Five months had passed since Anduin had brought the Nagas into the fold.
Despite the ongoing war with the Horde, they were 5 months of peace, prosperity, and a massively booming population. A whole generation of humans had been born, the last generation that benefitted from humanities previous gestation, short compared to most other races. The magic that had seeped into every soul that dwelled in Alliance territory had made humans immortal and with that immortality came an increase of the time it took to bear a child. A common side effect of magic, spreading from elves to draenei.
The gigantic baby boom had warranted creating an entire new city district, where mothers could tend for their young far away from the depravity of regular life. Children were to maintain their innocence, not to be indoctrinated into this lifestyle but to choose (or not choose) it of their own volition when they were of age.
To that end, the previous program that children spent the majority of their day in Dalaran was changed to them spending most of their young lives on an artificial island that was created beyond the shores. It was constantly surrounded by protective forces of naga and ships, making sure no one left or entered without permission. Portals connecting it to the main land were under strict supervision. The island was a veritable paradise for young children, with plenty to explore and teachers of every craft that could answer their questions.
Similar islands were created everywhere the Alliance held influence. Far from a prison, regular trips were arranged so that the children could see the rest of Azeroth and on some days the constant orgies in the cities stopped so that the young ones could explore the civilization they would inherit. The parents of the children moved to the island with them. There were retreats for the adults to continue their lovemaking in the fashions they preferred.
Anduin himself was blessed with five more children in this time. Mizzy, Fenella, Baela, Modera and Tess all gave birth. Because Anduin had a gigantic, supernatural estate, he was able to keep his babies at home, without risking their exposure to anything indecent. Medivh would make sure the palace magic kept them away from such sights.
The High King, of course, bred those five again the day they were ready. Which, thanks to magic, was typically the day right after they had given birth. Their second child would be a long while out. As would the next of Anduin’s heirs in general. Each of the remaining pregnant women already had a gestation numbering in years. The magic was actively lengthening this. None of them were showing and wouldn’t be for a long time.
Six heirs to begin with was plenty for Anduin and many of his haremettes were busy tending to the little ones. In a harem as gigantic as his, there was still at all times someone to tend to his lust.
Ysera was bobbing her head in his lap, moaning each time his gigantic cock scraped against the back of her throat. In her stomach sloshed his seed, load upon load of it, so rich with magic she could sustain herself on it alone. While the warmth and nourishment was plenty reason to keep deepthroating him, the greatest reason of all was simple: she was a good girl.
The Dream Slave let out an appreciative hum, when he grabbed her by the horn. A thrust into her and her eyes rolled up. How much better everything felt when he took charge. In and out, never stopping, until he was releasing another load deep inside her mouth.
Spurt for spurt, she swallowed, squirting with each gulp.
Her eyes were still rolled up, when Anduin pushed her off his cock. It popped from her deep purple lips, clean as it possibly could be. Ysera toppled over backwards, spasming and squirting, laying to the feet of the High King, who had a new slave between his legs before he could lower his hand.
Azshara’s mouth was opened wide. Smooth, sticky tendrils latched onto his cock, pulled the throat of the slut over his immense manhood and kept massaging him when she was all the way down. Following a spontaneous urge, Anduin grabbed her by both horns and rose from his seat.
The queen of the deep sea could do nothing, but quiver in ecstasy as her Master fucked her throat. Her beautiful face contorted in bliss. Hard and fast, she was reminded of her place in the world. A comfort hole, a throat to be used — absolutely delightful in its simplicity. Over and over she came, tasting him with the alien folds of her throat, adding to the puddle of juices the sex slaves created.
Then he rammed his cock completely down her throat. Wiggling tentacles went into a frenzy, stimulating every last sensitive spot along his length. Anduin came down her greedy upper hole with ever-equivalent intensity. Azshara’s eyes rolled up, her tight lips curled into as much of a smile as feasible. This was her purpose, to swallow spurt upon spurt of his seed. To welcome it into her like the cumdump she was.
Anduin beheld the ecstasy-ridden face of his 15 th wife with sadistic satisfaction. Tentacles clung to his manhood, remained outstretched even after he popped free of the tight seal of her dark lips. They wiggled enticingly, while she panted, red eyes rolled up in her skull. Aftershocks made her graceful curves quiver. A particular heavy one was triggered by him placing his sack against her lips. With pure veneration, the woman that had been sung to be the most beautiful to ever exist sucked his seed-filled balls into her mouth. She lavished them with the massaging touch of her tentacles, until he tired of this simple service and sat back down in his throne.
Azshara was still worshipping his scrotum, when Anduin reached to the left and pulled the sex slave waiting there towards his crotch. Valtrois was drenched from watching her Master dominate his other slaves and squirted the moment her thoroughly trained mouth came into contact with his cock. The same cock that had bred her stuffed the smug arcanist’s throat. Smug when it came to her lesser, which Anduin most certainly was not. He was so far above her, he might as well have been every god she ever prayed to combined. No, he was so much more than that. He was her beloved husband, her Master, the progenitor of the house that he sired using her womb.
Valtrois’ fingers pumped in and out of her blue cunt. Rivulets of pussy juice drenched her thighs. Her folds clenched around her two digits with each renewed orgasm that being kept impaled on his hot meat rod caused. Her eyelids fluttered. The lack of air made her dizzy. Her pussy kept on gushing. What little breath she had, she spent wisely on pressing out what little scream she could. It mattered, above all, that he heard the bliss he was bringing her. To worship his cock side by side with the woman who had caused the downfall of their ancient civilization… no, side by side with a fellow set of holes. How wonderful beyond words.
At the last moment before she passed out, Anduin pulled his 13 th wife up. He reached to his right, hands clawing into Stellagosa’s blue hair. The blue dragon aspect trembled wantonly at his touch and opened wide, while getting dragged down to his cock. Like Valtrois, she was kept down, incapable of breathing. Her body twitched from the repeated climaxes that ravaged her. Her field of view shrunk down to dancing dots of black and white, then her windpipe was unblocked. As she blinked back to reason, missing his cock in her throat, she heard the Nightborne screaming at getting hers filled again.
Back and forth, Anduin used them, like the toys they were. Wife or slave, they were unified in their place as his cumdumps. When he did climax, he did so between their blue lips. The released seed showered down on Azshara, who was hit by a renewed wave of spasms. Every drop of his cum on her skin was another blessing to be counted.
Cock drunk, the queen of the Naga, soon sat up again. Her tongue joined that of her fellow comfort holes, bathing their Master with constant affection. All her being was concentrated on this single task — until a shiver went through the arcane fabric of reality.
Anduin felt it too, perhaps even more keenly than she did. The knowledge and skills he had been given access too, he wielded them with ever greater familiarity. Azshara pulled her head back and smirked. “It is time for the expansion of your domain, Master.”
“Indeed it is,” he responded with a nod.
Anduin beheld the shore of Elwynn. Where once only wooden ships had drifted towards simple piers now was a marvel of civilizations and impossibilities. Gnomish, dwarven, draenei engineering combined into a dock of unparalleled productivity and quality, creating ships by the week with more sturdiness and firepower than any model that had come before. Merchant vessels distributed the fruits of the eternally fertile, blessed forest throughout the rest of the world, reaching all those lands that did not yet trust the High King’s vision enough to let them set up permanent Dream Portals. Smaller vessels surrounded the islands on which the children were kept away from the adult’s daily debaucheries.
South of the busy ships sat, almost side by side, the Exodar and the body of the old god N’zoth. One was basked in ever more intense radiance, the inhabitants so dedicated to being perfect slaves that their zealous submission seeped into the naaru blessed crystals. An anathema to the being next to it, yet put in harmony by the force of Anduin’s balance. The High King had become the source of the Light on Azeroth more than he had become beholden to it.
The body of the old god itself had been fashioned into a kind of living temple. The malicious orange eyes all over it and the gaping maw that split it down the middle were unnerving — or would have been to the humans of old. Used to so many sights of the Shadow, the eldritch had become the mundane and N’zoth was shackled by the watchful eye of not just Anduin, but Xal’atath and K’ara.
Now, further to the south, unclaimed ocean was turning purple from arcane might. The seas boiled and waves broke, as a titanic bubble of spatial magic formed in the area. From the depths of the ocean floor, Nazjatar travelled, to take its rightful place in the bay of Stormwind.
Anduin exchanged a glance with Azshara. The scantily clad queen elegantly brushed over her owner’s cheekbone. “Let me do this for you, my owner, my tamer, my sun and guiding star,” she purred and stepped forwards.
Standing atop a platform that dwarves had fashioned from the mountainside, beheld by a crowd that was pouring steadily out of the tunnel that connected it to the whole of Stormwind, the enemy turned eager slave moved her four arms. The arcane gestures were second nature to her, executed with the ease that a servant poured water. The spatial magic manifested further, until Azshara alone completed a ritual that had taken all the mages of Dalaran weeks to prepare.
The queen of the naga had only grown more powerful since her descent into slavery. All of Anduin’s women had. They were getting drenched, day in and day out, by the environmental magic and the potent seed of the High King. Steadily, they studied their individual fields of expertise, with double the enthusiasm now that they knew that their knowledge would advantage him not only by virtue of their service.
Nazjatar arrived, among gargantuan arcane runes. The purple shell burst, releasing the water that had surrounded the deep seat city. Azshara had held greater tons in the past. With a flick of the wrist, she smooth over the surface, leaving her city to be a bioluminescent sparkle that shone through waves, sitting at the bottom of Stormwind’s bay. The highest towers of her palace stuck above the surface.
Azshara impatiently folded her arms and waited. “How dare they make us wait?” she growled, her anger melting into affection the moment Anduin groped her round ass.
“It is a complicated set-up you demanded,” he told her. “Give them a moment.”
A moment was all the subjects of the deep sea monarch required. The calmed waves stirred again, as an entire structure from Nazjatar rose from the floor. Towers with roofs like shells spiralled upwards, rising until they hit the height of the platform. Gates aligned perfectly with gaps in the railing. They opened, revealing behind them a mass of water that was stopped by the doorway as if it was solid glass. A third structure, practically a keep in its own right, rose between the towers. Its gate stopped before Anduin and swung open, beckoning him inside.
Azshara critically inspected the gap between the walls of the fortress and the platform. The entire building slowly moved forwards a tiny bit, until there was no gap to inspect. The floor was perfectly aligned with the rock of mountains. “Satisfactory,” the queen declared and turned around. “Subjects of my beloved owner!” she addressed the people, “the gates and slaves of Nazjatar are open to you. Tame -ah!” Azshara moaned and quivered, a pair of fingers rubbing the thin fabric covering her breeding hole. “Tame thhhhhose that you wish and know wiiiiiish to be ta-ah-med, like I wasssss.” She dropped to her knees, face nuzzling the bulge in Anduin’s royal robes. “Use who wishes to be used!”
The crowd had to hear nothing more. Masters and slaves marched towards the gates. Runes along the edges lit up, connecting to the Summerwind Cycle. Nazjatar would be a net positive to the demands of that magical apparatus, filled to the brim with magical entities — not that they would ever have any energy concerns with all else that was paying into that system. The runes bestowed all those that passed through the gates with an immediate enchantment to breathe the water within.
Anduin himself marched through the greatest gate, followed closely by his harem. It led right to his new personal palace, extending all the way down to the ocean floor. A seaside getaway, so to say, with as many rooms filled with air as they were with water. A distinction with little difference, to a group that could bend the laws of physics as readily as them. They moved to a balcony underneath the water’s surface, so the High King could see his subject stream into the streets of Nazjatar.
Azshara had arranged for the sluttiest whores of her people to line the streets on entrance. Those free use sluts that were too horny to serve a single master and instead wished to be a set of holes used by whoever fancied it at the time. Casual cum dumpsters, for as long as they wished. The moans soon reverberated in the water, typically muffled. Nagas typically had sensitive throats like their queen, alien and perfect for constant use, as they could breathe just as well through their gills. Whether on their knees or on coiled up, serpentine tails, most of the whores found themselves with a hard cock rammed down their throat or a needy cunt grinding against their lips.
Those that had no interest in such promiscuous cocksleeves explored more of the city, finding the expert commerce of the people who had only kept the non-intrusive or attractive factors of their old, monstrous appearances. Near the palace was the courtesan district, where those slaves that wished to bind themselves to a beloved master were presenting themselves for discovery. Both among the sluts and the loyal servants, missionaries of the Cults were already active. They had an easy time spreading their message. It was only a matter of time until churches dedicated to both would be erected down here.
Standing atop the balcony, Anduin nodded happily. “You’ve done well, Azshara.” The queen preened at the praise and seemed ready to drop back to her knees to beg for a reward. Jaina, however, cleared her throat with an urgency that made the High King raise an eyebrow. Azshara regained her composure, turning from happy sex slave to graceful, even arrogant, queen in a second. Not that there was much of a distinction to be drawn there.
Anduin sensed excitement among the haremettes, a surprise they had contained and hidden behind the trust he had in them. The cheer with which they moved around only had him put further faith in that trust.
They took an usual formation. All 30 of his direct sex slaves formed a corridor, their order that of their position in the harem hierarchy. Spells were quickly woven, tapping into the communication network of the Summerwind Cycle, spreading a projection of what was happening all throughout Stormwind.
Standing at the opposite end of the corridor, Vanessa VanCleef produced a simple golden circlet from her waist. “Anduin Llane Wrynn, my Master, you have brought justice to the defiance,” she began and passed the circlet to the next in line.
“You brought redemption even to places you could not reach,” Yrel declared, golden light pouring into the circlet.
Milly took the glowing gold and carved symbols into it as she spoke. “You gave my people our home back, bestowed us with hope and pleasure.” One final move of her tool, and she handed the mildly decorated and enchanted circlet to Maiev.
“Elune as my witness, you are the strongest and most just man to exist,” she stated militantly, sending a fraction of her own power into the gold. She had to bow down to pass it across to Baela.
“You’ve railed me good, stud, and I love you for it — for that and so much more. You’ve shown all the criminal scum of Booty Bay a good life.” She bit the cold with her cute fangs, just hard enough that the barely magical material indented.
“In you, I have found reclamation of my fertility and the error of my ways. I’ll be yours to breed forever. Under you, my flight stands redeemed,” Onyxia said. The magic of the black dragon aspect made the gold expand, until the circlet was the size of a diadem, additional points extending from the ring artlessly.
Azshara was next, receiving the circlet through telekinesis. “You show even the greatest of women what they desire. I wished for a place to belong and you found me.” Sparks of her might were woven into gemstones of crystallized energy, turning one of the artless points Onyxia had added into gem-encrusted masterwork, bristling with energy.
“I was an aimless fragment of the light, dedicated to a goal that wasn’t my own,” K’ara stated, her energy flowing into the gold, making it glow more intensely than Yrel’s blessing along could have. “No longer — I have found what I wish to serve.”
“For the longest time, I thought all was lost, that Kul’tiras was just struggling to survive in a doomed world,” Taelia stated, carving the symbol of Fordragon house into the circlet. “You brought honour to me, a purpose greater than being a single knight. I will bring victory to your battles and be an ever willing bed for your seed.”
“I stepped forwards out of obligation… I stay out of love,” Stellagosa stated as she added bright blue gems to another part of the circlet. “You will never make me regret it.”
“I was a mere dryad, but your attention uplifted me. Showed me the beauty in the Scarlet Dream,” Xal’Sytha’s touch caused red tendrils of ivy to wind elegantly around the ring. “I am forever yours, Master.”
“A life dedicated to research, a life I thought well-lived, until you gave me another chance at youth,” Modera declared, enchanting the circlet. The sheer might of the arcane power now bound in the object manifested as a shroud of runes around it. “You gave me a beautiful daughter, let it be many more.”
“The Nightborne were drifting aimlessly, with no certainty. We would have been killed without you. The nagas were just the first to see an opportunity, of course I hold no grudges against one of our own. You have given us a future.” Thalyssra added to Modera’s enchantments, adding to the formalized patterns of the Dalaran mages the swirling runes of her kind.
“I was the first to submit and I will forever be proud of what I started,” Tyrande declared and raised the circlet upwards. A silver light descended on it, filled the water with a gentle presence. Where once had been only gold, silver soon joined, turning the circlet into a wreath of gold and moonlight. “Elune knows you are the saviour of all worlds, my Master.”