Weakness

The coppery taste of blood was in his mouth. His lip had all but split on the warrior’s fist. He groaned through his clenched teeth, no longer daring to speak and give the other elves the pleasure of taking it out of his hide. His shoulders had begun to tremble lightly on their own in trepidation, however, as the kal’dorei warrior finished unlacing his linen trousers and, almost mockingly slowly, pulled out an alarmingly sized member. Turon could smell the sweat and arousal and closed his eyes in disgust and denial. They couldn’t possibly believe he would do this! A Sin’dorei would never stoop so low.

Jandril, who had erstwhile slid into position behind the fair-haired rogue, planted a knee firmly between Turon’s and snaked one hand around to grab his genitals again. Turon cried out, jumping at the threatening touch and trying to wrest away but was effectively hobbled in place. The larger rogue ‘s other hand held the dagger against his throat and he murmured something in Darnassian, his warm breath close enough to touch the Sin’dorei’s long ear. His other hand began to tighten its grip---a warning---and the reality settled like a heavy morass on Turon’s frame. They were going to force him to commit this vile act. That moment longer of hesitation caused him another cry of pain and the warrior rubbed his twitching cock in anticipation, pointing it toward Turon’s face.

He tried so hard to block out every thought that threatened to take control – his parents and siblings, his classmates and instructors at the academy, the catty gossip that could be overheard at all hours in the bars of Silvermoon and Orgrimmar. He tried to firmly believe he would never see any of these faces again as he parted trembling lips and felt the kal’dorei’s oversized head shove its way into his mouth and his throat. Rough hands gripped his ears cruelly, using them like handlebars, jerking painfully with each thrust. Turon’s body tried over and over to gag but the warrior filled his throat completely and even that grace was denied him. His eyes remained green slits meanwhile, unable to focus but streaming tears of pain and humiliation with each jerk and thrust. The other rogue’s hand had finally left his own equipment and was exploring every inch of Turon’s body, gripping and patting like one might appraise a farm animal ready for the slaughter. Without warning Turon’s ass was parted and a hard finger shoved its way inside. The muffled scream gave way immediately to coughing when the warrior pulled out of his throat on queue and started jerking himself off furiously with one hand while still gripping Turon’s ear with the other, keeping his head in place, until seconds later streams of his seed splattered on the sin’dorei’s face.

There was no relief – almost immediately his hips were dragged backward by the rogue and his bare chest and face struck the floor. Something else hard and once again, far too big, was pushing at his entrance. All pride was gone now. He cried out in pure fear and once again tried to speak. “Don’t do this… please… please, I’ll do anything else, just not this!!”

A foot came down on his shoulder then, the warrior leaning his weight on it as he knelt down to use a handful of Turon’s own hair to wipe the traces of blood and semen off his spent erection. Turon’s body was trembling violently now and his legs scrambled in vain to find some kind of escape, but his hips and shoulder were held firmly in place by the pair. His terrified gaze locked onto the only focal point it could find: the third kal’dorei who stood against the opposite wall like a voyeur, smirking coldly as he continued to fondle his own erection.

The rogue shoved into him then. Tender flesh tore with the blunt force and he screamed and sobbed again and again with each thrust, begging help from allies who were not there. Demeaningly Jandril slapped the sin’dorei’s ass again and again as he fucked it for all it was worth until the skin was red and mottled with broken blood vessels. Turon continued to scream for awhile after his voice failed him, though the tears did not stop streaming, sending previously dried blood running down his face to pool on the floor.

The inside of his body had gone from burning and throbbing to terrifyingly numb and he wondered what kind of damage was done as the kal’dorei’s increasingly rough pace finally climaxed. The mild evening breeze drew his attention to the fresh blood cooling down his thighs. He was beyond struggling now, but his gaze remained fixated on the white-haired druid who was now approaching, until consciousness failed him seconds later and his eyes closed of their own accord.

Heaving from exertion, Jandril patted in the shivering frame beneath him in an almost friendly way before pulling out completely, drops of sweat dripping from his chest onto the pale elf who had passed out none too soon. Eroan grinned as he gave his brother a hand up. “Nice little fuck, eh? I’m gonna miss this one.”

“We’re not done with him yet.”

Eladriel had bent over the little rogue’s crumpled form and his hands began to glow with gently pulsating verdant energy.

Jandril watched with interest as he got dressed again. “You’re healing the bitch?”

The druid smiled softly. “It would be cruel to let such a helpless one die, wouldn’t it?”