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To Be a King	By : RotSeele Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 11142 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft. I do not make any money off this story.

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Ysera

She of the Dreaming, the Aspect of the Green Flight, lifted her head and opened her eyes to gaze around the chamber she was trapped within. How long she had been here, she didn’t know. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months - time was something fluid and fleeting. She couldn’t sense the sun’s movement, nor the moon’s. She couldn’t sense anything familiar about the place. She wasn’t dead, that much she knew. How long that would last was something she couldn’t even begin to fathom. She held on to the hope that she would be rescued, of course, but it was a slim hope if no one knew where she was. Ysera wasn’t sure if she was alone in her captivity, or if she was imagining the sounds of screams and cries that echoed in her mind. She barely remembered how she had ended up in this chamber. Her memories were flashing, short-lived things, mostly noise and not much substance. Yet, she was certain goblins had been involved.

Yes, goblins had been involved. Ysera had been curled up in the Emerald Dragonshrine, her mind lost amidst the primal beauty that was the Emerald Dream. She had been drawn back to the mortal world by the foul stench of creatures she knew had never set foot in her Dragonshrine before, and had found herself under attack by a hundred or more of the tiny, green beasts. They carried thick iron chains and fetters, a muzzle made of riveted iron pieces that would have fit over her head had she allowed them to get close enough to put it on. She had fought them, crushing many under her feet and sending more into the forever dream. Yet they kept coming, and as she snapped her attackers up and swallowed them down, she began to grow more and more lethargic. Then, she simply ceased to know anything.

She had woken here in this dimly lit chamber in her two-legged form, that of a beautiful night elf. She had been placed onto a table made of thick wood and bound there by thicker steel and iron. Chains wrapped around her arms and legs and held her fast. Even if she strained with all her might, the chains never budged, never groaned with impending weakness. Nor could she change forms from night elf to dragon. Something in this room was keeping her from doing so. Whoever had engineered her capture had ensured that it wouldn’t be easy for her to escape on her own.

A key suddenly turned in the lock on a door Ysera couldn’t see. Hinges squealed as the door opened and the heavy tread of boots filled the room. Ysera couldn’t see who it was coming toward her, but her heart began to hammer in her chest and her breath picked up, which she fought to keep even and under control. If her captor thought she was still unconscious, there was a chance he would undo the chains binding her to fulfill whatever intent he had for her. Then she could orchestrate her escape.

The door closed with obscene gentleness, and whoever had entered stopped moving.

Ysera fought to keep still. She had to keep still, or she would give herself away.

The silence continued for several heartbeats, which then stretched into minutes. It was so quiet that Ysera could hear the thrum of her own blood in her ears, but nothing else. Was someone still here with her? Was there anyone in the room besides her? She couldn’t tell. She bit her tongue to keep from calling out, tensed every muscle in her body to keep from squirming, but the silence was beginning to scare her. Not even the Emerald Dream contained such stillness, such silence.

At last, Ysera could control herself no longer. She let out the pent-up breath she had been holding and tried to twist her upper body enough that she could angle her head to look behind her.

A dark-skinned hand slammed down onto the table beside her head, making her cry out. She stared up into the golden-crimson eyes of a man she recognized with a feeling of terrible dread. In his human guise, he was handsome. Clean-shaven with a strong jaw, Neltharion the Earth Warder’s - Deathwing’s - looks could make any female’s heart flutter, if she was just looking at the surface beauty. His skin was flawless and smooth. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, and was cut shorter than she remembered it being. He stared down at her with a smoldering, attentive gaze, that made her tense once more.

And, worse, he said nothing. Just stared at her.

“Why?” Ysera croaked, hating that her voice wouldn’t sound as she wanted it to.

Deathwing’s lips twitched into a tight smile. “Why not?” he responded.

“Alezstrasza and the others will-“

His hand moved toward her face. Ysera flinched, then shivered when his hand settled gently against her cheek and slowly made a trail south across her jaw and lips, stroking the flesh with gentleness unbecoming of him. “Oh, I’m sure Alexstrasza and the others will. It’s been a long time since we were all together like this, and I want to savor every moment of it.”

Ysera stared at Deathwing with wide eyes. “What do you want?”

“The world, of course. For Azeroth to bow down to me as its rightful ruler. For the lesser races to recognize my power, to fear me and know they live by my benevolence alone.”

“You won’t succeed. If I cannot stop you, Alexstrasza surely will.”

“Shall we bet on it?”

Ysera narrowed her eyes at him, concerned about the tone of voice he spoke with. Deathwing spoke as if he had already won, as if he knew something she didn’t. His fingers continued to trace a gentle path down her throat to her chest, caressing the curves of her breasts without delving beneath the material covering them. It made Ysera shiver, because the touch was so gentle, so unlike Deathwing, that it confused and scared her. And, worse, it made her blood begin to burn.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Deathwing continued, “because in the end it isn’t going to matter. One of you will break first and one of you will break last. Whether that’s you or one of the others remains yet to be seen.”

Ysera snarled at him and lunged toward Deathwing’s face. He jerked back from her, but it was languid and slow, as if he knew she couldn’t actually reach him. Ysera’s head hit the table, her cheek stinging from the hard slap. “You won’t win!” she screamed at him. “I will never break! No matter what you do to me, no matter how much pain you inflict, I will never break!”

Deathwing smiled, baring his teeth. His hand returned to her chest, caressing her breasts through the fabric now, and trailing lower, over her stomach. His fingers made odd little circles around her belly button before trailing up over her ribs and down over her sides. “I have no intention of harming you in any way, Ysera. I have no intention of breaking you with pain. Trust me, though. You will break.” He squeezed her breast, pinching her nipple through her top. Ysera gasped and arched, hating the way lightning sizzled through her blood and made her body tense in another way.

Then Deathwing removed his hand and left her. The door slammed behind him and once again, the key turned, locking her in. Ysera let out a gasp and felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. She let them fall because she couldn’t stop the turmoil of emotions taking over her, just as she couldn’t stop the memory of Deathwing’s touch upon her skin.

He visited her an hour later, or maybe ten minutes later. Maybe a day later. Ysera couldn’t tell. Sometimes she was left alone for hours, his touch lingering on her skin. His fingers were obscenely gentle as they stroked her stomach and sides, teasingly arousing when they stroked her breasts and nipples. At some point, her top had been removed, leaving her naked from the waist up. Deathwing never once used pain, just as he promised. Pain was easy to run from. Pleasure was not. She wished he would stop. She wished he would kill her. She wished he would continue because the fire he awoke in her was more excruciating than any physical torture he could inflict. He would stoke that fire and then leave her to roast in it, unfulfilled. It was constant and unending. Each time Ysera believed Deathwing would finally finish her, he stopped. He never spoke more than necessary either. He never said anything that gave her hope of rescue, or hope of having the fire quenched. He only smiled in varying degrees.

Hating herself, Ysera began to crave those smiles and those touches. He rewarded her with caresses to her breasts if she arched in just the right way. He rewarded her with obscenely gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders if she whimpered softly for him. He rewarded her with featherlight touches to her hips and thighs if she whispered his name. But if she did something that displeased him, Deathwing would bring her to the very edge and leave her there, snidely saying, “Well, if you don’t really want it, there’s someone else who could use my attention.”

Ysera didn’t know how long she endured Deathwing’s brand of torture before she finally couldn’t take it anymore. She had done something to please him - she couldn’t remember what - that had caused Deathwing to remove what remained of her clothing, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. His touches now spidered up and down her thighs and over her abdomen, tickling through the triangle of dark hair between her legs and stroking the hot, wet flesh below in slow, gentle circles as her body arched and writhed. Her voice called out his name in a thready, needy tone, and she fought against the chains that bound her still to the table, wanting more of him. Deathwing only continued to smile, rewarding her by slipping his fingers inside her and stroking the velvety inner flesh until Ysera was all but thrashing.

Yet, still, he left her burning on that table, dripping wet and aroused beyond any imaginable pain, and Ysera cried. She cried not because she hated herself for enjoying what Deathwing was doing to her, but because she wanted him, every inch of him, and she couldn’t figure out what she had done wrong. She couldn’t figure out what she had done that displeased him so.

He was gone for hours. Days. Weeks. Maybe months. Ysera didn’t know. She comforted herself by imagining Deathwing’s touches, the ghost-memories of actual physical contact. She craved it. It was the only thing that made her feel sane.

At some point, he returned. He stood staring at her, arms crossed over his chest, gaze smoldering as he regarded the once mighty Aspect of the Green Flight. Ysera stared back at him, chest heaving, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Now that Deathwing was with her, nothing else mattered. She undulated against the table, trying to entice him closer, trying to please him. Ysera didn’t know how, but even Deathwing’s gaze seemed to be like a physical touch. His golden-red eyes started at her face and raked down her body, lingering on her breasts, on her stomach, on her legs and what was between them. His nose flared as he scented her, as he smelled her want and need. The entire chamber was filled with it.

And still, he didn’t move. Deathwing continued to stand there and stare with that disappointed look on his face.

“Please,” Ysera said suddenly, her voice pitched higher in her plea, “please, Deathwing. Please!”

He moved now, closer. She could feel his heat against her and whimpered, moaning softly as her body reacted. Her nipples hardened. Her thighs became slick with her fluids. “Please, what, Ysera?” he asked.

The bass rumble of his voice made her keen and her body arch. Ysera strained against the chains holding her, wanting to reach him and hating that she couldn’t. “I don’t want to live like this anymore!” she cried. “Please, I can be good! I can show you if you give me the chance!”

Deathwing cocked his head at her, a smile playing on his lips that would scare anyone in their normal mind. “Oh, really? Can you please me better than Alexstrasza? Can you please me more than Malygos? Than Nozdormu?”

“Yes!”

“Well, you’re not doing a very good job so far. The show was nice, but a little lackluster. Perhaps you need another lesson?”

“No! Please, Master, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me like this! I can please you more than any of the others! I can! Just let me show you!”

Deathwing reached to stroke her cheek. The very caress of his flesh against hers made Ysera’s eyes flutter and a whimper of utter pleasure escape her. “Very well, Ysera.” Deathwing said, his voice warm and pleased. It caused lightning to strike down her spine, pleasure filling her until she felt she would burst. “I’ll give you one chance. Please me, and I will give you what you want.”

With a flick of his wrist, the chains snapped and slithered off her body to pool noisily to the floor. Ysera slid off the table and wobbled, barely able to stand after spending so much time on the table. Deathwing didn’t catch her. She didn’t expect her master to do such a trivial thing. If she couldn’t stand on her own two feet, then she didn’t deserve to please and serve him. Stubbornness and fear that her master would deign her unworthy kept her upright long enough to cross the small space between them. There she fell to her knees before him. Her fingers made quick work of his belt and the buttons of his pants. As her fingers wrapped around his thick flesh and drew him out, Deathwing let out a thunderous laugh and tangled his fingers in her hair. Galvanized by the display of affection, Ysera slid her tongue up his shaft and took the cap of his cock into her mouth, suckling on the hardening flesh as if it were the only source of her survival.

Deathwing grinned madly as he watched Ysera take him deeper into her mouth, then into her throat. She swallowed around his flesh once, then drew back and suckled on the tip once more. Her lips then trailed down his thick shaft to the base, then back up again, her teeth nibbling gently along the vein until she reached the tip once more. Then her lips parted and his cock disappeared into her mouth again. Her hands left his hips then, and he watched her cup her own breasts, pinching her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, rolling the hardened nubs until her entire body was twitching. Then one hand left her breasts and slid down her stomach, arriving between her legs. He let her do it, keeping a firm grip in her hair. He watched her hand move, knowing her fingers were sliding over her slickened flesh, perhaps even delving inside of her. The scent of her need filled his nostrils. Deathwing knew then he had succeeded with her, that he had broken She of the Dreaming, and that she was his to play with as he wanted.

But the final link in his chain of command over her had yet to be forged. It was building to that moment, though, he knew. He had denied himself each time he had pleasured her and left her wanting. He had taken his frustrations out on his own flight, the females who couldn’t say no to him, to relieve himself, but it was a hollow satisfaction. What he was watching, what he was hearing right now, was proof that his patience and self-control had paid off. Her mouth played his cock like she was a maestro and his flesh her instrument. She truly did want to please him, her master. Her eyes focused on his then, and Deathwing saw there no disgust, no hatred, no sense of self, only the desire for praise and confirmation that Ysera was doing her duty and giving her master everything he wanted.

He finally pushed her away from him before Ysera could make him come. She whined, then quickly silenced herself as he narrowed his eyes. Even if he had no intention of letting her go, the subtle motion told him that she was his plaything and that she wanted nothing more than his approval.

Deathwing had intentionally made the cavern they were in large enough to be the lair of two dragons the size of an Aspect. It didn’t look that way, or sound that way, because of the darkness that filled the ceiling of the cavern and the way that he had designed the dim lighting to only illuminate the immediate area around the table that held the captive in place. He held tightly to her hair as he stared into her eyes, his teeth bared in a victorious grin.

“Very good, Ysera.” Deathwing purred, feeling the pleasured shiver course through her body at the sound of his voice. “I believe you. Now, promise to serve me for all eternity, promise to be mine to do with as I please. Surrender yourself to me. Say it. Say it, and assume your true form. Only then will I reward you with what you,” he leaned down and kissed her hair, “so,” kissed her forehead, “desperately,” kissed her nose, “want.” He devoured her mouth, forcing his tongue to twine with hers. Then he pulled back and released her.

She prostrated herself immediately, close to kissing the ground he walked upon. “I promise, Master, to serve you for all eternity. You are my only master, the only one I wish to please. I am yours, now and forever.” Ysera leaned up, arching her back deliciously as her skin began to ripple and change. “Master, please! I beg of you! End my torment, please!”

Deathwing roared with laughter as he joined Ysera in the change. He was faster than she, but he knew she had no intention of fighting him or trying to escape. His powerful jaws locked around her emerald throat, forcing her submission. She gave it, barely making a sound as he bore her to the ground. If she struggled, he could break her neck with just a simple twist of his head. But she didn’t. He could smell her more acutely now, her want and need, her desire and her brokenness. Deathwing released her throat and prowled around the once-Aspect, testing her resolve, making sure - at least once more, said the voices inside him - that she truly was broken and his loyal slave. Her muscles shivered and trembled, but she didn’t move, save to follow him with her eyes.

“Ah, Ysera.” Deathwing purred. “You are magnificent.”

“Thank you, Master.” Ysera replied, her voice quivering from want and need and the desire not to upset him and leave her.

“You deserve to be rewarded for your loyalty.”

“...Thank you... Master...”

Deathwing stood behind Ysera now, grinning widely. He sank his sharp teeth into the back of Ysera’s neck as he mounted her, just below her skull. It was a warning grip, not entirely painful, but enough to make Ysera’s lips draw back from her teeth and a growl issue forth from her throat. Her body tensed as she felt his weight upon her back.

Deathwing pinned Ysera’s wings to the ground with his front talons, drawing his head back from her neck and releasing his hold on her as she roared in hate and fear and tried to surge up against him. He laughed cruelly, only because he now had proof that he had been right and as much as he had conditioned her to crave him and want him and obey him, there was still a glimmer of the old She of the Dreaming who struggled and fought against him to free herself. She bucked and writhed and tried to turn her neck so she could bite him on the shoulder or wing or face, but his heavier weight prevented her from doing just that. She screamed and roared and thrashed but he held on, waiting.

Her tail lashed, striking him in the thigh. A minor pain, a small price to pay for the reward.

Her movement, her panic, left her vulnerable. Deathwing shoved his entire weight down on Ysera and heard her gasp as all the air was driven out of her lungs. She had no strength to fight him now, and that was how he wanted it. Deathwing roared in victory and shoved his cock inside her. Her body fought him. Her slick, velvet insides clenched and contracted, trying to shove him out as her body bucked beneath him, trying to drive him off her. The sharp tang of blood filled the air as Deathwing drew his hips back until only the head of his cock was inside her, and then slammed them forward, driving him deeper into Ysera. She cried and howled, begged and pleaded for him to stop, and fought him until she had no strength left. Deathwing laughed, letting the sound rumble around the cavern like thunder. His talons dug into Ysera’s scales, holding her down as he thrust deeper into her and deeper still. His rhythm was powerful and rough, driven by his need to destroy her. Over and over he pulled out and shoved back in, thrusting harder and harder until the scent of blood was overpowering the scent of sex.

He came, filling her with his seed. He knew she felt it because she tensed and then sagged as if the will to live had left her. He didn’t pull out of her and leave her then. The thought of her finally breaking, finally becoming his made him hard again. This time, she didn’t fight him. She made soft noises as he moved inside her, this time around a slow, leisurely pace. This time he enjoyed it, letting her cry as he laughed. He took her over and over again, until he was panting and feeling exhausted himself. He bit into that verdant throat of Ysera’s, growling as he came for the last time, releasing every last drop of his seed into her broken form. Only then did he pull out of her and step back, looking at the supine form of the once great Aspect of the Green Flight.

Ysera lifted her head and craned it enough to meet his gaze. Deathwing stared at her, towering over her, wings flared to make him look even bigger. There was nothing in Ysera’s golden eyes, nothing that spoke of combat or battle, nothing that spoke of anything more than an empty shell that still breathed and moved and lived but was anything but alive. Deathwing parted his jaws and hissed lowly. Ysera’s head bowed, making her smaller.

“How may I serve you, Master?” whispered Ysera, subdued and broken.

Deathwing began to laugh, and the earth shook as he did. “Come here.”

She did.

“Turn around.”

She did.

“Beg me.”

Ysera, former Aspect of the Green Dragonflight, begged.

Deathwing mounted her, slid into her, and savored his victory as Ysera begged him to thrust deeper, ride her harder, and empty every last drop of his essence within her.
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To Be a King