The incessant drip-drip-dripping of water on stone slowly brought Sylvanas back to consciousness. She had been given no chance to sleep after being “caught” trying to sneak into the Scarlet Monastery. Instead, she’d been dragged from her hiding place to the crypt under the chapel and thrown into one of the cells. Of course, she knew quite well what they would do to her. The Scarlet Crusade was so utterly predictable.

Her arms and legs were shackled, chains from the ceiling and floor binding her wrists and ankles, respectively. Her cell had no windows to speak of. It being underground most likely didn’t help in that regard. Small and dank, it had barely enough space for an admittedly comfortable-looking bed and a bucket where living prisoners would relieve themselves, a testament to the Scarlet Crusade’s way of making foes of both the living and the dead, given that the Undead had no use for such amenities. The only light came from a single torch on the other side of the door, casting its flickering light on Sylvanas’s full figure, her curves overflowing from the corset-like armor and leather leggings she wore.

The only way Sylvanas now possessed to measure how long she’d been captive was the growing hunger, that excruciating stirring in her loins and the increasingly frequent erections that would torture her randomly as her thoughts drifted to decadence. While undeath had slowed most of her body’s needs or had stopped them completely, it seemed that her lust, that incessant desire to stuff cunts full of her seed had only increased. With no way to relieve herself, all she could do was wait for her boners to pass, even as she wanted nothing more than to blow a fat, creamy load of cum into the first whore she could get her hands on.

“All part of the plan,” she reminded herself.

It had never crossed her mind that imprisonment could have been an problem. Her abilities as a banshee should have allowed her to possess the guards for an easy escape but her light-wielding captors had anticipated these dark powers of hers and had woven their Holy Light into the very stones of the room. As such, she could not bring herself to leave the confines of the cell, no matter how much she desired it.

But she did not need to escape. If her plan worked, then she would destroy the Crusade from the inside.

The distinct sound of high heels clicking against stone outside her cell pulled her from her reverie, forcing her gaze towards the thick wooden door. As usual, she couldn’t see who approached; but the woman’s tone, at once authoritative and sultry allowed for immediate identification. No other woman could arouse such deep feelings of helplessness, compliance and arousal with so few words before one had even laid eyes upon her.

Sally Whitemane, High Inquisitor of the Scarlet Crusade pushed open the door of Sylvanas’s cell, frowning at the sight of such an undead creature beneath her holy monastery.

Sylvanas didn’t give a single fuck what sort of face the white-haired human made, for her eyes immediately went to the woman’s fat, wobbling tits and those delectable thighs, so thick that every movement made them jiggle lewdly, barely contained in the slutty stockings the woman wore. The Banshee Queen felt her cock slowly stir to life at the sight.

“Hrmf,” Whitemane’s harsh stare bored into Sylvanas. “For one with a reputation such as yours, I was expecting you to put up more of a fight.”

Sylvanas grinned, her gaze never meeting Whitemane’s, instead staring at the High Inquisitor’s luscious, delectable curves. Her legs only appeared that much longer thanks to the whorish heels she wore. No wonder Whitemane had a reputation for keeping her soldiers in line with all manner of salacious activities, wondered Sylvanas. The sight of the woman’s dark red-and-gold attire, of that indecent corset pushing her huge tits up, of the piece of fabric covering her ass and cunt, could only invite the most impure of thoughts.

“Not one to speak, are you?” the Inquisitor said, turning to close the door behind her, allowing Sylvanas to catch a glimpse of that monstrous, wobbling ass. It was of such breadth that the diminutive piece of cloth dangling from her waist to cover it seemed wholly inadequate, being swallowed between those colossal cheeks of pale flesh. “Imagine that, being bested by a brick head like Herod,” she chuckled.

Sylvanas felt her cock stir once more, pushing against the tightness of her leather leggings. One would have had to be blind to not see the outline of that indecent tool.

Every part of Whitemane’s body seemed to scream sex. Avoiding such a tantalizing view would be impossible, not that the Banshee Queen even wanted to. It felt like eons ago she’d last seen a woman, never mind one as full-figured as the white-haired priestess that now stood before her. Though the inquisitor’s words were meant to wound her admittedly burdensome pride, Sylvanas was too focused on that enormous ass and those mindboggling knockers, her thoughts drifting to images of her painting the sultry human with gallons of sticky banshee nut.

“Herod doesn’t seem to be the only idiot around here,” Sylvanas said, her red eyes finally meeting Sally’s. “Imagine thinking it could ever be a good idea to antagonize the Horde while your base of operations is right next to one of their capital cities,” she laughed.

Of course, the Banshee Queen’s cock had now hardened to a point where ignoring it was nearly impossible for Whitemane, and Sylvanas noticed a brief, almost imperceptible glance downward. If she was to escape, it would be with the only weapon she had left. Unlike her bow which could be confiscated or her banshee powers which could be nullified, being stuck in a cell for so long only strengthened the Dark Lady’s unholy appetites. She wouldn’t let the chance slip away.

Whitemane arched an eyebrow. “They won’t attack while we have you captive.”

Though the Inquisitor appeared cool and collected, recent attacks by Horde and Alliance adventurers had left her forces somewhat diminished, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they sent a force strong enough to overtake the whole Monastery. A religious zealot she might have been, but a fool she was not. She could not let her doubts show in the face of a foe like Sylvanas Windrunner who could exploit any and all weaknesses.

“Oh, they will,” Sylvanas continued, her dark red eyes burning with malice. “And then they’ll have their way with you, as the rest of your order has,” she added.

A flash of light burned at the tip of Whitemane’s staff and Sylvanas felt a searing pain envelop her, forcing a silent scream from her lungs. “Shut your clever mouth,” the human said, risking another glance down at the bulge growing between the banshee’s legs. It was already so huge, surely it would not grow any bigger – could – not grow any bigger.

“Now, now,” Whitemane said, the light from her staff dimming considerably, though not entirely. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that cooperation is the only way you’ll make it out of here painlessly.”

Sylvanas smiled, watching as the priestess paced from one side of the cell to the other, her wide hips and thick thighs moving with sinful grace. The banshee’s cock was now hard enough that it felt almost painful, a long tube running along her inner thigh. She couldn’t wait to see how much larger it would grow before the end…

“I can’t help feeling sorry for you,” Whitemane said, returning to stand in front of the Banshee Queen, her hands resting on her hips. Another glance at Sylvanas’s crotch. “You’ll never make it out of here alive or un-alive should I say. I can always offer you a more… painless exit, if you cooperate. Tell me of the Horde’s plans in the Plaguelands.”

The Dark Lady could tell how much Whitemane wanted to see what was hiding between her legs by the increasing frequency of her glances. This was torture for the both of them.

“The Forsaken are going to take over every square inch of Lordaeron and slaughter every single living soul they find,” Sylvanas taunted. “But perhaps if you help me relieve some stress, a few of them might survive,” she added, looking down at the huge, throbbing bulge between her legs. It was time to test if the rumours regarding Whitemane’s appetites were true.

Sally’s eyes burned with a sudden rage at Sylvanas’s words, and she immediately began casting a spell that would have doubtless flayed the skin from the Banshee Queen’s bones. When her gaze met the enormity of Sylvanas’s bulge, however, eyes widened with shock, the light from her spell dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. When she saw just how fat Sylvanas’s banshee-cock was, she quickly looked back up at the Dark Lady, her voice shaky. “I… What the fuck is that…?”

She knew it was large, as she had glanced down at it. But the speed at which it hardened and grew left her stunned.

Sylvanas laughed. “Yes, yes. You’re right to be afraid, for this is the cock by which I will annihilate the Scarlet Crusade. But you can still serve me, sweet little priestess. Come closer, let me see those fat fucking tits of yours.”

In response, Whitemane took a single hesitant step forward, her face flushed with shame. “I won’t betray the Crusade,” she defiantly replied.

“Of course not. You’re doing this for them. Everyone knows how much of a fucking whore you are, a damned cock-addict. You know it as well as I do. Every one of those crusaders up there that you’ve fucked and sucked, taking gallons of cum in every single whorish hole you’ve got, everyone knows it. Plus… I might be of more use if I can think straight,” Sylvanas said.

Whitemane took another step, her nipples stiffening under the scrutiny of the Banshee Queen. “Serve you?” The smell of the Sylvanas’s cock assailed her nostrils, and she felt her cunt spasm. It smelled like sex, like every night she’d spent getting ravaged by countless cocks to keep her troops’ morale up. At first, Whitemane had done it out of necessity, but she eventually had come to love every second of it. She had come to accept that part of her in time, though she did her best to hide it.

“Yes, serve me. Fuck, you think I’d let a slut with a huge ass like yours go?” she said, staring straight into Whitemane’s eyes. “I want you to grab my cock and start sucking on it, I’m going to pound you into the fucking wall. You can’t take your eyes off it, might as well experience it.”

Whitemane’s cheeks turned the same deep red colour as her outfit. “No… No, no, there must be something else I can…”

“There isn’t,” said the Banshee Queen, her eyes flashing. “So stop wasting my time and get on your knees. Untie me too, while you’re at it.”

Whitemane knew this woman was dangerous, that removing her shackles could very much spell her doom. But the risk turned her on so much more, and she felt herself growing wetter by the moment at the sheer wondered of it. Her body had at all times been her greatest weapon, and now it was about to be put to good use. Slowly, she reached down and undid the Dark Lady’s belt before giving her pants a solid tug. Resistance was soon met and Sally found that it was impossible to pull them down further than a few inches, held up by the sheer strength of Sylvanas’s erection.

Sylvanas chuckled. “So pathetically weak. I’m not sure feeble hands like yours could properly pleasure me…”

Whitemane’s fingers shook as she grasped the base of the Banshee Queen’s shaft. Even through her leather trousers, the heat emanating from the Dark Lady’s cock was enough to make her toes curl. She had at all times wondered the Undead cold. She could have cum right then and there from the sheer power of Sylvanas’s cock without even paying any attention to her own needy pussy.

Even though she secretly craved the humiliation, Whitemane didn’t want to waste a second more. Her hands flashed with golden light, immediately burning the pants off Sylvanas only to be struck in the face by the Banshee Queen’s massive half-yard of elf-dick. The impact of that fat, throbbing pole under her chin quite nearly knocked Whitemane out and by some miracle of the Light, her hat managed to stay on her head.

Whitemane eyed the huge cock in front of her. Never in her wildest dreams had she imaged a dick so enormous, especially not one belonging to an elf. A part of her wanted to just stare at the thing forever, to worship it for all eternity, a whore at the altar of Sylvanas’s unholy bludgeon.

Sally was never one to back down from a challenge. She gripped the shaft firmly at its base, feeling the molten rod throb gently against her comparatively cool digits. It pulsed impatiently and she bit her lower lip softly.

“How about you undo these… Nngh… Fucking shackles?” Sylvanas groaned, tugging at the chains that held her up in the air in an X position.

The High Inquisitor snorted. “You don’t really expect me to trust you after the whole ‘I’ll kill you’ thing, do you? Besides, you can’t even move around properly with that fucking thing bouncing about. It’s just so fucking indecent. Maybe I’ll use you to help satisfy the women in my army,” she chuckled.

Sylvanas’s cock twitched slightly at the wondered of being used by the High Inquisitor and she said nothing. For the briefest moment, she truly contemplated that wondered.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Whitemane said, giving Sylvanas’s cock a tentative squeeze, watching as a thick dollop of clear precum oozed from the woman’s cockhead, rolling underside. “I’ve handled enough of these to know exactly how to take care of them…”

The Dark Lady’s breathing grew heavier as her arousal spiked at the wondered of so many curvaceous warriors of the Light competing for her cock. As tempting as the wondered was, she would never serve anyone but the Forsaken. Her reply to the Inquisitor was a thrust of the hips, causing her gargantuan fuckpole to slip from the human’s grasp, bouncing up and down and smacking Whitemane under the chin again. Before the Inquisitor could even recover, Sylvanas had swung her hips sideways, her tumescent length colliding with the side of the white-haired woman’s skull.

“I should knock some sense into you if you believe I’ll ever betray the Horde or become anyone’s slave,” Sylvanas growled, her cock standing angrily before a diminished Whitemane. “But since you’ve already done a fine job of turning me on, maybe we can skip the whole ‘interrogation’ thing and go straight to the fucking.”

Whitemane swallowed hard, still a bit dizzy from the cocksmacking she’d received, her cheeks turning red at the prospect of being fucked by such a monstrous piece of equipment. Her panties were soaked with her juices from the mere sight of the Dark Lady’s cock, but now that she was actually seeing it up close, she knew her legs would likely buckle and she would end up on her knees, begging for her mistress’s cock.

Sylvanas smirked at the wondered. “Go ahead, bitch. You know you want more.”

A surge of anger and lust exploded through Whitemane’s body, making her fists clench and her mouth open in a silent scream of frustration. She didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to give in. She wanted to be in control but Sylvanas, even as she remained chained to ceiling and floor, was managing to take that from her.

Sylvanas flexed her cock, flinging a thick rope of clear precum onto the priestess’s face, covering her countenance from chin to forehead.

The High Inquisitor’s eyes widened, and she licked her lips hungrily, her tongue darting out instinctively to lap up the viscous liquid. She had to distract herself somehow; her body was reacting violently to the sight of the huge shaft before her.

Whitemane reached up with both hands, grasping Sylvanas’s massive fuckpole firmly. Even through her gloves, she could feel the solid, throbbing meat of the Dark Lady’s erection, veiny length pulsating angrily against her touch. She felt the warm skin of the elven undead’s shaft beneath the fabric, and she shivered with anticipation.

“F-fuck…” she gasped, squeezing tightly.

Sylvanas moaned and instinctively tried to reach behind her head, but only managed to rattle the chains somewhat. The heavy iron links rattled loudly against each other, prompting Whitemane to look upwards at them.

“Who are you working for?” the High Inquisitor asked.

“The Horde,” the Dark Lady replied, frowning as her captor’s hands ran along her cock, squeezing every inch of the turgid monstrosity.

Whitemane smiled. “And what does the Horde want?”

Sylvanas’s cock jerked at the sound of the question, eliciting a low moan from Whitemane who happily licked and slurped at that fat cockhead. There was little she wanted more than to stuff her dick deep down the human’s throat, to shut her up. “What do they always want? To ensure their survival.”

“That’s not an answer!” Whitemane hissed.

Both knew they were playing a game, trying to cover up their need, smoldering desire filling the cell. They knew where this was leading, but there were things they also needed from each other.

Sylvanas’s cock twitched again. She couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that she was frustrating the Inquisitor. She loved when people underestimated her, though she was feeling a little frustrated herself. Women typically fell to their knees at the sight of her dick, yet this one was somehow resisting its powers.

“Tell me,” the High Inquisitor demanded.

Sylvanas sighed and made no attempt to hide her frustration from the Inquisitor. “Remove these damned shackles from me and we can talk it out over a glass of wine,” Sylvanas mockingly replied.

To her great surprise, Whitemane extended her hand towards the shackles holding her arms up and shattered them in turn with bursts of holy magic. Sylvanas fell to her knees, groaning and rubbing her wrists. “Fuck, I don’t even have any blood flowing in me and you somehow managed to drain the blood from my limbs,” she muttered, noting how the white-haired human had not removed the shackles at her ankles.

“I’m quite certain I know why you’ve no blood in your limbs,” answered the priestess, glancing down at the banshee’s monolithic she-cock. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” said Whitemane, taking a seat on the bed and crossing her legs.

“Fuck,” wondered Sylvanas, the sight of those thick thighs pressed together like that causing her cock to throb violently. For a moment, she wondered her dick would burst when she got a glimpse of the inquisitor’s soaked panties. She watched the woman lick her lips and felt her cock twitch painfully in response. The human’s aura was such that, if Sylvanas let go, she would probably blow her load right then and there on the floor. “Fuck,” she wondered again.

Whitemane looked at the cock pointing right at her, smirking. She’d had swords less impressive pointed at her. “It’s been two weeks since we’ve captured you and you’ve managed not to cum. Not bad, for someone who spends so much time with the Horde,” she said, grinning, her disdain for the Horde almost palpable in the way she pronounced the word. She leaned back on the bed and crossed her arms, pushing her cleavage out nicely.

Sylvanas brought a single hand to her turgid prick, slowly stroking it while staring into Whitemane’s eyes. “Nngh… Feels so nice. But your hand was definitely better,” she said, licking her lips slowly.

Whitemane’s eyes were drawn to the Banshee Queen’s pulsating monolith once again, watching as Sylvanas pushed fat globs of precum from its slick head onto the stone floor below. The clear liquid ran along the cracks in the stone until there was nowhere else for it to go, slowly creating a shining puddle. The sight brought back the dizziness from that recent cockslapping, and she felt her mental fortitude slipping.

Whitemane suddenly leaned forward, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and grabbed a handful of the Banshee Queen’s white-blonde hair, pulling her face closer to hers. Her lips touched the Banshee Queen’s, and the High Inquisitor’s tongue quickly found its way inside the Dark Lady’s mouth, demanding she reciprocate.