Queen Azshara

Making up his mind, Harry shakes his head.

"I think I'd like to assist in another instance in time that requires our help, if that's alright with you."

He's expecting Nozari to get uncomfortable. He's expecting her to allow it, but not be happy about it. Clearly, he's underestimated the Bronze Dragon, because her face screws up in anger and she shakes her head.

"No, I don't think so. We don't need anymore help from you or your… companions."

Of course, what Harry didn't know was that Nozari had had to suffer through the incredibly embarrassing experience of Vereesa Windrunner double-fisting Tyrande Whisperwind's holes in what they had THOUGHT was a private corner of the Caverns of Time while waiting for Harry to return. Of course, being in a massive cave system as they had been, the night elf's pleasured screams had resonated throughout the area, regardless of the location in which they did the deed.

Needless to say, Nozari had never expected two distinguished female leaders such as Vereesa and Tyrande to act in such an… uncouth manner. The Bronze Dragon even idolized the two, if for no other reason than she'd watched them both leave their own distinctive mark on the world through the periods of time they'd lived on Azeroth. Tyrande especially, had been alive for over ten THOUSAND years.

They did say to never meet your heroes, but they only said that in another world that Nozari had no concept of, no knowledge of. Regardless, if she heard the saying now, she would agree with it wholeheartedly. Either way, she blamed Harry for corrupting the two, seeing no other reasonable option for why two very strong-willed woman would act in such a… provocative and lurid manner.

Harry didn't know any of this, sure, but even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. He wasn't going to be talked to like that, and something within him was rising up as his lips curled into a snarl. He would give her one more chance to be a bit more respectful, but if she couldn't fucking read a room, he would just have to rape the pushy dragon before all her kin. It might cause some bloodshed, but that was a risk Harry was perfectly willing to risk. He would-

"Ah, there you are. Harry James Potter. The Bronze Dragonflight does indeed still require your services."

Judging by the way that Nozari goes stiff and wide-eyed at this newcomer's presence, the beautiful auburn-haired, scantily clad elf that steps up is no elf at all, but another Bronze Dragon, and likely a more important one at that. Harry smiles, pleased at the arrival even as he turns his full attention to this new female. She in turn bows her head, introducing herself.

"I am Soridormi, Prime Consort of Nozdormu the Timeless. I am his second within the Bronze Dragonflight, and I am also the leader of the Scale of the Sands."

Well now, that did all sound very official. No, but really, none of that went over Harry's head. Prime Consort might have sounded like more of a sexual position, but he'd read and seen enough of dragons by this point to understand that for someone to be the Prime Consort to an Aspect, they had to be more than just good in bed. And it sounded like this Soridormi was in charge of her own faction as well, which sounded VERY exciting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. It seems you already know who I am. What can I help you with?"

He puts on his best roguish smile and doesn't fail to note the way Soridormi's face pinks up at it. Wait, is she turned on by him? To be fair, he has that effect on a lot of women. Pretty much all women, once he gets his hands on them. But a Bronze Dragon? Harry's thoughts flicker back to Ysera. He'd already fucked the Green Dragonflight's Aspect, so was the Prime Consort of the Aspect of Time really a surprise either?

Even still, he's a little impressed with himself and how fast he works, because Soridormi spends the entire time she's explaining where they're going pressing her staff between her already barely-clothed breasts, rubbing it up and down most salaciously.

"You, mm, are required in the Well of Eternity. We need you to travel there, to aid the heroes of the past in reclaiming the Dragon Soul."

She pauses for a moment, ostensibly to collect her thoughts, but no one fails to notice how her eyes keep glancing down at Harry's crotch, where his cock is currently ensconced in his robes.

"Originally, we sent a group of adventurers back in time in order to retrieve the Dragon Soul for use in our fight against Deathwing some years back. The shaman Thrall then delivered the Dragon Soul to the Aspects at Wyrmrest Temple, and Deathwing was eventually defeated and destroyed, once and for all."

Another pause, though Harry doesn't fail to hear the nearly inaudible breathless moan that leaves Soridormi's throat as she rubs her staff not just between her tits, but also between her thighs. Given the utterly scandalous dress she was already wearing, this is having the effect of exposing more and more of her elven form to him. Whether that's intentional or not, he's actually not sure. She really seems to either get off on basking under his gaze, or just on explaining how time works. Harry thinks it's the former though.

"But now even this effort is under threat. You must travel to the War of the Ancients and make sure that everything goes as it should. Those heroes we sent back before must be enabled to retrieve the Dragon Soul and take it to Thrall."

She finishes up, and also 'finishes up' from what Harry can see. Not that she has a mind-blowing, explosive orgasm right there in front of everyone, complete with shrieks of ecstasy. If that had happened, Harry wasn't sure he'd have been able to hold himself back, to be perfectly honest. No, if Soridormi had been THAT blatant in her desire, he would have had no choice but to fuck the bitch, right then and there.

Still, she does cum. Harry has a practiced eye for that sort of thing. He notes the momentary stiffening, the dilating of her pupils, the biting of her lower lip. And he watches as a trickle of fresh pussy juices slides down her naked inner thigh. Whether anyone else notices or not, Harry couldn't say. They certainly don't comment on it, and for that reason alone, Harry thinks that Nozari at the very least is too busy glaring daggers at him most petulantly to see just how badly her superior wants him.

Grinning, Harry cocks his head to the side for a moment and considers who he'll bring along, now that he's received such an… interesting rundown of information. In the end, he points at only three women. He might have chosen to bring Sylvanas along, but she'd run off somewhere, so ultimately…

"Jaina, Vereesa, Tyrande. You three are with me on this."

The trio look at one another, and while Jaina and Vereesa exchange knowing smiles, having been Harry's first 'experiences' in this new world, Tyrande just blushes and fidgets and squirms. She doesn't want to admit that she's excited, but she's also too excited by the prospect to refuse. In the end, she'll come along, and she'll have fun doing whatever it is Harry ends up making her do, though she'll probably protest the entire time, or something like that.

"Ah, only four of you? Very well, I shall assign a fifth to round out your party."

Nozari goes stiff again at those words from Soridormi, and for a moment, Harry thinks that the Prime Consort might name Nozari as their fifth. If she does, he's going to almost certainly break the Bronze Dragon, as soon as they're 'out of sight' of the rest of the Dragonflight. But no. Instead, Soridormi calls out sharply for someone else entirely.

"Alurmi! Please attend me!"

Another beautiful elven female soon arrives. Obviously, she too is a Bronze Dragon. She's also just as tasty a treat as both Soridormi and even Nozari are. These dragons certainly don't suffer in looks.

"My lady, how may I assist you?"

"I will be assigning you to this party of four adventurers. Your goal will be to archive as much as you can about the enemies that they face on this particular trip. You are not to interfere with their work, and if their leader, Harry Potter gives you any orders, you should obey him as you would me. Understood?"

Alurmi looks over at Harry, and he smiles benignly, even as inwardly he's laughing uproariously. Soridormi may not be willing to just offer herself up to him on a silver platter in the middle of her Dragonflight's base of power, but she's certainly willing to give him gifts in the form of her subordinates. Nozari, meanwhile, looks remarkably uncomfortable at this. Even as Alurmi nods her head in agreement, the other Bronze Dragon finally breaks her silence.

"Prime Consort, I'm not sure th-!"

"Quiet."

Soridormi cuts her off though. Hell, she all but cuts her down, turning on Nozari with a snarl and a sneer on her face that sees the younger Bronze Dragon cowering back and silenced. Harry watches this in amusement, half-expecting Nozari to try again despite being utterly shut down, but no, she's silent, and soon enough, they're on their way.

This… this was probably going to be quite fun.

-x-X-x-

This was going to be awful. She knew from the moment that Harry called her out by name that it would be. Even still, Tyrande hadn't made a fuss. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps she should have tried harder to say no. Instead, however, she'd come along on this insanity. They'd traveled into the past, into events that she had been around for, and very nearly directly involved in.

Which meant she was somewhere in this city, somewhere near the Well of Eternity, fighting with red and green and bronze dragons, fighting with Malfurion and… Illidan. Now though, here she was again. The rest of the party had been transformed into period-correct Night Elves once they came out of the time portal and into the old Capital of the Night Elf Empire, Zin-Azshari.

But Tyrande was already a Night Elf. Still, she was a bit recognizable, and they had traveled back in time. A quick glance in the nearest pool of crystal-clear mana-infused water had shown Tyrande her new face. Her features had been shifted, and her hair changed up a bit. On top of that, her usual white, priestly garb had been changed out for standard leather armor. The priestess could not help but squirm in that tight-fitted leather armor. It was an ensemble she hadn't worn in quite a long time.

Though, to take her mind off of such things, there was always Harry. Harry, and his Night Elf form. She didn't think it was possible to be anymore reluctantly attracted to the human wizard, but here she was now. Harry as a Night Elf was a total hunk. He reminded her of a younger Malfurion, a male who was willing to do what needed to be done… and more so than that. He was BETTER than Malfurion… in a lot of ways.

Tyrande suppresses her blush and refrains from comparing Harry to her mate. She'd already betrayed the Archdruid with the human male a half a dozen times over, there was no reason to make it worse by constantly degenerating her mate in comparison to the human wizard that had so thoroughly rocked her world and corrupted her in half a dozen ways. Malfurion… he would never understand, if he found out. She would just have to endeavor to make sure he never did.

Zin-Azshari. It was… beautiful, to say the least. The crowning jewel of the Night Elf Empire. The largest city of the largest empire in all of Azeroth's history. Needless to say, despite the fact that the Night Elves had become quite a lot less expansion-oriented over the millennia, it was still a sight for sore eyes. It was a reminder of a better time… though also a reminder of just how bad things had gotten, near the end.

Because this WAS near the end. Harry urges them onward like the leader he is, and despite all of them being leaders in their own rights, Tyrande finds herself following him like a lovesick puppy, right alongside Jaina and Vereesa. The Bronze Dragon sent to 'archive' their exploits trails along as well, not really part of the group, acting more as an observer than anything else.

The further they move into the city; the worse things get. There are parts of the majestic capital that are on fire. Large parts of it, in fact. It makes Tyrande's heart hurt, seeing her people suffering, being unable to go to them, to help them. But she also knows that she IS helping them. Right now, her younger self is out there, doing her best to save as much of the world as she can. And in later years, later millennia, Tyrande knows that she will do her best to make her people a new home, to be loved and cherished. No matter how much Harry twists and corrupts her to his whims, no matter how much she enjoys him doing so, at the very least, he can't take that from her.

Regardless, they soon make it to the palace. Queen Azshara's palace, to be exact, built right on the shores of the Well of Eternity. Of course, before they could make their way to the Queen herself, they had to deal with Peroth'arn first. He had long been considered the first satyr. The first of many such creatures, though in the far-flung future, the satyr were little more than minor nuisances dealt with almost easily. Peroth'arn was different… or was he?

Harry deals with him easily. Tyrande's heart flutters in her chest, and her nethers grow wet betwixt her legs as she watches the satyr scream in agony and then turn to ash. It seems that the human wizard has no time or interest in facing off with such creatures today, because he handles the former Highborne with almost contemptuous ease, before directing them onward once more.

It makes her way to do all sorts of interesting things to him in response. She knows she shouldn't want to, but she still remembers him defiling her and that moonwell, both at the same time. She still remembers Ysera's arrival, and her blessing of their… of their activities. She remembers everything. And she almost wishes she didn't, because it would be better not to know just how far into debauchery, she was capable of falling.

Even now, she was slipping. Even on this incredibly important mission, she was slipping. Luckily, they soon arrive on the Queen's Terrace. There, Queen Azshara herself stands overlooking the battle for the Well of Eternity. A battle that Tyrande is no doubt somewhere in the midst of, making her all the happier to have the disguise of the Bronze Dragons at the moment.

"You… just who are you, to invade my inner sanctum, to arrive at my feet like a pack of common thieves? Pah! I care not! Deal with them!"

There is a shield of magical arcane energy between Queen Azshara and her forces, and them. As she speaks, turning away and looking back down from her terrace in a not-so-startling display of contempt, two of the Highborn Mages that stand with her move through the shield, angry sneers on their faces and arcane energy building in their hands as they begin to work magic that will surely harm her and her allies.

Tyrande prepares to enter the fray against these, two ancient members of the worst part of her race, when Harry flicks his wand with slight irritation marring his features. The two Highborne drop dead without another sound, and everything stops for a moment. Even Tyrande is frozen in place, as are Jaina and Vereesa. So is Alurmi, who is staring at Harry, wide-eyed. The casual killing isn't what freezes Tyrande though. No, instead, it's the realization that while Harry might not look it, he is VERY angry.

If there's one thing Harry doesn't like, it's being ignored. He hates it when someone doesn't take him seriously. Tyrande has spent enough time with the human at this point to know this, just as she's spent enough time with him to know that despite the difference in age between the two of them, Harry is someone to be taken VERY seriously indeed.

Meanwhile, the four remaining Highborne Magi that stand on the other side of Queen Azshara's shield are all looking at one another in uncertainty. The handmaidens, Azshara's personal priestesses, are also looking somewhat worried now. The Queen herself eventually turns back around, baffled by the lack of fighting. When she sees her dead magi right outside of her shield, her beautiful features contort in fury.

"What are you fools waiting for? Kill them!"

The last four Highborne don't bother with rushing in piece meal. All four of the mages walk out as once, their own shields in front of them as they fling magic from behind them. Jaina's eyes light up with arcane power of her own, Vereesa dodges out of the way with lithe movement, and Tyrande shields herself with Elune's Light. But once again, all of that is… utterly pointless.

Harry isn't messing around. He's very clearly not in the mood to toy with these males, because none of them last longer than five seconds. All die, just as the original two did. This time, the Night Elf Queen was smart enough to stay facing this direction. Her eyes widen at the display of magical power from what she sees as one of her own. Her nostrils flare in anger, before she visibly manages to school her features, smiling a hauntingly beautiful smile instead.

"As much as I'd love to play hostess, I have more pressing matters to attend to. Riders, to me!"

"At your side, my qu-GAH!"

Tyrande's eyes had widened as soon as the Shadowbats and the Highborne riding them appeared, seemingly out of thin air. She remembered how devastating the group had been, and how it hadn't been until Malfurion had thrown a cloud of seeds down onto them that they'd finally been revealed. And yet, her eyes go even wider still when Harry's magic slices right through Azshara's shield like it wasn't even there, tearing apart both the Shadowbats and their riders before they can properly touch down on the terrace.

"What?!"

Azshara barely has time to react, before she's strung up by another wave of Harry's hand. Her arms are pulled behind her back by invisible bonds, and her jeweled scepter falls from nerveless fingers. Her handmaidens, the two that are with her, are subjected to a similar fate, bound and pulled forward away from the edge of the terrace, just as Queen Azshara is.

Tyrande knows what comes next, of course. Harry will take the Queen of the Night Elves, and he will do unspeakable things to her. It almost doesn't compute, in Tyrande's mind. Like an Unstoppable Force meeting an Immovable Object. But at the same time, Tyrande has no doubt that Harry will be the one to prove that Azshara wasn't nearly as immovable and unstoppable as she always seemed.

And then his hand is around her wrist, and Tyrande is letting out a yelp as she's dragged forward until she's face to face with the trussed-up form of her people's ancient former ruler.

"Go on then. I'm sure you have plenty of pent-up aggression to take out on this bitch. Do you not want to make her pay for all she did to you and your people?"

Even as Azshara curses and spits in near-frothing rage at the indignity that she's being subjected to, Tyrande finds herself staring at the Queen, and recognizing her beauty. Because, even in the midst of palpable anger, she's still gorgeous. Queen Azshara, the most beautiful woman to ever walk Azeroth. Born with golden eyes, she'd had it all from the very beginning. She'd become the most beloved Queen in all of Night Elf History, a history that had gone back millennia, even before the War of the Ancients.

Her coronation ceremony had lasted for days, and each night the nobility had given her the most precious of gifts that they could find in order to curry her favor. But it had been Lord Xavius who presented the queen with the jeweled scepter that even now lay on the ground behind her. He'd promised her that so long as she kept it close, it would bring her prosperity, and power.

Azshara had used that scepter over the years to enhance her own, already legendary beauty. As time had gone on, she'd gone from simply gorgeous to otherworldly. The years had worn on and the queen had grown younger, more mesmerizing, utterly perfect. A brilliant aura had enveloped her, though it was dim now, and it had enthralled those who looked upon her.

Some had even gone so far as to claim it was a sign of divinity, though Azshara herself was smart enough to never try to usurp the title of Goddess from Elune. What need did she have for such titles, when she already received plenty of worship already? And Tyrande could admit, up close and personal as she was now, Azshara's was a beauty worth worshipping. She was utterly gorgeous, truly spectacular, the definition of awe-inspiring.

And she was also the woman that had very nearly destroyed her entire people, and the world with it. And for what? Vanity's sake? This bitch had decided that only she was perfect. That only she was special. She'd sold out their entire fucking planet to the Burning Legion to satiate her ego, and for what? All of the death that had followed… it could be laid at Azshara's feet. The Night Elf Empire had been a place of corruption and excess, yes. The Highborne had been reviled by so many.

But not Azshara. Even when the common folk, numbering in the countless millions, had hated the Highborne with all their might, they'd still loved their Queen. Azshara could have been Queen of the Kal'dorei, like she was meant to be, rather than simply Queen of the Highborne, and they would have followed her to the end of time itself.

Instead, she'd tried to have them wiped off of Azeroth, and in turn, had changed the face of Azeroth forever. She'd weakened their world for all time to come, truth be told. For that alone, Tyrande could find reason to hate her. For that only… Tyrande was willing to go along with Harry's desires. But more than anything else, it was the fact that she saw recognition in the Queen's eyes, as she came closer. Azshara's golden gaze saw right through the illusion cast upon Tyrande's face, and her eyes widened in surprise, right before Tyrande attacked her lips with her own.

"Yo-mmph!"

As she kisses the bound Queen most vehemently, biting at her lips, sticking her tongue down the bitch's throat, her hands both come up, and she grabs the front of Azshara's gorgeous, one-of-a-kind dress. Then, she tears, ripping it down off of perfectly shaped ocean-blue tits, each capped with a small little nipple.

Tyrande doesn't spend any time admiring the Queen's perfect chest though. Instead, she mauls the soft boobflesh viciously, causing a cry to erupt from Azshara's mouth, which she eagerly swallows up with her own. Yes! She wanted the pain! She wanted to drink of Azshara's agony! Let the bitch see what she had seen! Let the cunt know what she'd done, and despair of ever being beloved and worshipped again!

In the back of her mind, Tyrande is well aware that she's playing right into Harry's hands with this. But even as he comes up alongside her, she could care less. Let Azshara feel how it is to be the center of the human wizard's attention for once. Let him conquer the Queen of the Night Elves. It's no less than the treacherous bitch deserves.

-x-X-x-

As Tyrande goes crazy on the Queen, Harry just smiles, stepping closer with a chuckle on his lips. She really is gorgeous. Both of them, but he means Queen Azshara in particular. The stories he's heard about her don't do the Night Elf woman justice. This right here, this might just be the pinnacle of beauty, practically anywhere.

And he's going to fuck her. Yes, Harry can acknowledge academically that Queen Azshara is the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen, at least physically. But that doesn't mean he's going to be enthralled by her or want to worship her. Especially not when he can see her soul, just as much as he can see her body. She's rotten, like some of his other conquests have been. Like a certain Scarlet Crusader, or a Troll Priestess. Except, Azshara is in a league all her own. She's rotten to her core.

Whether or not he'll be able to turn her obsession with herself to better pursuits or not… well, Harry will find out soon enough. But one way or another, he's going to have fun getting there. Coming up behind Tyrande, the human wizard makes eye contact with the Elven Queen, even as her molestation continues unabated, her bound form helpless to resist Tyrande's ministrations.

He sees the moment that Azshara's gorgeous golden eyes see through the illusion put upon him, just as he sees how she looks baffled and confused by his appearance. After all, she's probably never seen a human before. It's a bit before they're time now, isn't it? Chuckling, Harry keeps his gaze locked with the Queen's, while at the same time vanishing Tyrande's armor. His hands first fall to the High Priestess' hips, and then slide up further, as he reaches around and grabs at her purple breasts, squeezing and groping them expressively.

At the same time, his cock is now out of his robes, and is forcing its way between her dripping, violet thighs. Tyrande moans into Azshara's lips, reflexively grinding and humping against his massive meat stick for a moment, before disengaging entirely from the Queen's mouth in order to bend over a bit further so she can take both of the other woman's nipples into her mouth at the same time.

She forces Azshara's perfectly shaped blue tits together, stuffs the small little nipples into her mouth, and bites and pulls at the Queen's teats. Azshara shrieks in outrage more than pain as she's so physically abused, while Harry laughs. Tyrande, meanwhile, seems to relish the screams. Of course, seeing such an opportunity, Harry isn't going to let him pass it by. Not for a moment.

Reaching over Tyrande, the human wizard shoves two fingers into Azshara's open mouth, temporarily gagging her and stifling her latest scream of outrage. Golden eyes widen, and he can tell immediately from the incredulous look on her face that the Highborne Queen has never, EVER been treated this way before, not by ANYONE. Well, there's always a first.

Thrusting his fingers in and out, he gauges the quality of the soft wet tongue that he's currently pressing down on, humming to himself. Azshara lets out an indignant groan as he does this, probably angry to find that she can't actually close her mouth anymore. If she could, she would no doubt use those teeth of hers to try and bite through her digits, flesh, bone, and all.

But a simple application of his magic leaves her saying 'ahhh' long past the time she might have wanted to. Only when he withdraws his fingers does she find the ability to work her jaw returned to her. However, before she can say or do anything, Harry is rubbing his saliva-coated digits across her perfectly-sculpted blue cheeks, back and forth from one side to the other, grinning as she begins to react with even more outrage and indignation.

"You know, Queen Azshara… you really do live up to your legendary beauty. And then some. No description I've read of you could really do you justice. It's just too bad that such a poor… personality would accompany such a whorish body."

"You bastard! I'll have you hung by your entrails for this! I will tear you limb from limb! Release me! Release me now!"

Her outraged screams would probably be more compelling (not) if they weren't coming in the midst of half-suppressed moans. Snorting derisively, Harry reaches forward and places a hand between Tyrande's shoulder blades. Then, he pushes. Both she and Azshara descend to their knees. Harry's cock falls away from Tyrande's delicious purple thighs as she follows Azshara down, but the High Priestess certainly doesn't mind. She's completely and utterly dedicated to the Queen's tits at this point, continuing to pull, bite, and suckle at the nipples like some sort of hungry calf.

At the same time, Tyrande's hands are all over Azshara's body. When one traces down to betwixt the blue-skinned Highborne's thighs and tweaks her sensitive clit, Azshara gasps in fresh indignation. But any screams of vengeance that might have passed from the bound Queen's lips fall away as she ends up going cross-eyed trying to stare at the bitch breaker that is not touching her upper lip, the tip pressing right into the entrance of her nostrils.

Said nostrils flare instinctively and fill with the scent of precum and musk as Azshara's perfect eyelashes flutter expressively from the intake. The Night Elf Queen unconsciously gulps, even as her mouth waters. She was no pure maiden, no virgin Queen. She had used and discarded countless suitors. She had had men and women attend her in bed, and while most had satisfied her (for those who did not were permanently 'discarded') it had always been nothing more than play.

None had truly been worth of her. And certainly, none could be said to have ever matched the massive, angry-looking cock now before her. Tyrande makes a sound of smug surprise from around the nipples currently still stuffed in her mouth as she feels the sudden surge of moistness from Azshara's cunt. Then, she sinks two digits into the Night Elf Queen's depths.

Azshara's surprised gasp at this sudden penetration was all the opening Harry needed. One hand on his cock to hold it steady, the other coming down on top of the Queen's head to hold HER steady, and then Harry is thrusting forward, ramming his entire cock right into the absolutely gorgeous Night Elf specimen's mouth and throat without pause, all the way down to the hilt.

"GARRRRUGHRKGKKK!!!"

Such a sound has never, in the entire history of the Night Elf race, emitted from a Night Elf Queen. Certainly not from Queen Azshara herself. Having never deigned to lower herself to even considering the thought of pleasuring anyone with her mouth, she's not at all ready. In fact, Harry had discovered Azshara's one 'virgin' hole, and as he violates it, as he begins to throat fuck her, right then and there, she can do nothing but gag and gurgle around his cock.

Harry's having the time of his life. He's fucking the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on, and at the same time, he's making a great source of evil his bitch. In his opinion, it's a win-fucking-win situation. At least, for him. For the dear, darling Queen who's currently choking like some two-bit whore on his cock, it's more of a lose-lose. But hey, if she comes around to his way of thinking…

Regardless, there's something special about watching golden eyes cry golden tears. Honestly, if it were any other situation, Harry might have taken the time to bottle up the Queen's secretions. Those glistening, glowing tears of hers were probably some sort of powerful, magical alchemical ingredient, if not an outright magical artifact on their own.

But Harry was busy with more important things right now. Namely, railing this bitch-queen's throat to his heart's content.

"GAGKH! GAGKH! GAGKH!"

"Yeah, that's right slut. You like it, don't you?"

Her angry gaze tells him otherwise, but Harry just grins and speeds up.

"Is this the first time someone bigger and better than you has come along and given you a spanking for being such a bad, naughty girl? I imagine it is. Don't worry, Tyrande took some training too. I'm sure I'll have you properly singing my praises in no time."

Those golden eyes flicker down to the Night Elf still mauling her body and biting at her tits. Harry hadn't failed to notice that she'd seen through Tyrande's disguise, just as she'd seen through his. The rest of the timeline might not know he was a human, or that there were currently two versions of Tyrande taking part in the War of the Ancients, but Queen Azshara knew. Oh yes, she did. All the more reason to bring her alongside, which Harry was SURE he could do.

Forcing a loyalty change could come later though. For now, it was all throat-rape, all the time. Groaning expressively, Harry continues to force the gurgling, gagging, choking Night Elf Queen all the way to the base of his cock, the entirety of his length disappearing down her throat, down her esophagus, and into her gullet with every forceful, violent thrust. With both hands now on her head, gripping her long, luscious silver hair and her ears at the same time, Harry is able to pull her back and forth along his thrusting cock as fast as possible, skull-fucking her like there's no tomorrow.

And hell, maybe there won't be. But that's just fine, because all that matters is right here and right now, teaching this beautiful whorish bitch her place in the pecking order.

-x-X-x-

Alurmi wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do, at this point. This was certainly not the usual sort of party of adventurers she may have followed along after in her duties as an archivist. And to be fair, with such legendary names and faces as Jaina Proudmoore, Vereesa Windrunner, and Tyrande Whisperwind making up three of the part slots, that wasn't all that surprising.

Still, nothing could have prepared her for watching as the human male, 'Harry Potter' thrust his hips forward, pistoning his rather large phallus (for his size anyways) in and out of the bound Night Elf Queen's throat. She was pretty sure that nowhere in the 'approved timeline' did it say that Queen Azshara had been captured and throat-fucked during the War of the Ancients.

And yet, it was happening right now, right before her eyes. If Soridormi hadn't told her not to interfere, if she hadn't told her to treat Harry Potter's orders like her own, Alurmi might have stepped in already. But truth be told, she was a whelp compared to the rest of her flight. Barely a few decades ago. She was trusted with small tasks, such as arching enemies, but beyond that…

"I…"

Before she can say anything else, Vereesa is at her side, the Ranger-General of the Silver Covenant shushing Alurmi and pulling her away from the debauched display taking place in the center of the terrace.

"Shh, it's alright darling. Here, let me show you a new way of gathering valuable information from enemies, hm?"

Alurmi blinks at that, and then blushes profusely as Vereesa nibbles at her elf form's tender neck flesh in a way that is not at all painful. In fact, it's exactly the opposite. As hands slide up and down her form in ways that the young Bronze Dragon is MOST unfamiliar with, but not at all opposed to learning more about, she finds herself led over to one of the two bound handmaidens. The Night Elf's eyes widen at Vereesa and Alurmi's approach, and she squirms in her bindings, trying to escape… but there's no way she's getting free, from what Alurmi has seen so far of Harry Potter's magic.

Perhaps… perhaps hearing Vereesa out wouldn't be so bad.

Meanwhile, Jaina was left all alone. The Archmage huffs as she places her hands on her hips, her gaze traveling between Harry and Tyrande with the absolutely gorgeous Night Elf Queen, who even Jaina could admit was a total, utter, objectifiable bombshell, and then over to Vereesa and Alurmi, the former of which was showing the latter the ropes of sexual 'exploration'.

Knowing better than to disturb Harry at this point, recognizing quite clearly that he's already chosen Tyrande as his side bitch as he plays with the main prize of the hour, Jaina turns her attention onto the second bound handmaiden. A Night Elf Priestess, from the looks of things, a young one too, a maiden perhaps even. She prays feebly to Elune for mercy as Jaina approaches her, causing the disguised human to giggle, even as she reaches out and grabs a fistful of the handmaiden's hair.

"You and your mistress brought the Legion to Azeroth, girl. Trust me, you'll find more mercy from ME than you will from your Moon Goddess. And it's not much, either."

A whimper leaves the handmaiden's throat, and Jaina knows, even as she forces the bitch to her knees, that the Night Elf can see the palpable lust in Jaina's eyes. Good… she's not trying in the least to hide it.

-x-X-x-

For the first time in her long live, Azshara, Queen of the Night Elves, feels overwhelmed. Her long, knife-life blue ears are filled with the moans and screams as her handmaidens beg at first for mercy, and then later on, for release. Meanwhile, her throat BURNS as she feels every last inch of the plundering cock thrusting into her esophagus and gullet. Her nostrils flare for breath, and that only causes her to take in more of the strange creature's heavy musk.

She doesn't know what she's dealing with. That's also a first for the beleaguered Queen. None of this makes sense. These aren't Night Elves, she understands that much. Except, the bitch currently still abusing her poor nipples with her ravenous mouth looks exactly like Tyrande Whisperwind, under that illusion of hers. The only problem is, Azshara had quite literally just observed the Night Elf Priestess fighting on the shores of the Well of Eternity against Legion forces before this new group had arrived.

What was going ON?! What was happening?! Who was this pale-skinned beast who had the biggest cock she'd ever seen, who had more magical power than she'd ever witnessed, who had her in his grasp?! WHO WAS HE?! And yet, Azshara is no closer to getting any answers to that, as Harry grips her long ears, massaging the tips even as he skull fucks her to his heart's content, pounding into her throat harder and faster.

Azshara only realizes right at it's happening that his tempo is increasing because he's reaching his release. For a Queen who's spent her entire life dictating when her bedmates have been allowed to orgasm, having complete and utter control over both their satisfaction and her own, it's a new experience, to have him just unleash a torrent of his hot, white seed down her gullet without even ASKING first.

The explosion of cum hits her with such force that it quickly comes rushing back out through her nose and mouth. That's the least of Azshara's concerns, however. The real problem, is the fact that the seed is mana-enriched. It's not something she ever considered a possibility, before, to be honest. To infuse a male's cum with this much magic would require turning the male into an unstable force that would inevitably explode and wipe out who knows how far around him.

Might have been a fun experiment, but Azshara was partial to keeping her eyebrows unsinged, and she'd have to be all too close to the theoretical living bomb to enjoy his mana-enriched seed properly. And yet, this creature… this creature was in no way unstable. His magic was wild and untamed, yes, reminding her at least somewhat of the Wild Gods who lived atop Mount Hyjal that she'd always hated and feared for lack of being able to understand them.

But it was also his to command, and contradictorily contained within his body. Except, not when he came. Then, the magic rushed out. His seed filled her gullet, and while yes, plenty came out of her nostrils and the sides of her mouth around his thick, massive dick, still plenty more ended up staying inside of her.

The Night Elf Queen's mind short circuits and her cunt squirts and gushes a literal waterfall of pussy juices as she shakes and spasms through a quick course of rapid-fire orgasms. Her golden eyes nearly roll back in her head, but instead settle for going crossed in order to stare at the magnificent member that had given her such a delicious, surprising treat.

As the strange creature slowly unsheathes his cock from her throat, Azshara eventually notices the loss of the hot, meaty rod, and before she can stop herself, she's instinctively mewling for more, whimpering and begging most pathetically with her golden eyes.

Harry, meanwhile, decides that it's time for a change in position. He lifts a hand, and Azshara's bottom half floats up into the air, leaving her suspended once more, but this time face down, rather than straight up. His cock, meanwhile, is still inches away from her needy, puckering lips, even as she stretches her neck in what must be painful ways to try and reach it. The Queen of the Night Elves, so easily reduced to nothing more than another cum-hungry whore.

Meanwhile, Tyrande finally pulls back from Azshara's nipples upon feeling the woman being lifted up into the air again. She slips her hands onto her own body and touches herself for a moment at the sight of her former Queen, bound and helpless in midair, her body covered in sweat and flexing and squirming, her face dripping with Harry's cum.

Tyrande's tongue lolls out of her mouth for a moment, and she catches a drop of Harry's seed on it, quickly rolling her mouth muscle back in to drink that single drop down. Then, she laughs at Azshara's lack of self-control. As much as she might have wanted Harry's cum just like the bitch-queen clearly does, at least she's not so weak to be begging for it like a wounded animal, or some bitch in heat.

Cackling at the treacherous cunt's plight, Tyrande disengages her hands from her own body once more, this time to tease Azshara as a spark of inspiration hits her mind. She grabs the suspended queen and begins to spin her in circles, viciously twisting her around. Harry, seeing what she's doing, steps forward into range once more, and watches on with no small amount of amusement.

Every time Azshara comes back around, Harry's cock smacks into her face, the mess that she's left on his phallus splattering over her already ruined, yet still utterly perfect beautiful features. And yet, rather than get indignant or outraged about this incredible 'injustice', Azshara seems to have forgotten her pride, seems to have forgotten her stature. Right now, she's just a cock-hungry whore, and every time Tyrande spins her around again, without fail, she has her mouth open and her tongue out, trying to catch even a taste of the precum she can see leaking out of Harry's cockhead even now.

While the display DOES amuse Harry, it also inadvertently teases him in the process of teasing Azshara. In the end, Harry has to end Tyrande's fun for now, eventually catching one of the trapped Queen's legs and pulling her in close, spreading her perfect blue limbs around him as he lets her wet slit grind against his ball sack, his massive cock sliding right up between her perfectly round, perfectly soft blue butt cheeks.

As he hot dogs the Night Elf Queen to his heart's content, her needy whimpering and whining music to his ears, Tyrande's head suddenly pops up beside Azshara's buttocks. Harry cocks an eyebrow at the High Priestess, but Tyrande doesn't pay him any mind, amusingly enough. Instead, her eyes are fixated on her former Queen's glorious ass, and she has the lewdest, wickedest smile on her face that Harry has ever seen from her.

She enacts her plans a moment later, and Harry can only watch in amusement as she begins to spank Azshara's butt cheeks, one and then the other, turning the ocean-blue flesh a dark shade of purple.

"This is your new life now, bitch! This is all you'll be doing, from now on! It's my job to teach you your new role in life as a masochistic fuck toy! So, get ready, slut, because it's all downhill from here!"

Harry allows Tyrande her fun, enjoying hot-dogging the Queen's ass for now, even as it grows steadily more purple under Tyrande's harsh, repeated smacks. The High Priestess is not holding back, not even a little bit. It's incredibly hot, and his cock is throbbing and pulsating with need, even as his balls churn, ready to unleash another load where ever he wants to put it.

Luckily, before he has to interrupt Tyrande's games again, the High Priestess interrupts herself, spreading the bruised, overly sensitive cheeks of her ancient monarch apart and pressing the side of her face against Azshara's hip, looking up at him finally and licking her lips lustfully.

"Go on, Harry. Show her. Enlighten her to her new place in this life."

He doesn't even hesitate. His cock slides back, but it doesn't go back up the length of Azshara's ass crack. Instead, the cockhead fits against the Night Elf Queen's gushing wet pussy lips, and a moment later he's inside of her, reshaping Azshara's pussy as he fills her depths with his meaty rod. Azshara positively squeals, and cums immediately, the beautiful Queen's body shaking and trembling and spasming, even in the magical bondage he has her under. She orgasms explosively, but Harry barely pays it any mind. He's fucking her, yes, he's plowing her silly like he intended to, of course… but his eyes are on Tyrande.

As Harry fucks Azshara, Queen of the Night Elves, for all he's worth, he looks down at the positively ecstatic face of Tyrande Whisperwind and chuckles darkly.

"It's nice to see you finally showing a bit of your true self, Tyrande. Who knew you were such a sadist, deep down inside?"

Tyrande's eyes widen at that, and she opens her mouth, probably to protest, probably to make some excuse about how Azshara deserves this, but that doesn't mean SHE is a sadist. Harry doesn't really want to hear her protests though, so he silences her would-be denials with a deep, tongue-filled kiss, leaning down to capture her lips with his own before stuffing his tongue in her mouth and halfway down her throat.

At the same time, his left hand comes up and then down, a smack across her own glorious ass before he inserts two fingers into her back door, beginning to fuck her with his digits anally. The High Priestess of Elune immediately melts into his kiss, and moans from the anal penetration, her eyes fluttering with abject lust and arousal and all too much pleasure, any denials she might have brought to bear forgotten immediately.

Eventually, Harry pulls away from Tyrande, and focuses his attention back on the star of the show. Not that he would ever let her know she was the center of his attention for even a moment. Azshara wasn't the kind of bitch you gave too much focus to, or else she would start thinking too highly of herself again. Then, she would get uppity. She would try to rebel. She would try to take control and be in charge.

Sluts like this egotistical Queen currently impaled on his cock were NOT meant to be in charge. They would only ruin it for everyone else. It was up to Harry to make sure Azshara realized this, to make sure she knew her place, just as Tyrande had said. So, he releases the spell binding Azshara's body from moving. Though, he doesn't release the block he's put on the Night Elf's magic.

Harry watches in amusement as the Queen suddenly finds herself in danger of falling flat on her face, something that would likely have been an entirely new experience for her, much like everything else that was happening today. But even as she scrambles at the sudden seeming inevitability of falling forward off his cock, Harry uses the absolute control he has over his own body to force his meaty rod to lift her upright. His cock bulges out of her belly as he pulls her back up against his chest, causing Azshara to slide all the way down to the hilt on his cock.

He's not holding her up with anything but his dick right now, something that is causing the once-prideful Night Elf Queen to go cross-eyed, her golden eyes filled with bliss as her tongue sticks out cutely in utter pleasure. Eventually, she recovers enough to speak.

"I-I know not what manner of creature you are… but I beg you, d-don't stop…"

She sounds so weak, compared to before. But Harry knows she's not FULLY broken. Not yet. Even as she nibbles one side of his neck and Tyrande wraps herself around him to nibble at the other, Harry knows that he has to finish this. Slowly, he begins to guide things in the direction he wants them to go, quite literally. He takes both Night Elf women up to Azshara's throne, off to the side and ignored up until this point as it had been.

The Queen of the Night Elves bounces limply on his cock every step, fresh moans and throaty mewling noises erupting from her wrecked throat as they go. Eventually, he makes it up to the throne, a beautiful, opulent physical representation of Azshara's power, and turns around before sitting down on it. For a moment, Azshara just lounges back across his chest, her head lolling on his shoulder. But luckily for her, Tyrande is there to remind her of her duties to the new 'King'.

The High Priestess leans forward and kisses Harry, even as she cruelly tweaks and twists both of Azshara's cute little nipples, provoking a squeal from the Night Elf Queen as she comes back to life.

"You don't get to lounge around now, bitch."

Tyrande's spite-filled words hit Azshara like a truck, and she moans before nodding her head, blushing up a storm. Still, it's with a slavish sort of delight that the Night Elf Queen begins to bounce and grind herself up and down on Harry's cock in a sort of tantric dance, using her hands to grip at the arms of the throne, her inner walls tightening and squeezing and rhythmically rippling up and down his length, which is currently pressing into her womb directly, having made short work of her cervix early on.

She's eager to please, and eager to debase herself further, crying out in ecstasy, engaging in debauchery, but the sort of debauchery where she was nothing but a willing servant to the pinnacle of manhood currently buried inside of her gushing, drooling quim. The battle down at the shores of the Well of Eternity rages on, but up here on the Queen's Terrace, they're paid no mind by the forces below. Even the enemies who have flight, the demons and dragons both who fight in the skies, see nothing whenever they glance down at the terrace, thanks to Harry's magic.

Meanwhile, on the terrace itself, both of Azshara's handmaidens have been stripped down by this point. They lay prone, looking up at the throne in equal amounts of lust and horror as their once-proud queen proclaims her depravity for all to see. Unlike Azshara, who can very much see through the illusion by this point, these two handmaidens aren't nearly strong enough. Instead, they both see what appears to them to be the most masculine, manliest male specimen of their species that they've ever seen. And he's being serviced by the most beautiful of their kind, even as they both receive unmerciful fucking by women who have poor replicas of the cock currently thrusting up into their Queen.

Needless to say, no matter how good the strap-ons are in quality and no matter how close to the real thing they are, the cocks that Jaina and Vereesa are currently bringing to bear on the handmaidens as Alurmi watches on, taking notes, despite being identical to Harry's in every superficial way, just aren't good enough. They can't hold a candle to the real deal, leaving both handmaidens burning with jealousy of their beloved Queen for the first time in their lives.

For the first time in their lives, the two Night Elf women, ultimately inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, wish they could take their Queen's place, rather than simply being happy with being in their Queen's presence, basking in her amazing aura. No, right now, the two wish they could bounce up and down on this Night Elf male's cock instead, they wish they could be where Azshara is, and that it would be their Queen who would be forced to look upon THEM in jealousy.

Of course, that's not likely to ever happen. Neither handmaiden is even remotely special, not even remotely important. The male Night Elf they're watching plow their Queen silly… he'll never even know their names.

-x-X-x-

As Harry begins to reach his peak and the eventual release that's welling up within his meaty length and churning its way around in his ball sack, he reaches out and grips Azshara's perfectly sculpted hips on both sides. His fingers dig into her ocean-blue flesh, and he takes over entirely for the admittedly enthusiastic whore of a Queen.

Of course, as enthusiastic and eager as she was to fuck herself on his cock, Harry is a LOT faster. Once he's taken direct control, he pounds up into her with such speed and force that her divine ass ripples like a disturbed pond. In response, Azshara gracefully shows off her flexibility, bending directly backwards in an arc to capture his lips away from Tyrande, leaving the High Priestess whining jealously as the two of them kiss. When they pull apart, golden eyes filled with lust stare into emerald green, and Azshara beseeches her new liege for what she truly wants.

"Please, Master. Please cum inside of me. Fill me with your glorious seed. Send me to the heights of pleasure with your mana-infused ejaculate!"

She squirms on his cock as she says it, excited for what she KNOWS has to be coming soon. And yet, he pauses, and cocks his head to the side, rather than giving her what she still thinks she's owed. Despite begging for his cum like a proper little slave consort, she's still acting like the spoiled bratty bitch she is.

"What makes you think you've earned such a privilege, slut?"

He grasps one of her tits and rolls her abused nipple in between his fingers for a moment as he smiles at her. Azshara's perfectly shaped lips open and close like a goldfish as she tries to come up with a reasonable answer to that. Harry smiles, and changes the question.

"More importantly… what would you be willing to give for such a privilege?"

Those golden eyes of hers light up as the Night Elf's last and final monarch latches onto that, knowing that she has PLENTY to give. Twisting so that she can look him directly in the eyes over her shoulder, Azshara licks her lips as she caresses his cheek with one hand.

"I, Azshara, Queen of the Kal'dorei Empire, Cherished Heart of the People, Daughter of the Moon, Flower of Life, Glory of My People, Light of Lights, and Vision of Perfection… will happily and willingly give you everything."

She whispers it all, at first. Sultrily and seductively, she lists her titles, hoping to impress him with just how important and powerful and special she is. Her reach is far just being the Queen of the Kal'dorei alone. Azshara had never much cared about the far-flung reaches of the empire before, of course, having turned her gaze inward even as the empire's borders had spread ever-outwards. But now she would scour the entirety of fucking Azeroth if it meant she would be able to get whatever he wanted for him. She would kill, she would create, she would build and destroy, so long as it made him happy. So long as it gave him cause to give HER what she wanted more than anything in the world now… his cock and his seed.

And yet, while he DOES smile, he also reaches up and grabs a fistful of her luscious silver hair, pulling harshly and causing a cry of pleasurable pain to leave her lips as he looks her in her golden eyes.

"Did you think I wanted it whispered to me, like something passed secretly between two people in the dark? Silly slut. If you're willing to give me everything, shout it, loud and proud! Proclaim your loyalty for all to hear, for both your new masters and your old to comprehend and see!"

Azshara's heart pounds in her chest, and the instinctive denial, that she had no masters, that she was Queen, catches in her throat, never to pass from her lips. Instead, she finds herself straightening up, and as her inner walls clench and squeeze rhythmically along his magnificent, majestic cock, the Night Elf Queen screams her declarations.

"I give you everything! All I am, is yours! I give you my people, I give you their future, I give you their dignity! I give you our goddess herself, if you desire her! I will give you this entire world, if you let me! For the experience I have been given today, I will give you it all a thousand times over, Master!"

A moment later, Harry finally begins to cum, and Azshara receives the wombful of cum that she's so desired. Her golden eyes finally roll back in her head, and her perfect, beautiful body convulses in an orgasm unlike she has ever had before or will ever have from this point on. She shakes and spasms for what seems like minutes before finally flopping bonelessly back against Harry's chest.

Tyrande is of course not left unaffected by the particularly blasphemous parts of Azshara's declaration. The thought of watching Harry defile Elune herself in every carnal way that Tyrande has witnessed so far from the human wizard is… it makes her undeniably wet, her cunt positively GUSHING juices. But Azshara's words are not just heard by those on the terrace, though the two handmaidens do cum simultaneously at hearing their Queen offer them up on a silver platter to her conqueror, even the THOUGHT of him turning his eyes upon them and making use of them enough to make them orgasm.

No, her declaration stretches further still. Even as a war raged across the battlefield below, even as everyone fought down at the Well of the Ancients in an attempt to purify the Dragon Soul, three dragons in particular could faintly hear the Night Elf Queen's screams, and they turned preternatural eyes towards the palace terrace, their eyesight breaking through Harry's magic, even as he pulled it down.

They watch as a massive cock unsheathes itself from the insane Queen's cunt, dripping and hard as her handmaidens are finally let up from the ground, allowed to scramble forward and clean it immaculately with their tongues. They watch further in fascination as it then sinks into Azshara's untouched, perfectly sculpted behind, and listen to the symphony of pain and pleasure that emits from the Night Elf Queen's throat with a twinge of jealousy in their hearts.

Unable to contain their desires, the trio of female dragons are forced to remove themselves from the battlefield, hiding themselves in different places, ensconced from view. They each transform into a more humanoid form and watch the debasement of the once-proud Night Elf Queen with humanoid hands sliding across their bodies. Each could lay claim to the title of 'Queen' in their own right if they ever so chose, and each had their own pride.

Alexstrasza the Lifebinder. Ysera the Dreamer… and finally Soridormi the Scale of the Sands. The trio of female dragons watch with bated breath, their need to breed suddenly rising up within them, only compounded by the rush of adrenaline they'd all already felt from the battle still raging on among them. Though only Soridormi can see through her own Dragonflight's illusions to see the true purpose of this party, and only she will be able to even remember these events, it will still leave an undeniable mark on the other Aspects.

Ysera will have her dreams of debauchery, that will eventually lead to her delivering Tyrande right into Harry's hands, before going herself to have him seed her. Alexstrasza, meanwhile, will… well, that's a story for another time, isn't it? There has to be some sense of mystery, after all. But that she was left affected by this moment, ten thousand years set in the past… is utterly undeniable.

Unbeknownst to anyone, high above, the Moon Goddess herself watched on. Even as her worshippers fought for the fate of the world beside their own group of time travelers, Elune could not take her eyes away from the orgy and blasphemy that had been committed by the Night Elf Queen down below. The sight of Azshara being fucked in the ass probably shouldn't have had an effect on a Goddess of the Moon, but such is the way the world works sometimes.

The Moon Goddess' interest was now piqued, her gaze set upon the human man that was not only not of this time, but also not even of this world. His presence here in the past would not last, but the Moon Goddess would most certainly be waiting for the moment that the human finally showed himself again, far in the future. What she would do then… well, she would know when the time came.

Meanwhile, down below, in the depths, something far more sinister stirs. An Old God, the God of the Deep, slumbers restlessly. And yet, even as he slumbers, he's also aware. He 'hears' the Night Elf Queen's declarations just as others do, and he senses the power of a long dead sibling. There's a bit of a seismic event, deep beneath Azeroth's oceans, a rumbling that most would not be able to tell was a deep, sonorous chuckle.

Good, good… every nascent god needed followers. Hm, the cracks in his cage had grown, since he'd last 'awoken'. And the way things were going above, it would not be long before the seas entertained many guests indeed. Perhaps he would ensure that such a faithful servant was ready to receive her master once again, when the time came.

This all happens without Harry's awareness. After all, the human wizard is focused solely on fucking the mind-broken Queen of the Night Elves right up the ass at the moment. And he's doing a pretty fantastic fucking job of that, if he has any say in it. Azshara's handmaidens are both suckling and lapping at one of hits nuts apiece, while the women he's brought with him have fallen upon poor Alurmi, intent on properly and fully inducting her into the group, from the looks of things.

Harry just smiles as he takes hold of Azshara's beautiful ocean-blue tits and squeezes and grips them harshly to his heart's content. They'll probably have to leave soon and go back to their own time. He can tell from the sounds of battle that things are reaching a crescendo. It'll soon be time to abandon the poor, doomed Queen to her ultimate fate.

But until then, he would have his fun. He would have his way with the most beautiful creature to walk Azeroth.

-x-X-x-

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