Perfect Seduction

The chill of death pervaded in the cold stone halls. To the untrained it seemed nothing more than an unnaturally cold wind sweeping across the skin, sending shivers down the spine. But those that knew the dark secrets of this place knew better, it was the voice of death itself, its words entwining itself around the still-living, whispering an unholy lullaby in their ears. It is said that some hear death’s call more clearly than others, and they are destined to become the greatest of warlocks and necromancers. And the lords of all warlocks and shadowcasters were the Nathrezim – the unholy dreadlords.

Flickering braziers of deathly green flame raged, illuminating the auditorium in its unholy green glow. Shadows of emerald hue danced on the tapestries hung high upon the impenetrable stone walls. The chaotic weather of hellfire and flame that plagued the world of Xoroth formed the background of the imposing citadel. It was here that stood the mythical bastion of the dreadlords, their chaos citadel an unyielding spire of hellforged stone that stood resilient against the fury of the storms of Xoroth.

“…And why do we not just capture the Queen herself?” The resounding enunciation of each syllable, the demonic undertones… it was the unmistakable voice of dreadlord Ven’gyr.

“Lord Kil’jaeden instructed us that we are not to raise suspicion. Their beloved Queen disappearing would ruin the Lord’s plans.” The seething annoyance in Detheroc’s rattling voice was clear. No mortal had ever heard those bone-chilling tones and survived… sane. “Now are you done questioning your brethren, Ven’gyr?”

“Enough! Both of you!” The dreadlord Tichondrius’s smooth, sinister voice belied his sheer cruelty and malevolence. His neck craned dangerously, peering all the gathering of Natherezim. It pained him every time the council was convened, their pettiness to garner the favor of the Lord Kil’jaeden was despicable. “So we are all in agreement then… Anetheron is to be given the honor of serving the Lord Kil’jaeden in his mission.” Tichondrius’s piercing gaze scanned the room, Varimthras’s tensed wings shaking visibly agitated. “Mal’ganis? Balnazzar?” His tone indicated that he expected agreement, not discussion.

Reluctant nods from the dreadlords indicated their agreement, Varimthras’s hasty exit from the morose chamber spoke of his rage. Ven’gyr’s and Mephistroth’s exits were more dignified – a Nathrezim never admitted defeat, they only found opportunities to prey on weaknesses and exert their manipulation. Tichondrius knew the young Anetheron would have a handful – serving both Master Kil’jaeden, and fending off the machinations devised by his supposedly brethren. Tichondrius shook his head, clearing his mind of such thoughts. This was the way of the Nathrezim, only the strong survived their ranks.

Anetheron flexed his massive wingspan behind him one last time, the intricate wings formed of leather and sinew folding behind him. The dreadlord’s massive stature stood alone in the vaunted hall of the summoning chamber. A high, gothic roof stood overhead, weathering Xoroth’s storms, massive buttresses of jagged stone holding the citadel together. The blackened demonic runes on the ground began glimmering a dull, throbbing red, as some mortal sought to contact him. It was about time. Anetheron’s massive clawed hands began weaving the dark spell necessary to rip asunder the fabric of time and space, the shrill screech of a hole being ripped in the continuum as his claws tore apart a portal. The opening grew larger and larger as his hands forced it asunder, the exit was becoming visible now… The crimson hell-forged stone of the dreadlord’s chaos citadel gave way to the soothing blue tones of colored marble and quartz, gently curving sculptures and lush fabric. The dreadlord stepped through, ready to serve the Lord Kil’jaeden…

“Master.” Anetheron turned his head towards the voice that called him, his shimmering red eyes laying sight upon a night elf cultist that kneeled before him. A despicable creature lay prostate before him, the night elf, adorned in fine silks, his body adorned with countless tattoos and arcane markings. The dreadlord lay his hands over the cultist’s small head, intending to crush it like a grapefruit, only to find his gleaming claws replaced by flesh and bone. Anetheron looked at himself, finding that his form had shifted to that of their kind – a highborne. He still retained his dreadlord features in a sense – tall, sinister cheekbones that spoke of his manipulative nature, gleaming red eyes that burned with an unholy passion, and his impressive musculature that dwarfed even the most trained of Highborne champions.
“Tell me, minion, where am I?” Anetheron sneered as he addressed the worm that had summoned him, it was painful to even speak to such a lowly creature.
“In my dormitory, Master. I summoned you as soon as Master Tichondrius contacted me. I hope you do not mind the spell of disguise I’ve crafted for you, Master.”
Anetheron’s hand pulled the Highborne up by his hair. “It is acceptable, for my purposes. Now take my to Queen Azshara’s throne. I have urgent business to attend to.”

The cultist led Anetheron to the Queen’s hall, a magnificent open air chamber ringed by ornately runed pillars carved of an enchanted marble. The centerpiece was the massive Well of Eternity in the middle, its gleaming waters seeping with magic, ringed by Highborne soaking in its energies. The Queen’s throne chair, sitting high atop the Well was empty, but that did little to stem the procession of adherents giving worship to the Queen. In fact, it seemed everyone in the hall was kneeled, their heads bowed in worship to their venerated Queen, except Anetheron, pointing curiousities to his minion.

“And who is that one? Anetheron pointed to one Highborne beauty in particular, walking to give worship to Queen Azshara. Even walking, her unequaled grace and elegance rivaled that of the Queen’s. Her long, flowing strands of luxuriant lavender hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, tied together into locks by golden string, bowed with exotic flowers and jasmines with heavenly scents. Her head was crowned in jewels, magnificent rubies and sparkling emeralds and brilliant sapphires dotted her tiara, precious gemstones dangling from her ears, shaped into gleaming prisms of light that drew all attention to her heavenly facial features. Her face, so soft and creamy, utterly flawless, alluring pale eyes led to a softly bridged nose, so perfectly crafted, to full, supple lips, pursed together to form the most devious and heart-stopping smiles that warmed even Anetheron’s blackened soul. Jewel-encrusted necklaces and golden amulets led to a perfectly shaped bosom, small, firm breasts that would be perfectly cupped in each hand. Dark purple nubs, dotting the luscious little areolas dotted each mound of glorious titflesh, stood for all the world to see, to bask in the glory of Azshara’s most beautiful slave, for all to admire but none to touch. Her exposed breasts led down to a most taut midsection, her midriff adorned with jewels and gold, her navel ornately decorated with gold and silver. Her skin was so soft and supple, so delicate to the touch, the lavender hue glistening with a sheen of light sweat, her skin emanating a faint glow of the latent magical power inside of her… repressed, unused, magical potency so powerful that it shone through her skin, as if it were a spotlight of sensuality on her. Her sole clothing was the skimpy bejeweled thong she wore, covering her heated sex, barely… her long, slender thighs seemed to be arrows pointing straight into her, her smooth creamy flesh, begging for more, begging for fulfillment.

“Like all of the Queen’s ladies in waiting, Star is a slave owned wholly by the Queen. Completely pure and unmarred, they are forbidden to engage in sex. Their suppressed urges manifests itself through their magic… look how their skin glimmers with raw, sexual lust, seeking as an outlet through mana, literally dripping off their body in sweat…
To touch the Queen’s most prized pet is a fate worse than death… drained of all magical power, cut off completely from the well... cast out of the Highborne, to live among the ignorant masses of elves.”

Anetheron couldn’t keep his eyes off the mesmerizing elf, her body swaying with each step, her lithe body bending over to worship…

“—Master, we must leave now. After evening’s worship, we must all retire from the Queen’s Hall. It is forbidden for us to dawdle much longer.” Anetheron’s eyes studied the Highborne woman intensely. “That is the one…”


Anetheron spent the long night pacing up and down the hallway of the Dormitories. How was he to take her? Sure, he could rape the girl, but that would do nothing for his goals besides slake his lust. But still, lust… he could not deny the fact her beauty had stirred even his lusts. She had to not resist, to want to cooperate. He wandered the halls in thought, until he had stumbled back into the Hall of the Well.

Anetheron heard the soft moans of a woman in heat, a furious wet noise… Framed against the backdrop of gently glowing Well of Eternity, leaning on the edge of the soft blue stone was Azshara’s most prized slave, Star... her face grimaced as she moaned uncontrollably, her fingers working inside of her pink slit, her small, dainty fingers rubbing her engorged clit, her other hand tweaking her erect nipples, tugging it, squeezing it as she elicited sweet moans from herself. Though the massive chamber was empty, Star knew that none would dare touch her... even alone, masturbating to the sweet sounds of the well… She paid Anetheron no mind as he approached. All were mesmerized by her beauty, all were entranced when she pleasured herself, but none would dare touch her.

Anetheron kneeled next to her, watching the slave pleasure herself, her fingers drenched in her own sweet nectar. He snaked out one finger to her, watching as the shimmering blue aura of sheer magical potency swirled around her figure. “Star, I can offer you greater pleasure than the most intense orgasm of your life…” He watched as her eyes locked onto his, not yet acknowledging him, but more as if she had heard a noise. “More intoxicating than the richest wine, more alluring that the most splendid diamond…” Demonic power seeped out from Anetheron’s finger, a vibrant crimson, powerful and magnetic, it screamed of passion. He could see her eyes widen, no doubt the night elves had never seen any sources of magic other than those derived from their Well of Eternity. Least of all the unholy magic of the Nathrezim. “Power to create… power to destroy. Power to change the world, to become immortal… so intoxicating…” He noticed her fingers had stopped their action, her ears perked up as she listened, silent. “Power to change the world...” The aura of crimson mist sparkled to life, a brilliant hue of red bathed the room, the red overpowering even the Well’s swirling waters. The sheer magnitude of the demon’s power overwhelmed Star’s faintly glowing blue aura of magic.
At last, she spoke. Her voice was sweet, melodic… a voice that would haunt the dreams of any mortal for all eternity. “What do you want for it?”
“You.”
Anetheron reached his finger towards Star, her supple lips accepting his finger hungrily, suckling on it, milking his finger like some tender fruit, the swirl of sheer demonic power flowing into her, breathing in through her nostrils… there could be no comparison in the difference of magic, it was like a blind man seeing color, or a mortal seeing into the workings of the mind of a Titan. Anetheron placed his fingers on her delicately formed chin, raising it up to peer into his crimson eyes. “Be mine, and all of this is yours…” His lips embraced hers, so impossibly soft, yielding to him, her tongue submissive and docile, eager to draw in his demonic essence. She drank in his flavor, so full and vibrant, full of an empassioned burning zest that was undescribeable meer seconds before. Her skin tingled with sensation, her nerve endings on fire as she tasted his divine flavor.

“Make me yours… Master.” She mouthed in between kisses, she pulled him onto her, her small, frail arms wrapping around his muscular torso, feeling his hardened body press against her oh so soft feminine curves, sandwiching her against the cold stone below… The red energy swam through her skin-to-skin contact, her lavender skin sparkling with desire, with an urgent need. The precious gems and jewelry adorning her naked body paled in comparison to the way her skin glowed, brimming with sexual energy, begging him for release…her sweet nectar dribbled down her slit and down her legs with urgent need. “Please master, fuck me… I beg of you…”