his shield. The forsaken brought the truncheon around, aiming it at Quentin’s face. He felt the wind from the force of Darby’s swing as it narrowly missed him. Quentin stabbed at the undead’s exposed side, but Darby shifted out of the way. They both dropped back.
                The duo circled each other. Quentin had drowned out any noise from the crowd and focused solely on Darby. He charged him, bring each sword down in succession upon Darby’s shield. They bashed uselessly against the sturdy wood.
                Quentin raised a leg and kicked the shield, which knocked the undead man a little off balance. Quentin’s forehead was covered with sweat, and he was breathing heavily; he reminded himself not to exhaust his energy uselessly smacking his opponent’s shield. He became more judicious in his strikes, trying to draw Darby out. Darby waited patiently and found his opening, swinging his shield in an upward arch, catching Quentin’s chin with the bottom edge.
                Quentin somehow retained his grip on his swords. However, he lost his balance and fell to the sands for the second time in the match. Blood started trickling from his mouth; Darby was on him, bringing the truncheon down in a vicious arc that would have settled the match if Quentin hadn’t avoided it. Quentin was slower to regain his footing this time, and the forsaken took advantage, catching the back of Quentin’s leg with a quick swing of his brutal weapon. The truncheon made a sickening thud against Quentin’s hamstring.
                The pain was enormous, but Quentin made himself move, rolling away from Darby.
                Quentin managed to stand on unsteady feet as the forsaken charged him, swinging viciously at Quentin, who dived out of the way. 
                I can’t lose my first match, Quentin thought, through a haze of pain. 
                He squared himself to Darby, who sensed victory was close at hand. Darby charged; Quentin, wincing at the pain in his leg, stepped aside, only barely avoiding him, and swung his sword quickly through the air, cutting down the undead’s back, through his leather tunic. Adrenaline hit Quentin, and he felt renewed hope. Darby’s green blood dripped from one of his swords. The forsaken was moving with more difficulty, his breast rasping and rattling in his throat. The two met again, Quentin swinging at Darby’s shield while Darby tried to catch Quentin with his truncheon.
                Quentin caught Darby’s arm as the forsaken clumsily swung his cudgel. Green blood splattered on the sands. The club fell from Darby’s hand, and Quentin seized the moment and kicked the shield again, knocking the surprised forsaken to the ground. Quentin jumped on top of him before he could make another move. Quentin knelt upon the shield, the undead too tired and wounded to push him off. Quentin drew the blade to Darby’s neck.
                Just like that, it was over. 
                Darby signaled defeat.
                Quentin heard, and more than that, he felt, the roar of the crowd. He rose on shaky feet, elation numbing the pain in his leg and mouth. He soaked in the crowd’s adoration, feeling it wash over him like a wave. Brenan was right: there was little else to match this feeling. He held up his swords, tinted green with Darby’s blood, hailing the crowd, which caused them to roar louder.
                Quentin limped back to the pit, relishing in the sounds of the still-cheering crowd. When Quentin made it back, Ellern bear hugged him, rustling the exhausted human’s hair. He laughed and thanked the night elf, but his eyes searched elsewhere. They finally found her: Sohka was giving him a wide grin, her brown eyes bright and happy. Quentin’s heart leapt as he gave her a tired smile.
                Crazk’s gladiators fared well in the remaining matches, with all victorious except for Ellern, who lost narrowly to a draenei. Sohka and Hacut remained champions. When the games ended, Brenan, Crazk, and the rest of the gladiators joined them down below, where the dwarf and the goblin both congratulated Quentin, who was being tended to by the medics.
 
 
 
 
 
                Being more familiar with Gurubashi, Sohka chose the venue where they would have their date: a small, out of the way pub called The Copper Worg. As they walked to the tavern, they chatted casually, Sohka’s fans waylaying them a few times as they recognized their favorite gladiator. When they reached the pub, a little bar tucked away in the corner of the city, they sat across from one another, each with a full pint of ale, a full pitcher resting between them.
                “So, lots of rumors go ‘round about you. Tell me: what really brings you, a human noble, to the jungles of Stranglethorn to fight in the games?” Sohka asked, sipping her beer.
                Quentin suspected that this would come up and decided to be honest.
                “I was exiled,” he said with a shrug, taking a swig of beer and licking the foam off his lips.
                “Oh, so the announcer was right; sometimes it’s hard to tell when they’re making shit up or telling the truth. I guess it makes the most sense, though. What did you do?”
                “There wasn’t a single incident really; it was a culmination of my actions. I deserved it, honestly.”
                “A culmination, huh? I imagine it was a lot of debauchery and mayhem, eh? Probably caught a few too many times in some of those highborn maiden’s bedchambers.”
                “And their mother’s bedchambers. And the bedchamber’s of farmers, blacksmiths, and miller’s daughters and wives that lived around our estate. Among others.”
                Her eyes went wide, and she clapped her hands. 
                “I love it. You come across as a reserved, stuffy lordling, but this changes everything, unless you’re making it up,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at him.
                “I wish I was, but, sadly, I am not.”
                “Sadly? Oh come on, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. You were young! Tell me a story of something you did, something really debauched and nasty,” she said, emphasizing the last three words. Her eyes blazed with excitement.
                “I’m not drunk enough to that,” Quentin replied, taking a large quaff of his beer. “Not yet anyway.”
                “Bah, you’re no fun. Drink faster!”
                They both downed their beers and refilled from the pitcher. 
                “What about you?” Quentin asked.
                Sohka shrugged. “Worked here and there at some shit jobs; I was decent enough with a sword and saw Crazk’s advertisement and auditioned and was accepted.”
                “Come now. That’s it?”
                “Pretty much, yeah.”
                “You’re the damned champion of Gurubashi.”
                “So? Like I said: I was decent enough with a sword. Trained hard. Kept winning. That’s all really.”
                Quentin laughed at the simplicity of her story but accepted the explanation. They downed another beer and both were feeling good. Quentin ordered another pitcher. They filled their mugs and drank more, talking about this and that.
                “Siblings?” Quentin asked.
                “Four brothers, well, three now, Ude died a few years back. And one sister. You?”
                “One older brother and two younger sisters.”
                They continued drinking. Quentin felt a warmth spreading through his exhausted limbs.
                “I noticed you’ve copied my hairstyle,” Sohka said, reaching across and playing with a loose lock of hair hanging across Quentin’s forehead.
                “I haven’t!” he shot back, playfully swatting her green hand away from his face.
                “Uh-huh, sides shaved short, long on top. Did you tell Brenan ‘Give me one that looks just like Sohka’s’?”
                He shook his head, and they polished off another round.
                “Ok, I think you’re warmed up enough. Tell me one of those stories. Something good,” Sohka said.
                Quentin sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin, thinking.
                “Ok, I think I have one for you.”
                He began.
 
 
 
 
                “I was, I believe, around nineteen when this happened. My prime hellraising days.
                My family and I were in Stormwind for the weekend, going to a charity event meant for orphans or the homeless or some such other cause I can’t remember; basically, they’re all just an excuse for the nobles to get together and gossip and drink. Anyways, there weren’t just humans in attendance: a few other races mixed in here and there, mostly night elves and draenei.
                So there were a lot of beautiful women there, and my eyes were darting all over the place. They were all clothed in luscious gowns and dresses. One stood out from the rest, so much so that she drew even my stoic father’s eyes. She was a night elf, an ambassador from Darnassus, and she had light blue skin and dark blue, long hair. Her face was beautiful, imperious, high and proud, and had red markings splattered across it. It’s tough to gauge elf lifespans, but she was certainly an older one. The age only added to her beauty.
                She had a light grey dress on that was almost skin-tight. And, you have to understand, she had curves. Her ass was wide and jiggled as she walked, looking fucking scrumptious, and her giant tits were just spilling out of the low-cut dress.”
                “Mmm, I do love a nice big pair of elf tits,” Sohka observed wistfully.
                “Anyway, it so happened that at one point in the night we were together, just the two of us, in one of the many rooms of this mansion where the event was being held. We were standing across from each other at a table laden with foods. 
                Even at my age, I fancied that I was confident with women; I had been with plenty at this point, but, in this elf woman’s presence, I felt nerves such that I hadn’t felt since I lost my virginity. She was giving off the most obvious hints though, and I must have caught her eye or was just in the right place at the right time. She was looking for mischief that night: that much I am sure of.
                So, there was a tray of chocolate covered strawberries in between us.”
                “Uh-oh,” Sohka said.
                “Yeah,” Quentin laughed.
                “She bent down, right in front of me. I swear, her tits were THIS close to popping out of that dress. She picked up one of the strawberries and starting sucking on it and nibbling at it but in a really slow, deliberate way while she looked me in the eyes. Oh did her plump blue lips look good wrapped around that strawberry as she sucked on it lewdly, the slurping noise filling the room. Her lips were dark blue. She held the half-eaten strawberry in front of her face and licked it slowly, with her eyes closed; I must have looked like a fish with my eyes and mouth wide open. She finished the strawberry, sucking the chocolate off her fingers, popping each digit into her mouth and slurping on it loudly.
                ‘Have you tried the chocolate strawberries? They are divine,’ she said in this exaggerated breathy tone, giving her thin pointer finger a lick up its length.
                ‘N-no’ I stammered out. I felt my face flush from embarrassment; I must have sounded like a scared little boy, and my cheeks were probably the same color as the strawberries. I picked one up and ate it quickly, barely tasting it.
                ‘Not like that, I’ll show you,’ she said, sauntering around the table. She came right up next to me; I could smell her expensive perfume. It was sweet but subdued, subtle. I can practically smell it now; I remember it that well. She was tall, coming up to about my forehead.
                She looked over my shoulder and peered into the hallway, and, satisfied that no one was coming, picked up a strawberry. Mind you, the door to the room was still open. Either of us could have shut it, but I think the thrill of potentially being caught is what drove her. She pressed up against me now, her tits rubbing against my body. I could feel their plumpness and the tips of her hard nipples. I was already hard. She pointed the strawberry at my lips.
                ‘Open up,’ she said, using that same breathy tone.
                I, of course, in the presence of this goddess, opened my fucking mouth, and she guided that chocolate covered strawberry towards it.
                ‘Suck and nibble on it, savor it slowly,’ she said. By the gods, I nibbled and sucked on that strawberry, while she held onto the stem, encouraging me, her eyes glowing with excitement. She looked through the open doorway again, through which you could hear distant chattering, but saw no one in the immediate vicinity. Her tits felt almost naked pressed up against me through that thin dress, and she swirled the strawberry around in my mouth; she suddenly grabbed my cock through the fabric of my pants with her free hand, which almost caused me to spew strawberry all over the table.”
                “I like this elf,” Sohka said. “So you were giving her a strawberry blowjob?”
                “Essentially.”
                “She was stroking me through the cloth of my tuxedo pants, and I was doing every damn thing I could not to get off right there in my pants. I finished the strawberry, and the elf pulled the stem out of my mouth and tossed it aside. She was still groping my cock, rubbing it vigorously with her dainty blue hand. I was mesmerized, frozen to the spot, or you better believe I would have had two handfuls of elvish titflesh. “
                “You didn’t fondle those nice big titties? Oh, young Quentin, you have much to learn,” Sohka said.
                “I could feel the heat coming off her body as she rubbed up against me; her mouth was pressed against my ear. She sucked on my earlobe and nuzzled my neck while she stroked my meat.
                ‘Do you like that, boy?’ she whispered. I nodded, unable to get any words out. ‘I’m married, you know, we could get into a lot trouble for this. Shall I stop?’ She said, pumping my shaft hard through my pants.
                Of course, I shook my head. My breath was ragged and labored. Her pace was furious, driven by purpose. I looked at her beautiful elf face and saw that it was set with determination to get me off. I finally gave in and moaned loudly, blowing my wad in my pants right there. Some of my seed soaked through my black tuxedo pants onto her hand, and she brought her little blue hand to her mouth and licked her fingers clean, never breaking eye contact with me. 
                ‘Good boy,’ she said, patting my chest, before leaving me in the empty room, still-stunned.
                
I eventually rejoined the party. My father hailed me over to his little group. She was there, with her husband. She gave me a knowing, mischievous look with those glowing eyes. 
                ‘I’d like to introduce you to my son, Quentin. Quentin, this is Raliern and Lathia.’
                ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man,’ Raliern said. He was a lanky green-haired elf.
                I returned the greeting and shook the hand of the man whose wife just got me off a few minutes ago.”
                Sohka gave a bark of laughter. 
                “That poor fool,” she said.
                “‘This is my wife, Lathia,’ he said.
                ‘It’s a treat to meet such a fine young man,’ Lathia said, meeting me in a handshake with the same dainty hand that just stroked my shaft. ‘Handsome young boy like you, I’m sure you can’t keep the young girls away.’
                We all laughed, me a little nervously, and Lathia gave me a wink and licked her lips when no one else was watching.
 
                The party continued into the night, without much incident. As I refilled my drink, Lathia appeared over my shoulder. She covertly slipped a piece of paper into my pocket and sidled up to me, whispering:
                ‘That is my address and a time. My husband will be out of town for the night, but you should be careful so that my neighbors do not see you.’
                With that, she left me there. I didn’t see her the rest of the night, and we eventually left the party. I felt the paper in my pocket as we walked to the inn my family was staying at. When I was alone in my room, I pulled the slip of paper out. It was written hastily but with elegance. On it was an address for a house in the Park district of Stormwind and a time, late evening the next night. 
                “Come on, get to the goods,” Sohka cried out impatiently.
                “I am,” Quentin shot back.
                “I navigated my way to the Park district, moving as stealthily as I could; I felt nervous, almost as much as before my fight today, honestly. I approached the house marked with the address she left me, a beautiful two story estate with a tree right in front. I swallowed, looking around, nobody in sight. It was deserted. I knocked on the door. 
                She answered, wearing a white silken robe tied at the waist. She peered out into the street and hurried me in, closing the door. She led me through the torch-lit vestibule, into the kitchen. She had candles spread around the counters, giving it a dim, flickering light. She turned to face me.
                ‘I thought you might lose your nerve, boy,’ she said.
                ‘No ma-am,’ I said. It was all I could muster. I could feel sweat pooling on the back of my neck.
                ‘Good,’ she said, untying her robe. She let it drop, pooling around her feet. My jaw nearly hit the floor right alongside it.
                Her figure was an hourglass, big hips and juicy tits and just enough flesh around the midsection for a man to get a handful. She had a black see-through bra. Her bosoms were, as I said, big and they were perky for her age. Guess that’s an upside to being an elf. They were two huge pale blue orbs, topped with hard little dark blue nipples that were barely visible through the sheer fabric. I was drooling. She had a thin black, lacy thong on that ran high on her wide hips, with matching thigh-high stockings that her thick legs were spilling out of.
                ‘I purchased this outfit just for tonight. Do you like it?’
                ‘Yes,’ I said, swallowing hard.
                ‘I’m glad. I’ve dismissed my servants for the night; it’s just the two of us, but you will follow my lead tonight, do you understand?’
                ‘I do.’
                ‘Good, now suck on my breasts like I showed you with the strawberry.’
                She wasn’t wasting any time, and you better believe I followed that order. I pulled her bra down and grabbed two handfuls of those beautiful blue elf tits, flesh spilling out between my fingers. I gave each nipple a long, slow lip, tracing the edge of them with my tongue. Then, I took one nipple into my mouth and latched onto it. I slurped loud and noisily on that nipple while she grabbed a handful of my hair and held me against it.
                ‘Yes, very good, boy, oh yes,’ she moaned as the sound of slurping filled the room, and my saliva dripped down her titflesh onto the hardwood floor. I switched to the other nipple and worked on it. She kept moaning. I gripped her tits hard and hazarded a little bite on the hard tip of her dark nipple. Lathia threw her head back and moaned loudly. Her tits were slick with my saliva. She pulled me off her nipple and gave me a sloppy kiss. I backed her up against the kitchen table and groped her ass while we made out, her ass-cheeks pliant and doughy in my hands. I couldn’t wait for her to turn around so I could get an eyeful of her behind.
                She pushed me back and took my hand, turning around and leading me to her staircase. I was mesmerized by the way her ass-cheeks bounced up and down as she walked. The thin black lace of her thong practically disappeared between her enormous cheeks. I can’t imagine how ridiculous I must have looked, staring at her ass with wide eyes and mouth agape. They jiggled and bounced as we ascended the stairs. I couldn’t help myself and planted a wet kiss on one cheek. She let out a satisfied little coo, and I treated the other to a kiss, as we finished walking up the stairs. 
                She led me down the hallway and into her bedroom, closing the door behind us; it was a sizeable room with a big, four-post bed that looked luxurious. It had dark silk sheets and had recently been made. The whole room looked pristine, in fact. There was a framed little portrait of her and her husband on the bedside stand. She walked over to it and turned it on its face, before reconsidering, turning it back up to face the bed.
                ‘I want him to watch,’ she said with some venom.
                 Saying that, she crawled onto the bed, breasts swaying underneath her. On all fours, she beckoned me over with her finger. I crawled onto the bed, tentatively making my way to her. We met, both of us on all fours, and kissed. I traced a finger from her neck to her soft tits, groping one and gently pinching her nipple. I felt the thrill and shudder in her body. We made ourselves more comfortable, lying beside each other. My instincts were kicking in, nerves dissipating, as I held her chin with one hand as we kissed and ran my other finger along the pristine flesh of her plump hips, feeling the lace of her thong between my fingers. She was slowly stroking my hard cock and fondling my ballsack through my pants. She rubbed her dainty elf foot along my leg. Her soft, fleshy melons were pressed into my chest; things were getting heavy, as we were both panting and moaning with excitement.
                ‘Get a little more comfortable,’ she purred. 
                I hastily worked my pants and underwear off while she reached over into the bed stand and procured a bottle. She poured a liquid into her hand and massaged it into her palm while I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it off the bed. I was fully nude now.”
                “Fucking finally,” Sohka said, shaking her head.
                “She stroked my hard shaft with the lubed hand, the feeling of pleasant warmth spreading through my loins. The liquid mixed with my precum as she pumped up and down my shaft, occasionally grabbing a handful of my sack and massaging it.
                ‘This should help a young man such as you last longer. I don’t want you cumming too quickly and spoiling my fun. You will only be taking only my ass tonight, is that understood?’
                ‘That won’t be a problem,’ I croaked. I couldn’t believe my luck.
                Lathia squirmed out of her panties, throwing them across the room, and I saw the immaculately manicured hair of her cunt peeking out from between her thighs. I rubbed my finger along her pussy lips. I stuck two digits into her glistening folds and fingered her, while she worked my shaft with her hand. I drew my fingers out of her hole; they were covered in her cream.
                ‘Suck it off,’ she commanded, tracing a blue finger along my chest.
                I brought my finger to my lips and opened wide, sucking down the wet digit, tasting the elf’s delicious cream. She held my hand and moved it in and out of my mouth.
                ‘Yes, suck it down, you greedy boy,’ she said, transfixed.
                She pulled my hand out of my mouth and gave me a look that said ‘I’m ready.’
                She crawled onto all fours again, and turned to face her ass to me. That butt was big and beautiful, two huge round orbs with a drooling wet snatch just below, and it was pointed invitingly right at me. I sat up and drew myself behind her, cock in hand, hard as a rock and ready to fuck elf ass. It was warm and slightly numb from the liquid, but it still felt damn good. 
                I pulled her ass cheeks apart and looked at her delicious puckered blue asshole; it looked like it was going to be a tight fit. I guided my lubed cock towards that snug little hole.
                ‘Take my ass, boy. Fuck me where no one else has, pound me hard.’
                I happily obeyed, immediately plunging half of my rock hard meat into her tight depths. She cried out in pleasure and, if it weren’t for the liquid she applied, I doubt I would have lasted long. Her ass was so taut. 
                I drew back out until only the tip was in and drove my cock back in, giving her a little bit more of my length. I gave one of her big ass cheeks a hard, firm slap with my hand that left a red imprint on her pale blue flesh. I grabbed the pliant flesh of her hips and started really fucking her; she was moaning and squirming like any common girl I had been with, and there was just a little bit of pain mixed in with it. I started hilting myself in her guts.
                I admit I lost track of time as our bodies met, my balls slapping into her soaked cunt with each thrust into her virgin bunghole. I felt her shudder and squirm as she came hard onto the sheets below. I would give her a slap hard on the ass that she responded to with pleasure. I was up on my haunches at one point, pounding her ass with tremendous force while I held onto her shoulders for support. She was grunting with the force of each of my thrusts, and her ass was giving that great squelching noise as my rod plunged in and out of it. Her pale blue flesh rippled every time I gave her a hard thrust, that big old ass soaked with sweat.  I couldn’t believe how easily her virgin hole was taking it; that elvish lube really worked wonders.
                ‘Yes, lover boy, oh yes,’ Lathia cried out as she rubbed her clit with a free hand, cumming again onto the silk sheets. I watched her tits swaying below her. Her free hand gripped the sheets tightly. 
                Dimly, through a haze of pleasure, I heard the bedroom door open behind me.
                ‘Lathia, are you ok? I heard screa…..,’ I heard the male voice behind me. It was her husband, Raliern.
                “Oh no,” Sohka said, putting a hand over her mouth.
                “‘Lathia…..WHYYYYYYYYY,’ he cried out as he watched me, this young human lad, plow into his wife of gods knows how long and the mother of a countless number of his children.
                Quentin laughed so hard that he spit some beer out.
                “As shocked as I was, I almost laughed at how pathetic his scream was ‘Lathia……WHYYYYYY’,” Quentin said, imitating the cuckolded night elf man.
                Sohka guffawed along with him.
                “It wasn’t the first time I was in this position, I must admit.
                I started to pull out, ready to make my exit, but his wife turned her head and gave me a dangerous glare and sneered, showing her little night elf fangs.
                ‘Don’t stop, I must come once more,’ she said.
                I kept pounding, conscious of her husband’s disappearance behind me. I wanted to cum too, and I felt close. I thought I heard rummaging somewhere in the hallway. I pounded her tush hard as I felt Lathia shudder under me as she cried out, her insides clamping down on my meat. I accelerated, pelvis crashing into her blue, soft, rippling flesh. I felt my sack clench up and finally, fucking finally dumped an enormous load into her used asshole.
                I pulled out, nearly forgetting about her husband, her asshole popping as my still-hard member exited her stretched anus. My cum was seeping out of her previously pristine, untouched hole.
                Raliern reappeared, but this time he had a bow in hand and an arrow drawn. He aimed it squarely at my head and released; I JUST dodged it and felt it graze my ear. I didn’t have time to recover my clothing, and he was blocking the doorway, drawing another arrow as Lathia screamed at him. I saw the window and the tree that was in their front yard just outside the window. I ran to the window as I felt another arrow whistle just past my naked ass. I threw the window open and leaped out.
                In the dark, blindly falling through the leaves, I managed to grab hold of a branch and heard Raliern shouting somewhere above me. I clambered down the tree frantically, feeling the bark scratching against my naked skin. I hit the ground and beat cheeks running away from that house as I heard the front door fly open. I ran as fast as I could out of there, the night air chilly on my naked body. When I was sure I was far enough away I went more carefully to avoid any passerbys. Thankfully, it was late, and other than guards, the city was mostly quiet. I dodged the guards and snuck through back alleys as I made my way to the inn where we were staying. Fortune must have favored me at least in this because I made it back without trouble and slipped into my room, panting heavily.”
                
                “So what happened? I can’t imagine you got out of this without some trouble,” Sohka said.
                “Yeah, Raliern filed an official complaint with the city, though the details of what happened were kept quiet. My father practically disowned me on the spot when he heard about it, and it ended up costing him quite a few business deals.
                “Did you ever see Lathia again?”
                “I did, in fact, I couldn’t help myself. Bold as she was, it turns out it was the first time in their marriage that she had cheated on him. It wouldn’t be the last. We met covertly at different spots throughout the city. Once in a seedy tavern, where I bent her over a barrel of ale in the backroom and fucked her in both her ass and her cunt. Another time, we rented a cheap, dirty room in an old inn. We could both afford much better, but it was more exciting this way. Things fell off eventually since I lived in Elwynn with my family, and she was busy with her ambassador duties.
                “I heard rumors that she turned into quite a slut, though, and, due to the embarrassment and scandal that she was causing for Darnassus, she was eventually recalled. I believe the incident that broke the camel’s back was when she was caught in a stable, being fucked in both holes by two stable boys.”
                
                Sohka leaned back and exhaled. She drew her mug to her lips and drained the remnants of her beer.
                “Not bad, your lordship. Not bad.”
                “So, what about you? I gave you a story, now give me one.”
                Sohka considered for a few moments, filling her mug from the pitcher and taking another sip. A smile crept into her green lips.
                “I’ve got a little tale,” she said.
