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Loyalty to a Master

How do you earn a Demon’s loyalty, especially one as unwilling as a Wrathguard?

“Thank you for your patronage! May the Sands avoid you!”

A polite nod answered the kind wishes, then the door to the small shop opened and closed, and the doorbell rang. No more clients, no more people.

Outside, the Sun had set, and all the streetlights had been lit, casting that eerie blue glow that permeated Dalaran at night.

A glance through the glass door, and it was confirmed… A moment later, Laïrae turned the sign on the door to ‘Closed’.

Outside, the inhabitants roamed, the usual calm settling in after a rowdy day. Leisurely strolls and hastened paces were mingling altogether before the small Warlock looked away.

His eyes, blue like the sea, scanned the small shops with all the bookshelves looming over him. Stacks of books awaited him in a corner, recent admissions that hadn’t been capable of taking care of.

A sight that elicited a sigh as he shook his head, glancing at the tomes on the shelves. Many were aging treaties from before his Mentor. But the majority comprised recent books by Laïrae’s contemporaries.

This place, this pride, wasn’t a mere bookstore where romantics would find their unallowed smut. No. It was a font for when mages desired another perspective on their studies… or warlocks needed knowledge that wouldn’t cost their souls.

Still, the Warlock grimaced, pulling on his robe’s neck. He huffed, shook his head, and then jumped on the stool behind the counter that officiated as his desk.

“Nix. You can come. I have a need for your services.”

He wasn’t asking politely.

It was an order as a hidden door behind the stairs opened, and so followed the childish stomps. And of clawed hands picking up one stack of books. Then-

“Careful. They are rare manuscripts,” said Laïrae, his voice soft as he picked up a feather and an inkpot to add annotations to his ledger.

“You keep saying that… Stupid mortal,” huffed another voice, rumbling and deep.

“I say that because it is the truth. You are holding a treaty on Evocation from the Magus Hevter. Another from Priestess Kalla about the danger of unrestricted holy magic. And the one you are about to grab is an abandoned research paper on transmutation.”

“Why are you leaving them here, if they’re so precious?”

“I can only receive deliveries and clients at a time. Now… Do you need me to give you pointers about where you shall put them?”

Without lifting an eye, Laïrae pointed at the nearest shelf. Much like the others, they were organized in Laïrae’s way. Well, not exactly his. But his Mentor, Maznok, had been quite strict about how to organize knowledge. Names mattered in the organization, but not as much as the subjects and topics. Hence, the shop had that sense of order and purpose that made it perfect for researchers. And even more pricey, despite its small size or the relatively small number of clients compared to any other shop in a large city like Dalaran.

“I am not your slave, furball.”

Laïrae raised his head in answer. His ears, elongated and pointing in different directions, twitched as they turned slightly. Dissatisfaction. His tail swept when he glared at the Wrathguard. Nix-Ithak.

To any warlock, a Wrathguard, as soul-bound as Nix was, could be compared to a toy or tool. Perhaps a companion for some. In the case of the heavily armored, snarling, and purple-skinned demon… Well, he was a bequest.

Despite all the issues the Wrathguard had caused, trying to find loopholes in any order to mess with Laïrae, the Vulpera was quite unwilling to let him go. Even if it would be easier to find a more diplomatic and willing partner to scour Azeroth.

“Is it already time for us to squabble about this? You are soul-bound, Nix. You might be outraged about this, but it won’t change a thing.”

“Yeah. Because the old Fart croaked after binding me to you,” scoffed the Wrathguard, putting a book on a shelf… And stopping when Laïrae coughed.

The Wrathguard rolled his eyes and placed the book just a few inches to the left.

“Better,” said the Vulpera, leaning forward and resting his chin on his open palm. “Are you regretting Maznok’s presence? You must miss his discipline.”

The answer was obvious as the Wrathguard’s tail twitched. Nix wouldn’t dare to show his displeasure, as his back was turned to the Vulpera. But Laïrae knew Nix was seething and fighting to keep his composure.

“Do not speak about this. Furball,” huffed Nix-Ithak, reaching for a bookstack to organize.

“Well. I can. But I’d like to talk about your constant need for rebellion. You treated me with more respect when Maznok was alive.”

“You were his pet project,” replied Nix, his voice stiff. “But I will not follow his Pet’s order, even if he is dead.”

“Yet, here we are.”

The stomping on the tiled floor continued, completed by the different books placed and ordered. It was almost in that eerie silence that the Vulpera stood up to leave the front of the shop. The back of the shop had all the amenities required for a mage or a warlock, even down to a door leading to a vast cave downstairs.

However, what Laïrae did was to fetch the pot of tea he’d prepared. Grabbing it, he placed his hand against the metal until the skin underneath the white fur glowed green… And steam escaped the pot.

A moment later, he returned to the entrance with a warm cup of tea to sip while watching the Wrathguard still at work and almost done with the cleanup. No more book stacks.

However, Nix was still rumbling and whispering something in Eredun. Not the kindest curses he could utter, Laïrae guessed. But… It was getting tiring.

“What will it take?”

“What?”

“What will it take for you to acknowledge me as your Master?”

-

The small Vulpera grumbled as he stomped in the wet mud.

His loafers were definitely ruined, and so was the fray of his black and orange robes, another of his Master’s gifts. A displeasing situation as he stomped onward, followed by the constant clicking of Nix-Ithak’s armor. Whether it was the shoulder plates meeting the helmet, or the blades attached to his tail, the Wrathguard was keen on making them cling together at each of the Vulpera’s dissatisfied huffs.

A way to tell he was watching the Warlock’s progress and enjoying Laïrae’s suffering.

“I should’ve picked a place that was less rainy,” grumbled the Vulpera, his ears dropping.

“You can recede and accept to release our bind,” added Nix, relaxed.

“Release it? Never,” huffed Laïrae, lifting his robe to jump around a puddle.

Releasing Nix-Ithak might have been a good option… But not as the Demon had been bequeathed to him. To release him was akin to accepting to step back to Vol’dun and to embrace the life that could have been his… Long before Maznok.

“You are definitely opinionated about this.”

“I am. Are you ready to hold your words?”

“If you can subdue someone I qualify as fitting, I will respect you. Yes… But I do not know if there is something worthy here.”

Sure enough, the place looked closer to a dirty marsh. But it was the fastest path Laïrae had picked. On their left, Highmountain loomed, almost threatening them. Its presence cast a long shadow, making the climate colder and more humid as it was close to the sea.

The morning fog had already dissipated, but it was the perfect place for some unruly people to hide in… And especially one tribe of Taurens that had been a pain in the neck of many of Laïrae’s clients or contacts.

“Do you know the Taurens?” asked the Vulpera, glancing over his shoulder to check Nix, who advanced with ease compared to the trudging Warlock.

“The big cows? They are large and strong. But not worthy enough. Do better.”

“And what if it’s a Tauren who’s strong enough to contend with Demons?”

“Ah! Show me one! I’d like to try that!”

The Vulpera’s ears dropped, his frustration slowly climbing… The constant clicking was getting on his nerves.

But as he was about to retort, he saw it. The first totem.

That one was recent, clear by the wood’s clean color. However, what caught the eye were the green markings all over the carved Tauren face. That… And the gleaming gems implanted as eyes.

The energy the totem gave off was strong enough to make the Vulpera’s mouth water before he shook that need off and circumvented the totem.

“What is that?”

“A marking from the Feltotem. They are a fair fight.”

“Cows with Fel? It might be appreciable. Now, now. Where are they?”

“Further.”

Further meant another five-minute trek through the marsh.

But in the end, they finally saw one. It wasn’t one of the strongest Tauren, nor a Feltotem Berserker. It was merely a scout, sniffing the air and planting stakes. One Laïrae chased away with a simple fear spell.

“That’s not subduing. And that cow was definitely weak,” huffed Nix, hidden alongside the Vulpera behind a bush. “Do better.”

“That’s not my target. Now, get ready.”

The second Tauren they saw was also a scout, which ran in the same direction as the first.

However, as the stakes and totems grew numerous, they finally arrived at the small camp. And… They faced their target.

He was a hulking Feltotem Tauren. Though the horns were shaped like moose horns, they ended in a burning, green tip, riddled with fel. The same fel that coursed through the Tauren elongated fingers ending in claws. Or the one in his eyes.

Those details were all expected and natural for a fel-addicted creature.

However, that Tauren was different in the fact that he was a brute. His upper body was developed like no other. The shoulders were broader than was naturally expected, the lower body constantly tensing to keep up with the additional weight upstairs.

And those legs, powerful and ending with charcoal-black hooves, trembled under the weight.

“What’s that? An ill cow?” laughed Nix, stepping forward. “Look how much it trembles.”

“Get ready,” said Laïrae, already channeling the magic within his very blood.

“For what? It’ll cough at-UGH!”

In the brief moment that took for Nix-Ithak to gloat and mock the Tauren, the Berserker had dashed and hit the Wrathguard with his horns pointing forward.

However, Nix had had the reflex to pull his two swords and deflected the worst of the hit. Still, from the sheer momentum, the Wrathguard was pushed back a few feet before he recovered his balance.

“Ohhh! That cow is not that weak!” laughed the Wrathguard, grinning from ear to ear, showing how sharp his teeth were. “But that’s not a worthy enemy!”

“Do not underestimate him!” shouted the Vulpera, one hand by his mouth, while with the other, he channeled a spell in his palm.

As the energy accumulated, the tips of the Warlock’s fingers glowed green. The same fel that was currently coursing through the Tauren’s bloodstream. However, his power was in control, not in reshaping his body.

Maznok’s first rule had always been how the Warlock shaped the Power and not the opposite. A rule… That even applied as Laïrae concentrated the Fel and shaped it like a rope or a chain… A Chain that shot towards the Tauren when he opened his palm.

Meanwhile, the Tauren had not been waiting for the Warlock.

Though a caster was dangerous, the first reaction from the Berserker had been to focus on the Wrathguard. With only a club, shaped like a totem, in hand, the Tauren had been ready to come to blows.

And now, as the battle started, he wielded that club with the intent purpose of keeping the Wrathguard on the defensive.

Nix, of course, wasn’t taking it easy as he kept his swords raised, deflecting hit after hit. Each time the club came, he aligned the blade’s curve to redirect all that energy along the edge.

But such action had consequences, leaving him practically unable to defend himself. Sure, he’d tried to use his other sword to stab the Tauren. But the Tauren’s hide was like steel, and hitting it was like hitting a wall.

A weak thrust wouldn’t do much.

“Any help? I told you I protect you! Not that I would do everything!”

Right after that cry from Nix, the chain linked with the Tauren’s back. The Berserker roared, his head turning towards the Warlock holding the chain. The air around rippled with Fel magic. A Fel that swirled and then began to coalesce around the chain before shooting at the opposite side of the Tauren. Right towards the Vulpera.

The enervating effect was not lost on the Berserker as he tried to grab the chain linked to his back, only for his fingers to go through.

“I have him distracted! If you may?” shouted Laïrae at Nix.

Nix, who was taking his sweet time to readjust his helmet and armor, corrected his grip on his blades.

“Are you asking me politely? Mazn-“

“For once, shut up and follow the orders!” shouted back Laïrae, watching as the Tauren was about to charge at him. Already, the massive Bovine was kicking dirt, his head low.

Despite how weak his legs looked, he seemed capable of covering the distance in a short time.

That was until the Wrathguard shoulder-checked the Tauren and sent him rolling on the ground before he jumped back on his hooves.

“Archimonde! He is quick!” roared the Wrathguard, his grin growing as he rushed forward.

“Looks to me he’s weaker than he should!” shouted Laïrae, yanking on the chain.

With the other hand, he was fiddling with raw magic. He could create a portal and summon another demon, one of the few creatures under his thrall. But… Nix-Ithak had been quite clear; he could only use his own magic.

“Are you thinking of cheating?!” asked the Wrathguard, now trying to exchange hits with the Tauren instead of deflecting the hits.

“Not at all!” replied Laïrae, creating a bolt of Fel energy into his free hand. “Watch it!”

As Laïrae’s spell flew through the air, it hit the Tauren square in the shoulder. A clean hit, with an appropriate explosion. However, the Feltotem didn’t look as… Bothered by it.

Although there was a nasty flesh wound in his left shoulder, he ignored it as he continued to wield that mace.

Even the fresh cuts on his flesh, making him bleed green all over his dark brown fur, were not enough to get him to stop beating the Wrathguard who tried to keep the Feltotem’s focus on him.

Whenever the Tauren tried to look towards Laïrae, towards the source of that chain that was slowly but steadily draining him, the Wrathguard tried to stab him in the side.

His twin blades would hit the flesh where it would be thinnest. But the Bovine always turned and twisted his body on time to avoid the hit or deflect it with his own arms.

“He’s not so bad! Not so bad!” laughed Nix, visibly excited by the situation.

Whereas, Laïrae snarled and huffed.

Maintaining that concentration was quite tedious. Moreover, as he was constantly feeding Nix magic. Demons could never maintain their presence on Azeroth unless they crossed a portal physically. Hence, for those summoned, they had to be drip-fed magic to keep their shape.

And in case they were wounded?

Laïrae experienced it as a constant drain on his power, an enfeebling presence.

One that flared and grew whenever Nix exchanged hits with the Tauren, taking the blows. Nix’s skin would bruise, his arms would break, or he could even get his head bashed. However, the Warlock’s power would heal him.

Each little gash would seep that green Fel-infused blood before knitting back. But that cost?

Oh, it was heavy as Laïrae was huffing, grunting… And certainly frowning under the added burden.

Sweat matted his fur, and the more the fight continued, the more it became obvious… Nix-Ithak was about to lose. And then, it would be his turn once drained of magic.

“Nix! Defend yourself!”

“That’s not how it’s done! Feed me! Warlock!” shouted the Wrathguard, using both blades to intercept the club before it hit him.

However, the hit was so intense it sent the Wrathguard flying back a few feet, his feet firmly planted in the soft soil.

“I can do it on my own! I will beat that Tauren and show you why he’s unworthy!”

“Don’t be stupid! You’re wasting too much power!”

“Why would I care?!”

Sure. The Demon wouldn’t care.

But not the Vulpera, not as he observed that Wrathguard squander all the energy, all the power he’d been accumulating lately. Soaking infused stones, draining other Demons. And yet, Laïrae was feeling at the limit.

His grip on the chain was loosening despite all his efforts to maintain his control. And the Wrathguard’s wounds were slower to recover.

All… Thanks to his limits. He wasn’t as good as Maznok; he didn’t have his mentor’s experience. But sure as the Twisting Nether, he wasn’t willing to let go of his Master’s bequest.

“NIX! JUMP LEFT!”

“BASTARD!”

The Wrathguard shouted, but the order came, and he indeed jumped to the left, avoiding the Tauren’s hit that had been aimed right at his skull. Instead, the nearby rock had been bashed so violently it exploded.

And the Vulpera watched the crater left behind it… Before he turned to Nix, dumbstruck.

“Keep moving! Aim for his wrists to disarm him!”

“It’s stupid!” roared the Wrathguard, his tail smacking the ground, though his blades went for the Tauren’s hands… However, the flesh there had hardened like stone.

Even if the blades hit and smashed, the Tauren’s grip on the club remained as steady as before.

And the Vulpera… He could only do so much to hinder the Tauren, even as he was actively draining his energy.

“Do I have to do everything?” roared the Wrathguard.

“I can’t… take everything at once! He’s got too much!”

The truth was, as Laïrae concentrated… he could feel the Fel permeating that Berserker and the surrounding air. Doubtlessly, the Tauren had been feasting on all the creatures around Highmountain, even the last pockets of the Legion’s invasion.

It must have been why procuring those demons was getting difficult, too.

“WHAT A PISS POOR WARLOCK!”

“I am not Maznok! Sands, take me! I! Cannot fight as he did!”

A snarl followed Laïrae’s roar, his lips pulled to show his teeth as his grip on the chain grew stronger. As he yanked on it as strongly as possible, enough to make the Bovine lose his countenance for a second.

One second won. Just enough to keep it from hitting Nix. And to avoid another hit. Yet the yank left Laïrae’s hand trembling. And burning, with that fiery green fire clawing a little more of his hands.

So long as it didn’t devour a finger or his whole hand, it was possible to recover, but… He had only some leeway left.

“Then… You do not deserve to have me! I know you want it! Release me and summon all the pets you own! You’ll be able to beat him, right?!”

‘But you’d lose me.’

Laïrae snarled as he saw the situation the Wrathguard forced on him… He watched his hands, the chain… And then, the Wrathguard that was still exchanging blows with a Beast that looked ragged but far from dropping.

So many choices, but so little he could do as his mind raced and spells flew. Fear wouldn’t work. Curses bounced. Bolts flew.

“What are you doing?!”

“Trying something, you idiot!” roared Laïrae, definitely using all the options and starting to run empty.

Only a little more, and all his fingers would be devoured. The contact with the chain wasn’t helping at all and…

“FEL! AKH!” cried Nix-Ithak, the mace connecting with his shoulder. The bones broke with a crunchy noise, and the hand dropped the blade since it couldn’t keep its grip.

One arm… One entire arm, which was not just bruises and cuts.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” shouted Laïrae, dropping the chain while focusing his power on the Wrathguard in a defensive posture.

Sure, the Bovine wasn’t enervated anymore, and his movements seemed lighter.

But Nix was defending himself well with a single blade. The Feltotem was definitely a monster who’d been consuming Fel for a while.

“Finish that thing off!” roared Nix, certainly stuck in a defensive posture. But even his blade was getting chipped, and he was getting backed against a wall.

Each step from the Tauren was another from the Eredar, backing away.

But there was so little ground to give before the Wrathguard was against a wall and ducking, roaring, shouting while Laïrae was drained by the second.

The Vulpera’s energy was fed to the Wrathguard, but there was not enough… He couldn’t empower him fast enough for Nix to recover that arm.

“Are you planning to do nothing?!” shouted Nix, avoiding another blow that left a dent in the stone behind him.

“I…”

Laïrae looked around.

No source of Fel around. Even the Totems had dried up. If he hadn’t chased the scouts away, he could have drained them. He even checked his pouch, looking for any trinkets he might have. But they were drained, too. Empty. Everything… All his reserves were empty.

“Sands… I-“

Laïrae watched his burnt fingers again, and then he snarled.

“You’ll owe me a lot, Nix-Ithak! Remember this!”

Then, with those same burning fingers, Laïrae reached for his right eye.

Sacrificing one part of a body… One of the last resorts any Warlock could employ to power themselves. Many would sacrifice a finger, a hand. A foot. However, those sacrifices were often worthless.

Sacrificing something meant giving up, not just spilling blood for the sake of it. As such… The senses yielded more power. Among them, sight was the most important part he could sacrifice.

Laïrae cried as his eyeball burst into flames. As that power rushed inside his veins alongside that nerve-wracking pain. On one eye, he could see. On the other hand, it was becoming blind, engulfed in green.

But the energy, the power, the pain. It was something else…. Something he could channel as he focused it all towards the Wrathguard.

Nix was shouting or crying about something. But it mattered little as Laïrae unleashed everything he had, all that raw feedback… And in return, the Wrathguard’s arm snapped back into shape. It was an instantaneous recovery.

No… Even the Wrathguard’s limbs bulged with power. His eyes flared green, his grin grew. And as Nix deflected a hit, he closed his fist and punched the Tauren’s guts.

Tauren who… Stepped back. Stunned.

A terrible retreat, a poor choice because that opening was what Nix needed. He dropped his blade, grabbed each of the Tauren’s wrists before they snapped brutally. Then, as the mace dropped, and the Tauren roared… Nix pushed on those arms, bending them at an angle that forced the Tauren to kneel, to lower himself.

To… Submit before the Wrathguard head-butted the Berserker, knocking him down.

“Well… That was something, Laïrae. Maybe you’re not so crap,” said the Wrathguard, huffing and looking at the Warlock with his right eye bleeding green.

Warlock, who gave him a tired thumbs-up.

“Thanks… For the vote of confidence,” he grumbled. “Let’s… Take that Cow home.”

-

“What an ugly scar,” said Laïrae, looking at himself in his handheld mirror.

The traces of the combustion were there, with his charred skin and fur. But as soon as he was done poking around, the glamour he’d picked covered that eye. By the end, it looked as though that eye had been the victim of a nasty cataract.

Not the best glamour, but definitely one that wouldn’t tank the shop’s finances.

“It suits you.”

Laïrae frowned, dropping the mirror to get a look at Nix-Ithak.

The Wrathguard looked definitely in excellent shape, if not for his dented armor.

“More like it suits you well. I hope that power won’t be wasted,” huffed the Vulpera, dropping the mirror and getting a look at his laboratory.

Located right under the shop, it looked like a perfect den for a Warlock with chains, cages, grimoires… And right now, a ritual circle with the Feltotem Tauren currently bound inside.

Clean, stripped of his rags, and looking far less impressive once he had been Fel-starved.

The fetters bound the Tauren to the ground and almost crushed him. A pathetic vision, completed as Laïrae sat at his desk, observing the one that had caused him to lose an eye.

“Well. He’s bound now… What now?”

“Attached? Yes. Subdued, no. You have to dominate his will,” said Nix, huffing.

“If I release the bindings even a little, I’ll unleash an angry, fel-starved Tauren in Dalaran. Nobody wants that.”

“Well…”

Laïrae shot a glance at the Wrathguard who approached the Tauren. Nix poked at that face, at the Tauren glaring back and looking like he was about to devour the Wrathguard. A strange sight from a bovine, but still. Nix-Ithak wasn’t bothered as he reached for the Tauren’s lips, pulling on them. The mouth had been cleaned, too.

“Well?”

“It’s not a normal method Maznok would like to tell. But our Cow is hungry,” said Nix, picking the Tauren’s saliva. “And I know something that’s enriched in Fel.”

“Oh… What is it?” asked Laïrae, his ears raising in anticipation.

They dropped when Laïrae saw the Wrathguard stripping, undoing all the straps holding his harness, his pauldron, even his skirt, down to have it all dropped. Sure, the tail armor remained, as well as the helmet.

But Nix’s body, clean of blood, appeared in the laboratory’s green light. The candles flickered, their light reflected on the slight layer of sweat covering the bulky Wrathguard. The purple skin was tight around the body, with green veins throbbing beneath the skin near the extremities. But that chest, those abdominal muscles, even that groin were captivating.

Down to those genitals, with those testicles hanging low in a leathery pouch… Or that uncut shaft that pressed against them, though with a throb shaking that length every so often.

One throb… And that cock bobbed up and down. Another, and it would bounce and then hit the testicles while Nix approached and slipped his fingers inside the Tauren’s mouth while squatting.

“You can release his jaw,” said Nix, his smile dangerous.

“I…” began Laïrae, sighing and then waving his hand. “I do not condone this.”

“You do not have to condone. Only to cast while I handle the beast for us.”

The Vulpera rolled his eyes, one finger raised while he glanced at his nearby grimoire. And so, the chain’s tension eased. The Tauren’s mouth, but before it could close again, Nix’s fingers stuck inside the Tauren’s mouth, pulling on the jaws with such strength that they couldn’t close anymore.

Not as that mouth was forced… And soon, the Wrathguard’s cock throbbed strongly, green blood rushing inside.

The spear grew, with the foreskin being peeled back by the sheer volume. By the mast that was growing by the second. By that mushroom-shaped tip that presented itself to the Tauren’s mouth.

Sure enough, the green eyes flickered with fear and horror, then a snarl appeared. But the moment that cock was inside the Tauren’s mouth, something changed.

The Tauren’s demeanor relaxed, all the tension he’d been putting against the chains relaxed… And even Laïrae could feel at ease without the constant drain.

“That’s it… That’s what you crave. Fel. I’ve got the stuff for you,” chuckled Nix-Ithak, slipping an inch inside that wide mouth, only for the Tauren’s tongue, charcoal black, to dance upon it, to coil, to wrap… And therefore, to please the Wrathguard.

“If I knew nursing a Tauren on a Demon’s penis would solve my problems with you,” huffed the Vulpera, one hand on the grimoire’s page while he traced the spell in the air.

Soon enough, a chain appeared between him and the Tauren, with a slow influx of Fel coursing through it, right… Towards Laïrae.

“Do you know how long I have been summoned with no release? Back home, we have Sayaads to take care of our cocks and polish our-“

“I believe you,” answered Laïrae, glancing away. “It must be very important for the Legion not to have pent-up soldiers. Yes. Of course.”

“Huff all you want. But that’s how we can keep many soldiers motivated for a fight. Or to die and regenerate.”

Nix-Ithak’s moans quickly filled the room, followed by the Tauren's deglutition as he swallowed whatever the Demon offered, nursed on.

Laïrae, of course, tried to ignore the sounds: the lips trying to close on the cock, the tongue coiling, the constant suction of that throat being penetrated. Even that throat-clenching was loud enough to make the Vulpera bothered, with his ears low as he completed his spell.

“Maznok was not bothered by it.”

“And I am not Maznok. I am a scholar. Not a… Pimp.”

“Don’t be so tight. Plus, let me enlighten you. I have a Tauren to use. You have a Tauren servant eager for his next meal. Everyone wins something.”

“Yet, I lost an eye.”

Nix-Ithak scoffed. But the sound of suction and swallowing continued. The Tauren might have looked fine, but now that he had the Wrathguard’s cock offered to him, he acted like he was famished. He sucked and sucked until Nix removed his fingers and enjoyed the lips sucking on his cock. They pulled on the foreskin, on the flesh, while the Tauren’s horns were used as handles.

Pacified as he was, or enthralled, the Feltotem was gladly taking the slow thrusts coming from the Wrathguard, even though his throat bulged from the assault and the Wrathguard’s nether smacked against his muzzle and chin.

Those eyes were not lying, even when Laïrae glanced at the strange duo to check his spell.

He could see how much Nix was enjoying this, sometimes pinching his own nipples and… well, it was not an unpleasant sight. Demons could come and go in abject forms, but Nix-Ithak was evidently proud of his shape.

He often cared for it, cleaning himself with soap while other Demons would be fine, reeking of the Fel and with the grime sticking to them. That vanity was also the reason he turned to Laïrae and grinned at him while passing a hand over that chest.

“Do you want your fill, too?”

“No thanks,” replied Laïrae, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

However, he still had to watch now that he’d completed the spell.

It was a mere drain spell associated with a soul-bind. Both would weaken the Tauren’s innate defenses and would then bind the Tauren so he wouldn’t escape the Vulpera’s grip.

However, the situation was… odd. Comical in a way as Laïrae watched Nix enjoying himself. And clearly picking up the pace.

The Demon huffed and grunted, closing his lips and clenching his jaws while his testicles smacked against the Tauren’s chin.

The Tauren himself had his green eyes fixed on the Demon, the hunger and greed sickening the Vulpera as those hips thrust faster… And faster… And faster.

The Wrathguard’s legs tensed. The feet stomped. The tail flicked left and right. And then… With a sigh, Nix’s testicles were lifted.

Once… Twice… And so came the deglutition, as the Tauren swallowed the cum pumped into his mouth.

Of course, the Feltotem’s cheeks bulged, but then he swallowed with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down before a sigh came. From both… From Nix as he pulled his cum-and-spit-covered cock from the Tauren’s lips.

And from the Tauren, visibly relaxed and at ease. More so, enough to whisper something to Nix before the Wrathguard patted the Tauren’s head.

“Good cow. But we’re not done. Laïrae! Can you bind his mouth and raise his ass?”

“… Are you giving me orders?” asked the Vulpera, cocking an eyebrow.

“Please?”

“Wait-“

The Tauren’s words died when the Fel chain encircled his muzzle and locked his mouth once more. Sure, the Bovine huffed and growled. But meanwhile, the circle of chains shifted, with some pulling on the Tauren’s legs to spread them while that ass lifted in accordance with Nix’s hums and huffs.

The Wrathguard was even stroking his chin, observing the scene while ignoring the trail of fluid he left in his path. A trail of glimmering green cum leading to where he stood, behind the Tauren.

“I imagine you want to fuck him, now?”

“Please. I am not a brute.”

“Hmm hmm,” replied Laïrae, tilting his head forward.

“No. You, mortals, know about foreplay? That’s something the Sayaads teach us.”

Again, Laïrae rolled his eyes, feigning indifference and looking at his grimoire. But it would be a lie if he wasn’t bothered or intrigued by the sight of the Wrathguard squatting behind the Tauren.

The posterior lifted and propped up; it looked like something the Wrathguard desired as he licked his lips and… Approached his face from the entrance. His helmet dug against the furry cheeks, but it was obvious; Nix-Ithak was doing something.

Something because the Tauren’s eyes widened. The Feltotem fought against his bindings… Before he moaned and relaxed, his eyes half-closed.

“Whatever you are doing to him, it works,” said Laïrae, checking on the spell. The soul-bind was coming nicely, rooting itself within the Feltotem soul. Despite the Fel slowing it.

“I am eating his ass. And what a fine ass.”

“… Eating?” asked Laïrae, frowning.

He frowned even more when the Wrathguard raised his head and had his tongue dancing between his index and middle fingers held up in a scissor.

The Vulpera huffed, recoiling before adjusting his posture on the chair.

“You would do that?”

“Why not? You cleaned him. And eating ass is delightful. The wrinkles that titillate your tongue. The flavor… Let me enjoy this,” said Nix, certainly doing everything to ‘enjoy’.

The result, however, was for the Tauren to moan and groan. For that mouth to open and for that hulking beast, of twisted flesh and bones, to moan loudly. No. Even to melt under the touch while that tongue was triturating, pushing, and exploring his entrance.

The hands clenched into fists and then reopened every so often, guided by the Wrathguard’s tongue and slurping, the saliva sticking to Nix-Ithak’s helmet while he was slobbering over the entrance. And loudly.

But so was the sound of his grunts as he pushed against it, as he prodded the virgin orifice despite the Tauren’s displeased and weirded-out grunts.

“Do not anger him.”

“I do not. He’s not experienced,” replied Nix, glaring at Laïrae over that fuzzy ass before the tail smacked the top of his helmet. “I’m going back. I’m going back.”

Well.

It wasn’t like the spectacle wasn’t enjoyable. And Laïrae himself was feeling bothered and yet… Excited at the sight of the Wrathguard clearly handling and preparing the Tauren… And then Tauren himself showed signs of excitement beyond the huffs and groans.

No… Between his spread legs, the Tauren’s own manhood was steadily rising to action.

His cock, uncut, was steadily growing, and with that, the foreskin was pulled back until the corona was revealed, with some green papules along the coronal ridge.

An odd sight, completed by the organ that had that dark purple color with patches that were as dark as charcoal. Perhaps from the abuse of Fel, though it did not hinder the penis’s capabilities for an erection.

In fact, it might have been possible the Fel had improved the Tauren’s parts because the green blood was concentrating in that organ… And even those low-hanging testicles were definitely showing increased vascularity. Right to the point, it looked like they throbbed with each of the Tauren’s heartbeat.

Heartbeats that were growing in frequency and intensity following the Wrathguard’s regular licking and sucking on the rim. On his sometimes nipping at the fuzzy posterior… And then, even smacking that plump ass until the Tauren’s thighs tensed.

But the eagerness to fight the bindings was truly gone, erased… Replaced by the Tauren’s mooing and the relaxed demeanor, his claws digging into the hard stone of the cave while his tail flicked left and right with excitement.

Even his eyes were half-closed. Soon, Laïrae watched the Wrathguard pulling back just so he could insert his fingers inside the entrance, poking at it.

“I have never seen you so dedicated to a task,” commented the Warlock, leaning against the table, his fist against his chin in a thoughtful posture.

“What can I say? I am a Demon of pleasure,” said Nix, visibly chuffed. “Do you want me to stop and leave that Cow hanging?”

Even the Feltotem huffed, certainly desperate for release now that his cock was dripping a fel-infused precum over the ground.

“No. But I imagine if I keep him around, you’d be more willing to follow my orders without a complaint?” asked Laïrae, tugging at the spell.

Sure enough, the soul-bind was fully entrenched. But the link between him and the Tauren was weak. But strong enough that he could feel the excitement from the Tauren, the lust, the need… Even the itching in his posterior before Laïrae pulled back.

“I sure can. But it doesn’t mean I want you to always watch from the sidelines.”

“Of course, this is only for the ritual. Then, I’ll have you two lovebirds free.”

“No. I mean. You could join us,” said the Wrathguard.

Laïrae straightened his back and head. He even tilted his head right in surprise, while the Wrathguard winked back at him. And then smacked the Tauren’s posterior, making the Tauren huff and… Moan.

Moan as his cock shot a jet of precum against his belly while the Wrathguard used the Tauren as support to shift his posture… And had himself placed behind the Feltotem.

Nix-Ithak’s penis was stiff and throbbing. The semen that had coated him had since dropped, though precum was coating the glimmering and throbbing end. The Demon had no papules at the corona, but said corona was extensively wide… And contrasting with the shaft. Nix rubbed said penis between the Tauren’s buttcheeks, using his hands to squeeze both glutes together in a form of masturbation.

A masturbation ending with some precum being shot all over the Tauren’s back and tail, though the Feltotem was growing excited, blowing air every so often.

The Tauren’s own cock smacked against his belly in a not-so-proud display while the Wrathguard kept teasing and playing with the rim that was now winking, and almost closing whenever the Wrathguard’s cock rubbed against it.

A foreplay, a teasing, one that led to the Tauren’s breathing quickening and his voice to melt into a concerto of moans and groans…

Until the Wrathguard’s shaft pressed against the entrance, and the Tauren huffed loudly.

Sure enough, that penetration was not to be taken lightly… And the girth itself had to be felt by the Tauren, whose eyes widened in apprehension.

Fear, stress… Horror even was written over that Bovine as he silently supplicated Laïrae.

A plea that fell on deaf ears when the Vulpera shook his head and watched.

Watched as Nix grabbed his shaft, aligned it with the tight entrance, and pressed against it with his strength and weight.

The Tauren mooed and cried, his fingers twitching against the stone while saliva dripped from his lips. But that erection wouldn’t recede. No, it continued to drip onto the floor while the Wrathguard huffed and grinned, slowly progressing inside the Tauren’s warm depths.

“That hole is good,” nodded the Wrathguard to himself, definitely chuffed.

He even puffed up his chest, while he wasn’t entirely inside.

But without Laïrae commenting on it, Nix bent forward, leaned over the Tauren’s back. He held those sides while their united grunts completed the sound of suction. The growl from the Demon and the groans from the hulking, bound Tauren… Tauren, who was unable to close his thighs despite his constant pulls on the chains.

A constant but weak pull that allowed Laïrae to peer again into the binding, joining them… And to feel. To sense the pressure inside him.

For a second, the Vulpera could sense how his guts were forced from within. But also a fire, a fiery presence nestled deep within him that was nudged by the Wrathguard’s presence. A nudging that would only grow as Nix advanced, pushed… And pressed his penis deeper against that walnut-sized organ. Against that part of the Tauren anatomy that was bursting with desires and needs.

An instant later, the Vulpera recoiled from the link and physically.

Luckily, neither of the two had noticed him, but he certainly had his hand on his chest, feeling his heart throb. He was…

“I… Later for the verification,” he whispered to himself, blinking as he tried to collect his composure, to adjust his robes, to smooth his puffed fur.

Only for a deep and powerful moan to break that instant.

The Vulpera glanced at the Feltotem, watching as the Tauren’s eyes rolled. The Wrathguard’s movements rocked him, shaking the Tauren from his posterior to his core, to his head as he raised his eyes and mouth despite the bindings.

He wasn’t fighting the bindings or the chains. Rather, as the Wrathguard’s thrust, slow and steady, pressed inside him… His body reacted instinctively.

The Tauren’s legs twisted while the hooves scraped the stone. The claws drew vast grooves in the ground. Saliva dripped from his mouth… And he kept blowing air, his chest lifting and dropping at an interval the Wrathguard imposed.

The Wrathguard imposed as his hips smacked against the Tauren’s, his testicles smacking against the Tauren’s bigger ones while their thighs joined. While that posterior, fuzzy, and sweat-covered, was clapped in a thunderous hit.

One… Followed by many more as the Wrathguard was adjusting his posture and then using the Tauren’s own back as a support while his thrusts grew in intensity.

Soon enough, Laïrae watched the Wrathguard enjoying himself. His lips curled into a grin when it wasn’t the tongue licking his teeth clean like the lash of a whip.

His green eyes flared while steam escaped from his body… From his back, from his bulging shoulders, from his abdominal muscles as they sometimes met with the Tauren’s body.

All that body, forged for conflict and overpowering his enemies, was dedicated to fucking and overpowering the Tauren. To have that shaft, sizable with an ever-more sizable corona, pumped in and out of the Tauren’s ass.

Whenever he desired it, Nix would pull out, lift his hips to the point of the shaft being on the verge of leaving that tight passage… Only to delve right inside, eliciting a deep moan.

A hit… After another. Each shaking the Tauren Brute until the eyes could no longer focus, and that cock was spraying the ground below like a faucet.

The scent of ass and sex permeated the cave itself. By the stench of needs and desires, the Wrathguard broke into laughter and delivered another smack on the Tauren’s ass.

“Yes! That’s one good hole! He’s even better than the Sayaad!” roared Nix.

“Good to hear,” mumbled Laïrae, trying not to look as he could observe that green precum now sticking to the Wrathguard’s sides, to that posterior. Or that puddle under the two.

But he could see… Note that the Feltotem was about to reach his limits.

His body quivered faster, his breathing was ragged and uneven compared to the ‘discipline’ Nix exerted to fuck the Mortal. A discipline in the way his hips dropped regularly, his testicles smacked against the Tauren’s… And his speed increased, steadily but assuredly.

What began as a slow motion, careful and tender, turned into a thunderous clamor that filled the cave… The sound of those cheeks being clapped and the moans from the two Fel-riddled entities at work.

A clapping. A thunder. A storm of cries and moans that culminated to the point Laïrae had to cover his ears for a second… As the two roared.

Well, the Tauren tried to roar, but the sound came out muffled. Nix-Ithak however? Oh, he emptied his lungs in a war cry while cum sprayed all over his groin; the flow hitting him back as it couldn’t go much further inside the Tauren.

And the Tauren himself was shooting all over the floor, the stench of cum now overpowering everything… Even someone whose nose had been used to the powerful stench of burnt flesh.

No… Laïrae was covering his nose while keeping his hand raised for the spell… And for a moment, he thought about closing his eyes to ignore the semen that was sprayed on the Tauren’s fur and posterior, certainly glazing that orifice.

“So… He’s bound?”

The question came with the Vulpera opening his eyes and watching the Wrathguard standing aside from the Tauren, still erect and grinning. He looked like a satisfied conqueror compared to the exhausted Feltotem lying in his own semen.

“Hmm? He… Yes,” confirmed the Vulpera, his ears dropping. “He is soul-bound.”

“Good. I hope you don’t mind if I have another turn with him?”

Laïrae’s ears dropped, watching as even the Tauren had a thin smile.

“Sure. Do whatever you want. I’m out,” huffed the Vulpera, jumping off his chair.

“Thanks, master,” said Nix, the last word eliciting a smile from Laïrae as he left the cave and the two lovebirds.