It's A Punishment

Archimonde snarled as he returned to his quarters. How frustrated he was! The foolish Kil’jaeden was simply that, a fool. Archimonde had tried to put an end to this ridiculous vendetta of his, but to no avail. He cursed. Kil’jaeden was wasting valuable resources in his search for Velen. Anytime he sensed a trace of magic in a planet bearing any similarity to that of the Eredar, Kil’jaeden would be upon it instantly. That would be fine, if the races inhabiting the planet could be of any use to them! More often than not they were insignificant and unworthy of becoming part of the Burning Legion, or the trace was merely a shadow of the draenei after they’d left the planet, having become alert of the Legion’s approach and aided once more by the naaru. Archimonde wanted Velen dead, yes. But he didn’t attach the level of importance to the deed that Kil’jaeden attributed to it. Unless they happened to fall over the draenei, Archimonde thought pursuing them could wait. Kil’jaeden didn’t see it this way, however, and it frustrated Archimonde he was being so stubborn about it.

And now, intending to put an end to it once and for all, Archimonde had gone to Kil’jaeden and tried valiantly to talk him out of it all, to no avail. He had done nothing but waste his time, and had also made a fool of himself. He was angry and frustrated with Kil’jaeden. How could someone with such a superior mind be so damned stupid? It was ridiculous.

Archimonde stood alone, and stretched his strong arms. Ever since returning from Kil’jaeden, his body felt stiff somehow, his muscles tense.



He had offered himself to Kil’jaeden. It was a stupid thing to do. He misguidedly had thought that if he gave his comrade an outlet of some kind for his tensions, it would stop his obsession with Velen. But it hadn’t worked. Kil’jaeden was just as worked up about it as ever, and he had no qualms or reservations about hiding his lack of interest in Archimonde. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really. Somehow, though, Archimonde thought with such a proposition as what he was offering, Kil’jaeden perhaps would cease this attachment he had with Velen. It was damaging and frightfully unhealthy. For Archimonde, it was just damned irritating.

Staring into nothing in particular, Archimonde frowned. Why couldn’t Kil’jaeden just get over it? It should’ve been the end of any such feelings when Velen fled Argus. But it didn’t end there, and turned into this obsession. Archimonde understood the part about wanting to torment Velen, in a recreational sense, but it was obvious from the state Kil’jaeden was in that it went deeper than that.

He growled in annoyance. He needed to express his frustration somehow.



“Mannoroth,” Archimonde boomed, loudly and clearly, “attend me,”

The Pit Lord answered the summon almost instantly. He appeared suddenly before Archimonde, and straight away prostrated himself before the Eredar.



“Lord Archimonde,” he said reverently, “I am yours to command,”



Archimonde smiled slightly, with a little contempt. It was nice to get some respect for once, he thought.

He thought it perfectly reasonable to exercise his frustrations, to take them out on something. He couldn’t understand why Kil’jaeden didn’t see the sense in such reasoning.

Archimonde approached the Pit Lord, coming close to him where he was still prostrated before the Eredar.

As he approached, Archimonde sensed the anxiousness radiating from his servant, the Pit Lord seemingly having noticed the Eredar’s tension. He smirked to himself. He was right to feel so, too.

Mannoroth dared raise his eyes slightly. Archimonde stopped directly before the Pit Lord’s bowing form.

“My Lord?” he ventured tentatively.

Archimonde said nothing, but raised his heavy, plated leg and in one swift movement, kicked the Pit Lord squarely in the face. He cried out in pain and shock as he fell sideways, badly hurt by the sheer strength behind the blow. The fiery, greenish blood dribbled from his snout like nose as he sat on his haunches, clutching at his face.

Archimonde laughed as the Pit Lord cowered before him. He seized one of Mannoroth’s tusks and jerked him upright.

The smell of his blood was intoxicating, it truly was... Archimonde steeled himself long enough to gaze at the damage he’d already caused to the Pit Lord. Seemingly aware that attempting to defend himself from any further attacks would result in far greater punishment than already in store, Mannoroth lowered his forearms. Archimonde stared at Mannoroth’s bleeding face. The smirk returned to Archimonde’s expression. The creatures of his race surely had to be among the ugliest in the universe. He laughed slightly. Mannoroth trembled, still too shocked at this seemingly unwarranted punishment. He must have done something wrong but he knew not what it was.

Finally breaking the tension of awaiting his next assault, Archimonde raised his fist and slammed it down into the Pit Lord’s head. The body seemed to become slightly limp beneath the Eredar’s grip as Archimonde released him, the Pit Lord falling back down to the hard floor. Archimonde again brought his strong, muscular leg down and smashed it into the Pit Lord’s chest, the immense strength of Archimonde demonstrated as the colossal creature before him went sprawling across the floor. He coughed, his fiery blood dripping as he did so, the vile liquid still streaming down his face. Archimonde approached him once more. Mannoroth looked up at him with frightened and confused eyes. It seemed the creature couldn’t understand what he’d done to so anger his master. In trying to come to realise what he had done, and the fact that he couldn’t think of a single thing, he was apparently distressed further. Archimonde laughed as he knew this was so. It added to the Pit Lord’s torment for him to think he had displeased Archimonde, for if he had truly done so, he’d be in for a far worse fate than a mere beating.

Cruelly playing on this anxiety, Archimonde grabbed Mannoroth again by his huge tusk, pulling his head back as he did so.

“Yes, Pit Lord, you’ve not impressed me of late,”

Mannoroth’s eyes were wide.

“M-my Lord,” he said, trembling. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to displease you,”

Archimonde kept his expression stern and hard, but on the inside was laughing at his minion’s fearful manner.

“But you have, Pit Lord, and I am most disappointed in you. You deserve much worse than this,” and with that, he slammed the creature’s colossal head sideward into the wall. Mannoroth cried out in pain as his face collided with the rough wall and the impact shook his skull in his head. A sharp, nasty scrape was left where the Pit Lord collided with the wall, more blood running down his head. Inside, Archimonde roared with laughter.

“I ought to sever your head, not just smash it!” he yelled. Mannoroth cowered in terror as his master cruelly abused him. Again he kicked him, harder this time, against the wall.

Archimonde held him so he would look into his eyes.

“What say you, Pit Lord, in defence of your failure?!”

“I’m sorry, my Lord!” Mannoroth cried, still not knowing what he’d done.

Archimonde flung him again to the cold ground. His body was covered in cuts and bruises by now, his head throbbed and blood streamed from his nose.

Archimonde breathed heavily, exultation washing over him. This creature before him, while he was a capable and ruthless lieutenant, truly was nothing compared to the might of the Eredar. He toyed with Mannoroth: the fool had committed no such failures! It seemed he was too stupid to realise it, though, and so therefore indeed did deserve to be punished.

Archimonde smirked as he watched the massive green torso of the Pit Lord rising and falling with ragged, heaving breaths.

Archimonde bent over him, grabbing his tail. The Pit Lord seemed too terrified to move, lest he receive another beating.

“Pit Lord! Answer me, what say you in defence of yourself? Do you have no sense of self preservation?”

Mannoroth breathed heavily and hesitated to speak, frightened of saying the wrong thing.

Archimonde pulled his tail sharply, causing Mannoroth to flinch.

“You stupid, pathetic creature,” the Eredar sneered derisively, taking pleasure in debasing his lieutenant. If Archimonde couldn’t offer his services to Kil’jaeden, he was sure they’d be welcome elsewhere...

Mannoroth still clearly had no idea what he was to say to his master. He was still trying to regain his bearings after taking a severe beating, but Archimonde let the Pit Lord believe he thought him displaying insolence.

“I’ll teach you to disobey me,” he said with conviction. He pulled the Pit Lord’s massive green form toward him and then pulled his tail once again but this time upward. With his other arm Archimonde ran his hand beneath the Pit Lord’s spiky tail, until he found what he sought.

Archimonde inspected Mannoroth’s private area with dark curiosity, and ran the point of his claw over the wrinkled pucker it found. Mannoroth gasped as he felt his master’s sharp claws at his anus. Archimonde ran his sharp nail ran directly over it, causing the hole to clench in a way that looked most pleasurable to experience on certain body parts.

Mannoroth then felt one of the claws twist inside it. He squirmed as he felt it, never having experienced such a thing before and reacting on his utmost instinct. His tail lashed in agitation, aware of fingers in places they shouldn’t be. Archimonde ignored his writhing at first, but it quickly irritated him.

“Be still!” he yelled. Despite his discomfort, Mannoroth ceased moving his tail so erratically, scared of further incurring the wrath of Archimonde. Unhindered by the swishing tail, Archimonde inserted another clawed finger into the Pit Lord’s ass. The creature flinched in pain every time, something Archimonde found arousing. He jabbed his fingers roughly inside Mannoroth, with little regard for how it would feel. Each time, Mannoroth would flinch and Archimonde would feel the muscles clench on his fingers. He pushed Mannoroth’s tail to the side and removed his fingers, his asshole exposed once more to the invading gaze of Archimonde. Mannoroth still breathed heavily, his body feeling weighted due to the beating he’d already sustained as well as the sheer strength of Archimonde’s will. Archimonde grinned as he watched Mannoroth squirm beneath his ministrations.

Moving the tail out of the way, Archimonde ran his fingers over Mannoroth’s lower back, across his rough green hide. Mannoroth flinched beneath him, obviously tense in his awaiting of Archimonde’s next painful act. The comparatively gentle caress of his master’s nails on his back was surely not to last.

Archimonde placed both of his large hands on the Pit Lord’s back, spreading his fingers across the flesh. The green flames ever present upon the creature’s back flickered. He felt the claws of his master scrape lightly down his hide, further heightening Mannoroth’s nervousness.

“You think you can make a fool out of me,” Archimonde uttered, his voice sounding coldly angered. Mannoroth hesitated, not wishing to further enrage his lord.

Archimonde’s claws dug more sharply into the Pit Lord’s skin.

“My Lord! I swear I am humble before you!” he blurted, afraid his lack of immediate response had angered Archimonde.

However, Archimonde said nothing for a moment, almost as though he’d directed his accusation not to Mannoroth but another.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “However you haven’t been humble enough,”

Mannoroth hoped somehow his lord would be finished with him, but knew it wasn’t to be.

He felt the absence of the large, powerful hands from his back. He heard a clinking sound, then the sound of heavy plated armour coming in contact with the floor. All too quickly Mannoroth felt Archimonde’s massive clawed hands upon his back again. He felt his tail pushed aside once more.

“You’ll pay for it tonight,” Archimonde uttered conspiratorially. “You’ll pay sorely for the injustice wrought upon me!”

Archimonde grabbed the Pit Lord insistently, his claws biting into his flesh.

“My Lord! I regret the injustices visited upon you! I won’t fail you again!”

Mannoroth’s pleas of redemption were becoming more and more desperate.

Archimonde remembered himself, so caught up was he in his anger at Kil’jaeden. He smirked despite his rage. The moronic Pit Lord before him still thought himself the sole centre of his fury. Realising this, Archimonde continued to taunt the hapless creature.

“Yes Mannoroth! Are you ready to feel a world of agony? You deserve it after all you’ve put me through! You’ll be fortunate if you retain the ability to walk after I’m through with you!”

He growled as he spread the Pit Lord’s back legs apart, drawing his form as close to him as possible.

Then Mannoroth let out a loud cry as he felt himself being entered dryly by his master. Due to the sheer strength of Archimonde there was little need for him to hesitate, he was able to simply barrage himself through, despite the extreme pain it may cause his servant. Mannoroth, despite not wishing to give Archimonde any reason to punish him further, was unable to stop himself from squirming as he felt the enormous cock enter him, violently tearing its way in. So too he was unable to remain quiet. He howled in agony as Archimonde grabbed his legs and forced him backward onto his rock hard body. Archimonde felt his fury at Kil’jaeden channel through him. This was what his fellow should do to rid himself of his feelings of frustration at the wretched Velen. Why he couldn’t see that, Archimonde couldn’t understand. The demon commander leered down at the writhing, howling mass beneath him impaled firmly on his cock. Of course had Kil’jaeden taken Archimonde up on his offer, it wouldn’t be like this. This was reserved for those who deserved it, those lesser to the superior Eredar. Archimonde smirked and pulled the Pit Lord’s tail upward, with it anchoring the tremendous body upward.

He thrust his hips into Mannoroth’s behind, digging his claws into the flesh, his nails leaving cuts all over the Pit Lord’s worn body.

Mannoroth continued to wail in agony, so painful was the sensation wracking his body. To be beaten mercilessly to the point of near unconsciousness was one thing. This was entirely another. There was little enjoyment to be had in this situation. Any enjoyment that could be potentially derived from it was ripped from him with every hateful, agonising stroke of Archimonde’s relentless cock. This was punishment at its most severe, the Pit Lord realised.

He felt his tusk seized suddenly, and his head was wrenched back jarringly. He gasped in pain and shock.

“Shut up! Be silent you vile beast,” and Archimonde released him, the force from having his head pulled back so far causing his massive head to smack against the hard ground. He moaned weakly. The thrusts of Archimonde grew only more insistent as Mannoroth’s passage was slickened somehow. Mannoroth absently thought he felt warmth trickling down his thighs; probably blood. He lay under Archimonde, trying his best to remain silent as Archimonde had commanded him to do so. Every stroke of the now slippery cock inside him caused him immense pain. The pain seemed to worsen as his body was torn; the salt from the inevitable secretions leaking from Archimonde’s member stinging the Pit Lord horribly with every cruel thrust. Archimonde dug his nails into Mannoroth’s course hide, tightening his grip every time the muscles of the Pit Lord’s torn orifice clenched in distress. The way it squeezed Archimonde’s cock only felt more pleasurable for the Eredar. His enjoyment was heightened at the level to which his lieutenant was in obvious discomfort. With this thought on his mind, Archimonde gave Mannoroth a particularly hard thrust.

It elicited an involuntary cry from the Pit Lord. Archimonde seized the chance to further torment him.

He seized his horn once more, jerking it roughly back so Mannoroth’s neck craned back at an awkward angle.

“Did I not tell you to be silent?!” Archimonde snarled, his tone one of menace. He leaned forward as he pulled the Pit Lord’s fiery head back as much as possible, forcing Mannoroth’s upper body to curve backward so he could meet Archimonde’s gaze.

Fear coursed through the Pit Lord as his wide eyed countenance met Archimonde’s cruel gaze.

“Well?!” He snapped.

Mannoroth flinched, uncomfortably aware of the Eredar’s massive cock still buried in his ass and his tusk being painfully pulled.

“I-I’m sorry, my Lord,” he whimpered.

“Not sufficient,” Archimonde sneered.

He abruptly released the tusk and once again Mannoroth’s huge head went crashing to the floor, harder than ever. The creature gasped in pain as his head slammed against the hard ground, colour exploding before his eyes as it did.

Mannoroth dully became aware of his Lord removing his member from his hole, stretched wide from the constant barrage in the entrance. Then he felt Archimonde’s clawed hands on him once more as the demon commander dragged him to his knees.

He held the infernal member in one of his hands, holding it around the girth. With the other he took hold of one of Mannoroth’s tusks once more and jerked him forward. Mannoroth blinked, his vision focussing as he took in the sight of Archimonde’s member. He barely had time to register what was happening as the cock was pushed toward his face.

Above him he heard Archimonde growl impatiently, missing the constant stimulation of his body. He ran his hand over his member, sticky with the drying blood of Mannoroth and slickened with his own fluids secreting in anticipation. Again Mannoroth felt his tusk tugged impatiently, drawn even closer to Archimonde’s body. Mannoroth inched awkwardly further on his knees, his front arms little use as he was pulled, while Archimonde’s leaking cock was thrust impatiently at Mannoroth’s mouth. Archimonde was unhindered by the fel flames seeping out of the Pit Lord’s head, his huge member at Mannoroth’s mouth. It entered the mouth with little resistance from the Pit Lord, bypassing the rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

Archimonde leered at Mannoroth as he drew his hips close to the Pit Lord’s head, and hence forcing his cock further into the mouth. He pulled Mannoroth’s head back and the cock came out, smacking against Mannoroth’s cheek.

“Pathetic creature,” Archimonde hissed, rubbing the erect cock across the Pit Lord’s face.

“If you can’t manage to keep from disobeying me, maybe this is what I should use you for from now on.”

Mannoroth’s eyes dared look up at his master’s face, trying to determine the seriousness of his words. Archimonde stared down at him hard, absently running his cock over his servant’s face.

Mannoroth looked stricken at the prospect that his master thought him of no use but for this. Crushed, he lowered his gaze.

Archimonde smirked.

“That’s right, this is what you’re best at, it seems,” Still clutching one of Mannoroth’s tusks firmly, Archimonde reached for one of the Pit Lord’s arms. He put his hand on his cock. Mannoroth felt it pulse beneath the skin, becoming wetter with secretions.

“This is what you need to do, Pit Lord,”

Mannoroth realised what he wanted him to do.

Feeling shame at the level of Archimonde’s disappointment in him, Mannoroth let his hand run up and down his master’s cock, hoping desperately he could at least make Archimonde pleased with him in some way.

Archimonde took his hand from his cock and allowed Mannoroth to take over. The crushed Pit Lord tried to please his master, though he didn’t really know what he was doing. In his frantic attempt to please Archimonde, Mannoroth managed to somehow touch the Eredar’s engorged cock in a way that irritated rather than pleased him.

From above a swift fist slammed into Mannoroth’s brow, causing the Pit Lord to gasp in pain.

“You lumbering fool! You’re incapable even of this menial task?!”

He dragged the head back once more, glaring into Mannoroth’s half closed eyes, his wincing, defeated expression.

Inside, Archimonde grinned wildly, but his expression was one of disgust. Archimonde took pleasure in humiliating his lieutenant, of taking out his frustrations on the lesser creature.

Archimonde could feel himself becoming more and more excited. He pushed Mannoroth backward, and then sent the creature toppling to the floor. Archimonde advanced on him once more, forcing the Pit Lord onto his back. He lay across him once more, the latter half of Mannoroth’s body prone before his master.

“How dare you reject me, make me feel like I was never wanted,” Archimonde muttered quietly, more to himself than to Mannoroth.

Mannoroth gazed up blearily at his master as Archimonde raised his hind legs, kicking his tail out of the way, and unceremoniously entered him once again, thrusting himself to the hilt. Mannoroth groaned, his massive body sprawled before the Eredar. His legs hung about, useless. Archimonde seemed more intent in his purpose now, thrusting furiously into Mannoroth’s huge yet formerly untouched body. He grunted as he gripped Mannoroth’s hind legs about his hips.

As Archimonde thought about how Kil’jaeden had treated him earlier, he pounded the Pit Lord harder. He would show this creature the extent to which he should be feared. He wished he could show Kil’jaeden, too, like he knew all too well Kil’jaeden wanted desperately to show that damned Velen.

Angry once more, Archimonde channelled his rage into brutalising his servant. He was going to show him! How he would show him...

He felt himself nearing his peak. He thrust harder into the body beneath him, pushing down on him as he did so. Mannoroth’s body rocked to and fro with the force of Archimonde’s thrusts. Digging his claws into the flesh beneath his fingers, Archimonde permitted himself a few more insistent, urgent thrusts. Then he suddenly wrenched his cock out of the quivering body beneath him, and leaned over, grabbing Mannoroth once more by one of his enormous tusks. Archimonde dragged the Pit Lord towards himself, his hand encircling his cock. Mannoroth saw his master rubbing it, then all of sudden Archimonde tossed his head back, his grip firmly on Mannoroth’s tusk. Archimonde moaned loudly as he let his seed go from the head of his cock, flowing out freely and landing directly on Mannoroth’s face. The shock of the feeling of his master’s hot come hitting him made Mannoroth flinch, but Archimonde held him in place and several thick, long strands of semen struck him. He hissed as the substance stung the cuts on his face, the come landing in his mouth, and also upon his broad chest. When the long strands ceased to shoot from his cock, Archimonde squeezed it to milk the last remaining amount. Mannoroth watched, trembling as he gazed, disorientedly, at the slick substance coating master’s fingers. Once Archimonde’s orgasm had finally subsided, he dropped Mannoroth unceremoniously to the floor, where the hapless creature fell with a thud on his back, his wings crumpled behind him.

Archimonde stepped over him, crouched down and looked down at him, his expression one of disgust. Mannoroth’s eyes were trained on Archimonde, unaware of what he was going to do next, fearful of sustaining further beatings. However it seemed he was in luck; the demon commander simply sneered and dragged his still wet cock across the Pit Lord’s face, wiping it clean on him. Then he dragged his messy hand over his colossal chest, disrespectfully leaving the demonic semen on Mannoroth. Then he stood up, and replaced his fallen armour. Mannoroth didn’t move, afraid to do so and thankful Archimonde seemed finished with him.

Once Archimonde had secured his armour around his hips, he turned to the humiliated Pit Lord.

His expression was intense. It was hard to read just what he was thinking, but Mannoroth felt small and dirty beneath his gaze.

His fear prickled him once more, as his mind considered the possibility that Archimonde really did believe he was of no further use to him. Would he kill him? Did he mean it when he said he was only good for one thing and now he was going to get rid of him? Archimonde wasn’t one to make false threats, and he never hesitated in removing those in his ranks he deemed unfit to serve Sargeras.

Just as Mannoroth was beginning to truly swell with fright, Archimonde spoke.

“Be gone, Pit Lord,” he said coldly. “I’ll spare you, this time. Don’t disappoint me again,”

Mannoroth felt relief wash over him. He would’ve made more of an outward show of his gratitude, had his spirit and body not been so broken at that point.

He shifted himself and stood up, bowing low. As he did so he became aware of how wobbly his legs felt. He body ached monstrously but he knew if he was spared his life, after so disappointing his lord, he had much to be thankful for.

“Thankyou for sparing me, Lord Archimonde,” he fought hard to keep the tremble out of his usually strong, menacing, and now somewhat hollow sounding voice.

Archimonde again gazed at him coldly.

Mannoroth, keeping his eyes lowered, bowed further, then vanished.

Archimonde continued to glare at the place he vanished from.



There. That was all there was to it. How simple it was to alleviate feelings of anxiety or tension. Simply pluck a minion from its preoccupation and take your irritations out upon it. There were many within their ranks, some perfectly disposable and easily crushed, who could be called upon simply for the brief gratification of smashing something, while others, such as the favoured Mannoroth, were more prone to feelings of terror when made to believe they’ve failed and therefore immensely more satisfying to torment when of an angered state of mind. Kil’jaeden surely should be able to understand this.

Archimonde did feel satisfied. His urges of bloodlust had been satiated for the time being, though despite this, he still felt frustrated at Kil’jaeden’s lack of cooperation, at this ridiculous sentimentality of his.



Still, Archimonde smiled to himself. One day he’d convince him to forget Velen.

One day.