Publisher Tier - Ashenvale 5 - Traitors (Patreon)

“Seems the nature lovers are a bit hesitant to have us dragging slaves through their lands.” Krom'gar took a drag from his cigar and stared down at Duriel.
“Much as I'd like to take this little number with me.” He grinned, watching her lick her hand and outstretch it. He promptly put the lit stogie out on the elf's hand and allowed her to take it reverently like the glorified trash can he treated her as.

Tarken made a light exhale through his nose at the sight. Even he had to admit that what they had done to the elves was a bit much. He almost felt bad, but he also knew how much more he had in store with all of the girls under his supervision.
“The Tauren?”

“Soft hearts, most of them. Garrosh is riling them up but they need to learn who their Warchief is.” Krom'gar stated harshly. The loyalist had no patience for the druids and their requests, but he had to play along for the moment. He laughed cruelly.
“Wait until they see what we got in store up north?”

“Something big?”

“It'll be a 'blast.'” Krom'gar winked. Tarkan tapped his own nose in an acknowledging gesture. and chuckled along with the Commander.  
“You're up for a promotion far as I'm concerned, Tarkan. Keep these lands secure and we'll see what happens for you.”

“I like where I'm at right now.” Tarkan admitted. He eyed the Commanders disapproval and added.
“But I could always have more.”

“Good man.” With that Krom'gar left.

“Hm.” Tarkan stared down at the two Kaldorei left in the Commander's wake. His personal pet Anaris and the one left behind, Duriel. Though, the Elves names were not important nor clear to the Orc, so in his mind he relegated the two significant captures to 'One' and 'Two' in his head. One for the girl that was his and Two for the girl that was left behind. There was no breaking left to be done, for they were broken. The training was more akin to molding and he could mold them however he desired.

-

“Do you have no shame?” Anaris asked as both of the men had fled the room. Duriel was dusting the soot off of her hand, but keeping the Cigar safe as if it were a prized possession. The other Sentinel stared back at Anaris angrily.

“Very easy for you to say. Your master is practically 'kind' compared to mine. If Krom'Gar returns to see that I've disrespected his belongings it's going to affect me, not you.” She scoffed.
“What about you? You're still on your knees, aren't you? Tarkan isn't here, Anaris. Feel free to act 'normal.'”

Anaris's purple cheeks deepened in color. There was no contradicting Duriel's words. They were accurate. All she could do was weakly retort with exactly what Duriel said to her.
“If Tarkan returned to see that he would be mad. At me, not you.”

“See? You're not better than me. We both lost.” Duriel derided.

“Seems like your Master is leaving you alone.”

She clicked her tongue. “And what does that mean? New Orc. Maybe I'll be passed around like the common girls we had under out command.”

“Sounds like you blame them?” Anaris cringed.
“My girls did their best.”

“But you didn't HAVE your best, did you Anaris? Face facts, we were completely doomed to fail from the start. Our own meager forces. Conscripts against Korkron Orcs?” Duriel stared Anaris down as she slid towards the door.
“What do you think you're doing? You're going to get us into trouble, idiot?”

“I'm not escaping, I'm listening. They're talking outside.” She rolled her eyes.
“They were fools to force us to learn Orcish.”

“True. But what are they saying?”

“It's Shandris... It sounds like the General has finally shown herself on the frontline.” Anaris remarked, a smile curling across her lips.
“We may be saved.”

Duriel sneered. “Not likely, Sister.”

“What do you mean?” Anaris whispered back since she was close to the door and stared back at Duriel scrutinizingly.

“What I mean is... We did not just 'lose.' We lost ground. You lost a lodge and many people under your command and I failed to recapture it. We will not be 'rescued' we will be punished. Still... Punishment by our own people may be favorable to this.”

“May?” The woman retorted snarkily.

“Shandris is going to come in to find an Orc army that is incomplete without Krom'Gar around. She'll sweep up the mess and take all the credit while we are remembered as failures. Oh how kind life can be.”

“Shushhsh. They stopped talking.” Anaris slid back to be ready to greet Tarkan as he returned.

He walked back into the room and looked around for anything out of place. As far as he was concerned the two women had not moved. Even the half-smoked cigar was still sitting in Duriel's slender hands. He plucked up the cigar and lit it. He stared down at the two girl, motioning for them to turn over. In response they crawled next to each other and lifted their asses for him. With Anaris's ear close enough Duriel whispered.
“There's two of us.” She flexed her toned body. Anaris had the same feeling. She glanced back at the single Orc standing behind them.

“Could we do it? He's strong.”

“What're you bitches whispering about?” He gave Anaris's ass a firm smack, then entered Duriel. Anaris watched as hope of fighting him washed away. Duriel's toned body relaxed and surrendered and she even backed into his member. Her tongue lolled out, pussy twitching inside and out at the feeling of his rugged skin dragging in and out of her insides. Duriel's face went red and she closed her eyes, mewling for the man.

“Look at you.” Anaris muttered.

“D-don't act so proud.” Duriel managed. She watched smugly as Anaris's expression shifted to match her own just from two fingers being curled inside her cunt.

“I have already lost too many times to Orc strength. “Anaris admitted. She turned her head and saw Tarkan grab Duriel's wrists and pull her back harshly against his thrusts. It was not just normal aggression, it was frustration.

“Fucking... Krom'Gar! Leaving me along to fight their Sentinel General! How am I supposed to even DEFEND let alone gain ground?” He complained, more or less to the air. Or so he thought.

Anaris wiggled her rear to distract him, then whispered directly into Duriel's twitching ear. “We can use this.”

“To escape? This again?” Duriel whined. His cock was still in the process of dragging out of her, before pushing back in hard. Each thrust slammed her forward.

“No, no. You are right. We lose either way. But maybe we do not have to? Maybe we gain favor... With Tarkan?”

“Are you so lost?” Duriel groaned.

“Considering becoming a traitor?”

“Our lives are over, regardless.”

Both of the women had a lot to think about and without even realizing it, entering into the calculations in a massive portion were the respective Fingers and the member that was bringing each of them a great amount of pleasure. Their bodies lost to the Orcs long ago. They were shaped by their cocks and felt joy at their touch without even realizing it. They became wet as they entered the room. They craved being filled in absence of the men. Duriel gave in and nodded her approval. The two commanders were in agreement.

Anaris uttered in crude Orcish. “Y-you don't have to struggle against her!”

Tarkan stopped. “What'd you just say?” He pulled his engorged cock from Duriel and slid back. The two women did not move. They kept their asses raised and their heads down to show their continued submission. They would not wish to convey anything else. Before they could speak he gripped them both by their hair and pulled them up so that they were face to face with his solid, throbbing cock. The two obediently began cleaning his member, with Anaris rolling her tongue up and down the length despite Duriel's juices. Duriel kissed around his base to his balls. Tarkan rubbed their heads around their ears affectionately and exhaled smoke onto them.
“Alright. Now that we're in a better position to talk...” He mocked.
“What'd you say?”

Anaris traded a look with Duriel while they both fawned over different portions of his privates. Duriel nodded back to let her speak.
“We...” She licked between words to keep him sated.
“Can help you.” She offered timidly.
“We... Can show you where she will attack and how. Turn the forest to your advantage... Sir.”

Duriel chimed in helpfully as she inhaled his sweat like it was perfume. “For the Horde...”

Anaris nodded ecstatically. “For the Horde. Yes, yes.” They had already said it many times, but for some reason it felt even more obscene. She then smiled up at him eagerly and stated the slogan he made up to mock them.
“Submission or Death.”

Tarkan stared down at the two women appraisingly. If they had a defiant or duplicitous bone in their body it did not show. He gripped his cock and traced their lips with the whetted head of their cock as they just stood by with their lips puckered. He could do whatever he wanted to them, but they were offering much more.
“You ashamed of yourselves, traitors?” Tarkov grinned.

“H-huh?” Anaris's heart sank.

“You've already hit the point of no return. Lower than I'd even expect you to go. Losing and surrendering your body to me is one thing. Betraying your own command to your enemy?” He spit in her face. Anaris did not wipe the saliva off. She let it slide off. Her expression was priceless to him. He looked to Duriel.
“You went along with this?” He knew the answer the moment she averted her gaze downward guiltily.

“What on Azeroth were you trading your pride and principles as Officers for? That's not a rhetorical question.”

Anaris's lip quivered as she spoke. “Fa-favorable treatment?”

“Favorable treatment!” Tarkan repeated boisterously.
“You two don't deserve that, though. Do you?”

Duriel panicked she looked to Anaris. “We don't! What have we done? I wasn't thinking...” She spoke in Orcish, as well.

Anaris shook her head and raised her hands. “I'm sorry! I thought-”

“You thought a warrior of the Horde would go along with your little idea? There's a place in the afterlife for those who fall in battle, and there's a place for worms that betray their superiors.” He flicked his cigar away.
“And there's no going back for you, now, little birds. Oh no...” He watched them squirm in their own juices. Their bodies writhed in the shame he was putting upon them, as planned. They were begging for a way out with the way they looked up at him.
“Worse than Forsaken. But... For a couple of wretches like you, it's fitting that you'll work with me willingly.”

“But you said-” Anaris tried to argue, but was immediately shut down. The girl flinched.

“Now that you've hit rock bottom, both of you, I'm gonna build you both back up. In service to the Horde you'll find your honor again, in the way I tell you.” He huffed.
“Or are you gonna walk back to the people you were eager to betray first chance you get?”

They both knew they were stuck. He was right. “We are damned.” Duriel stated.

“Worse than undead.” Anaris lamented, rubbing her eyes with her wrist.
“We... Are yours to command, sir.”

-

Sentinels were given markings over their eyes. Tattoos. They both had them, and they both had them removed promptly by Tarkov. Neither fought the decision because neither thought they deserved them. In contrast, two new marks were placed on them by the force's quartermaster. A Horde Symbol abover their Cunts which was to be displayed as proudly as they would the markings over their eyes; the second was a company stamp above their rear signifying ownership to the Warsong Clan specifically. The two women were masked with mockeries of that which belonged to the General they were charged to help defeat. Smooth metal in black and red that dimmed the light in their eyes to black to signify their fall. Their 'armor' was decorative and humiliating. Thigh-high boots with tall heels at the base. Arm-guard with no gauntlets to keep their soft hands available. Both in Horde colors. As their former armor was already a joke to him, he simply chose to leave their midsection, breasts, ass, back, belly and all open. He claimed that they should welcome the opportunity to redeem themselves by dying to a stomach wound in battled, or a chest wound, and they could not find reason to disagree. Their masks, finally, were affectionately marked with a uniform '1' and '2' to signify their loss of identity and their rebirth under his command.

Though they held more privileges, they were not fooled into believing that they served a purpose greater than aiding Tarkov however he chose. That meant strategy when he needed it and pleasure... In perpetuity. He mounted with one in front. She sat over his cock, allowing it to become her saddle for the ride. The other, Two,  walked beside with a large hand resting on her head as though she served a similar role to the Worg, in terms of status at least.

“Two. Since you're not busy, tell me what the General will do?”

The Kaldorei looked up and nodded. She had gone to far to get cold feet at this point. “She will wait... In Astranaar. Scouts and adventurers will be her force outside the natural moat. She will use the town to attack you in the fashion we are used to. Ambushes... Hit and run.”

“You'll tell me where they're likely, and where they'll run after.”

“Yes.” Two, formerly Duriel, nodded. Tarkove reared up in his saddle on top of the worg and bent One, formerly Anaris, over his broad lupine head. He just began rutting into her like an animal in front of his men. The woman mewled and moaned in pleasure, her ass lifting and slapping back against his pelvis. Two could not help but understand that there was no pride or benefit allotted to them. This was atonement.

In the background, some Orcs wore captured elves as armor while others held them with chains connecting their necks to the Orcs waist for ease of use. For most of them, a breast or ass or some fuckable body was always easily in reach, and even the pets of Tarkov were open to being bent down and fucked at the correct time and in the right place. The debauchery and mass orgy that was the Refugee was set as the backdrop for their atonement. Their former subordinates were the slaves of the lowest grunts. But, One thought, at least they had not committed the unthinkable. Tarkov's words bore into her skull. Even an Orc had honor that he upheld, yet she buckled. She was still buckling. Her knees, her morals. Her body begged for him so soon, even as he offered one last thrust to nut inside of her. She wanted it again, more, faster, harder. She had become a slave in mind.

-

Shandris watched from her Nightsaber as the most elite among elite Sentinels crossed over the first bridge into Astranaar. Her women were of the highest quality, which she guessed was why Ashenvale was on the cusp of buckling all together. In hindsight it was folly to have her fortress and her prized troops not present at the front. With Feathermoon Stronghold drowned, there was no point in even leaving a garrison behind. She simply picked up and moved to where she was most needed. She stood stoic as a statue as citizens and refugees approached, keeping their distance. Her visage was one of hope, but also intimidation. Her mask his the upper half of her face and caused her eyes to glow even more like a n owl's in the night. Unlike the Sentinels that came before them, hers were equipped to fight, not ambush, as was she. Though they would never lack in that area, either. Solid leather and chain armor and in some cases, plate. Heavy cavalry atop armored Saber's that could move through brush and trees and impassable terrain as if it were road. They could arrive upon the Orcs doorstep, back or front or side, within a day. The only thing that was on the Sentinel General's mind at that moment was a mild lament.

“Why am I the first person of importance to arrive? Mother... Why did you forsake this land?” As she wondered that, in her mind she spoke both of Elune and her Priestess. Two women who should have b all accounts been in position to protect and flourish in their ancestral forests against the invaders.

“Will they come to Astranaar, General?” A woman in her Command asked in a disciplined tone. She seemed eager for battle.

Shandris did not even have to consider the question. “They've appeared everywhere else. Why not here? Prepare as though they are coming but don't act overly cautious. If they come this far we have to hope that they're overextending.”

“If they are not?”

Shandris looked up in thought. “That would be unfortunate.” Was all she had to say. The woman was not overly bright. She was brave and earnest and good-natures and carried a good measure of reservedness in her, however she was no genius strategist. Shandris knew she was skilled and respected and used those two things to her advantage.