Who a King must do Chapter 36 – Convincing Arguments (Patreon)

In a green-tinted, black orb were reflected the streets of Silvermoon. A scrying spell, meant to show her the validity of that absurd declaration she had just received. In those crimson rimmed streets of marble and magic that she had once died for, the people she once called her own were now engaged in endless acts of debauchery. Proud blood elves crawled on all fours towards the sweet promise of human cock, panting like depraved bitches.

The vision moved on. Over corners, plazas, parks and balconies, everywhere people were fucking like rabbits. Only a corner where the children were cared for and the city guards seemed to be exempt from the endless orgy. Worst of all was the castle, where the traitor Lor’themar and that boy king Anduin were sitting across from each other, enjoying a gargantuan feast, with women tending to him. The leader of the Alliance was barely visible, surrounded by so many slaves.

Two of which, a void elf and a Naaru, looked directly into the sphere and smiled knowingly. Anduin followed their gazes, waved his hand, and the sphere went black.

Sylvanas Windrunner grabbed the orb with her clawed gauntlet. “RAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” the angry scream of the banshee echoed throughout the chamber, as she hurled it throughout the room of the primitive fortress. Rather than shatter on the metal wall in satisfying explosion of crystal and magic, the scrying sphere ripped a hole through the crudely combined metal. That only served to annoy the Warchief further. “Go get it back,” she barked at Nathanos.

The undead human bowed, a motion that, unlike most of their kind, didn’t show off any bone. As his chief advisor and right-hand man, she had it arranged that the Val’kyr under her command restored his flesh to something close to his living days. Now that flesh was cold, eternal, improved. “As you command, my dark lady,” he said, his voice and red eyes reverberating with the necromantic power. He straightened back up, streaked his brown hair back and walked away.

Sylvanas fell back in the ridiculous chair the orcs called a throne. Like anything else those savages made, it was a combination of wood worked so badly that it splintered and iron hammered into a myriad of impractical spikes. It was impressive how quickly Ogrimmar had been built and rebuilt, but it was clear that the speed had come at the cost of quality.

Not that Sylvanas trusted orcs to build anything quality in the first place. Brutish strength of muscle, that was about all they were good for. Thankfully, they also had a tendency to follow whoever was strong without thinking too much about it. A bit of lip service to the right ideals of tribal unity and they screamed her name with fervour.

Sylvanas let out all the air in her lungs. Since she wasn’t going to speak, keeping it in there was just unnecessary bloat. Her skin had long since lost any warmth or colour. Indeed, it had developed from a sickly, pale white to a blueish grey over her years of undeath. A state that had left her flesh whole and without a sign of rot, courtesy of her origin as an elf, as her dark rangers, the only other people in the room, were unliving proof for. There was too much magic in her being to be easily influenced by the passage of time. Even the wound that had killed had closed.

If one only saw her, they would see nothing but a blueish-grey skinned elf with red eyes, black lips and mascara around her eyes that seemed to be seared in and running down her face. They would see an athletic body with a flat stomach, thick legs, a perfect ass and tits of a decent size, overall large for an elf. They would see grey-tinted, blonde hair that cascaded in soft waves. All of that clad in tight leather. Sylvanad knew of her appearances, scary and sexy at the same time, and she knew to use that to her advantage. Whether she was dead or not, men were so easily lulled by beauty, even without sex.

It was all just a tool for her. She had lost interest in mortal desires when she had been resurrected. When she had become cold. When she had become eternal. When she had been shackled to Arthas will, only to free herself and allow herself this improved state of being. Free from these urges to procreate, to eat, to sleep, free from any pulse that could have made her aim unsteady and any bothering emotions that could have distracted her from her goals. All she needed to think about was the continuation of her own existence, the elimination of all threats. She would find a way to break that rising Alliance, that pesky, life-loving, perverted pact of dogs and bitches in heat.

Yes, she was above all of that. She was Sylvanas Windrunner, she was the mastermind of this war. She would get what she wanted, she would break her opposition. The pieces were in play, no matter how much the boy king struggled, she would come out victorious. She was above worry, above doubt and certainly above her former people. Those that she had protected with her life, that she had helped by inviting them into the Horde – if they didn’t want her help and preferred to literally fuck around all day, then that was all fine by her. ‘Let them,’ she thought. ‘I am not bothered, this only complicates things mildly. I am above them and their decaying pacts.’

Why then, was there this long-forgotten tingle between her legs?

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“Is something the matter, High King Anduin?” Lor’themar asked. The regent of Silvermoon and de-facto leader of the blood elves was looking across the table with a raised eyebrow.

“Your old affiliates have received your new allegiance. At least I am sure that’s who I just sent back to minding their own affairs.” Anduin lowered the hand that he had used to disperse the scrying spell and placed it back on Baela’s head. Tending to the right side of his cock, the goblin kneeled in front of him. Next to her was Mizzy. Both of the short slaves had gotten off the boat after their master had concluded business at the Sunwell.

It had all happened rather quickly. Having witnessed the Alliance leader’s lifestyle, Lor’themar had to admit that it would be a whole lot more rewarding for his people to follow it. Especially, since the population of the blood elves hadn’t recovered anywhere close to the levels predating the invasion of the undead Scourge.

Although he was a militaristic leader, however, Lor’themar would not force such a decision on his people. Instead, he decided to lead a swift information campaign, trying to let the blood elves form a stance on things before the Banshee Queen could be informed of the happenings.

Everyone on Quel’danas, who was strongly connected to the Sunwell, was quickly convinced of things. They had felt the changes once they had happened and were much happier for it. Not being dependent solely on the Light and its strictness pushed some indulgence back into the local culture. Mindlessly consuming luxuries wasn’t a healthy way to live, but neither was the complete lack of them in pursuit of starving of a second mana addiction.

It helped that the Sunwell had continued to overflow with its charged waters. Although somewhat diminished, once Anduin stopped having his orgy inside it, there was still way more of the resource to distribute than ever before. Veils of the twilight liquid were distributed among the populace to allow for them to truly test whether they were getting duped or if they had something real on their hands.

That night was filled with debauched cries, as the populace saw the truth and engaged in an island-wide fuckfest. Quel’danas, after two days of talks, was totally convinced of the fact that this was an improvement. The Lord-Regent and Anduin then moved across the channel and repeated the same project in Silvermoon. It took a bit more effort, but once the waters of the Sunwell were tested locally as well, enthusiasm to affiliate with the High King over the life-bemoaning undead quickly rose.

The waters only reinforced a tendency that the blood elves already had. They had almost switched sides before, during the war in Pandaria, and they had the same submissive streak to them as the night elves they had descended from. Less pronounced, it had to be said, in the males. Night elven males had become slaves along the women, where blood elves decided to engage in something closer to the dwarven model.

All women agreed to become deeply submissive slaves. The decree was championed by Liadrin. Already a hero among her people, she gave some very effective demonstrations as to why the Cult of the Perfect Slave was such a great thing. A couple of public orgies with eternally young blood elf sluts later, Anduin had convinced the women where their place was supposed to be. The twilight wells that were erected all over the city also increased the beauty of the already marvellous race further.

For the men, they were split. Many wanted to be masters themselves, many others seemed pretty happy to submit themselves. Since there was no reason to not make both sides happy, it was simply decreed that men could decide to be either – just as women could decide to be mistresses, but almost exclusively chose not to. The resulting class of blood elf man-whores was mostly populated by quite effeminate men. Anduin had no personal use for them, he was very happy surrounded by boobs and breedable cunts and required no help to handle either, but he was sure they would find their place among the Alliance’s people.

Which was the decree that had been sent to Orgrimmar. After only a week of societal restructurings and a unilateral decision to follow this new path, the blood elves had joined the Alliance. The Sunwell was renamed to the Kingswell in his honour and it was agreed that the blood elves would send a number of barrels of Kingswell water as well as their slaves to Stormwind as tribute every year. The first of the sluts sent were the slave knights, now officially under Anduin’s command. A mere formulary action, given Liadrin’s absolute submission, but a sign of respect regardless. Especially since those doubled as one of the most elite fighting forces Silvermoon had to offer.

Because of the wars, the sin’dorei (the name of the blood elves in their own tongue) had an imbalance in genders anyway. Unlike the night elves, they used a majority male military formation with the women being mostly mages and priests. Those were fewer and had a much better survival rate, and so the ratio had been skewed to something approximating two women for every one guy. As only about half of men were interested in building their own harems, this left about four sluts open per male (with the skipped-out males also being available, if so desired).

Good conditions to send some over for cultural exchanges. Especially since Anduin was open to send some slaves back. Primarily demons, Stormwind was in no short supply of those. If birth rates were as predicted by Mekkatorque, humans, gnomes, goblins and dwarves would all have gender ratios lending themselves optimally to the harem lifestyle by the next generation. Perhaps exposure to Slutstud and Kingswell water would cause a similarly phenomenon to appear among the blood elves.

Additionally, it appeared that the race of the mother was of much higher importance in the race of the offspring. This was most pronounced in demons, who only gave birth to more female demons that were basically pure-bloods, as well as Naarus and Xal’atath, who could choose the shape and gender of their offspring. By Mekkatorque’s guesses, this would be least effective in humans. Given the number of human-lead and human-staffed harems, as well as the fact that they were already the most numerous race on Azeroth, it would take eternities until that could become a problem. All of that combined eased worries of all the races just meshing into one crossbreed.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with crossbreeds, the High King just would have found it saddening if the civilized races of Azeroth all became one. Differences were valuable, particularly if those differences were unified in a common cause and culture. Almost more importantly, Anduin didn’t want to rob his descendant of the ability to have an athletic, tall night elf, an hourglass-figure human, a slender blood elf and a trio of short and/or stacked goblin, gnome and dwarf, all in the same harem. That seemed simply cruel.

To put things short, all things were advancing in the High King’s favour.

As he pulled Mizzy over his cock, her throat bulging to take in the entirety of his girth, Xal’atath and K’ara presented him with grapes, a chalice, and their tits. Anduin opted for the latter. Although he was naked, sitting in Silvermoons throne room, only the middle bits of his torso and his head were really visible. The rest was hidden underneath the equally naked bodies of his slaves. Those who didn’t find room on his body to nestle against were lavishing on the pillows around his chair.

The same scene was, albeit with a much less diverse harem, playing out across the long table that separated him and Lor’themar. It was red and gold trimmed, just like the entire hall in the palace was. Aside from the two of them, many advisors and many more slaves were present.

To no surprise, the war veteran was a dominant personality and he had been popular with the ladies before. The Kingswell had also restored his lost eye and left him with considerably less awful and more decorative-looking scars. Being on the High King’s side turned out to be as rejuvenating as it was rewarding.

The regent was adapting to the new life and powers pretty quickly. Much like Omnius, the Arch Bishop, it seemed that the Lord-Regent had successfully figured out how to mimic the High King in a very limited capacity. Through considerable efforts, he could form the same marks. What took Anduin a single round of ecstatic sex was a repeated and long-term effort for Lor’themar. So far, he had successfully branded himself one slut, one of Liadrin’s slave knights.

A slave knight slurping on his cock under the table and away from Anduin’s gaze. “Sylvanas knows, then?” Lor’themar asked, his voice unstrained by the skilled tongue. A wave of his finger and a chalice was brought to his lips by a fat-assed redhead. A sip of wine later, he slapped that bubble butt, causing the woman, another slave knight, to yelp. Through the extensive training the order had gone through already, she kept her hands steady and lost not a single drop of the purple-red liquid. The Lord-Regent had great fondness of the slave knights and Anduin had been happy to delegate three of them from Liadrin’s to Lor’themar’s direct command. Ownership would have been more accurate, given that they were clearly his slaves now.

“That would be the assumption,” Anduin nodded. “I doubt she would be foolish enough to attempt a strike across the sea. The Alliance has clear naval supremacy and the whole Eastern Kingdoms are now under our control.” He came down Mizzy’s throat, let her orgasmic moans be the vibrations that intensified his orgasm. “Regardless,” he continued without pause, “it would be wise if we established a reliable teleportation path between Silvermoon and Stormwind. I would think it wouldn’t be too difficult to put a relay crystal into Dalaran, like you did with Undercity.”

“It would be considerably easier, if we do it correctly,” Lor’themar stated and rubbed his bearded chin. “For proper appearances, I should also repeat Silvermoon’s pledge of allegiance in front of the people of the Alliance’s capital. I can’t leave here for the time it takes to travel back, however. Erecting the new twilight wells all over the countryside will take time and centralized efforts.”

Twilight wells were a sign that the blood elves wanted to take another page out of their ancestors’ book. Ponds of power, formed with some of the water of the Kingswell, used to give easy access to everyone everywhere. Unlike the night elves’ moon wells, those wouldn’t be maintained by Elune’s grace, however. Regular refills from the Kingswell were necessary. As long as that source was eternal, and all signs pointed towards it doing so, that would only be an administrative problem.

Anduin sensed that this was a powerplay towards some other goal. Not wanting to strain things after they had already come so far, so smoothly, he simply nodded and asked, “Then how would you like to handle this, Lord-Regent?” While the words echoed out, Mizzy slipped off of her master’s cock. One last kiss and then she made room for Baela.

A simple gesture let the goblin understand that she was to ride him. “Fuck yes, stud,” she squealed and quickly climbed the chair. For a moment, her tits blocked his view of the table, then she sunk down his cock and those very same jugs pressed against his chest. Hard nipples and jiggly flesh grinded against him, as her tight cunt made the room inside her body to accommodate the High King’s dick. The size queen screamed throughout the entire process, until Anduin told her to be quiet and her jaws clenched obediently.

Once she was entirely enveloping him, her quivering body was small enough that she no longer provided an obstacle to the ongoing discussions. Just as long as her riding stayed with small and gyrating movements. Anduin grabbed her meaty ass to entertain his hands.

“I would send one of my most skilled mages with you. He can engineer the connection on your end, with the help of the Kirin Tor, and I will simply step on through once it is done,” Lor’themar suggested in a tone that made it sound more like the plan already confirmed. Anduin had no reason to refuse, so he nodded and heard the Lord-Regent shout a single name. “Aethas!”

‘So that’s what the plan was,’ Anduin realized immediately what was going on and followed Lor’themar’s eyes over to the side. A blood elf with long, red hair pulled out of the servant he was currently enjoying. He turned around, his eyes glowing with the silver of the Kingswell. By the time he addressed his ruler, the same servant had changed positions from leaning against the wall to sitting in front of the mage, sucking his cock fervently.

“Yes, Lor’themar?” he asked in a nonchalant fashion.

“Do accompany them back to Stormwind, you will be my ambassador and help put up that teleportation relay. Do talk to your friends in the Kirin Tor, I am sure they will lend their aid.”

The mage seemed hesitant and he had good reasons for that. Aethas Sunreaver was the leader of the blood elves in Dalaran – or had been, rather. After Jaina had purged the non-Alliance elements from the city during the days of the Pandaria conflicts, he hadn’t had too much access to the city. During the Legion campaign, he had been allowed back in, but the recent events had most blood elves in the locality return home. That they could now go to Dalaran again surely made for a turbulent residence history.

Most importantly, Aethas Sunreaver was the face of those that had opposed Jaina and her grudge over this had been the cause for many tensions – not that Aethas was a more forgiving person. His presence in Stormwind would prove doubtlessly whether Anduin had a handle on Jaina. That was the sole sore point in the current diplomacy after all.

“Fine,” Aethas didn’t seem psyched, but he knew that this was necessary.

“Does this meet your agreement?” Lor’themar asked.

“Certainly,” Anduin agreed. Jaina was his first wife and a good slave that knew her place. She wouldn’t do anything that he didn’t want her too, he was sure. ‘I can’t wait to fuck her again,’ he thought, really feeling the urge to return home already.

“Then it is decided,” the Lord-Regent clapped his hands. “You will depart as soon as the High King decides.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Anduin said and looked over to Aethas. “I would like to leave immediately, but I want to give you the time to gather your things.”

“An hour will suffice for that,” the mage ensured, pulling his cock from the servant’s mouth. “I will have to gather my women, a few belongings and the blueprints, nothing more. I can meet you at your ship with my own vessel.”

Anduin nodded. “Then let’s not push things off longer than necessary.” His harem distanced themselves from his body and put down the foodstuffs. Only Baela remained where she was. Anduin grabbed her by the hips and increased his tempo considerably. A snap of his fingers, and his earlier command was lifted.

Immediately, she started screaming in ecstasy, drowning out the entire room. Servants and advisors, all turned their head, in awe at the effortlessness with which the High King reduced his slave into a shouting mess. “Master, Master, you are so big! Fill up your size-addicted, goblin slut! Use this ass, make me feel stretched out and used again!”

Anduin obliged, giving her ass a few spanks before holding her down, pussy lips drooling onto his groin, and let the quivering of her pussy finish him off. While she squirted all over his lower body and the floor, the High King’s magic seed filled her up. It was a quick and relieving orgasm.

Afterwards, he lifted her off his cock and stood up. One quick healing spell ensured that she could walk. Not firmly, Anduin enjoyed watching her squirm too much for that, but with sure enough steps that she wouldn’t delay them. “I will take my leave then,” the High King announced.

“At your leisure,” Lor’themar said, taking the chalice in his own hand and toasting towards Anduin. There were at least three submissive reasons why the Lord-Regent wanted his guest to depart soon. Sex without other males around was simple more comfortable. “Good travels, my king.”