Worgen Business!

"Repent!" Neveah shrieked, intense eyes glaring down at a masked individual, dark of hair, devious of features -- a stark contrast with her platinum blonde self whose solemnity shone through deftly.
Amidst her palms, lustrous rays ignited, it was the vigor of the Light that luculently abided. Hers was a faith strong and abundant, and the crowd she was dealing with was made up of nothing but a bunch of good-for-nothing, rowdy bandits.
She had struck three of them now -- they were easy targets. Fully unconscious, their bodies had been stationed onto the desiccated dirt before her.
Westfall was a poor, provincial place bespeckled with crime. Martyrdom was certain for those seeking it. However, Neveah, was certain her end would not be here.
Past teeming wheat fields and trees dried out by the blistering sun, the holy grail of the Light was being summoned. The lands had called for retribution -- for the right price, of course.
Loud incantations, or rather -- prayers, in this case, escaped Neveah's mouth as divinity protruded in every corner of her being. With the move of her hands and, through the utilization of her staff, she sent a wave of divine fire towards the crook she was currently dealing with.
A sporadic roll, from his side, ensued. He managed to avoid that and dispatched himself right before her.
With his hands balancing the rest of his weight, he swept her off her feet and soon her body hit the ground.
Just what?
Her staff flung the other direction, the serenity in her eyes was no more. Her pearl-white robes were now dirtied and she was panicking.
This one seemed tougher, his limbs were stouter, and his demeanor viler than the previous few. Like an Orc, wild and untamed, he moved. But Human was he, just like her. Yet, his dexterity remained unmatched.
In an instant, she brought her hands together, muttering out a silent invocation -- a bubble protruded. In this holy sanctity, she caught a glimpse of comfort.
"My staff," she thought to herself. "I need it. Desperately so," she mouthed out and crawled in the other direction, her breath retaining a spasmodic rhythm to it. Her world blackened as cold sweat fell past her reddened cheeks.
Albeit a Cleric who could wield the sacred energies of the Cosmos with her unequaled faith, she was still a mortal. Therefore, also fragile and delicate. Have the Mage, or the Priest, in this case, silenced and you've won the battle, they say.
The unsheathing of a blade could be heard. It was azure and defiant, and its lustrous visage did not fit the rugged criminal carrying it. A runic enchantment hummed of Elven magic and death.
It cut through the shield like a knife through butter as she looked about to locate her weapon.
Neveah shook her head in sheer disarray. What had just happened? There was no way she could've lost to him, of all people. The battle had just begun and she had already lost it. Something was fishy. Just who was she dealing with? And could someone explain why the preceding few were defeated so effortlessly?
Before she could cast another spell or hurl dirt in his eyes, in hopes of buying herself some additional time, he grabbed her by the cowl. Veiny, muscly forearms wrapped around her neck and she saw her world darken. Getting to respire was harder by the minute.
Although she tried to resist by throwing her legs around, it meant virtually nothing. Had the Light abandoned her? What was this sense of dread that she was feeling?
As her mind was thrown into a pure jumble, she blacked out.
***
The heat of a boiling cauldron and hushed chatter from below awoke Neveah. She was sweaty, trapped in a moist, wooden cell that reeked of wet spinach.
"Lassy 'as a pair of well-maintained teef," a bitter voice protruded -- it was womanly, from what she could decipher, but akin to a crow with the way it squeaked. "'er skull is almightily fine and 'er flesh rotund. I say we cook 'er, but I 'ave a business to attend to, first and foremost."
"It is your commands I follow, m'lady," the one accompanying her answered, his voice deep and lordly, almost as if unbecoming to be found in such a place.
It's about her that they were talking, she realized. But the tone and manner of speech between these two was drastically different -- they had to belong to different races or come from faraway lands. She was familiar with the vocabulary of those of Duskwood, Elwynn, and Westfall, and their intonation, alongside their accents, was way too foreign. Redridge couldn't have been it either as the woman did not even sound Human.
The loud clapping of bare feet against cold stone could be heard. Were they... hers?
Neveah rubbed her soft, hairless chin as she lost herself in thought. Could the woman be a Troll? No, that didn't sound right. Besides, what would a Troll be doing in Westfall, presuming she was still there, that is?
By the Light, she thought to herself, just what was this place?
She tried to remember additional tidbits Sahabet about the person she fought, but besides his strange gaze and unorthodox agility, she couldn't remember much. His hood had done a good job concealing most of his features, but, if she remembered correctly, his was dark of hair. He was Human though, of that she was certain, albeit unconventional. His bulging arms were the last thing she remembered and felt as they wrapped themselves around her flimsy throat.
She dusted off her garb as the voices grew more distant -- perhaps the time to move was now, but the door ahead felt too sturdy and her staff was nowhere to be found. Perhaps if she could..
"Understood, m'lady. I'll see what I can do about it."
The voice reemerged and the presence of that man could be felt again. However, he was alone...? He had to be, right?
Heavy steps could be heard as he advanced towards her current whereabouts, claws dragging along.
A trapdoor across her opened and a Worgen that barely fit through it surfaced. Brooding, with glasses that did not fit his savage visage, and almost fully naked bar a pair of black shorts.
"This is the tallest wolf-man I have ever seen," she spoke up without realizing and covered her mouth with a palm almost instantly.
"Hm?" His crimson eyes peered down at her. "Ah, so you're the one my mistress was talking about. Hm, yes, you're a fine trophy," he added as he unlocked the door and waved a paw around to display the rest of the interior. It was a small place filled with crates and hay, a few candles had been lit, but they weren't enough to illuminate the entire room. Not that Neveah would care enough to investigate it. She wanted to get out as soon as possible.
"Your mistress," Neveah gulped. "Who is she, exactly? And what is this place? And where am I?"
"Too many questions, too little time," he responded. "But, to not leave you completely clueless, you will be free soon. Probably not the way you'd like to be, however. Unless, you can subside with the right payment, which I doubt you can do."
Ominous, Neveah thought to herself. Just what awaited her?
***
The wolf-man was a well-mannered, cultured creature. Silent, yet ever-so-courteous. He had let her to an indoor, bath complex of some sort, resembling what she could only liken to the bath houses the Kaldorei possessed. Delicately built, with pillars stretching up and about towards the sky -- and utterly neglected, overflowing with rubber and dust. From what she could gather, this place was a ruined castle of some sort -- the image from across her mirror of two dilapidated towers, a keep, and stables confirmed this.
She had heard rumors about it from the locals of Westfall, but she had never thought she would end up in it one day. It had belonged to a Human who had fallen for a Night Elf, but that love could never be requited. Therefore, he cursed the place as he brought an end to his sorry life.
It was a shame that this captivating monument had been turned into their hideout, she thought to herself, and even worse, that it was presumably ruled by a Troll. If her memory served her right, it was situated betwixt what separated Westfall and Stranglethorn Vale, deep within a mountainous glade.
Naked as a frog, she caressed her enticing body with a bar of soap. It carried the sweet aroma of lavender, though she couldn't tell whether it was to her liking or not. She had washed her hair and body, turned herself into a pristine doll, and with that, a seductive aroma carried along.
The Worgen had told her he'd wait outside, but the words about paying the right price for her freedom mildly whirled about in her mind. She had no coin on her, but she did have a weapon, forged neither of steel, nor magic. It was her womanly weapon, the one down below, which never failed to beguile. And it was better for her to use that as her currency than be turned into a stew.
Why would he serve a cannibalistic witch, however? That /just/ did not seem right. Whatever, Neveah discarded those thoughts with a shrug and flushed down the dirty water.
She cleared her throat and let out a sweet whistle his way as she filled the tub anew via the water tap nearby. Pink petals floated by, adding a certain eroticism to the entire scenery.
To his surprise, it wasn't a woman in a bathrobe that he met, but a fully naked one with skin unblemished and thighs motherly, radically inviting. She had placed her legs atop the edge of the tub and spread them slightly, revealing her womanhood. With the playful patter of her hands in the water, she muttered a good-natured "Hello."
He gulped. Could someone explain what was going on exactly?
"I need additional help," Neveah glared up at him, hazel eyes innocently rolling down from his chiseled body to his crotch. "You see, my hands are so tiny, I just can't reach my own back, you know...?" And with that, she rolled the other direction, ass up, face strolling past the tub's fringe. Like a siren, she was Sahabet Giriş luring him towards her.
Hers was a physique appetizing -- hairless, with a pair of matronly boobs and buttocks irresistible. Like a dungeon awaiting to be explored by a fierce adventurer.
She waved her finger around and the Worgen soon saw himself seated across her on a wooden stool, a velvety pillow beneath his bottom.
"You know, I don't usually do this type of stuff, but..."
It didn't take much longer for him to start stroking her body with a bar of soap. However, what worried him the most, was her dick-hunting gaze. It's almost as if she had turned into a predator in the meantime he wasn't with her.
"So, buff wolf-man, might I ask for your name?"
"Michael," he nervously responded. "And yours?"
"I'm Neveah. Neveah, the Cleric. Neveah of Silvershire, if you will. It's a pleasure."
Sure is, he thought to himself, but what was this strange sense of conquest he was feeling? He never knew naked women could make him feel this brittle.
"You mentioned some sort of a price for my freedom a few moments ago. I was wondering... would I be able to pay that right now?"
A sense of puzzlement graced his brutish features. "Hm?"
"If you were to pound me relentlessly, would you consider the debt paid?"
His ears jerked and he felt his member down there erect.
"Yes. Absolutely."
***
As to how or when exactly Neveah wrapped Michael's member around her mouth, she couldn't remember. Anyhow, her little mind games seemingly worked wonders. They always did.
He was seated before her, on a small, wooden stool, and she was on the glossy carpet on the floor with her needle-thin hands behind her back. Her aim was to moisten that thick blade of his as her cunt had been.
A girthy penis, strong arms, hairy legs, and a strong physique -- Neveah felt like she was in heaven as her suggestive fantasies of what she would do to him played in her mind. The only thing missing was either an enchanted butt plug or a pulsating, Arcane dildo rammed up her ass. However, she remembered that she wasn't at home, so she couldn't spoil herself as much as she would like to.
Her movements were smooth and gentle, trailing up and down his log, saliva dragging over to his balls.
Michael was a tall specimen, that was the first thing Neveah pointed out about him when they first met. Obviously, she knew it in her heart that his member would be of a formidable size as well. Nevertheless, she had no idea she would be fortunate enough to have a taste.
He placed a gentle hand over her golden hair and pulled just enough to create a ponytail. With his paws resting on the back of her head, he rammed that obelisk of a cock even further down her throat.
She could hear herself slurping on it and gasping for air, but he didn't seem interested in letting go. Indeed, he kept pushing her head forth, his powerful thighs swaddled around her neck.
Neveah's eyes welled with tears as such a drastic action took place. Peeping upwards, she saw nothing but pure lust adorning his features.
After what felt like a decade to her, and nothing but mere seconds to the wolf-man, he released her off his grasp, allowing her to steady her breathing.
"I take it you've never had such big cocks before with the way you reacted? Or have the men in your life always been gentle with you?"
Panting, she rolled her shoulders into a gentle shrug. She didn't respond though. She just didn't know what to say to such a comment.
The giant stood up, yawning, hands overhead as he stretched. His erect cock, following the foil of gravity, drooped towards a lower position and stood directly across her plump lips, saliva dripping down and onto the carpet.
"What a mess I've made," she heard herself say. "I apologize. I really--"
Michael looked down at her whilst adjusting his glasses. "I don't want you to apologize. I want you to continue being messy. I want you to fulfill your duty as a cock-sucking slut and worship me."
At this point, Neveah just wanted to be whored out. Her status as a priestess was completely irrelevant. Besides, can't priestesses also get freaky when needed? The erotic things she had seen in the Churches she'd worked in would make someone turn prematurely gray. It was her turn now, to ride the wilderness.
"Is your little cunt ready to be penetrated?" He asked with such kindness that she wanted to be creampied on the spot.
Neveah managed to let out a meek. "Yes, daddy." But her trembling legs betrayed her.
Still, with or without her approval, he would've fucked her brains out. In an instant, he grabbed her puny arms, lifting her in the air like a plush toy, and placed her on his enormous truck. Her delicate limbs enveloped his torso in the same way a snake would around its prey and, with her orbs peering heavenwards, she thanked the Light for this moment.
The sheer scent of musk in the room was enough to make Sahabet Yeni Giriş her go crazy.
Her thunderous, mommy thighs clapped as he thrust his knob inside her, moans echoing up and about as that girthy member made its way inside. And, with each thrust, the speed increased.
"Please, fuck me harder," a plead like no other.
"Don't threaten me with a good time," an answer befitting someone who would gladly do so.
Clap, clap clap.
Neveah was being hurled into the air, much like how chefs fling their pancakes from their pans. She was filled with pure delight as her pussy was being wrecked, but gradually he came to a halt. He hadn't finished yet as her insides weren't filled with semen. Naturally, that made her question his intentions. A wheat-blonde eyebrow was raised. Just what prompted him to stop?
With her still in his burly arms, he turned on his heel and gently placed her atop the stool. He dragged his paws along her body to give her a command on how to stand correctly, with her bottom perked up so he could probe her insides. And soon, she felt him exploring her bocardo again, his forearms wrapped around her neck. It reminded her of the guy who had brought her here, but there was no way these two were the same person. If given the chance, she would've asked but...
Thump, thump, thump -- the sounds of her cheeks getting clapped hastily discarded those schemes.
Michael had rammed his hefty prick far up her loosened cunt by the time he came inside her. He had explored it profoundly, gaped it, and was beyond delighted with his work. She could feel his seed spiraling about and gradually making its way out, her pussy quivering with content.
He grappled her frail body and, while using his dick as a cork, moved about clumsily.
"To earn your freedom fully, you've another obstacle to subdue," he added, though, where he was going with this she could not understand.
A durable wooden door was opened with the nudge of his shoulder. It creaked slightly, revealing yet another room. Sperm trickled down her colossal thighs as she was gently placed onto the cold, marble floor. By the time, she had realized he was gone, four other wolf-men were inspecting her.
***
Neveah brushed pristine, silk-like hair to take a closer look at the gentlemen before her. There were four of them, all wolf-men, like the previous one. Prior to encircling her, they were playing Hearthstone, from what she could tell by the furious expressions on their faces and the floating cards high up. The room lugged certain animosity and she discerned nothing but keen interest coming from the quartet in regard to her.
Gnarly, she thought. Should she describe herself as a reward of some sort for their loyalty to their mistress? But, Light be damned, she didn't even know her name!
"Well, hello there, fine sirs. I am here to please you."
What a saccharine sentence. It clearly fits a Cleric. She knew how to get her way around, and she was certain it would work this time, too.
"What do we have here?" The one with a Gilnean-styled hat remarked, "A used toy?" He sniffled the air about her as he lowered himself to take a closer look at her mouth-watering figure. He was right, to a certain degree. She had already been in the embrace of another, but would that make her any less tempting? She thought no.
With semen twirling down her thumped cunt, she attempted to step onto her feet but was abruptly pushed onto the ground by him, her robust cheeks meeting the cold floor.
"I do not remember permitting you to make a move of your own."
Right, Neveah thought. She should apologize this instant. And just when she was about to do so, she saw him wave his hands about, filling the room with purple mist -- a black collar settling around her neck. With the firm clear of his throat, he went, "I am Antony. It is through my very hands that this castle is graced with magic. The short one is Elvis, he's something of a misfit -- silent, yet ever-so-deadly. The brute is Alexander, he has a reputation for stealing goods from Darkshire. And the guy behind you, the lad with a bit of a gut to him, is Jeffrey."
With a single push, she effortlessly pushed all the spunk out, a finger tenderly dangling along her frame.
"It is a pleasure to meet all of you. I am Neveah. I'm here on a mission--"
It wasn't really a pleasure, she had been captured and trafficked here and the only way out was to beguile everyone in the way, not that she was complaining. But it was tiresome work and some girls just wanted a pat on the head to continue forth, which she was confident these Herculean idiots would not grant her! Images skimmed past as she tried to come up with what to say regarding what had brought her here, however, it was Elvis' facepalm and subsequent jabber that adjourned her.
"We know what your mission is. You're here to fill your precious holes with Worgen semen and be fucked until you're unable to walk. So what even is the point of this futile conversation?"
With the tap of his foot, or in this case, paw, Antony jutted. "Elvis, don't you find it rude to interrupt our little damsel? You're not acting like yourself. Did losing to Alexander cause a disturbance in your character? Act accordingly and be nicer!"