Chapter 6 - Masters of Theramore - Part 2 [Ero]

The row of exactly five women awaited in the middle of the village, nearly bare as created but yet elevated with carefully crafted footwear; stilettos, platforms, ankle strapped heels. Black, red and blue with glitter and the very insignia of the Alliance. Open toed to show these properly painted nails, shining and prepared to catch the attention of something simply greater.

Five smiles guested on their faces - proud, fulfilled, happy or even, filled with such absolute guilt of this pleasure. One stood next to another, at attention, seemingly disciplined alike finest troop in Azeroth; in a formation fit for public ceremony, for a decoration of greatest service and duty. In the heart of the village, rear-sided towards great fire and between the four great totems. 

Creamy, tanned busts were pushed forward, Commander Amelyn's pale front led the vanguard; in the middle of the formation and, as fitting for the rank, greatest. Rest of her squad ordered in the same manner, guarding their Sergeant's sides close while the smaller fronts stood the furthest away.

Calia Hastings watched keenly as a cauldron of molten red was put before them, as it crushed the green blades of grass and done so with a muffled albeit heavy thud. The mixture of fiery ink pressed from fireblooms, the sanguine pigments from grinded rubies and of enchanted oils, it all bubbled before them. Letting out a glow, it basked the edges of the iron container in a red hue.

An equally enchanted, thorium rod was brought to them by one of the revered shamans and then, slowly inserted into the middle of the thick mixture. The much beloved, mighty insignia was drowned for a time, allowed to heat up and absorb what paint was necessary. It was then that the Sergeant stepped forth by a single step and stood next to the cauldron.

The red light fell upon her bare crotch heraldingly.

"I, Amelyn Stromgrade hereby surrender to the Horde. My rights, my body and my mind are mine no longer." A practiced voice resounded as the soldier spoke, stared down by dozens of threatening eyes. "My life's purpose is now simple." She continued as two hooved warriors soon stood on both of her sides, shaded like the ashes and like fresh coal; allowing her trained hands to fall upon their tools, right by the bases.

"To make Alliance fall." Her fingers felt the throbbing, easily recognized the great, unmatched veins and their blood flow. A calm, decided and unfazed voice continued. "To ensure all of Horde's cocks receive the service I've failed to perform for so many years. To return things to what they always meant to be." 

Shining with enchanted red, heated with the molten mixture of ink and pigment, it emerged from the cauldron; dripped with overflowing paint till it was clean enough and then neared closer. "With this brand I accept my place in the world." Just as it was always meant to be - like Lady Proudmoore showed her many months ago. "My purpose."

Amelyn looked down with a calm manner and then inhaled as the branding thorium was about to kiss her skin. All these nights of training, all these concoctions to make her ready, all these days of learning the equine traditions by Lady Proudmoore's side. Finally coming to fruition.

And kissed she was, causing her to inhale even sharper as the red mark of the Horde would forever adorn her crotch; she shuddered softly as the colours seeped into her pale skin, as the immaculate flesh was rightfully branded. A slight, arcane sizzle was to be heard before the thorium backed off.
 
"May the Alliance fall." Amelyn declared proudly as finally joined so many of her sisters, truly marked as a part of the new world. "My squad belongs to you. For the Horde."

Human smiles grew even wider and in no time the sizzle was heard once again; all as Amelyn moved forth in a practiced manner, treading between the giant warriors as they folded their arms. Pale, well prepared rear swung to the sides as she halted by one of the greatest totem pillars and bent forth, low and nearly horizontal. Her outstretched arms fell upon the wooden surface for support as she spread her legs, shamelessly pushed out her behind in a whore-like fashion and presented the once-pristine and untouched ass; now adjusted for her new allegiance.

Wide and gaping. 

“For the Horde.” She repeated quietly before her face changed, before she exhaled heavily as yet another giant slab of equine cockmeat was unceremoniously shoved into her. She felt her flesh make space whilst her womb was kissed; checked whether it had already been repounded into a much finer, horse-fitting shape. Naturally, she was no stranger to such atonement and was since long prepared for her masters.

As such she didn't even flinch when her insides swallowed these heavy, totem-worthy pounds of dickmeat nor was she surprised when another tool was then slapped on top of her outstretched arms. No different to as if she held it, this fat portion of beef simply fell across the entire length and bent down softly in the middle, all as she raised her face. Amelyn simply felt the radiating heat as it hit her face and then with the lips as she simply gave it a loyal kiss. As it was appropriate for a cock-slave's manner.

It wasn't long till the rest of human loveparts held these blazingly red tattoos and as such, it was even less time until they were put to proper use. Calia felt as a heavy grasp pushed her down where she stood, Lana and Narrisha were simply picked up alike cloth dolls and Marie Holdston was merely spun around, forced to face someone. 

In no time the blacksmith saw as the moonlit sky was obstructed with a horned head, as a seemingly iron-cast chest of raw muscles pressed against her front and squeezed her bust till it had to spill sideways. She merely smiled as she looked up at the bull-snout of her owner, forced to slowly step backwards towards one of the totems. With a grin no less she felt the heavy slab of throbbing flesh laying against her stomach, heating it heraldingly. She knew she wouldn’t go empty for long. 

Calia was of a much similar thought as she once more squatted today, spreading her legs to the sides. Unluckily so without anything to fill her Horde-sworn rear at the time but knowing nothing was lost for long. She smooched softly as she saw them coming, as in this thickening crowd of bodies and fuckmeat, three monstrous tools that suddenly were there to break her. Heavy as a dinner and fat beyond that, these veiny slabs of cockmeat simply fell upon her. Onto her face, onto her shoulders, onto themselves, just a mess of fat dicks that buried her whole.

She closed her eyes with an upturned face for a while, bathing, basking in the raw heat of equine meat - in the throbbing, in the smell that choked out the fresh air and permeated her well. Scent of raw ownership and disregard that she inhaled so keenly, knowing that in just a few months it will be all there's left to enjoy. "For the Horde." She whispered and kissed whichever cock now took rest atop her lips, just to raise her hands and blindly grasp one of the throbbing tools, pulling it a little lower. 

Taking miniscule steps with these high heels, she backed off just a little bit - as much as this squatting, ass-flashing position allowed her. With a lick given upon her own lips, she eventually managed to drag that one monster down her kisser, all till its flat cockhead met these lips. It was there where a proper loving smooch was given, her tongue slowly but surely dragging itself across the urethra, collecting the much beloved precum.

Salty, sticky, seemingly seeping into her taste buds. It felt good to be on the right side of history. Eagerly would Calia look up at her masters, even if some of her vision was still obstructed by their meatrods, even when they stared her down alike simple, replaceable fuck-toy. 

Knowing her place, she would go only further; push herself forth across that mighty dick, open her jaws more and more with each passing inch. Delicate albeit not unfamiliar, human insides welcomed the meal, the tongue tasted its tenderness eagerly and lips swallowed whole, dragging themselves in their black-painted glory as they simply disappeared the flared, wide tip. 

Rogue's flexibility always came in handy and as such Calia spread her maws madly; by any common sense it wasn't a fit, not a single sane person would assume this back-breaking, arm-thick monster would have anything to do with such a small mouth.

The Grimtotem didn't have such reservations; the inhuman shaft was merely shoved into these jaws, unceremoniously forced forth as private Hastings narrowed her eyes, stared from under her eyelashes at these heavy pounds of cock using her tongue like a carpet. Saliva was forced out of the corners of her mouth, the wet sound of its gushing was to be heard no less. Whatever didn’t stain the meat of her master, that simply flowed down onto and past her chin, messily dripping upon her bare breasts. 

These lips carefully wrapped around the tip and its irregular shape, done so as if they were but a perfect, mad fit and more so, done it all with grace; with satisfaction and pride from duty that spread her jaws to a ridiculous manner. With contentedness of her kisser turning into such a perfect circle. All as she licked it from below where her tongue was pinned to the floor of her mouth.

Yet she wasn’t the only one who worked well, for Lana and Narrisha continued to share saliva for just a while more; held alike toys and pushed into each other’s lips, their hands intertwined with passion as they were forced to make out like wild animals and they did so happily. Their smooching almost muffled the sounds of Amelyn’s ass being tenderized and brought their nipples to iron attention. At least before they were pulled apart from each other, before the string of saliva was made and snapped in half and before heavy hands fell upon their waists. 

Pushed forth, their heads were lowered and legs rose just enough to wrap themselves around the bull hips in a trained, iron clasp. Lana saw herself turned upside down, so that she could see the sky when a mottled cock began to ram its way into her human cunt. In a fitting counterpoint, Narrisha saw no more than mud for the time, looking down as a massive equine meat fell between her buttcheeks, spreading itself far on her back with a heralding smack. 

But it was only the beginning, as soon her tiny body was guided forth a little bit and own cunt met by a dick simply unfit for her body. Both ladies shuddered and arched as fat, equine cocks stretched their skin, formed bulges on their bellies and then unceremoniously broke into wombs.

Wombs long conquered and well trained for being broken into. 

Amidst all of the bodies, they both merely broke into delighted bliss; with heels pointing upwards, they too soon joined into the wonder of being pounded into raw, tauren fuckmeat. The much awaited payment for serving the Horde was given and there was a lot of it.

Only armorsmith Holdston has yet not been thoroughly used in such a manner but she served no less; pressed into the same totem pillar as Amelyn was, albeit from the other side, she was raised across it and held up high enough for her feet to merely dangle. She, too held by her little in comparison waist, stared at the warrior before her; she knew her duties well and her place even better, so she spread her maws wide open. “Aaaah…” Slave blacksmith moaned loudly while sticking her tongue out, placing it on her bottom lip and canting down as much as possible, presenting just how empty and welcoming she was.

Keenly she connected with the hooved warrior, all as he collapsed upon her maws, as her tongue broke into his maws and explored the inhuman snout, drank his saliva. At least before being rawly overpowered by a much bigger, wider tongue and pushed back into the stronghold of her own mouth where she would now be filled whole.

With something much bigger forcing its way in, with her eyes rolling up from that honorable delight and her udders being simply crushed by the pressing, heavy body, there simply weren't any words for it. There was not a way to describe the crushing sensation of her body being locked between the colossal totem and the hulking bovine body, to describe the possessive, owning kiss Holdston was awarded with. Awarded and reduced, degraded to this walking cock-sleeve who would spend the rest of her life breeding tauren and forging correction toys for her fellow slaves.

Be it Amelyn who dutifully allowed her womb to fill with gallons of bovine spunk, be it Lana and Narrisha who united in a spasming from pleasure, every other Theramore maiden who already outfitted most of their diet with lordly spunk or Calia who already broke into the haze of hungry cocksucking.

But Hastings didn't just blow and suck - she feasted.

She twisted her head left and right to properly clean it, her tongue polished the glans and then wiped the urethra clean, broke inside to feed. With a soldier's calm she carried out her duties, slurped and smooched, guzzled and swallowed loudly, visibly. 

With her whole purpose reduced to serving this equine cock, she willingly practiced for the rites of marriage. Surrounded, buried under cock, she eventually grasped this veiny beef and squeezed with all her might, dragging her hands across its length and forcing its wonders out. Heavy gulps followed, thick, early nectar spilled out of the corners of her mouth, yet she didn't stop.

None of them did.

Lana and Narrisha eventually found themselves held alike mere fleshtoys, sideways but yet with one head atop another; their eyes met again and hungry, trained lips pulled closer to each other, connecting in a kiss while their holes were stretching themselves far and wide. Puffy kissers bent against each other and fought, shared saliva, all while they connected in this bliss of serving the greater faction.

Their buttocks rippled as heavy loins slammed into them, albeit not only theirs as Amelyn's rear was tenderized as if she was about to be served on a plate no less. Sergeant’s face remained buried in a fat cock whilst these hands held strong, pushing her away from the totem she was pounded towards. Proper, soldierly legs shuddered only sometimes when a flared tip smashed the bottom of her womb.

Well muscled, dick-attuned body would rarely give such shows of weakness; it was forged in war and tampered by countless hours of devoted cock-riding, tempered by tenderizing marathons of night-long services. Nonetheless, it was only human and little could it do against proper might of over five hundred pounds.

Only the resolve of a better future, of all her sins atoned for and of peace kept her going strong. Naturally, next to all the bliss and raw fulfillment that mere races of Alliance could never bring but, there was much more to it all. As she felt her ass being stretched once more by this arm-thick cock, she knew it wasn't a war the Alliance could win. There simply was no comparison.

All it took for the Horde to lower their loins and it was over. As she sucked to a Blackhoof's cock, as it lied on top of her stretched arms, she knew there was no fighting this. The smell, the taste, these veins under her tongue,  the raw realization of what it could bring, that won before any weapon was even put in motion. It was why she carefully ensured her squad would end here, it was why she carefully worked alongside Lady Proudmoore even since the first round of the negotiations.

Now as they drowned in the stench of equine meat, it was but a proof. She kissed softly as something slammed hard into her, filled her ears with the sound of a heavy thud and turned her cheeks even reeder. Her nails almost dug into the totem, held back only by the importance of the sacred wood; all as she felt her belly grow with heavy, thick and oozing gallons of equine seed.

Amelyn almost clenched her teeth; it was a whole lot of delicious, delicious seed. How could they ever think of winning if her only aspiration these days was to drink more of it? Spunk seeped out of her like crazy once that limp, fat cock plopped out of the fist-wide, ruined rear. It wasn’t long till a pool formed under her and it was just a bit longer before another massive warrior stood behind her, before another perfectly sized meat tool plugged into her, sending these hanging, human breasts into motion.

Whether she would surrender early or not, nothing would change; she still would be able to look left and see the cum-swelling, nearly blank-minded Lana and Narrisha, she still would be able to look right and see how Calia mindlessly devoured a whole, steed-worthy cock, they all still would be growing heavier with pregnancy-fitting bellies, they all still would be wallowing in mud and drinking spunk. Just less of it. 

As such, it was just the natural flow of things. They would swell with these heavy gallons of spunk, their holes would leak alike pipes broken open and the world would be gone for tonight. Reduced to just whatever would happen with their bodies, to their bodies. No matter if separated or forced to line up against the great totem, they would remain on the right side of history, in the right place of it.

Place where they would be there to swell every night, to blow every single member of the Horde they could in search of atonement and guzzle their spunk at every opportunity. Place where this sight of five filled up, barely capable of moving fuck-bodies would be seen as the everyday and not the exception. Today would be tomorrow, tomorrow will be the same as next week.

And next week, much like tonight, they would eventually, after this night-long orgy of being taken in every possible position and way, be thrown together into one great pile of still hungry bodies. Right by the fading bonfire, in the heart of the yard; presented like a collection of swollen, moaning fuck-dolls. Covered in sweat, spunk and saliva, breathing heavily and high on bliss. 

All before being used as the final relief for those who yet didn’t or had to yet empty their balls. Bathed in the thickest of nectars, with dozens of loads they would be drowned in an absolute mess of spunk, jizz and seed. Gallon by gallon they would be stained, their skin hidden under a thick glazing of cum. All till only eagle eyes were capable of distinguishing where thick chunks of seed ended and human flesh started.

Just enough to feed well before the next day of service.


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