End of Elves 3 – The Rescue

This is an especially brutal story, filled with torture, rape, and snuff. Be sure this is a thing you want to read before continuing.

Chapter Three: The Rescue

News spread fast on the tongue of the exhausted, traumatized elf girl who’d managed to escape the drow invasion of her small town. The attack was horrendous, but not surprising. It had been some time since the drow had come to the surface to harass the elves and most assumed it was simply yet another small border skirmish between the two races. Not that the attack was taken lightly. An appropriate response was hastily put together, the elven army gathered and set to march. The fact that the drow had not simply come to kill but had taken prisoners gave the elves confidence that they would have little trouble catching up to the guilty group. Assurances were made that the living would be saved, and the dead would be avenged as the army headed out, their hearts full of confidence.


It wouldn’t be much longer. It had been a long day of marching. They’d seen what remained of Merethyl’s town, butchered bodies buzzing with flies and drenched in blood and cum. Death at the hands of the drow was not common enough to diminish the shock, but the added perversity performed on the corpses was something new. Male soldiers in the drow army weren’t uncommon, but they were typically little more than fodder and there’d not been any instance previously of them being allowed to violate their victims in such a way. It left a chill of unease through the elven forces. Vianola Qinphine had been especially bothered. She’d not been a soldier for long. This troop movement was the first she’d been a part of that involved actual combat. She kept her sword held tight, at the ready, and forced her legs to keep moving, matching the pace of the foot soldiers on either side of her.

Tehlarissa Maghorn had more than a few years of soldiering under her belt. Marching just beside the fresh recruit, she had no trouble spotting the young elf’s nervousness. “There’s a reason the drow live the bulk of their lives below the surface,” she remarked casually. “They’re a lowly bunch. Greedy, impetuous children, really.” She nodded back towards the small town they’d gone through. “That’s the evidence of one of their temper tantrums back there. It’s sickening, but that’s all it is.”

“They killed a whole town,” Vianola whispered back, ashamed of her fear.

“It was a small town,” Tehlarissa replied. “Full of farmers. It wouldn’t have taken many drow to do the damage we saw. Our strength of numbers here today is more about sending a message to our people than it is about making sure we have enough might to beat them back. Just stay close to me, kid, and you’ll get through this in one piece. I promise you that.”

Vianola heard a hiss in the air and mistook it for another fat, buzzing fly gorged on the dead meat of her fellow elves. The hiss grew louder and a moment later an arrow slammed into the veteran beside her, piercing her right eye and spearing through her skull. The rookie let out a startled shriek, staring in horror as the older elf’s body twisted towards her. Tehlarissa’s remaining eye stared at her blindly, arms jerking towards Vianola and awkwardly tackling the young woman to the ground. As she fell, the rookie heard the hissing of more enemy arrows joined by the commanding voice of Syllana – their general and the eldest daughter of the ruling king and queen – ordering the troops to defend themselves and prepare to engage the drow.

The elf army did their best to follow their general’s orders, but the surprise attack left them disoriented and ill-prepared. As they scrambled to take defensive positions, they discovered that the small raiding party they’d expected was anything but. It looked as if the entire drow army waited for them, joined with allied groups of goblins, orcs, and ogres. It was no longer a decisive strike for revenge, it was a true battle for survival.


Vianola spent the first few minutes of the fight pinned under Tehlarissa’s corpse, gripped with panic. The veteran’s reassuring words meant nothing now that the woman’s blood was dribbling over her screaming face. Her terror gave her the strength to push the dead weight away. She scrambled to her feet, all sense of pride and courage drained from her in one terrible instant. The young elf broke free from her ranks, fleeing in a direction she hoped would lead her away from the drow forces. She tossed her sword aside and clung to her armor, praying for it to keep her safe until she could secure her escape.

A pack of goblins tasked with keeping the elves herded together spotted Vianola’s frantic fleeing and gave chase. The woman glanced over her shoulder, short black hair whipping against her forehead as her purple eyes caught sight of her pursuers. She let out a shriek and pumped her legs harder, managing to gain some extra distance from the short-legged goblins. Comrield – the leader of the small group – drew forth a curved length of wood, the edges covered in razor-sharp steel. He cocked the boomerang back and let it fly towards their prey. If Vianola hadn’t learned a valuable lesson in trusting her ears such a short time ago, she’d have been easily cut down by the weapon. Hearing the strange reverberation on the air, she chanced another look behind her and saw the projectile coming. With a strained yell, she threw herself to the side, narrowly avoiding the boomerang as it whipped past her.

The close dodge returned an ounce or two of courage to her hammering heart. As she rose to her feet, she looked back to the pack of goblins, seeing they’d slowed their movement. It seemed the thrown weapon had been their final attempt to catch her. They certainly looked tired enough from the short sprint they’d engaged in. With the remainder of the drow forces behind the goblins, Vianola felt a moment of safety. She could outrun them, escape them, find someplace remote and private to live out her life where no one would ever know of her cowardice. With her eyes fixed on the goblins, basking in her small triumph, she didn’t see the boomerang reach the apex of its journey and loop back towards her. When she heard the sound of its spinning sharpness again, it was too late.

The blade of the boomerang met the backs of Vianola’s knees, slicing through flesh, ligament, and bone. The cowardly soldier screamed as the weapon ripped through her legs. She fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. Lifting her head, she stared at the spurting stumps of her legs, her feet still managing to stand, ending just at her shattered knees in a relatively smooth cut. The goblins were coming again, Comrield catching his boomerang and sheathing it on his back as he jogged towards the fallen woman. Vianola jammed her elbows into the grass, straining to crawl backwards from the group, leaving twin trails of hot blood in her wake. Her movements were spirited but waning with the passing of each moment as she lost more and more of her precious blood. By the time the goblins surrounded her fallen form, Vianola was gasping for breath and thoroughly sapped of energy, flesh sweaty and pale, too weak to fight back as their petite hands fell upon her.

The sound of battle raged on nearby, but Vianola couldn’t bring herself to care about the fate of her fellow soldiers as she helplessly watched the goblins hastily stripping away her armor. Her small, perky breasts were revealed, pink nipples already shriveled into hard nubs as the chill of blood loss ravaged her. A couple of goblins pawed at her chest while the others – Comrield among them – worked to get her pants off. The grass tickled at her buttocks and hips as she was laid bare before the cruel creatures. They freed their members – five in total – and Vianola was left to gape at the absurd size of their cocks – especially compared to their miniscule statures. The dicks grew larger as they stiffened, their hot lengths dragging across her soft skin.

Being in charge of the group, Comrield moved between what remained of the elf soldier’s legs first. Vianola groaned as he entered her, shoving roughly into her sex as his clawed fingertips dug into the gentle mounds of her breasts. He filled out her vaginal canal before drawing back and thrusting harder, launching into a hurried series of strokes. The remaining four goblins did not leave her while their boss ravaged her cunt. Two of them – Sruis and Furt – forced her weak fingers around their rigid flesh, humping against her palms, while a third – Vilb – chewed away small nibbles flesh from her shoulder. The final one – Ict – dropped over her face, dropping his dangling balls into her gasping mouth as he jerked himself off over her.

The goblins may have possessed bigger than average dicks, but their stamina was greatly diminished. And with the delight of a tight elf snatch wrapped so snuggly around his girth, Comrield didn’t last long. He came hard and deep into the whimpering slab of half-butchered meat, draining his tingling balls into her before drawing free from her slippery slit. Sruis and Furt fell into a brief struggle as they rushed to take a shot at the woman, finally relenting into a truce as they rolled Vianola onto her side, one aiming for her greased pussy while the other pressed against her tight sphincter. They filled her lower holes in unison, drawing a groan of suffering from the elf’s trembling lips. The groan became muffled as Ict adjusted to the new angle she lay at, shoving his prick into her mouth.

After chewing away a few more bits of Vianola’s upper arm, Vilb wandered away from her body to where her half-legs remained perched. He pulled one leg up and tugged her boot free. He tossed the portion of limb aside so he could strip the other. Taking hold of a shin in each hand, he brought the soft soles of her feet together against the sides of his stiff prick, rubbing back and forth as he turned to watch the others plunder the living portion of the elf. Sruis and Furt punched their cocks into Vianola rapidly, letting out a chittering chorus of laughter as they reached their respective orgasms. Jizz poured into the gagging elf, her muffled whimpers growing in urgency as Ict’s fingers closed around her head, sliding through her short black hair to scratch at her scalp. Her cheeks ballooned outwards as the mouth-rapist came, pumping his load down her gulping gullet.

As the goblins pulled free from her various violated holes and rolled her onto her back, Vilb stomped his way up and onto the woman. He took position on her heaving, sweaty tits, letting her watch as he vigorously masturbated with the aid of her dead feet. Vianola was barely conscious, coughing up wads of spunk as the pain of her wounds and rapes radiated through her. She regretted ever following her dreams of becoming a soldier, unable to understand her past self’s determination and bravado. One glimmer of violence had been all it had taken to shatter her spirit and now she was paying dearly for her life choices. Dying terrified her, but it was the most optimistic outcome she could conjure for her predicament. Better to die sooner than to continue being tormented by the filthy goblins.

The goblins were more than happy to help send Vianola on her way. With the tide of the battle turning drastically in their favor, they had other deserters to chase down and defile. But being their first victim of the day, they wished to reward her for being such an entertaining plaything. Prying her pert buttocks apart, Ict and Furt dug their fingers into her loosened asshole and stretched the orifice further open. Dropping one half-leg, Vilb carried the other with him, crouching in front of her crotch and waiting patiently for his fellow goblins to break the woman’s hole wide enough for him to start shoving the bloody stump of her leg inside. Vianola’s eyes bulged, pained shrieks pouring out of her as the majority of her severed leg was rammed up her rear.

With only the curve of her ankle and foot sticking free from her ruined asshole, the goblins collected the remaining portion of her leg. Vianola found some strength to struggle as her jaw was wrenched open. The taste of her blood mingled with the linger flavor of jizz as Comrield shoved the stump past her lips. It proved to be an even trickier insertion, forcing the goblins to kick their feet against the bottom of Vianola’s, driving the slab of dead meat inch by inch down her bulging throat. The rookie elf choked and flailed about on the ground, face going red as spurts of saliva crept out from around the circumference of her removed limb. The goblins managed to get half of her severed leg down her gaping maw before they grew too tired to persist any longer, but the obstruction was large enough and deep enough to seal the young elf’s fate. They left her behind, seeking out fresh morsels as she gurgled in her misery before gradually expiring.


The drow had counted on the elves underestimating them. The pride of the fair-skinned race was a well-known trait, easy to exploit. Irae and Nimor had done just that. While Syllana scrambled to restructure her forces to combat the significantly larger threat they’d marched right into, the drow leaders simply continued with their plans. The assortment of elven troops matched what they’d expected to face and, as such, they’d come up with a relatively simple order of operations to go through. The deserters were a special case, the goblins tasked with hunting them down and eliminating them. Some of the elves might survive the battle, but none would be allowed to escape. Two prongs of drow forces extended out and around the elves, strafing them and closing them in, giving them few optimum choices for pushing their attack and even fewer for mounting an orderly retreat. They could only defend their rapidly diminishing territory.

From there, the cavalry forces became the choice targets. Aside from offering an offensive bonus, the horse riders would be the hardest to hunt down if they managed to break through the drow lines. Several squads of heavily armor orcs armed with polearms were tasked with taking out the riders and their beasts. They moved in with malicious tenacity, impaling any flesh they could reach. Some orcs were lost, but the skirmish was decidedly one-sided due to the panic creeping through the elven ranks. In a matter of minutes, only three cavalry riders remained, their numbers diminished enough that the orcs decided to add some pleasure to their grisly business.

Knocked off their horses, the female riders weren’t much of a threat. They grouped together, each hoping that the other would have the means of defending them. A few of the orcs corralled the horses while the others amused themselves by tormenting the women, tugging at their light armor and baring their skin. By the time they were ready to have their fun, the elves’ clothing had been reduced to ragged tatters.

Yrneha Olasys was tugged away from Thasinia Faepetor and Delsanra Ianmyar. Two orcs – Pregu and Hegug – pulled her along by her arms, tearing away the remainder of her clothing as they led her back to her steed. The orc holding onto the horse’s reins – Verthag – pulled a handful of sparkling dust from a satchel at his side. He shoved the powder against the horse’s face, forcing it to breathe it in. The beast let out an excited whiney, bouncing and trotting in place as the effects of the drug worked quickly. Yrneha’s face paled as she watched the stallion’s flat-headed prick sliding free of its sheath, dangling heavily beneath it. She struggled and screamed as the orcs on either side of her knocked her onto her hands and knees and pulled her beneath the horny beast.

Pregu and Hegug kept her held in place firmly while Verthag controlled the horse. The stallion’s cock touched against Yrneha’s upraised rear. The feel of her soft flesh against his sensitive member encouraged him to explore her with more vigorous prodding. Any affinity the beast had for his rider was utterly perverted thanks to the snort of powder he’d been given. The arousal flooding through his system demanded satisfaction, no matter what the cost for his unwilling partner. Pre-cum leaked steadily from the horse’s urethra, smearing across Yrneha’s buttocks and into the crack of her ass, lubricating her minimal for the impossible penetration forthcoming. The elf held fast to whatever pride she had in the face of her humiliating bestial rape, right up to the moment she felt her sphincter start to give. She went from cringing and grunting to screaming and begging in an instant, wide eyes shifting from one orc to the next, urging them to simply kill her, or even to take her for themselves, anything to save her the agony of having the stallion’s massive prick rammed right up her ass.

The orcs only laughed and enjoyed the show. Yrneha’s screams intensified as her small sphincter expanded around the stallion’s thickness. They became urgent gasps as the air was fucked from her lungs. Blood trickled from her blown out asshole, rolling across the lips of her cunt and down the backs of her thighs. Her slender belly distended, pushed outwards further with each violent thrust the stallion gave her. Her skin stretched around the flattened tip of the horse dick, threatening to tear open. The beast adjusted the angle of his strokes with some help from Pregu and Hegug moving Yrneha’s body, gaining the ability to pound further up the elf’s ruined ass. As the stallion thrust his way into her chest cavity, bloody chunks of vomit erupted from Yrneha’s lips, streaking several feet across the ground before her.

Tangles of shredded intestine and pulped organ clogged Yrneha’s throat, choking her from within. Blood drained down her chin as her face strained, gagging and hacking in an attempt to clear the blockage of her own innards. A thick wad of ruined organ spat clear of her mouth as the stallion fucked her with growing vigor. As the internal damage mounted and her asphyxiation intensified, the elf’s performance grew far livelier. The orcs let out a cheer as the horse reared up, hefting the weight of the woman’s body into the air as he let out a whiney of delight. A pinkish spray of blood and cum surged through Yrneha’s mouth, transforming her dying form into a perverse geyser for several lengthy moments. As the stallion’s hooves settled back into the soil, the rider hung limp beneath him, thoroughly snuffed. With a smack to the beast’s rump, Verthag sent the horse galloping away, carrying Yrneha’s corpse along with him.

While Yrneha suffered her fatal equestrian fucking, Thasinia and Delsanra endured a more hands on form of molestation courtesy of the pair of orcs in charge of their captivity. Gnorth yanked Thasinia’s head back and forth along the length of his throbbing member while Wakgut hammered into Delsanra’s cunt from behind, tugging at her long golden hair. Gnorth pulled free and unloaded a series of messy wads across the gasping elf’s face before dragging her by her auburn hair over to where Verthag had the other two horses gathered. The woman struggled against him and he let her, her strength nothing compared to his. When he got her where he wanted her, he gave her a solid punch to the gut, stealing her breath and laying her out on her back between the two anxious beasts.

Pregu came over with a couple lengths of rope, handing one off to Gnorth. They knelt at the elf’s head and feet, looping the ropes around her wrists and ankles and tying them off with constricting knots. They stretched the opposite ends of the ropes to the two horses, securing them to the empty saddles the beasts wore. There was enough slack in the lines that Thasinia remained lying on the ground, only her arms and legs tilted upwards into the air. That changed as soon as Verthag encouraged the stallions to trot a few steps away from one another. The elf’s body was hoisted into the air, suspended taut between the two horses. The orcs kept forcing the beasts to move in opposite directions, creating an animal-powered rack to stretch Thasinia’s lithe form. The woman screamed through her teeth, eyes bulging as her muscles stretched and tore, bones popping and cracking.

Thasinia’s screams became stifled as the tension in her body grew too great for her to breathe effectively, allowing the underscore of high-pitched creaking radiating from her to be heard. The drone of her stretching skin intensified as the horses bucked and tugged, doing their best to break free from the woman binding them together and run free. The elf’s body gave it in sudden, spectacular fashion. The sound of a fleshy seal coming undone accompanied the sight of her stretched belly splitting open across the middle. Her strained vertebrae popped apart as the horses picked up speed, tearing Thasinia in half. The two chunks of her body hit the ground hard and were promptly dragged away, kicking up dust and clumps of soil and leaving behind gruesome smears of blood and innards. The orcs watched the woman’s two-pronged departure from the battlefield, cheering and laughing as she went.

The position of Delsanra mercifully kept her from witnessing the brutal execution of her fellow rider, but what she’d heard of Thasinia’s end was more than enough to fill her mind with all manner of grisly images. She wept for the woman’s death, just as she wept for Yrneha’s, but mostly she wept for herself, certain that she’d be joining them both soon. Wakgut’s throbbing member pulsed within her bruised sex as he drained his cum into her. Having given away the first two sexy slabs of elf meat to the horses, the remaining orcs were quite hard and ready to violate her. They rolled her onto her back, Verthag taking up position between her raised legs and working his way up her ass while Pregu dropped onto her chest and slid through the valley between her breasts. Having sampled Thasinia’s gullet, Gnorth was eager to try out Delsanra, slotting his renewed erection into her mouth. Wakgut gathered up a handful of her long blonde hair and looped it around his prick, rubbing the soft strands across his flesh.

The rider’s gang-rape dragged on, her body twisted and tugged into strained posses to allow the orcs the opportunity to fuck her every hole from a myriad of angles. Sweat and cum glazed her skin and filled her body. There seemed to be no shortage to their stamina, each orgasm seeming to only leave their erections harder than before. She found herself silently begging for the bastards to finish her. Go on raping her if they liked but do so after the life had been snuffed from her body. When the pumping members finally left her, she thought the moment was finally coming until she heard a new voice – a less guttural one – addressing the orcs. She pried her tired eyes open, blinking away the jizz covering them, to see a drow soldier. His eyes leered down at her, his hands motioning to her before handing over a set of manacles to Verthag. The orc leader returned to her, clamping the bindings around her wrists and ankles. She was pulled onto her trembling legs and made to march awkwardly deeper behind the drow lines of attack. There she found a small group of fellow elves, each of them bound as she was, some of them already in the midst of being defiled. Delsanra desperately wished she had the strength to fight back, to save herself from the enslavement that she’d apparently been just beautiful enough to earn. But after the ordeal, she could offer no resistance as the drow solider who’d picked her out shoved her onto her knees before him. Moments later, she was choking down his long cock.


Besides the cavalry, the elf archers were the next biggest threat to eliminate. Not that they were given much time to mount an effective defense. The drow archers hunted them down with brutal efficiency, picking them off until only a handful of them remained. Five terrified women crowded behind a boulder that wasn’t nearly large enough to keep them effectively covered, darting out just long enough to keep the drow soldiers at bay. It was a struggle they were losing, and they all knew it, but it didn’t keep them from trying.

Kaylessa Farfiel boosted herself up to peek over the top of the boulder, hoping the unexpected appearance and elevated perspective would give her a chance to get a proper look at the enemy’s numbers and maybe even pick one or two off. She barely even got a glimpse of the advancing drow troops before the sharpened tip of an arrow punched through her forehead. She fell without ceremony or grace, stiff-limbed and slack-faced. Kaylessa launched the arrow notched into her bow as she dropped away from the boulder, firing it uselessly into the heavy stone. Her arms flopped to her sides, already dead, while her long legs kicked about, digging her heels into the dirt as she humped the air and pissed herself.

Shelara Roro rushed to her fallen friend’s body. On some level, she knew there was nothing that could be done for the woman, but her mind was too clouded to stop herself. As she reached for Kaylessa’s dumb-struck face, a small cloud of descending arrows rained down on the pair. Sharpened metal tips punctured both living and dead flesh, allowing the slender wooden shafts to sink deeply into Shelara and Kaylessa. Shelara grunted as an arrow punched through the back of her shoulder. Another sliced across the side of her neck before plunking into Kaylessa’s belly. She took one to her calf, one through her left wrist, and the dozen or so remaining arrows made a bloody pincushion out of her back as she slumped over her dead friend.

Ysildea Oriior had been struggling to hold herself together. Seeing Kaylessa and Shelara killed pushed her past the point she could handle. Ignoring the impending danger, she darted out from behind the boulder, thinking only of escape. The drow archers were ready for her. She made it only a few steps before a trio of arrows slammed into her back. Her movements faltered, legs wobbling before giving out. She landed hard on her knees before faceplanting into the dirt, straining to breathe through her punctured lungs. Her plump buttocks became an irresistible target for the archers. Ysildea’s face constricted with fresh pain as an arrow ripped through the perky flesh of her right ass cheek. The next shot came in lower, embedding itself in her upper thigh. Her hands clawed at the ground, tried to keep moving, but she could only squirm as her upraised posterior was filled with more arrows. As her life fluttered away, the last thing the doomed elf felt as a particularly well aimed arrow sheathing itself into her cunt, tip lodged through her uterus, before she finally settled into death.

A few terrible moments were all it took to leave Nakiasha Liarel and Aleratha Lorakalyn all alone, cowering behind the boulder amidst the fresh carcasses of their fellow archers. They notched arrows into their bows, hoping to prepare themselves for the drow soldiers they heard rushing them down. Nakiasha let her arrow fly the moment she caught sight of movement. Her aim suffered from her haste, sending the projectile shooting uselessly over the enemy soldier’s head. Aleratha managed to do something to defend herself, at least, unleashing her final arrow into another drow soldier’s gut. She could only hope that the wound would prove to be fatal, giving her some form of delayed vengeance for the atrocities about to be committed upon her.

Nakiasha dropped her bow, stumbling back as she watched the drow swarm around the boulder. One snatched Aleratha and threw her to the ground on her hands and knees, moving after her to start tugging at her clothing. Others went to inspect Kaylessa, Shelara, and Ysildea’s bodies, lust clearly undeterred by the women’s lack of life. For a few precious moments, Nakiasha thought she might be sparred, overlooked in all the chaos. It would not be the first time. She was not ugly, but in terms of elven beauty, she was noticeably plain looking. It had been the source of a fair amount of self-loathing and had even contributed to her decision to join the military. Now, it seemed, her unnoteworthy looks might work for her instead of against her.

Then she heard the chittering laughter from behind and above her. Nakiasha turned slowly, head tilting back, face scrunching up with horror as she stared aghast at the trio of goblins who’d climbed the boulder. They leered down at her, waving and jerking their cocks in her direction. The elf turned and tried to run as the goblins dropped onto her, small hands gripping tightly and pulling her to the ground. She thrashed about wildly, trying to shake them loose as they tore at her clothing. One of the goblins – Teetmorx – hopped on the back of her head, smashing her face into the loose soil again and again until she was too dazed to put up an effective fight.

Rolling the disoriented elf onto her back, the goblins continued to strip her, leaving her clothing in tatters. She wasn’t fully nude, but any portion of her body she may have considered intimate was revealed to them. The two who’d spent their time removing the majority of Nakiasha’s pants – Biaq and Sliggeg – tugged her legs apart. Sliggeg moved between her thighs while Biaq crawled onto her belly, each of them guiding their impish faces to her exposed loins. Biaq’s clawed thumbs peeled Nakiasha’s cunt lips apart, revealing the glistening pink flesh within. The goblin slurped at the small nub of her clit while Sliggeg jabbed his tongue into her pussy. Nakiasha’s cheeks blushed with humiliated pleasure. She slapped a hand across her lips to stifle the unexpected moan as the goblins showed her just how skilled they were with their mouths.

While the others lathered the elf’s cunt in their saliva, Teetmorx fixed his attention on the woman’s modest breasts. One small hand gripped the pliant flesh of one, kneading at the soft mound while his lips smacked hungrily over the nipple of her other tit. The goblins were known for being skilled tinkerers, but machinery was not the only thing they enjoyed tinkering with. A woman’s body was not so different from any other mechanical design. Twist the right nobs, turn the right dials, and certain effects could be accomplished with relative ease. The three goblins working Nakiasha over were very accomplished engineers of flesh. Despite the elf’s despair and shame, the orgasmic sensations overwhelmed her. When he felt she was ready, Teetmorx reached up and guided her hand away from her moaning lips, chuckling as she allowed him to unleash her cries of ecstasy without even a hint of struggle.

As the goblins continued to break Nakiasha into becoming an obedient and wanton whore, Aleratha suffered a much less pleasant fate. Of the two surviving elf archers, she was far more fetching. Straight black hair that stretched down to the curve of her pert buttocks, snow white skin with icicles for eyes, and breasts that retained a stunning perkiness despite their size. If her final shot hadn’t drawn drow blood, she’d have been a prime candidate for becoming a slave to the invading race. The gut-shot drow might have survived the wound she’d caused, but he could no longer function in battle, so he was promptly dispatched. With a drow soldier’s death on her shoulders, Aleratha’s life was forfeit. Not that the other drow gathered around her much cared for vengeance. They mostly took it as a chance to use her roughly and to the point of expiration without fear of consequences.

When Trelgath Vrammyr moved behind Aleratha, she’d already been thoroughly used. Her asshole hung open, pussy leaking the combined seed of the half-dozen men who’d used her already. Not that he cared. Feeding his cock up her gaping rear, Trelgath easily worked his way into a steady rhythm of spirited pumps. He picked up the elf’s bow, admiring its elegant design. Like the woman who’d wielded the weapon, it was a thing of beauty. It seemed only fitting to use the bow against her. Turning it in his hands, Trelgath pulled the taut bowstring over Aleratha’s head and pulled it back across her throat. The sudden clenching of her mostly ruined anal muscles added some much needed stimulation to his thrusts. His fingers tightened around the curved length of intricately carved wood, pulling back harder, crushing the elf’s throat closed as he forced her up onto her knees.

Aleratha brought her hands up, fingers digging into her skin as she tried to work them under the bowstring. Her mouth gaped open, tongue dragging across her lips as urgent gags crept through her mostly constricted windpipe. The expansive pale flesh of her breasts danced seductively, soft pink nipples tight from her fear. She mashed the meat of her ass against her rapist, gyrating against him as she fought against the asphyxiation. Tears obscured her vision, face growing hot and damp with sweat as her complexion turned a bright shade of red. Spots of crimson tinged the whites of her eyes, contrasting against the vibrant blue of her irises. When clawing the bowstring away didn’t work, she stretched her arms back, pawing at the drow. Saliva poured from her open mouth, pouring over her chin and layering the tops of her breasts. Her brain grew hazy as her strangulation continued, struggling to remember why she was so terrified, what the fleshy rod lodged so deep up her ass was. Aleratha’s struggles slackened, arms growing heavy as her face went purple. She gave off awkward jerks, the sound of fleshy smacking growing dim in her dying ears.

With a satisfied groan, Trelgath fired his seed into Aleratha’s bowels. A heavy spray of urine drained out of her, washing away some of the cum clinging to the insides of her trembling thighs. Her bulging eyes were rolled up, showing only a bloodshot crimson. Releasing his hold on the bow, the dead elf flopped forward, jizz-packed ass propped into the air.


Only a handful of magically endowed elves had been assigned to the rescue mission, meant to operate as support for the foot soldiers. Their abilities made them prime targets, immediately marked for termination. It wasn’t long before only two elven mages remained, fighting desperately to keep their lives. Ghilanna Jobalar and Lierin Morixsys stood only a few feet apart, working together in their attempt to beat back the powerful drow wizard who faced them. The man – Koszar Nirune – had been having some fun with the pair, amused by their attempts to overwhelm his magic with their own. The two were novices, that much was very clear, barely dangerous enough to qualify for execution. But orders were orders. As he watched Ghilanna conjure a ball of rumbling fire into her palm, he prepared to finish the encounter.

Blinking the sweat from her eyes, Ghilanna cocked her arm back and flung the fireball at Koszar. The sphere of flickering flames made it only halfway to its target before its trajectory shifted. With a casual wave of his hand, Koszar took control of Ghilanna’s conjured flame and gave it an extra burst of energy and speed, shooting it into the second mage’s ill-prepared body. Lierin shrieked as the fireball exploded over her, enveloping her in scorching heat. The flicker of orange flames consumed her, shifting into a pale blue as the fire intensified. Her clothing was burned to cinders in an instant, the naked flesh beneath glowing at the heart of the inferno before the devastation of the wildfire proved too much for her inherent magical resistances.

Ghilanna stared at the screaming plume of fire, horrified and guilt-ridden as she watched Lierin’s flesh sloshing away from her blackened bones. The loss of focus proved fatal as Koszar closed the distance to her. She managed a half-formed plea for mercy before the wizard’s hands came up, clutching at the sides of her head. As Lierin’s shrieks faded away, Ghilanna’s began as powerful arcs of crackling electricity shot from the drow’s fingers and into her head. Her body flailed about, muscle control stolen from her by the electrocution. Saliva boiled in her mouth, steaming past her lips, eyes turning red as blood vessels exploded within them. Blood leaked from her ears as her brain tore itself apart from the electrical convulsions running through her. A simple flex of his fingers was all Koszar needed to drive the final jolt of power needed to cause the elf’s head to explode within his grip. He let the flow of electricity slacken, releasing his hold on the shuddering corpse and letting it drop to the ground.


The elven army’s foot soldiers were the most numerous branch, capable soldiers well-trained to defend themselves. But with their support systematically stripped away from them and their general struggling to organize them into some manner of effective fight force against the unexpectedly large attack, they proved hopelessly ineffective against the wave of death and rape that washed over them. Entire squads of soldiers were cut down, butchered where they lay. An unlucky few survived the onslaught, hauled away to join the rest of the elf prisoners on their way to a life of sexual servitude.

Argha the Butcher, a giant of an orc wielding a giant meat cleaver, had charged into the fray, eager to begin the slaughter. He felt little in the way of sexual desire for the elves he hacked to bits, getting off on the act of chopping them into bloody slabs of meat. Arilemna Uriwynn had been one of his victims. He’d take exquisite joy in slamming his blood-soaked blade through her soft flesh, reducing her to a gruesome pile of carnage. Once she’d been broken down, he moved on, already setting his sights on another sow ready for harvesting. The drow soldiers following in the orc’s wake had their own degrees of bloodlust, but their regular lust was stronger, albeit not very discerning. The Butcher’s leftovers became their fresh playthings as they gathered up the discarded pieces of Arilemna and found creative means of violating them. Tangles of guts used as masturbatory aids, cocks sliding through all of her natural orifices and a few of the gory slashes that had been created during her butchering. Their cum blended with her blood, soaked her organs, left her as an even more disgusting pile of slop.

Aravae Virquinal witnessed every moment of Arilemna’s gory demise. She’d had little choice in the matter, being pinned beneath a drow soldier as he drove roughly into her bared cunt. The pain and humiliation of her rape was bad, but it wasn’t until she saw Argha stomping towards her that she truly began to panic. The drow groaned, fucking her harder, as the orc chopped his way through Aravae left arm, breaking it down into three pieces at her wrist, elbow, and shoulder. Each hack of the cleaver made the woman howl, her body jerking beneath him, pussy hugging him tighter. Argha yanked her left leg out to the side, far enough to avoid hitting the drow soldier as he went to work on the limb. The soldier kept on hammering away at Aravae’s diminishing form until she was nothing more than a torso and a head. The woman’s now weak screams came to an end as the Butcher brought his cleaver down across her neck. The soldier drew free from the elf’s pissing slit, rising to his feet as the orc hefted the woman’s head high into the air, letting out a triumphant bellow. When the head was lowered, the soldier was waiting for it, accepting it from the Butcher and sheathing his aching prick up the back of Aravae’s throat.

There was little in the way of triumph to be found on the elf side of the battle. Victories were meager compared to losses. A few particularly skilled soldiers stood out among the majority. Phaerille Leogeon was one of those few. Even with the tide turned firmly against her, surrounded by adversaries and hopelessly outnumbered, she fought with determined bravery, cutting down the enemy at every turn. Her movements were fluid and smooth, performing a deadly dance as she gave herself over completely to the flow of the fight, moving from one target to the next. When a drow finally managed to land a fatal strike to her, it came just as fast. The sharp blade cut her throat with smooth ease, blood rolling down her chest as she made it several more steps before she realized something was wrong. Her experienced sword tumbled from her hands as they reached up to clasp around the deep gouge. Her face constricted with confusion and sadness as she dropped to her knees, the exhaustion of her performance catching up to her fast now that she was bleeding out.

The drow responsible for cutting the skilled soldier’s throat denied her an honorable passing, stepping before her and yanking her hands away from her neck. He shoved the head of his erection through the wound he’d given her, plugging her torn esophagus and fucking his way up into her mouth. He watched her upturned face growing pale as her hot blood pumped over his thrusting shaft and across his swaying balls. The light in her eyes was still twinkling as he came, a flow of cum dribbling from her lips. Satisfied, he slid free of the woman’s severed throat and shoved her to the ground where she finished bleeding out.

In terms of body counts attributed to singular entities within the extermination of the elf army, it was hard for even the Butcher to compete against Turot. The ogre had a significant size and durability advantage with a desire to kill that matched anyone else on the battlefield. After stomping the badly beaten Keishara Balgwyn’s head into a messy paste, he snatched up Cithrel Dorsandoral into one huge hand. She kicked and flailed, punching at the tough flesh of his wrist as he tugged aside his loin cloth to reveal his gargantuan cock. He did not bother stripping the snared elf. He had no need to. He simply brought her down onto the tip of his member, pushing hard between her legs until he ripped through the clothing and forced his way into her terribly undersized cunt. As her legs popped from their sockets, Cithrel’s struggles faded away, reduced to helpless squirming and screaming.

Turot fucked his way up into the elf’s gut, using only a third of his horrifying length to violate her. Her twisted intestines became tangled around his cockhead, organs massaging his sensitive flesh before they were popped and flattened. Cithrel’s body vibrated as the ogre’s daunting load surged up his shaft. She choked on the cum that rushed up the back of her throat, watching in horror as her slender belly expanded at an alarming rate. The ogre closed his fingers around the upper portion of her body, easily ripping the woman in half and unleashing the torrent of jizz packed into her. He chucked her still-living upper half aside, taking hold of her flopping legs to continue fucking her lower half. The blend of drow and goblins that converged on Cithrel’s upper half were amused by the elf’s tenacious life, dropping over her to use her mouth and cleavage to satisfy their urges.


Given the horrors transpiring across the battlefield and the clear signs that the elves would not be winning the fight, no one could judge Rallientha Raloynore for the treacherous cowardice that claimed her heart. That was how she felt, at least, as she threw down her sword and ran towards the drow soldiers. She’d seen how the drow were taking some of the women prisoner. A life spent servicing the invading race was still a life. Her hands went to her chest, urgently tugging open her uniform and freeing her breasts. “I submit!” she called, desperation in her words and her eyes. She shook her perky tits, cradling the mounds of flesh in her hands. “I will do anything to serve you! Please! Take me!”

A glimmer of hope shined in Rallientha’s eyes as a drow soldier approached her. “Do you like what you see?” she offered, giving him a flirtatious smile. “I’ll be yours. I’ll be your dirty little wh-urk!”

The soldier ended her seductive words with the tip of his sword, shoving it through the pale flesh of her cleavage without hesitation. In truth, the drow did like what he saw – the elf’s tits were perfect – but he liked the look of shocked betrayal on her face more. Her legs failed her and he let her drop to her knees, pathetic sobs pouring out of her as she begged him for a reason why he didn’t want her. He yanked his sword back through her chest, casually stepping behind her. He silenced her sobs with another strike of his sword, hacking Rallientha’s head from her shoulders.


Syllana had no more troops to command. They were all either dead or captured. The sight of the battlefield littered with corpses – the women nearly all violated – stirred her rage as she was subdued by the drow soldiers. Her fear was minimal. She was a general and, beyond that, a daughter of the ruling family. She was far too valuable to kill. Likely the scum would ransom her off back to the kingdom. They would have their fun with her. That much was obvious as her captors tore her armor and the clothing beneath it away, freeing and rubbing at their offensive pricks. Beasts will be beasts, she thought, shifting her glare from one male to the next, committing each of their faces to memory with the intent of hunting them down and killing them later.

The drow soldiers dragged Syllana, naked and frothing with fury, in front of the gathering of enslaved elf women deemed worthy enough to keep alive. She recognized some of them as soldiers in her army, ashamed to see what had been done to them, what they’d been reduced to. She’d expected the women she commanded – more so than the men – to represent stalwart examples of excellence. Seeing even a handful of them reduced to drooling, moaning whores disappointed her greatly. The faces she didn’t recognized she assumed had been residents of the small town that had been the start of this whole nightmare. Syllana judged them less harshly, but not by much. If they’d been stronger, better prepared for the attack that had doomed their town, her army would still be intact. All of this for a few miserable peasants, she thought, bitterness staining her mind.

Firming her jaw, Syllana glowered at the horde of mixed races. “Come on, then,” she barked in a challenging tone. “Show me what pathetic men you are. Do what you like to me with your filthy cocks. You will not break me.”

With such a bold challenge thrown down, the drow army could not resist the defiant general’s allure. Syllana did her best to show the captive elves how strong she was as she was pulled around between the horny hordes of males, holes stuffed with their rigid flesh and skin layered in their horrid seed. She fell into a kind of meditative trance, ignoring the sensations flowing through her body, even as the talented goblins teased and fucked her with their fingers and tongues. The lack of response was impressive as her body was forced through one orgasm after the next, pounded and violated and used in every sense of the word. The mass rape went on for hours, leaving her tired but no less defiant. The first shimmer of emotion other than quiet anger came as her eyes fixed upon the albino drow woman moving towards her. Her pale flesh was shocking, as was the authority she seemed to wield amongst the army of purely male troops.

Syllana’s body felt heavy, from the fatigue of her overworked muscles and the layers of cum covering every inch of her skin. The majority of the seed had grown cold, causing her to shiver. “Are you the bitch in charge?” she growled out as Irae stopped before her. “If you want me to submit, you’re going to be very disappointed.”

Irae responded with a condescending smile. She extended a hand towards the general, placing her thumb against the center of Syllana’s forehead. She rubbed away the jizz covering her so she could get a proper touch against her skin. The elf tried to pull away but found that she couldn’t. Irae’s thumb felt fused to her skin, despite there being no obvious connection between them. Then the pain came. A sharp stabbing streak from the base of her skull, curling up through her brain, and out through the point the drow albino touched her at. The pain- though short lived – was strong enough to succeed where the endless stream of rapes had failed. Syllana let out a cry of agony, tears breaking free to roll down her cum-smeared cheeks. Then Irae removed her thumb and stepped back. The agony remained, although diminished, along with an icy dread. Syllana stared up at Irae with a new form of shock. “What are you?” she muttered, feeling as if some critical piece of her very essence had just been stolen from her.

Irae gave her no response, maintaining her smile as she turned and moved away from the kneeling general.

Having proven himself during the brutal slaughter of the elven army, Turot was given the honor of executing the elf general. The woman’s face filled with unease as she heard the thudding stomps of the ogre approaching her from behind. She turned her head, looking back and up to the lumbering beast advancing on her, staring at the hideous length of his battering ram cock. “I… wait…” she gasped, turning to fix her gaze on Irae. “I’m important. I am the general of this army, the daughter of the ruling family. You have to keep me alive. You have to ransom me back, or keep me enslaved. You can’t… kill me! I’m too important to die!” She aimed a finger at the collection of captured women. “You’re supposed to kill those commoner bitches, you idiot. They’re expandable!”

Syllana’s bafflement of the drow’s decision became pure panic as Turot’s massive hand closed around her waist. The feeling of weightlessness overcame her as the hulking behemoth hefted her into the air before him. She brought her hands down, trying to claw her fingers into the ogre’s fingers. The bulbous tip of the ogre’s member pressed against the cleft of her firm buttocks. She shook her head wildly, spirit finally and suddenly broken as she felt the instrument of her ultimate destruction knocking at her tight asshole. “Get off of me, you filthy beast!” she howled, eyes wide with bestial panic. The captives watched as the proud, self-centered general became a screeching mess, humbled by the unstoppable might of the ogre’s eager cock-flesh. The cum draining from her throughly raped asshole sloshed across the tip of Turot’s dick, lubricating him. Not that the ogre needed much in the form of lubrication to gain entrance to the squirming woman’s rear. He had more than enough strength and experience to achieve that goal. Tightening his grip on her, he yanked her back against his erection, drawing a high-pitched howl from Syllana’s lips as he wedged the tip of his cock into her ass, snapping her sphincter and fucking a thick bulge against her slender belly.

Syllana’s mouth gaped open, the perfect representation of pure agony frozen in place, as Turot forced two feet of his massive flesh-rod into her body. He ripped through her bowels, pulped her organs and left her intestines stretched and tangled around his girth. Uncurling his fingers from around Syllana’s distended gut, the ogre planted his palms across the tops of her shoulders. A hard, downward shove left the head of his prick lodged within her rib cage. Syllana gagged, vomited a violent spray of gore, and then fell into a series of repetitive, hoarse screams of agonized horror. Her brow furrowed with misery, tilting her face back as a thick shadow fell across her. She shook her head dumbly as the ogre lowered his hand over her, closing his fingers gently around the crown of her skull.

Syllana’s shrieks radiated over the prisoners. They listened to their prideful general’s psychotic, horrified howls as the ogre slowly stretched her head upwards, straining the elf’s spine, skin, and muscle. Whatever admiration they had for the woman vanished completely as they watched her transformed into a pathetic slab of weak flesh, unable to save herself, unwilling to defend them. Her opinion of them had been made clear in the moments before the start of her perverse execution. None of the prisoners shed a tear for Syllana as she suffered. They had their own problems to deal with.

Turot pulled slowly, stretching Syllana’s neck like a fleshy length of taffy. The pop of her vertebrae giving way sent a wild series of spasms through her face, screams intensifying. A gruesome seem of tearing skin started at the base of her neck and quickly dragged around the circumference. Blood sprayed from the ragged seam, gushing across her chest and down her back, washing away the layer of spunk in a sea of crimson. The elf’s screams became a wet whistling as Turot pried her misery-stricken head away from her flailing body. Syllana’s face was just slackening into death as the ogre got off on her body’s death spasms. A violent eruption of thick spunk shot from her ragged neck stump, soaking her decapitated head thoroughly before washing the sheen of blood away from her body, returning it to a cum-glazed state.

After proudly displaying the general’s head to the prisoners and the cheering drow soldiers, Turot lowered it into Irae’s waiting hands. He turned away, continuing to enjoy the dead woman’s body. Irae wiped the layer of fresh ogre jizz away from Syllana’s horrified visage, frozen in death. Her fingers nimbly moved across the cooling meat, forcing the small sliver if life she’d stolen from the elf back into her. With her diaphragm shredded and her lungs far out of reach, Syllana had no way of truly expressing the pain and terror she felt as she was brought back to life in a ghoulish fashion. Irae laughed, leaning in to hungrily lick away the blend of cum and blood covering the undead elf head’s face. “Don’t look so surprised, my dear,” she purred, fingering Syllana’s torn throat hole. “Don’t you know that you’re too important to die? We have to return you to your parents. They’ll be so surprised to see you.”

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