The Burning

Chapter Eighteen

It was the morning after Mint Evarise delivered the improvised Scarlet Elixir to High Inquisitor Whitemane. The effects the false Elixir had on the High Inquisitor were strange and frightening, inspiring in her a lust that was taken to an unnatural level. Unfortunately for Mint, she had been the first person Whitemane had laid eyes on once the concoction had taken effect, and had been forced to pleasure the other woman, both by being ordered to, and by being emotionally manipulated. That had been horrible, but she had been able to summon the willpower to go through with doing the things she was told to, and managed to try to ignore what it was she was doing. When she was licking Whitemane's sex, she had tried to close her mind to what was going on, to think of something else. Anything else. She'd even managed to ignore the taste of the Crusade leader's juices. However, Sally Whitemane had not been satisfied with being the only recipient of attentions that night, and had decided that Mint needed to enjoy herself as well. So the young woman had had to disrobe, and permit the one she had always admired and looked up to to do what she wished. She had shuddered at the touches and licks at first, feeling embarassed and sick to her stomach. Eventually, though, Whitemane had become irritated by her unresponsiveness, particularly when she discovered the brunette's sex was still completely dry. She had increased her efforts, and Mint feared what would happen if she failed to perform as the High Inquisitor wished her to, and thus had tried to go along with it. The only way she could think of to do this, was to pretend it was not another woman that did these things to her, but Jonas Kelborough, her lover.

It had worked. She imagined it was Jonas' tongue that ran over her somewhat-small breasts, that it was Jonas' hands running up and down her sides, and Jonas' fingers tracing her nether lips, before slipping inside and beginning to thrust in and out. It was difficult, since a woman's body feels different than a man's, and there had been no denying the softness of Whitemane's flesh compared to Jonas', but eventually she found herself responding to the ministrations of the Glorious One, and not restraining herself in letting out noises of enjoyment. After all, in her head, it was Jonas who did these things. What reason would she have to keep evidence that he was causing her happiness from him? Whitemane had been satisfied by this improvement, but she kept going, adding more fingers to those sliding in and out of Mint's dripping snatch, and the Crusader girl had rocked her hips in time with the thrusts, breathing more quickly as she built up to release, and calling out words of encouragement as she immersed herself in her imagination. "Yes! Yes, lover! Yes, I'm so close! Please, make me come hard!" She had let out, and that had amused Whitemane greatly, as her red orbs drank in the sight of the young woman before her lying on her back on the floor, eyes closed, moaning and moving her hips back and forth, while Whitemane herself fingered her with four digits. Finally, the white-haired woman had applied her thumb to Mint's sensitive nub and the girl had let out a brief cry of bliss as she tensed, quivering and then after several seconds, relaxed, lying back. Whitemane had been pleasured, and Mint had been pleasured. The false Elixir was still affecting her, but all the tension and anger she had felt prior to taking it had seemingly been converted into lust, and now that she had expended those emotions, she no longer desired to continue this game. She opened her mouth to tell Mint she could leave.

And then Mint made a mistake. Still deeply entrenched in her fantasy, she had moaned out, "Oh, that felt so good, Jonas." Whitemane's red eyes had widened momentarily, before narrowing. She no longer felt like being generous.
"Did you just call me by someone else's name?" Whitemane had asked calmly. Mint had frozen in place, jade eyes shooting open as she was pulled out of her dream world by Whitemane's voice. She had looked fearfully at the High Inquisitor kneeling between her legs, and then she had whimpered as she saw and felt Whitemane's other hand slide from where it had lain on Mint's thigh, down to the juncture of her legs, and two of the fingers on that hand had been inserted into her wet opening, stretching her sex lips a bit wider. "You will not confuse me for anyone else when I am spending my valuable time ensuring you enjoy yourself, when I am under no obligation to do so. When I am done with you, my little pet, you will never again find yourself mistaking me for being a different lover." As Whitemane spoke, she had leaned forward, lying down on her bare chest. Mint didn't know what was about to happen, but she was frightened to find out.
"Please, ma'am! Please, Glorious One! I'm sorry, it was just a slip of the tongue! Please, I--" And then Whitemane had tucked the thumb of her left hand flat against her palm, formed a sort of cylinder with her other fingers, and started pressing her entire hand inside of Mint's vagina. The young woman was quite well-lubricated, but she had never been penetrated by anything even remotely as large as this, and had squealed and writhed, not daring to pull away, or fight back, but not being able to stop her body from trying to escape as her inner walls were stretched wider and wider. Whitemane had stopped, and Mint had had a moment to try to cope with the burning in her sex. It was a bit painful, but there were other feelings being inspired by all this, and she didn't know what they meant. The High Inquisitor had pulled her hand out part way, and Mint had sighed a little bit in relief, only to cry out as Whitemane quickly shoved her hand back in, forcing it even deeper. Mint's hips were bucking up off the floor, trying to dislodge the appendage by reflex alone, as she pressed her lips together, and closed her eyes, trying to once again imagine that it was Jonas doing this.
"Incorrect, pet," Whitemane had whispered out. "You still do not call me by my proper name." Then she had pulled her hand out part way once more, before thrusting it back in, and then removing it, and pressing in again, over and over. Mint couldn't focus on her imagination anymore. The feelings were too much, and all she could do was let out gasps and moans of shock, as the older woman fisted her, pumping her hand in and out. "You will call me 'mistress'," Whitemane has hissed with that savage smile of hers, red lips pulled back to show her white teeth.
"P-p-please... Please s-stop!" Mint struggled to speak, trying to deny that she was enjoying the feeling of being filled and stretched like this. But as Whitemane sped up her pace, Mint couldn't help but feel pleasure as she acclimated to the hand filling her. She had turned herself on by thinking about Jonas, and now her body was ready to feel good. It was too late to turn back now. And then Mint felt the other woman's fingers from her right hand seize her clitoris.
"Call me mistress!" Whitemane ordered, as she squeezed the hyper-sensitive nub hard, and Mint yelped loudly at the sudden flood of overwhelming sensations, so intense she couldn't stand it, and arched her back up off the floor, trying to break contact by jerking her hips away. The pressure was released, and then re-applied, and each time it blasted Mint's brain with sensory input, as she continued to be fisted. Eventually, it was all too much, and she let out a scream as her battered brain reacted to the stimuli, throwing her into an orgasm that had her jolting and spasming for quite awhile as she was swamped by the feeling of flaming pleasure burning between her legs, radiating outwards from her snatch. When Mint finally lay more or less still, though still shuddering from the aftershocks, Whitemane removed her hand from Mint's sex with a loud, wet, slurping noise, leaving the brunette's nether lips stretched wide. Her other hand released Mint's love button, and Mint shivered as she felt the strands of Whitemane's hair dragging across her skin, while the woman moved further up the young woman's body. Mint managed to force her eyes open partway, enough to see the High Inquisitor seemingly floating over her. The Crusader girl's vision was somewhat distorted, wobbly, and her mind was barely functioning, as she breathed in and out rapidly. "Clean my hand." Whitemane commanded, as she held the hand that had penetrated Mint over the young woman's mouth. She was beaten, and didn't want to know what would happen if she continued to resist.
"Yes, mistress," Mint answered in a weak voice and then opened her mouth to accept the dripping fingers between her lips, licking and sucking, not caring that it was her own juices. Before she had been uncertain about the taste of these fluids. Now she found them sweet, and good, and made sure she completely cleaned Whitemane's hand with her tongue. When she finished, the other woman had lain on top of her and kissed her, and Mint found herself kissing back before she was aware of what she was doing. Soon after that, Whitemane had shaken her head as she broke away. She had a confused look on her face as she shook her head again, and stood up, looking down at Mint with her red eyes, before turning and walking away. She put her hands on the altar, and leaned on them, closing her eyes.
"Get dressed and get out," Sally had ordered. The false Elixir was wearing off, and she was trying to make sense of what had just happened. Mint, feeling weak and dizzy, had struggled to roll onto her stomach, winced as great soreness spread from her stretched sex, and forced herself onto her feet, collecting her clothes and slipping them on as well as she could, before stumbling out of the Chapel.

Every step Mint took sent pain shooting through her, and she walked in a bow-legged fashion as she limped through the halls. It was early morning, and few people were around, for which she was glad. She knew that she smelled strongly of sex, and anyone familiar with the scent would be able to trace it to her, and know what she had been doing, but though she wanted to shower, she wanted to sleep even more. She'd get some sleep, shower, and no one but her and the High Inquisitor would know what had happened that night. She reached her room, and was glad that she hadn't encountered Jonas in the hallway before she had a chance to clean herself up. She felt filthy, not just physically but mentally. If the whole encounter with her mistress--She corrected the thought quickly, using "Whitemane" instead--had been completely forced, with no enjoyment on her side, it would have been humiliating, but she could forgive herself. But she had felt pleasure at the hands of another woman, regardless of what the reasons were, and she didn't know if that made her gay, or what. She also felt like she had cheated on Jonas. She felt guilty for enjoying herself, and hoped that nothing like this ever happened again, so that he never found out. And then as she was closing the door to her room behind her, and began stumbling towards the bed, prepared to pass out without even changing out of her clothes, she heard Jonas' voice.
"There you are! Where were you last night? I waited for you and--What happened to you, Mint?" Her jade eyes opened wide as she lifted her head and saw Jonas sitting on her bed, in his uniform, looking at her with concern, clearly seeing from the way she was walking, and her appearance, that something had happened. And the smell. She knew he had to be able to smell the scent of female arousal that covered her. There was no way she could hide what had happened. She broke down, crying and holding her face in her hands, unable to handle the stress, and only seconds later she found herself in Jonas' arms, as he hugged her, and tried to guide her towards the bed, quietly asking her what was wrong, and if she was okay. Eventually, as she lay on the bed with Jonas, Mint had managed to calm down enough to tell Jonas the whole story. Or at least the story from the point where she couldn't find all of the ingredients she needed, and had to improvise, up to her leaving the Chapel. She wanted to leave out the details, to spare herself further embarassment, but they spilled out of her anyway, as she described exactly what had happened, and what she'd felt at the High Inquisitor's hands.
"I'm sorry, Jonas. I wasn't trying to be unfaithful. I really wasn't. I love you, and I didn't want all of that to happen..." She had whispered out, and he had just held her in his strong arms, and made her feel safe and warm.
"It's alright. I don't blame you for what happened. I still love you, and I'm not mad at all," he had said, and Mint had some difficulty believing that there were no hard feelings, but she had nodded and let out a shuddering sigh.
"I just can't believe that I responded to her... I'm not attracted to women! And yet she made me... She made me enjoy it, and I... I..." She had felt like she might start crying again, as she tried to reconcile her emotions.
"So she was pretty good then?" Jonas asked.
"Well, I guess that--What?" She lifted her head up off of the Centurion's chest, and squinted her reddened eyes at him, unsure she had understood the question.
"You know. Was she a good lay?" Jonas explained.
"What." Mint said flatly, as she stared at Jonas. It wasn't a question so much as a statement of disbelief.
"Oh, I know! The next time you're with another girl, can I watch?"
"I... I..." Mint's expression of shock changed to one of her anger as her face turned red, blood rushing there as she gritted her teeth. She burst out, "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE THE MOST INSENSITIVE... PERVERTED... HALF-WITTED..." She struggled to find words to express her fury, but Jonas made shushing noises at her and stroked a hand through her chestnut-brown hair, trying to sooth her.
"Relax, I was just trying to distract you by making you angry." Mint looked into his face when he said this and saw the softness of his expression, the worry in his eyes, not his usual cocky grin, and realized he was telling the truth. He had just been trying to get her mind off of the emotional pain she was in.
"Well it certainly worked, you fool." Mint let out with a huff as she laid her head back down on Jonas' firm, muscular chest. He continued to stroke her hair, and just rocked her back and forth, almost like a baby. As she started to drift off, her exhaustion eating away at her ability to remain conscious, she whispered out, "You really are an idiot."
"I know," Jonas had responded quietly. But by then, Mint was asleep.

They had both lain there, and slept through the morning. They had duties to attend to, but they didn't care. They just lay there together, and Mint slowly recovered, as though Jonas' strength were somehow replenishing her own. However, sometime around noon, there had been a loud banging on the door of Mint's room, and Jonas had muttered as he carefully rolled Mint off of him, and laid her down on the blankets, where she curled up, still fairly tired. He had then gotten up, headed to the door, and opened it, to find Holman standing there. "Mint, have you seen--Oh, there you are, sir!" Holman had said in surprise, finding himself talking to the very person he'd been searching the entire Monastery looking for. "Where have you been, sir? Everyone's been looking all over for you!" Then he paused as he sniffed lightly, catching a certain scent coming off of Jonas, and wafting out of the room itself. Then his eyes flicked over Jonas' shoulder, and saw Mint curled up on the bed, completely out of it, in dishevelled clothing. Before he could see any more than that, however, Jonas noticed Holman's gaze and moved to stand in the way.
"What's wrong, Holman? This had better be important." The blonde-haired young Centurion growled. Holman was about to comment on how he could understand Jonas' irritation at being interrupted right then, but thought better of it at the glower on his superior's face, and the intensity of his blue eyes.
"Well, sir, there's a huge army of Scourge that has appeared and begun assaulting those sent to guard the supply ship!" Holman had said. Jonas had sworn quietly, but Holman wasn't done. "The ship hadn't finished unloading the Monastery's supplies when they attacked, and have already left."
"Cowardly little walking mucus piles!" The Centurion said, though he knew the Goblins didn't really have a choice. "I assume the Monastery's other forces have been mobilized, and we're preparing for the possibility of an assault on the Monastery itself? How many were sent out to guard the ship? Who was the commander in charge? Do you have a rough estimate of the number of Undead and their troop composition?" Jonas' attitude had quickly shifted towards that of a leader, and the change was startling, however Holman did his best to answer the questions. "Alright, let's get going then--"
"There's something else you should know, sir." Holman had said tensely.
"What is it?" Holman's eyes darted briefly towards Mint, before returning to Jonas. "Well? What else has gone wrong?" Jonas persisted.
"We have reports that a man matching the description of Arthas Menethil is leading the army," Holman had said quietly, trying to keep Mint from hearing. Jonas had stared briefly, his heart thudding in his chest as he digested this information as quickly as he could.
"This must be a serious invasion then. Go on ahead without me, I'll meet you down in the armory in a moment." Jonas started to turn away.
"Sir, with all due respect--" Holman began.
"Just one bloody moment, alright?" Jonas hissed out, as he turned his gaze on Mint, who was starting to sit up, rubbing her bleary eyes. Holman nodded and then turned and headed down the hallway quickly. Jonas walked over to the side of the bed, and sat down, putting a hand on the side of Mint's face.
"What's going on?" Mint asked sleepily.
"Nothing you need to worry about. Just get some rest, and then bathe when you have the chance, alright?" Jonas said gently. Then he leaned in and kissed Mint on the lips, tasting a hint of her flavor from the previous night, before pulling back and smiling briefly at her. "I love you."
"I love you too," Mint had said, a bit confused by her lover's behavior. Then Jonas had gotten up, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Mint sat there and sighed, wondering why Jonas had seemed not to be saying, 'I love you' but rather 'Goodbye'.

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About an hour later, in the Royal Quarter of the Undercity, Sylvanas Windrunner, the Queen of the Forsaken, was dealing with the various daily matters that required her attention. Over the past two hours, runners had been coming in and delivering messages to Varimathras, her Dreadlord servant, and second-in-command. This was not at all unusual, but the urgency and apparent panic in many of the runners, and Varimathras' increasingly heated responses drew the former High-Borne Elf's attention. Eventually, she decided enough was enough, and looked up from a report on increased activity in the Plaguelands, and groups of the few remaining humans in that region fleeing in all directions. "What news do you have for me, Varimathras?" The Nathrezim general turned to face his queen.
"Oh, merely some trifling rumours that are not deserving of your attention."
"I and not you will decide what deserves my attention," the reverberating voice of the Forsaken ruler responded coldly. "Speak."
"Of course, your majesty. Please forgive my impertinence," Varimathras responded apologetically, bowing low to her, with one arm across his demonic breastplate, bat-like wings spreading slightly, before folding closed. Straightening, he said, "There are reports of a sizeable force of Scourge gathered on the Northern Coast, engaged in battle with members of those zealots in the Scarlet Crusade. Several have claimed to have witnessed the battle, and further put forth testimony that these forces are lead by none other than Arthas Menethil, the Lich King." As Sylvanas looked sharply at him, Varimathras quickly added on, "As I said, they are simply ridiculous rumours, no doubt spawned by some small gathering of the Lich King's slaves, and made to be a much larger force than they really are by easily-panicked lower life forms, and disruptive rumour-mongers. We should move quickly to crush these lies, and those who spread them, before they go too far beyond our control. I would start by--"

Varimathras continued to outline what steps should be taken to quell any signs of mass hysteria, but Sylvanas was only half-listening, as she reached out with her senses, expanding her mind throughout her domain, searching for a presence she knew only too well. As her awareness moved over the land, she did not find what she was looking for, though she thought for a moment she felt hints of something indistinct... Vague echoes of something with the potential to be somewhat significant in power, at least in relation to beings aside from herself. They seemed to be coming from the south-west in Silverpine Forest, but beyond that, she could determine nothing, and was not even certain she felt anything at all. It was something to look into later, but right then, the more pressing matter of the day was still upon her. She came back to herself, just in time to hear Varimathras still talking. "--is what I would do if it was I who commanded the Forsaken."
"Varimathras," Sylvanas said quietly. The Nathrezim realized he had misspoken, and began to apologize, when another message came in, this time carried by a respected and trusted Forsaken Rogue who went by the alias 'Stillshadow'. She had observed a large number of Crusaders departing the Scarlet Monastery, and also reported what everyone else had, that there was a large force of Scourge engaging them. She said nothing of the presence or absence of Arthas. "If the Lich King were truly here in Lordaeron, I would know it." Sylvanas had said, more to herself than anyone else.
"Of course, your majesty. No rumours can deny the reality that is laid bare before your mighty power--" Varimathras started.
"However, from the number of reports we are receiving, and the consistency between them in the details, I am led to believe that there is at least something going on out there. Even if the Lich King is not present, it may be that someone is attempting to use his appearance and reputation to some foul ends."
"A brilliant deduction, Dark Lady. However, are you certain that--"
"And even if there was no Scourge army, and this was all a ruse of some kind, the Scarlet Crusade seems to be up to something, whether that be reacting to the supposed Undead presence, or preparing to use rumours of such a presence as a distraction while they prepare to assault the Undercity. No matter what the truth of the matter is, I will not allow us to be taken unawares by burying our heads in the sand, and pretending nothing negative could possibly happen." Sylvanas Windrunner then called out, "Mobilize our forces. We will send some to investigate the possible presence of the Scourge and someone pretending at being the Lich King, and the rest will make preparations to defend against an assault on our holdings. If nothing comes of this, we can pass it off as a surprise training exercise. Our soldiers are in desperate need of experience."
"Yes, your majesty," Varimathras answered, with a bow, as he began relaying his queen's orders, ensuring that the troops at strategic locations such as Brill were reinforced, and that all patrols were doubled.
"It is said that it is an obliging enemy who turns his back, or bares his throat," Sylvanas said quietly, echoing voice cold and calm. "None who seek to take my kingdom will find me very accomodating."

--------------End Chapter Eighteen--------------