Morathi
Ghrond was in ruins. Its walls had been cast down, it's garrison scattered or slain, the covens of Sorceresses that learned their trade cowering in the city's most heavily warded vaults or fled to seek protection elsewhere in Naggaroth. Entire districts had been overwhelmed by verdant growths of vegetation, whole pens of slaves had been armed and set loose to riot in the street. No-one, not even the city's undisputed ruler, had seen the attack coming. The idea that Ariel would ever find the courage to retaliate for the death of her sister - slain as part of the city's ruler's schemes - was absurd; the fact that the Asrai's magic had allowed them to travel halfway around the world to emerge through the bleak, thorn-laden forests that clung stubbornly to the barren tundra beyond comprehension. And yet they had. Led by the faerie queen herself with Orion, her bellowing huntsman and paramour at her side, the Wood Elves had swept practically unchallenged through Ghrond's defenses, volleys of enchanted arrows sweeping the city's walls clear of it's garrison before a brace of Treemen tore them asunder.
There was no shame in that, Morathi told herself. Ariel and Orion were nothing less than demigods, fragments of Isha and Kurneous rendered into mortal bodies. Ancient and powerful though she was, she could not be blamed for this defeat. Her city was in ruins, her armies were scattered, and she had been forced to give up the secrets of her dark magic or perish upon the end of Orion's spear, but none of that was her fault. Her throne room bore the scars of that confrontation, even though her magic had already healed the wounds done to her. The walls were cracked, blasted, and in places even melted down into slag where blasts of howling magic had earthed themselves upon the centuries-old stone, and the floor was littered with shattered detritus and mangled banners torn down and trampled under Orion's hooves during the conflict. The trouble, Morathi thought, as she stared glumly at the chaos, was that she hadn't quite worked out who's fault it actually was.
Her son, perhaps? Malekith, the Witch King, was Naggaroth's ruler. Surely he should have anticipated the possibility of an attack from the bleak woods and fortified it more stringently. Yet while Morathi considered herself more powerful than her son, to openly defy him by throwing the blame at his feet would only make him more likely to work against her in the future, out of the simple spite ingrained into each and every Dark Elf. The captain of her Guard? That would make sense, she thought, tapping her narrow, sculpted chin with one slender finger as she considered the possibility. But the preliminary reports coming in had told her that he had been slain in the attack, and blaming a man she could not have flayed for his failure was terribly unsatisfying.
Morathi let out a thin sigh of irritation, slouching back in her throne and playing with her thick, glossy black hair while she considered her next move. She was curvacious, for an elf; her breasts a little softer and more pronounced, the flare of her hip a little rounder than those of her peers, the exaggeration of her feminine attributes offset by the clean lines of her limbs and the slenderness of her body. And it was a body she had felt little shame in displaying; her expanse of flawless, alabaster skin was broken only by bandings of dark, polished metal which cradled and supported her bust and encircled her limbs, while a loincloth of deep purple fabric hung between her legs, offering the barest trace of modesty from the front, yet baring everything from behind. Astoundingly beautiful from birth, centuries of dark pacts and age-defeating magical rituals had turned Morathi's body into a veritable temple to temptation and sin, a palace of flaunted, unrestrained sexuality. Countless men and not a few women had been ensnared by that beauty over the long years, used, abused, manipulated and cast in accordance with her grand plans, capricious whims, and simple lusts.
Not that it had served her anything against Orion, Morathi thought, a hot spark of anger flaring in her chest. Where any one of a thousand other men would have been struck dumb at the sight of her, the towering mass of rippling horn and muscle had smashed her aside like a child's toy without so much as a heartbeat's pause. Her full, sensual lips, painted black against the pure white of her skin, twisted into a vicious snarl at the memory. She was brooding, Morathi knew, something she had counciled her weakling son against time and time again in the past. Sulking over the past would achieve nothing. She needed to be up, to be seen by her surviving minions, to quash any thoughts of rebellion and ensure the repairs to the city were begun as soon as possible. And yet she lingered, wallowing in ennui.
It was the sound of hooves rattling against stone that jerked the high sorceress from her stupor. She lept from her throne with a strangled cry and snatched up her spear, Heartrender, memories of Kurneos' champion snarling and stomping surged through her mind in a mad rush of adrenaline. It took several moments for the fear - though she would never have acknowledged it as such - to dissipate, and her conscious mind to focus on the source of the sounds. They were accompanied by the dry rustle of wings, and a low sound, partway between a whinny, a growl, and a reptilian hiss, all things she was more than familiar with.
"Sulephet!" Morathi crossed the ruins of her throneroom with long strides, a smile of something approaching genuine delight crossing her fine-boned, aristocratic features. Her Dark Pegasus clopped in from the exterior balcony it had alighted upon, the mangled remains of an Asrai bowman clenched in the beast's jaws. The creature had served as her mount for a great many years, and Morathi had written the beast off as lost along with the rest of her menagerie in the initial stages of the Wood Elf attack, slain by the shrieking dryads that had torn through the shackled creatures there like a whirlwind of thorns. Sulephet dropped the Wood Elf's carcass at Morathi's feet like a dutiful pet, wolfing down the mouthful of sweet elf-flesh that remained clenched in it's jaws as the Hag Sorceress wrapped her arms around the beast's neck in a possessive hug.
"I thought you were lost, you wretch." Morathi said, laughing softly and running her fingers through the Pegasus' mane. The fine, dark hair was matted with torn flesh and blood dripped from the beast's jagged horn, testament to the carnage Sulaphet had wrought amongst the Asrai attackers. "Yet you always find your way back to me. At least there is one servant I can always rely upon."
The Pegasus snorted and tossed its head as Morathi fussed over it, combing the worst of the blood and filth from its ebony hair. She was not squeamish about the violence and filth of battle - both she and her mount delighted in the rich scent and blistering, vital heat of spilled blood upon their skin - but the simple act of grooming the beast, normally something she left to her beastmasters, soothed the mental turmoil left in the wake of the Asrai siege.
Sulaphet truly was a magnificent creature, Morathi thought. Sleek muscle flexed under the Pegasus' glossy jet-black coat, and the long hair that comprised the beast's mane and tail was as luxuriously soft and pliant as her own. Great, powerful wings unfurled and stretched indulgently as her fingers unwound from its mane and made their way down the Pegasus' body, massaging the life back into Sulaphet's battle-weary muscles. Morathi's succulent lips twisted into an angry pout as she came across the first of her mount's wounds, shallow gashes torn by Asrai arrows or the claws of their dryads. None of them were even close to life-threatening - it would have been a surprise if the Pegasus had even felt them when the scent of blood was in it's nostrils, Morathi thought with a surge of pride - the idea of her savage, backwards cousins harming her mount filled her with fury.
"When Ghrond is rebuilt," Morathi whispered as she stepped closer, close enough to feel the great creature's body heat radiating against her bare skin. "We shall journey to Athel Loren and slay ten elves for each wound upon your flank."
The Dark Pegasus turned, one red eye focusing on the Hag Sorceress as she lingered by a particularly deep gouge in its hind leg. Sulaphet's lips drew back over wolf-like teeth, still stained with the blood of its last meal, as the Hag Sorceress probled experimentally at the wound with the tip of one finger. Morathi knew well that Pegasii were intelligent - perhaps as much so as a human, though their thoughts were filtered through an animal's mind - and she wondered what the creature was thinking as she slid down onto one knee, bringing herself face to face with the injury. It whinnied and stamped softly as she leaned in, her breath kissing the surface of the bloody wound. Sulaphet had served as her mount for centuries. The beast's thoughts and desires had grown closely entwined with her own. Surely, Morathi thought as she lapped up the thick, crimson fluid soiling the Pegasus' hair, savouring the rich flavour of iron just as her otherworldly senses tasted the strange, sour tang of magic in the creature's blood, it knew what she wanted? It was not the first time they had done this, and after the chaos of the past few days, she needed to relax...
Morathi let out a low, lusty chuckle as Sulaphet's wings shuddered, the creature beginning to react to her ministrations. She cradled the Pegasus' thigh as she tasted the flesh of the wound, her practiced fingers making their way around the limb, creeping their way towards the beast's underside. The Hag Sorcererss grinned as she found her prize, little flecks of hot blood rolling from her pointed chin to speckle the pale swell of her breasts. Sulephet let out a sudden snort as Morathi's fingers brushed against the Pegasus' testicles, at first simply tracing their way across the soft, velvety skin with light, delicate strokes. Morathi held her breath, biting her lip with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. This was the most dangerous part. Sulephet was physically far stronger than her, and like all creatures raised by the Druchii, had inherited a spark of the wicked malice that so defined her people. Her mount might kick or bite if it was disinclined to play, and Morathi had no desire to meet her end at the hooves of her own favored pet.
The Hag Sorceress's body tensed as, for one heart-stopping moment, Sulephet jerked forward a step and raised his wounded leg, as if trying to ward off it's mistress' wandering hands or even preparing to lash out at her. She held her ground, cupping one of the beast's heavy, swollen testes in one hand and tickling the base of her mount's sheath with the other, whispering dark, lusty promises into the aire until she felt the Pegasus relax and lower its leg.
"There you are, my pet. That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Morathi whispered with growing excitement, watching out the corner of the eye as first the broad, flared head pushed its way out of the Pegasus' sheath, followed by the long, fleshy shaft, it's ebony bulk ribbed with thick veins. She could feel her own arousal starting to build along with that of her mount, her ivory skin flushing pale pink and a warm, pleasant heat building in her belly as she contemplated the organ growing before her. Not yet fully hard, it flopped down between the beast's hind legs, giving the occasional twitch as blood rushed to the stiffening member. It had been too long, she thought, since she and her mount had last played together. The Dark Pegasus had served her so well over the long years, and she could be a generous queen when the mood took her...
Ducking under the Pegasus's flanks, Morathi felt a delicious, illicit thrill course through her at what she was about to do. Though she had long ago cast aside the pathetic taboos that dominated the cultures of men, dwarves, and lesser elves, besmirching the trappings of their societies like the banners of a shattered army under her feet never failed to set her heart racing. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive behind the barbed metal brassiere that held them in place, and she let out a grateful sign as she unlatched the wicked garment, casting it aside with a faint clatter and letting the cool air of her half-ruined tower send little shocks of pleasure over her stiff, pale nipples. Sulaphet snorted again and stepped forwards, the dangling spar of black flesh swaying invitingly towards her.
Licking her lips, Morathi reached for her mount's swelling prick, smiling indulgently as her slim, pale fingers wrapped around the beast's shaft. It was slightly spongier and so very much hotter than the organ of a man or elf, and twitched in her grasp as she tugged gently, encouraging the Pegasus to step forwards. Perhaps it would have been simpler for her to merely slide closer, but the idea offended her. Sulaphet was hers. Her mount, her toy, and she would not crawl on her knees for it - if the creature wished the pleasure of her mouth, it would come to her, and not the other way around.
And come it did. Though it whinnied and lashed its silken tail in irritation, the Pegasus clopped forwards once more, the thick, animal cock in Morathi's hand sliding inexorably closer to her delicate, beautiful face. Sulaphet's scent - a raw animal musk, mixed with the smells of the hay it bedded down upon and the sickly sweet elf-flesh it ate - rolled over her like a cloud of heady aphrodisiac, drawing a low groan of anticipation from the Hag Sorceress' mouth. The blunt, flared head of Sulaphet's organ seemed to ripple in her hand, a thick drop of cloudy precome beading from the opening upon its crown.
"Oh, for me?" Morathi laughed softly, pressing her free hand to her breastbone and fluttering her eyelashes like a bashful elf-maiden receiving a gift from her suitor. "Why, Sulaphet, you shouldn't have..."
Her voice grew lower and throatier, her mouth salivating as her second hand joined the first, lips parting as she closed the last few inches between her face and Sulaphet's waiting prick.
"...but I won't say no."
And with that, she brought the great, pulsing organ to her lips, and sucked.
It was too large a thing to fit in her mouth, but the Hag Sorceress was not short of experience when it came to laying with partners of unusual anatomy. She lapped at the drop of glutinous precome like a cat, her pointed tongue swirling around the pulsing hole before carrying it to her mouth, a glimmering trail of stringy fluid linking the flat head of the Pegasus' cock to her painted lips as she rolled the pre around, letting it coat the inside of her mouth and reacquainting herself with her mount's rich, bitter flavour. Sulaphet stirred and grunted at the first touches of her tongue, thrusting forwards and bumping insistently against Morathi's face, depositing another thick glob of fluid upon her chin.
"Patience, Sulaphet!" Morathi said, though the delighted cooing in her voice robbed the scolding of any impact. "I know, my steed, I missed you too." She continued, the words coming out in ones and twos as her lips sucked and kissed their way around the flare, slathering the pliant ring of flesh with precome and saliva until it gleamed like the decorative armlets and fragments of silvered jewelry that adorned her body.
Even as she went to work with her mouth, Morathi's hands were far from idle. One reached up to stroked Sulaphet's side, feeling the animal's flank heaving as its breath deepened in response to her enthusiastic suckling. Occasionally she would crane herself up, her thick mass of black hair ticking the Pegasus' underbelly as her fingers indulgently scratched the underside of its wings as a reward for it's good behavior - something the beast evidently enjoyed by the steady flow of thick, stinking precome that spurted and dribbled from its cock in response. She cradled the stallion's shaft with her other palm, supporting the weighty length of horseflesh between that and her kissing, sucking lips. As the Hag Queen moved on from Sulaphet's flare, shifting her position to smother the length of hot, black meat with kisses, her so too did her fingers slide further and further down until once again they danced upon the animal's balls. Morathi let out a low, eager chuckle as she felt the swollen orbs rolling around within the sac of velvet skin, fancying she could feel the churning mass of bestial seed brimming within.
And all of it, for her, Morathi thought with a tingle of anticipation. Her body burned with need. Strings of wetness dripped from her engorged folds, pattering on the backs of her calves and pooling on the floor beneath her as she lavished attention upon Sulephet's prick, tracing the lines of rippling flesh with the point of her tongue and delighting in the heady, animal scents that surrounded her. Oh, how easy it would be to slip a hand beneath her loincloth and tend to her desires herself, but she resisted no matter how much her body begged to be touched. She had been hastier in her younger days, Morathi remembered, when she had dipped but a few toes in the lakes of depravity she now wallowed in. But time had taught her patience. Self-denial was an integral step on the path to true ecstacy, and no matter how practiced her fingers were, they were nothing compared to the delights she had in store for herself.
But she was not the only one determined to be sated that night. Sulaphet snorted and stamped its hooves, the Dark Pegasus lashing its tail back and forth impatiently. Driven wild by it's mistress' tender ministrations, it thrust back and forth in Morathi's palm, the wet, sticky flare of its cock pushing insistently against her face and spurting forth small pulses of pungent, animal seed. Tipping her head back, the Hag Sorceress opened her mouth and teased the beast's flare with the very tip of her tongue, letting the waves of salty fluid flow into her mouth until her black lips turned white and her supple chest glistened with overspill.
And then, after pursing her lips and taking a moment to savour the taste of her mount's bitter precome, Morathi swallowed. She could feel the hot, bestial fluid as it slipped down her gullet, coiling warmly into her insides, as if searching to find the source of her own heat, the stinking fluid inflaming her passions like a drug. The pangs of arousal radiating out from her aching sex were, by now, so strong they almost painful, like a cramp or maddening itch that demanded to be scratched. Even without Sulephet's constant grunting and stamping, Morathi doubted she could have delayed much longer. As much as she enjoyed tormenting the beast with her mouth, her own, perverse lusts now had to be sated.
"So impatient!" Morathi said as Sulephet thrust at her again. She laughed, pushing the dribbling horsecock away and wiping her face with the back of her hand. She untied her loincloth - which by now was thoroughly soiled with both Sulephet and her own's fluids - then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it aside to join the discarded brassiere. "By Atharti, Sulaphet, how many times have we done this? For once, act like something other than an anxious stud waiting for his first breeding."
Morathi rolled onto all fours, grinning wickedly as she felt the weight of Sulaphet's cock as it flopped down atop her back. It was hot - so hot, so heavy, a burning, vital spar of meat, nearly the length of her arm and tipped with a flare the size of her fist. Her pulse raced at the sheer sensory overload - the thing had yet to even graze the sopping lips of her cunt and her mind already spun, the lingering aftertaste and cloying stink of the beast and it's precome adding to the cocktail burning through her mind. At times, she had lit candles laced with hallucinogenic drugs or enhanced her sensory capabilities with magic - even astrally projecting, to enjoy the sight as well as the sensation - before allowing her steed to fuck her, the combined effects driving her near-catatonic with dark pleasure.
The Hag Sorceress lowered her head and raised her hindquarters, pushing her tight, perfectly curved backside up into the air. Experience had taught her the best angle to allow her mount to penetrate her, and Sulaphet responded with gratifying haste, the Dark Pegasus dragging his huge, heavy cock down the length of her back. Morathi let out a shudder and a soft moan of need as the dripping flare slipped through the valley of her buttocks, bumped briefly against the tight ring of her anus - something even she wasn't insane enough to try - and came to rest against her entrance. Morathi twitched and gasped at the first heat-on-heat as the flare butted against her, the contact sending a brief pulse of pleasure through her body. She took a moment to steady her breathing, mentally preparing herself for what was to come next. Sulaphet snorted and scuffed at the ground with one hoof.
"Sulaphet?" Morathi whispered, biting down on her lip. "Fuck me."
It began slowly. A gentle increase in pressure against her lower lips. There was nothing Morathi could do but sit there, her eyes screwed tightly shut and face inches away from the precome-spattered stones of her throneroom, as eighteen inches of throbbing stallion cock inexorably pressed into her body. The blunt, flared head was not designed for this - lacking the pointed tip of a humanoid's organ, the initial penetration was always agonizingly slow...then agonizingly fast, once it finally popped inside. Morathi dared to lift one hand off the ground, carefully shifting her weight to stay balanced, and reached between her legs. Her fingers slithered blindly through the mess of her own fluids, the Dark Pegasus' precome, and the saliva she had slathered over the massive prick, until they found their prize, spreading to gently ease the lips of her greedy, aching cunt open wider.
And then, finally, it happened. Perhaps Sulaphet's patience finally ran out, because the Pegasus lurched forwards, slamming its thick cock past the Hag Sorceress' lips like a battering ram through a flimsy wooden door. Morathi tensed up and screamed as a mixture of pleasure and utter agony crashed through her body, the sudden shock of penetration and subsequent feeling of the flared head grinding along her inner walls enough to smash through the dam that had held her building orgasm in check. Her eyes flew open as she convulsed, losing her precarious balance and falling face-first into the puddle of cooling fluids as Sulaphet drove himself deeper, the animal packing inch after inch of burning, black flesh into the Hag Sorceress' nubile body. Morathi screamed again, riding the wave of pain and ecstasy as best she could as she struggled to regain control, her heart hammering madly as Sulaphet snorted - almost with contempt, the small, rational part of her mind through - and drove forwards again.
That final push brought more pain than pleasure, the unwelcome shudder and sudden feeling of nausea dragging Morathi's spinning, screaming mind back to reality. "I am not some mare to be bred, you brute!" Morathi spat, reaching for Sulephet's ankle and digging her fingernails into the skin around the base of the beast's hoof. Her nails, sharpened to razor points, stabbed easily into its flesh, drawing a sudden, pained whinny from the creature. It flapped its wings in surprise and stepped backwards, the Hag Queen letting out a wavering sign of relief as the huge slab of flesh embedded in her body gave up several of the inches it had claimed. "We will do this at my pace, or not at all!"
Whether it had decided to heed the command or had simply been startled by the sudden pain in its leg, Sulaphet halted. For a moment Morathi was content to lie there, panting and letting out the occasional soft whimper as her mount stirred, each gentle movement of the thick slab of bestial flesh impaling her body dragging another stomach-churning wave of pleasure from her. Perhaps it had been too long, she thought. Sulaphet was intelligent - enough to understand commands, to recognize her desires - but it had an animal's stubborn tenacity, and like all Druchii beasts, could never have been truly broken even if she had desired such a thing. Without frequent reinforcement, it was prone to simply falling back upon it's own bestial instincts.
"We shall have to do this more often." Morathi muttered to herself, pushing herself back upright on shaking arms. Then she let out a short, high-pitched giggle as she felt Sulaphet's cock shifting inside her again, the aftershocks of her first climax already building into her next. "Oh, what a terrible shame that is..."
She cleared her throat, trying to regain as much dignity as she could while crouched on all fours and being fucked by her stamping, snorting mount, then said "Again. Slowly, though."
This time, the Pegasus obeyed, gently pushing deeper into her heat before withdrawing, the flare keeping the beast's head anchored in her body. Morathi whimpered but held her ground, clinging to the beast's front legs for support as it slowly drove forwards again, inch after inch of pulsing, ebon horse meat stretching her out, dragging over her outer lips and caressing her inner walls. With every motion the pain faded, her body growing used to the invading bulk, until it was little more than a resonant background note that danced on the edge of her nerves, each twinge of stinging pain acting as a delicious reminder of her own perversity.
Morathi found that thought almost as stimulating as the attentions of her bestial lover. How many men across Naggaroth coveted her, competing to offer up more and more of their bounties of slaves, treasure, and magical artifacts reaped from across the old world, each of them hoping for the honour of her attentions? How many of them longed to sink their fingers into the black coils of her hair as she wrapped her lips around their cocks, to claim her ass as they drove her face-first into the sheets of her bed, to lie back as she rocked back and forth atop them? The Hag Sorceress purred and rocked her body backwards, easing herself up Sulaphet's shaft, rocking herself back and forth in time with the stallion's slow thrusting. How many of them would care to see her like this, being fucked by an animal, her beautiful face soiled by its seed and her rapturous body packed full of inch after inch of stinking, heaving horseflesh? Mad arousal pulsed through her at the thought, and she leaned down, eagerly lapping up the cold, sticky precome drying on the floor in long, gooey strings.
She shuddered and cried out as her second climax hit, followed by a third, each peak blending into the next until her body sang with dirty, illicit pleasure. Would they think she was weak? Would they think she was submitting to the creature, letting the beast pollute her with its feral, animal lusts? The thought made her laugh, though the sound was little more than a strangled, gasping wheeze as Sulaphet drove deeper into her, its precome spilling into the vessel of her body. The thought was absurd. If anything, it proved her power - to use and manipulate others, to take a capricious, powerful, headstrong animal and reduce it to nothing more than a toy to sate her depraved passions. It obeyed her commands perfectly - mostly perfectly, at least. She could unmake the beast with a few spat syllables of dark magic if things went wrong. If any of her suitors saw her like this, more likely than not they would beg for the honour of holding her in place for her mount to fuck.
Perhaps, Morathi thought, she might favour them with her mouth, sucking them down as Sulaphet filled her body with its seed. As if on cue, the Pegasus shook and whinnied, and Morathi felt the length of pulsing, throbbing stallion cock lodged in her body give a sudden jerk.
"Are you close, my - my, ugh, my pet?" Morathi hissed, licking her lips in anticipating. "You must be, and it has been so very long..." she trailed off, her coos temporarily silenced as her toes curled under the weight of another peak. "I want you to - ah, to come for me, my - my pet. And, and I want you to come a - a great deal..."
The last few seconds were like an agony of drawn-out anticipation. Morathi permitted the Dark Pegasus' thrusts increase an in speed, her passage now wet and loose enough that it could slide in and out with ease, battering at her with animalistic frenzy. She reached around to her throbbing clit, practiced fingers easily finding the sensitive little nub and dancing across it, bright sparks of ecstasy dancing through the aching haze of pleasure as her body was defiled by the animal.
Finally, as Morathi's back arched and toes curled under the effects of one final climax, the Dark Pegasus reached it's own peak. She threw back her head and screamed as she felt liquid heat rush into her as Sulaphet came, painting her trembling inner walls with gout after gout of reeking, bestial seed. It seethed through her abused passage and squirted out out past her entrance to paint her quivering thighs with long, white strings, as if the animal was doing everything it could to make sure her body was well and truly soiled.
The Hag Sorceress was only dimly aware of this. Her mind had gone blank, conscious thought smothered under a mixed deluge of pain and pleasure, reducing her to little more than a vessel for ecstatic sensation. She slithered forwards, one last jolt surging through her body as Sulaphet's flare caught at her entrance before popping free in a spray of fluid. The Dark Pegasus' seed spilled from between her abused lips, the warmth of it soothing the aching numbness left in the wake of the beast's organ. Morathi collapsed forwards with a soft, joyous cry, content to let herself drift through the dizzy haze of her afterglow. She felt like all the weight - the stress and the fury of the siege, her bitterness at her humiliation - had vanished from her shoulders, leaving her with a clear head. Or at least, one that would be suitably clear once she had regained her senses.
Sulaphet, for the Pegasus' part, acted like it had already forgotten her. Shaking its wings irritably, the beast wandered over to the abandoned Wood Elf corpse and dipped its head, sinking long fangs into the now cool flesh and wolfing down a chunk of meat. Morathi lazily watched the softening length of meat swinging between its legs, tracing runic patterns in the puddle of seed left by her coupling, before a sudden knock upon the door caught her attention.
Dragging herself upright, Morathi took a moment to shake out her hair and wipe the worst of the mess from her face before calling for whoever it was to enter. She watched curiously as Drussilia, one of the apprentice Sorceresses, slipped into the tower. The other Dark Elf's eyes slid from the Hag Sorceress' defiled body, still flushed and dripping with animal semen and sweat, to the Pegasus feasting beside her, to the shape of the beast's cock swaying as it ate, then finally back to Morathi. Drussilia's face remained, all the time, entirely impassive, which Morathi was slightly impressed by. None of her acolytes would dare voice a criticism, or try and make a poorly timed joke at her expense, in her presence, but she would have expected some sort of reaction, no matter how badly concealed.
The girl was either an expert disassembler, or such sights weren't exactly new to her. One to watch either way, Morathi thought as the girl shuffled through a sheath of papers.
"You have something for me, girl?"
"Preliminary casualty reports, damage estimates." She replied. Drussilia cocked her head, looking at Morathi as if she had only just realized the state she was in. "I can bring them back later, if now isn't a good time."
Morathi waved the girl's offer away and plucked the reports from her hand, then dismissed her with another curt gesture. Wandering back to her throne, she collapsed into it and crossed her slender legs, a thin, white trail creeping down the carved black stone from between them.
"Oh well." Morathi said, flicking through the sheets with an exaggerated sigh of boredom. "Back to work, I suppose."