Chapter 8: Moira Thaurissan
-x-X-x-
"You've done well, Jaina. I wouldn't have expected… well, I suppose I owe you an apology for believing the worst. But unlike me, you didn't let your anger get the better of you. And because of that, our negotiations with the Sin'dorei proceed apace… perhaps even bolstered by the, ah, cooperation demonstrated here in Dalaran."
Jaina replied with a smile on her face, but Harry didn't really hear the words. He was too busy studying the man who'd just spoken from his spot on the far side of the room. As Jaina's apprentice, it was allowed for him to be in a meeting such as this, but he wasn't expected to talk. Nay, instead he was expected to keep his head down and keep quiet.
Probably for the best, because he was pretty sure that King Varian Wrynn would not be too pleased to find out about Sylvanas' role in everything. It was damn fortuitous that the Alliance leadership was apparently in talks with the Blood Elves to bring them back into the fold, but if Sylvanas found out, she would no doubt be quite unhappy.
The Forsaken would never be offered the same courtesy. The Alliance hated undead with a passion, as far as Harry could tell, and though they'd begrudgingly accepted the Death Knights into their ranks, that was a far cry from making peace with the 'race' that had blighted Gilneas and Hillsbrad alike. Speaking of Gilneas… Harry's eyes flicker over to the grey-haired man standing at Varian's side, before flicking away just as quickly. Genn Greymane, supposedly leader of the Worgen, had been sniffing discretely since he entered the room.
He'd glanced Harry's way more than once and given what the wizard had read and heard about the heightened senses of the worgen wolf-people, Harry found himself wondering just what it was Genn was smelling. Him on Jaina? Jaina on him? Him on Vereesa? Those were the only two women he'd fornicated with in the room at that moment. It was a small meeting, just Varian, Genn, Jaina, and Vereesa. And him of course, but he was not to be noticed.
"If you ask it of me, how can I say no?"
Harry blinks at that as Jaina's voice penetrates his thoughts. She's still smiling at Wrynn, and the rather impressive King smiles back. But there's nothing amorous there, Harry can tell that off the bat. Only a relationship that nonetheless runs quite deep. A friendship that has only been strengthened of late it seems.
"You're the leader of the Kirin Tor now, Jaina. I have no pretense to order you anywhere. But if you could do this task for me, I would greatly appreciate it nonetheless."
Jaina responds with a simple nod to that, and the matter is settled, though now Harry is rather irritated at himself and his own inattentiveness. Just what had Jaina agreed to? Well, he supposed he'd find out soon enough. There were a few more pleasantries exchanged, and then Wrynn and Greymane were leaving the room. The King of Stormwind and Ruler of the Alliance (as far as Harry understood their politics) barely spared him a glance as he walked past. But the aged worgen's gaze lingered on Harry, and he found himself staring back with a raised eyebrow rather than acting the part of a subdued apprenticed like he was supposed to.
He'd never responded well to challenge but judging by the way Genn Greymane's lips quirked up beneath his mustache, it had probably been a mistake not to avert his gaze respectfully or something. Not a mistake Harry could take back though, and whatever came of it he'd deal with in stride. Waiting until the powerful men were gone from the room, Harry approaches Jaina and Vereesa as they speak.
"You will be in charge while I'm gone of course… and I'll be taking Harry with me, I suppose."
Jaina says it so off-handedly but judging by the way Vereesa's face falls and the High Elf doesn't even try to push back on that, it's pretty much a done deal. Harry just lifts an eyebrow and smiles slightly.
"Sorry, I was day dreaming while you and the King had your little chat. Where are we off to then?"
The Kirin Tor's leader turns her gaze on Harry quite sharply, her eyes flashing as she stares him down while also straightening up. Is she upset with him? Harry's not sure why she would be…
"The High King Varian Wrynn has asked for my assistance in settling an internal Alliance dispute, after I showed such restraint with the Sunreavers. We will be making our way to Ironforge at first light on the morrow to make an effort at ending the infighting of the Council of Three Hammers. The High King, meanwhile, will be setting off for Pandaria."
Harry takes this in and assimilates the knowledge easily, even as he nods slowly in agreement.
"Very well. Though I have to ask why you need me with you…"
Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he had quite a few new female friends in Dalaran now, after the events of the Sunreaver Interrogation. Not to mention Vereesa. He honestly had no problem staying right here, where he would have both excellent female company as well as the ability to continue research on how to get home. He doubted there was any library in this Ironforge that could match Dalaran for magical knowledge.
"Because you are my apprentice, and I said so."
Both Harry's brows lift at that, but before he can react, before he can potentially turn the tables on Jaina via some act of sex that will leave the haughty Archmage a quivering, trembling mess, she turns her nose up and walks away, actively striding out of the room just avoid further argument.
"She's worried that you're being overly influenced by the Horde."
Vereesa's words come almost flippantly as the High Elf steps into the space Jaina had previously occupied, filling his vision and already reaching up to begin removing her armor. Harry's lips curl up into a slow smile as she shrugs her chest piece off and unwraps the binding holding her tits down to reveal her beautiful, pale skin to him.
As she sinks to her knees before him, Harry runs his fingers through her glistening hair and considers Vereesa's words. He supposes he can somewhat understand where Jaina is coming from. But if she truly thinks he's being swayed to the Horde somehow by his enjoyment of those orcs over in the Filthy Animal or Sylvanas' delicious, buxom body… well, that's just silly.
Such are the insecurities of women though, he supposes. Quite like Vereesa even now, as she hungrily begins to devour his cock, swallowing his meat down her throat without pause or hesitation. The High Elf eagerly begins to gag on his dick, clearly wanting to get the most out of their remaining time together, given that he and Jaina would be gone tomorrow morning for who knew how long.
Harry didn't mind that though. He didn't mind that one bit.
-x-X-x-
"Ye would hold back yer forces when the damn trolls stand on our very doorstep?!"
"I would hold back me people from fighting for those who do nae even want us here!"
Once again, Harry found himself as an observer off to the side of the room. Of course, this time Jaina was beside him, observing as well with a look of consternation on her face. Harry, meanwhile, was privately amused. Not that he showed even an ounce of it. While there had been the occasional dwarf and gnome around Dalaran, he hadn't seen many, and he also hadn't truly had the opportunity to interact with any of them as of yet.
Now though, now they were in the dwarven city of Ironforge, and the place was chalk full of both of the shorter, stouter races. Gnomes were just plain tiny, but there was something to be said about the dwarven women that he'd seen so far. Especially the one who was even now staring down her contemporaries on the Council of Three Hammers.
Moira Thaurissan, born Moira Bronzebeard, was an interesting example of a woman who had taken matters into her own hands when men failed her, time and time again. The dwarven woman had become Empress of an entire underground civilization of dwarves apparently called the Dark Iron. And then, given her status as daughter of the Bronzebeard King, she'd decided to come and take power back when the male dwarf ended up petrified in crystal beneath the city.
If it weren't for the Alliance, she might very well have succeeded. But it seemed Varian wasn't interested in letting that happen, and he'd stepped in. Unfortunately, her son was still the heir to this Magni Bronzebeard's throne. In the end, the High King had suggested the clans establish a Council. This Council, right here, right now. Bronzebeard, Wildhammer, and Dark Iron.
They were supposed to work together, and now Moira was Queen-Regent… but of course, there was the infighting that Varian had asked Jaina here to help with in the first place. But it was even worse than that, because apparently there were trolls in the snows outside of Ironforge and the mountain it was situated in. These 'Frostmane Trolls' were not only threatening the dwarven settlements of Dun Morogh, they were amassing an army large enough to attack Ironforge itself, if the reports were to be believed.
Harry, personally, wasn't entirely sure what to think. The only real solid thought he had in his head was that the dwarves sounded somewhat Scottish to him. Moira in particular had an outright Scottish accent, that while thick, was still fairly understandable for a boy who'd literally grown up in a magical school located in Scotland.
It was kind of hot, if Harry had to admit it. Moira Thaurissan was rather sexy, in actuality. The dwarven woman might not have been as tall as Jaina, nor was she lithe and slim like perhaps Vereesa. But she had a pretty substantial chest, some wide hips, and a perfectly divine booty, from the few glimpses Harry had stolen of the thing as the trio of dwarves pace about their dais, arguing with one another back and forth.
Yeah, stout certainly described the Dark Iron dwarf just like it did her peers, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Ah, but yet again he was getting distracted by his own internal thoughts. It wasn't until Jaina stepped forward and began to speak that Harry paid attention once more.
"Council, if I may interject…"
The dwarves all look to her, and Moira's face twists in displeasure. Harry catches that, making a mental note of the expression. It's clear that the dwarven woman has at least some dislike for any other woman trying to outshine her. Most likely a byproduct of how she's grown up, and her experiences in life. Still, the males that run the Council with her seem quite pleased with Jaina's interruption.
"Yes, of course! Archmage Proudmoore, perhaps ye can offer some assistance. We've got ourselves this troll issue… and if we cannae rely on our own kind to provide magical support, perhaps ye can shore up the defenses of our war party."
Jaina's smile becomes a bit more wooden at that, and Harry can see the grimace she's hiding, even as Moira outright scowls at the words thrown out by her peer. But before the dwarven woman can say a word, Jaina is shaking her head no.
"I cannot do that, Muradin. The High King sent me here to help the three of you work through your differences. And while this impending attack by the Frostmane might force us to set aside that very important task, I refuse to let it cause even further strife. Please, Queen-Regent."
She turns her gaze towards Moira, and the dwarf stiffens as she looks down at Jaina from atop the dais. But she doesn't interrupt. If anything, having Jaina sound so pitiful seems to please the dwarven woman.
"I would beseech you, as an outside, consider your people."
Moira's eyes flash at that.
"I AM considering me people, Archmage. Already said as much, didn' I?"
Jaina smiles and shakes her head yet again.
"You came to Ironforge to rule, did you not, Queen-Regent? You brought the Dark Irons and your son here to unite the dwarven peoples beneath one banner. If you wish to succeed in that cause, if you wish to prove your clan is here with the best intentions, you must put your best foot forward. You MUST be willing to acknowledge all dwarves as your people, not just the Dark Irons."
Neither the Bronzebeard nor the Wildhammer representatives atop the dais with Moira look all too happy about Jaina's words. It's obvious to Harry at least that they'd prefer the Dark Irons go crawling back where ever they came from. Moira glances at her peers, and he notes the way she too sees their reaction to the Archmage and her speech. And in the end, that negativity alone seems to make it positive for Moira as an oh-so gracious smile spreads across the dwarven woman's face and she lifts her nose into the air imperiously.
"The Archmage speaks the truth. The Dark Irons will join the pre-emptive assault on the Frostmane's War Camp. Our warriors will lead the charge an' our mages will rain fire down upon these savage trolls from above. With our help, there is nae doubt that a dwarven victory will be assured."
Seriously, she's definitely got a Scottish accent. And, Harry can't help but note with amusement, she has her contemporaries by the balls. Both the Bronzebeard and the Wildhammer look like they've swallowed a dozen lemons each. And Muradin Bronzebeard in particular isn't at all pleased with Moira's words.
"Now look here, Dark Iron…"
Jaina lets out a soft sigh that only Harry hears, even as Moira's face twists into fresh anger. They might have managed to get the three to work together finally in confronting this threat, but it seemed HOW they would work together to combat the threat would be the next topic for debate for however long that took.
Harry couldn't help but let out a little sigh as well. It was truly ridiculous… but hey, at least he got to steal more glances at both Jaina and Moira as things dragged on. No one paid the mage apprentice in the corner any mind… at least not until things were finally settled and Jaina's hand landed on Harry's arm.
"Come, apprentice. We will be fighting alongside our dwarven allies as representatives of the Kirin Tor. Do not embarrass me."
That got a snort from the wizard, which luckily none of the dwarves seemed to take note of as Jaina stared daggers at Harry. Of course, not one to be cowed, Harry reached back and surreptitiously pinched at the bum of his dear 'mistress', causing her to let out a very tiny squeak and flush red with anger and embarrassment as her pointed stare became a pointed glare instead.
Harry just grinned and soon they were on their way. Battle with some trolls… from what he'd read, the trolls in this world were bigger than humans, but much smaller than the trolls from his world. This shouldn't be too difficult…
-x-X-x-
"Fight on ye sorry lot! Bronzebeard, Wildhammer, Dark Iron! It da nae matter one bit to these savages! Da nae let yer end come at the hand of a troll!"
Harry hated to admit it whenever it happened… but he'd been wrong. There was no real denying that at this point. And honestly… it'd been a LONG time since he'd been part of a pitched battle on this scale. The only thing that even partially lived up to this was the Battle of Hogwarts in his youth, but then even that wasn't as bloody and as visceral as this. There, wand-wielders had fought one another, usually in duels or in small scattered groups.
There, he'd fought Voldemort, killed Voldemort, and ended the battle on the spot. And since then, both as Head Auror and since arriving in this world, he'd not really done much beyond dueling in one on one encounters. Even the Sunreaver Interrogations hadn't been a true battle, and Harry had never actually fought anyone in the few pockets of resistance that sprung up. He'd used his own brand of… persuasion instead.
Well, these trolls certainly weren't looking for a human wizard to come and dominate them with his dick. They were violent, they were determined… and they were far more cunning than Harry or anyone else for that matter had given them credit for. He figured he could be excused, given his relative ignorance in comparison to his companions. But the fact that they'd basically walked right into an ambush that the Frostmane had obviously been planning for quite some time was not changed by who the fault could be laid upon.
In the end, all any of them could do was fight for their lives. And as trolls roared and charged into their lines, as savage, bestial magics from their shamans bolstered their warriors, Harry could admit that perhaps he'd underestimated the trolls of this world. They might not have a massive mountain city like Ironforge, but they weren't entirely the disorganized barely sentient rabble that he'd allowed the dwarves' prejudice to influence him into believing they were.
That didn't stop him from killing them though. His Kirin Tor robes were more than a little dirty by this point, the battlefield turning into a muddy slush as snow and ground both were thrown up by this spell or that spell. Not just from him of course. There were just as many magic users on the battlefield as there were warriors and rangers and the like.
It was true war, Harry was quickly discovering. Even as he hastily cast spell after spell, both to protect himself and to kill any troll he could possibly target for a clean shot, Harry recognized the hell around him as something he'd never truly experienced before. And despite the words of whatever progressive dwarf had tried to bolster their waning forces, they were steadily being pushed into a circle by the relentless Frostmane trolls pushing in all around them.
But… that didn't mean they were defeated. They still had Jaina after all, and the Archmage of the Kirin Tor would never be brought down by some simple trolls, no matter their numbers or their magics. Of course, Harry could tell that Jaina was having to hold back for fear of harming him or their allies. Moira, judging by the grimace of consternation set into her features, may have been doing the same, even as she wielded mighty magics of her own against their enemies.
It was a battle that the Frostmane may very well have been winning, but if they thought to incur a smaller amount of losses via this ambush, they certainly weren't succeeding in their task. But… no. No, that wasn't it at all. As Harry whirled this way and that, overwhelmed but still fighting, he began to realize something much more important.
This wasn't an ambush intended to save troll lives. It was an ambush intended to take the most important dwarven lives that they could. Only Moira and Muradin had ultimately taken the battlefield out of the Council of Three Hammers. Not that the Wildhammer, Falstad, had been too cowardly to go, but the two had overruled him. Someone had to remain behind to watch over Ironforge, and Muradin wasn't about to let it be Moira, while Moira was all too eager to prove that she was fit to lead all dwarven clans, not just the Dark Irons.
Still, Harry was beginning to see a pattern in the Frostmane Trolls' seemingly reckless assault. They were charging in almost blindly, their shamans' magics allowing them to take blows that would have and should have killed instantly and keep going. But they weren't as blind as he thought. They had targets. They had focus. They were usually just dying before they could fully reach them.
Muradin, Moira… and Jaina. The leaders of this expedition, but also leaders of the Alliance each in their own right. The trolls had correctly identified the priority targets within the military force that they were pummeling via ambush, and they were trying to take them out. Cut the head off, and the snake will wither and die.
At first, this only causes Harry to stay even closer to Jaina's side. The two of them almost fight back to back, though no words are exchanged as their magics destroy troll after troll. But his eyes keep flicking over to Moira and Muradin. Muradin… if he died, the Bronzebeard Clan would probably have someone capable of stepping up to take his place.
But Moira… Moira's death would destabilize the entire council and may very well start a war over custody of her son. Or it might see the Dark Irons thrown out of Ironforge once more. Not exactly conducive to the task Varian set before Jaina. And of course, more than anything else… Moira was a sexy MILF even if she was shorter than most of the women he'd been with in his life.
Harry couldn't help but want to maintain her health. So, when he saw it coming and realized no one else did, he found himself apparating across the battlefield with a loud bang, appearing just inches behind Moira as he placed himself between the troll and her back, which the troll is aiming for. The spear point coming towards him looks quite deadly indeed, and Harry catches it with his hand, even as he charges as much of his magic through his body as he can.
The blade of the troll's spear still digs into his flesh, piercing through his robes easily to get at the body that lays underneath. Harry grunts, but thanks to his reflexes, he's managed to keep the weapon from piercing all the way through his body and out his back, no doubt doing untold damage to half of his internal organs. Instead, it's merely done untold damage to a quarter of his internal organs.
Of course, the troll is staring at him baffled. At least, Harry assumes that the look he sees on the creature's face is befuddlement, even as he tries to push and finds his own innate physical strength matched by the smaller human in front of him. Gritting his teeth and channeling the pain in his gut into pure, righteous fury, Harry snarls a single word at the troll.
"Die."
A moment later, the savage bursts into flame and falls back, screaming. His spear falls back as well, slipping free of Harry's gaping wound with a squelch that doesn't sound so good. His impromptu magical demonstration might have been a bit of a mistake, Harry reflects as he begins to fall backward with a stumble. It took a lot out of him, killing the troll. And the rest of his magic was focusing on his wound, trying to heal the damage as he began to fade, fast.
To his surprise, someone catches him. Someone with strong arms, but a rather soft chest as he crumples to the snow. The last thing he sees as he looks up is Moira Thaurissan's face staring down at him in utter confusion. The last thing he hears however… is Jaina.
"Harry?! HARRY! NO!"
And then sweet oblivion.
-x-X-x-
When he wakes up next, Harry startles, sitting up in a rush and grunting as his hand immediately goes to his midriff. He's expecting pain, perhaps even agony. The events before his fall to unconsciousness are crystal clear with startling clarity in his mind. Where he woke up, Harry didn't know, but he still expected pain.
There is none though. His hand touches bandages, but there's no twinge, no spasm of even discomfort. He frowns and looks down at himself in confusion, even as a hand suddenly pushes against his upper chest and he finds himself looking into the eyes of the Dark Iron Dwarf he'd risked his life for.
"Do nae get up yet, ye idiot. Yer wounds might be healed, but ye still need ta recover yer energy."
Harry's mouth closes, and then snaps shut as he grimaces. She really is strong, this dwarven woman. He can't deny that.
"What… what happened? After, I mean."
Moira nods approvingly even as she wipes his brow with a warm, wet cloth.
"The Archmage happened. Yer mistress grew upset when ye fell protecting me. She killed 'em all, with some help from yers truly and some of those other dwarves I suppose. The Frostmane be routed, and I do nae think they be comin' back any time soon now."
Her Scottish accent was still heavy… and still sexy. Perhaps even more so, given the look in her eyes, the more Harry took her in. She had a strange smile on her face, and suddenly he came to the realization that she wasn't just holding him down, she was stroking his bared chest with her fingers quite casually.
"Ye saved me life, didn' ye? Put yerself on the line and took a blow meant for me back. That means something in our cultural. Means I owe ye quite a bit, human. So I suppose the question I ask now is… what do ye want for yer reward?"
Her voice turns husky and seductive on that last sentence, and she leans in, causing his eyes to slide down to her cleavage and her chest, just as she clearly intends. It's only then that Harry REALLY takes Moira Thaurissan in. He hadn't noticed before… and he's not sure how he missed it, but she's not wearing the form-fitting, but all-concealing conservative dress she wore up on the dais earlier. Nor is she wearing the heavy furs and the Dark Iron armor she wore into battle out in Dun Morogh.
No, instead Moira is dressed… like a slave girl, if he's being honest. Seriously, Harry's first instinct is to call what she's wearing something akin to the slave bikini that Princess Leia wore in Return of the Jedi. Yes, he'd seen the Star Wars films. At least, he'd seen the original trilogy. The classics were most definitely the best.
Regardless, Moira pulled off her current dress much in the same way as Carrie Fisher had done as Leia. She was sexy, with her bust very nearly popping out of her top, and her hips wide and visible as she pressed inside his side, leaning over him with a wide, knowing smile on her face. Hm, so she hadn't completely missed him checking her out when they first met back in the throne room.
That was… something. Well, if she was offering, Harry couldn't really deny her now could he. And thanks to someone else healing him, his magic was still available enough for at least a few cantrips… and tricks such as this one. Swirling his fingers, the human wizard conjures a collar around the Dark Iron Empress' neck, as well as a leash that spools off of the collar. Wrapping the end of said leash around his fist before Moira can even properly react beyond a widening of her eyes, Harry drags the short female in close and gives her a deep, fierce kiss. Their lips lock together, and his tongue slips past hers in moments as they makeout.
Of course, this isn't exactly what Moira had planned. Harry knows that though. He can even guess at what she was thinking. She clearly didn't think that much of him, beyond the fact that he'd saved her life and his mistress was helping her secure her place on the Council and the Dark Irons' place in Ironforge. Still, she probably saw him as a political token to be used to further whatever her real plans were. If she could wrap him around her finger, then she could use him to cajole Jaina into throwing her lot in with the Dark Irons even further.
But it's obvious that Moira didn't expect Harry to be so… ferocious. As he pulls the dwarf MILF onto his lap, her crotch ends up resting along his growing, thickening length beneath the thin blanket that's covering him up. He's not wearing anything under that blanket, Harry realizes suddenly. So while Moira squirms in his grasp, eyes fluttering from the way he's kissing her, his cock grows even harder from the feel of her across it.
It takes some doing, but eventually Harry manages it. The blanket ends up vanishing via magic, and his cockhead ends up rubbing against Moira's slit as he vanishes the bottoms of her slave girl outfit as well. While he likes the outfit, he doesn't need it for what he wants to do next. Once he's got himself at full mast, he finally pulls back from Moira's lips, letting the Dark Iron dwarf recover herself as she pants heavily and plants her hands on his chest.
The dwarven woman glares down at him, probably about to give him a ferocious tongue-lashing once she regains her breath. The expression on her face, while flustered and reddened, is very distinctly Not Amused. Harry knows it well by this point. Unfortunately for Moira, she never gets a chance to tell him off for his aggression, because Harry follows up that aggression with… more aggression.
Just as she's opening her mouth to say something, Harry cuts her off by lifting the Dark Iron dwarf up just another inch. Then, he drops her down onto his waiting cock, impaling her with his dick and driving the air out of her lungs. The toes of her feet, her legs dangling on either side of him, curl as a ragged breath is pushed up out of Moira's throat. Hanging near boneless just from that single thrust, the dwarven woman just stares at Harry for a long moment, eyes wide.
She's only jolted back into reality when Harry thrusts his hips upwards, not even using his hands anymore as he makes her bounce on his cock. Then he keeps doing it, never giving the Queen-Regent or Empress or whatever she wanted to be called a chance to speak. He's still holding onto her leash, so he supposes that makes her just a slave… his slave, for the time being.
Moira certainly isn't in a position to complain. It doesn't look like the Dark Iron was at all ready for this sort of pleasure, leading Harry to wonder just how long it'd been for the poor girl. Regardless, she's soon drooling and moaning and mewling just like any other woman on his cock as he fucks her from below with stronger and more powerful thrusts by the moment.
Her tongue trails out of her mouth as she falls forward, and her face is the picture of lewd obscenity, even as she works her lips and tongue all across his sweaty body, eyes rolling around in her head all the while. Harry grins… and then picks up the pace. Moira squeals loudly, and her eyes go wide once more as Harry really starts to give it to her. Her body tilts back and her head does as well as her moans become screams and she begins to climax around his cock, orgasm after orgasm wracking her stout, voluptuous form.
She's the picture-perfect representation of womanhood and motherhood, as far as Harry's concerned. Big bust, wide hips, beautiful ass… and a great O-face as he forces the pleasure from her, leaving her overwhelmed with bliss. He can't quite contain himself after that. Before even Harry knows what he's doing, he's rising from the bed and placing a hand on the Dark Iron's ass to hold her in place as he starts to fuck her while standing up, right in the middle of the room.
His fingers squeezing into her ass and his grip on the leash around her neck keep her from falling off of his thrusting shaft, though there are a few near misses as Moira experiences a new meaning for pleasure while being fucked suspended in the air by the powerful wizard. Harry plows her, and she cums around his dick. Just as it should be, between a man and his delicious slave girl. Grinning ferally, Harry lets his release arrive when it finally peeks its head up. He cums rather than hold anything back, and his seed explodes into Moira's womb as he pumps his ejaculate into her cunt, painting every inch of her insides white.
Only once he's done filling her, only once almost half of his seed has spilled out from around his cock and onto the floor beneath them does Harry drop Moira off his shaft, leading to the dwarven woman being sprawled out on her knees, panting heavily and still trying to recover her senses from the intense fucking she just received.
Yet again, Harry refuses to let her fully get herself put back together. Instead, his hand closes in one of her hair buns and he yanks on it, forcing the kneeling Dark Iron to look up at him as he points down at the puddle of cum between them.
"Look what you've done, pet. Look at the mess you've made. You'll clean it up of course. Right now."
There's defiance in the glare that Moira sends Harry's way, but this was technically HER gambit. She's trying to seduce him, trying to wrap him around her finger. So far, he's had control of everything… but perhaps she thinks she can still find a position of victory from such a place, because Harry watches in surprised amusement as she actually obeys him, reluctantly bending over and lowering her face to the floor, beginning to lick and lap at his fallen seed.
The Empress of the Dark Iron is debasing herself right in front of him. Harry's cock twitches, but then it never actually went soft. Oh no, he's still fully hard as he watches her slurp and suck up his seed, eventually reaching a spot between his feet. Only when she believes she's gotten ever bit of it does the Dark Iron look up at him, showing off the collected cum in her mouth, splaying it quite lewdly on her outstretched tongue before pulling that back and swallowing it down.
Of course, his cock is still hard and also still quite messy as he stands there with it swaying back and forth just over Moira's upturned face. His seed is dripping down into her mouth as they stare at one another from around his mast. A lot of the defiance and anger is gone from Moira's features. Instead, the Dark Iron appears to be a little dazed. More than likely his seed at work, if she's even half as magical as the elves he's fucked so far…
"You missed a spot, slave."
The word causes the Dark Iron leader to flinch, but as her gaze goes from his face to his cock, her eyes crossing in the process, she swallows thickly… and then leans in to begin attacking the problem with the same gusto that she went at the floor with. Her tongue slurps at his messy shaft for a moment, before she opens wide and takes his cockhead in between her lips directly.
Latching on, Moira slowly begins to stand up, taking inch after inch of his shaft as she does so. Harry lifts a brow at that, as the Queen-Regent ends up partially bent-over by the time she's done, but also on her two feet as she grabs Harry by his waist, holding the vastness of his entire majestic prick in her esophagus. Her nostrils are tickled by his pubes and her chin is pressed against his hanging ball sack as she continuously swallows to avoid choking on his dick.
Huh… she's more experienced with this than he thought she'd be. Grinning wickedly, Harry rewards her enthusiasm in the only way he knows how. He grabs hold of Moira's hair buns, this time latching onto both of them. Then, he uses them to draw the Dark Iron dwarf's head back and forth across his dick, fucking the beautiful, gorgeous Empress' face and throat with his massive member.
Moira isn't able to keep up her swallowing once it's Harry who's controlling the pace. The rougher he gets, the harder it is for her to keep from choking and gagging on his dick. In the end, it's inevitable that she'd break…
"Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!"
"That's right slut, take it! Take it all you filthy dwarf slave!"
Really getting into things at this point, Harry tilts his head back and lets out a mighty groan as he continues to enjoy Moira Thaurissan's throat and choking on his pistoning prick. Honestly, if she didn't want this, she shouldn't have dressed like that. He couldn't help but wonder where the Dark Iron Dwarf even got such a sexy, slutty dress. She was supposed to be the Empress of her people and Queen-Regent as a member of the Council.
So where did someone like Moira Thaurissan get such a whorish slave girl outfit like the one he was even now fucking her in? That was definitely a question Harry wouldn't mind having answered… but in truth, he was enjoying fucking her throat far too much to stop just to ask it of her. Instead, he continues on as Moira chokes on his fat dick, his messy length pounding into her esophagus and all the way to her gullet with no sign of stopping.
The Dark Iron grips tightly at his waist, her fingers digging into his flesh to a punishing extent, but Harry just pushes back with his magic, reinforcing his body just as he had against those two orcs back in the Filthy Animal. Dwarves and orcs might be naturally stronger than humans. Trolls too, given Harry's recent experience. But that didn't mean he couldn't match them blow for blow if it came to it.
In the end, there's nothing Moira can do but take it. And take it she does, fairly well even, all the way until Harry fills her throat, her gullet, and ultimately her belly up with his seed. The white, hot cum pours down Moira's throat, and because she's still trying to swallow even now, she manages to collect much of it. Only a bit explodes out of the sides of her mouth, and when Harry pulls out of her throat and his cock pops free of her lips, her tongue eagerly traces the outside of her mouth to collect any and all of the sticky substance.
The look on her face is much more dazed now, much more glazed over as she straightens up, while still having to gaze up at him. The Empress-dressed-as-a-slave is panting heavily, and her bountiful bust heaves and bounces and jiggles in her top as she catches her breath. Harry just grins, knowing that this is the beginning of a beautiful new relationship.
-x-X-x-
Jaina lets out a low sigh, even as she rolls her shoulders and then rubs at her temple with her fingers. Walking down the hallway towards the room she was told Harry had been placed in for healing, the gorgeous Archmage couldn't help but be a little… agitated. Everything had gone to shit. Or, well, everything had gone as to shit as it could without actually going to shit.
In the end, things had worked out quite well for all involved. The Frostmane threat was dealt with and the Dark Irons had fought, bled, and even died alongside their Bronzebeard and Wildhammer brethren. Stories of the valor of both living and fallen dwarves from all three clans were already spreading throughout Ironforge. Even Muradin and Falstad had to acknowledge the Dark Iron contribution, as stubborn as they were.
But then, dwarves in general were quite stubborn creatures. That was half of what made them such wonderful allies though. They were stalwart in their defense of those they considered their kin and their friends. And the Alliance needed every friend it could get right now, both old and new, if it was going to deal with Garrosh's evil and the Horde's complacency.
Unfortunately, that meant Jaina had to make sacrifices. She had to do things she'd rather not have. Such as acquiescing to Moira Thaurissan's demand that she be allowed to personally attend to and care for her savior. She'd known from the moment Moira spoke that the dwarven woman did not have the best of intentions at heart. Whatever her plan for Harry was, Jaina was half-tempted to grab the stout female by her shoulders right then and there. She would have shaken Moira mightily, and screamed in her face that Harry was not some pawn for her political games.
Except… he was. He was a pawn, though Jaina imagined the man himself would be quite annoyed if she called him one. He'd probably complain and claim he was more of a bishop, knight, or rook instead. Perhaps he even was. Regardless, Harry had become a political tool to more people than just Moira Thaurissan. And he would likely be a political tool to far more to come, with Jaina unable to do anything about it, if their recent encounter with Ysera the Awakener was any indication.
Having the head of the Green Dragonflight take such an interest in Harry that she basically sacrificed her star pupil up to him on a silver platter was… startling, to say the least. More like downright heart-stopping, if Jaina were being honest. At least the antlers weren't visible anymore, for the time being anyways.
But even if Ysera had gotten what she wanted (for now), now it seemed Jaina had Moira to contend with. As she approached the door at the end of the hall, the human woman steeled herself for a fight. Not a physical one, hopefully, but she'd gladly do battle with the dwarf in a game of wits and words if Moira decided to start anything.
Of course, opening the door to said room and stepping inside, Jaina quickly discovered things were, once again, not as she expected them to be. She probably should have stopped believing anything could go any other way than this when Harry was involved a long time ago if she was being honest. Jaina stares for a moment, standing there with her mouth agape as she takes in the sight of Moira's glistening dwarven butt peeking out from beneath a blanket that's covering the rest of the Queen-Regent up.
Hanging out of her quivering asshole is the end of what Jaina can only imagine is a row of golden anal beads… and the dwarf herself is moaning loudly between Harry's legs as he lays against a cool wall, his eyes filled with mirth and staring at Jaina in amusement. Letting out yet another low sigh, Jaina doesn't even try to stop the smile from spreading across her face as she steps forward. Moira is too distracted to hear her even as her shoes click across the stone floor of the room, but then the dwarven woman didn't hear her open and close the door either.
She's too distracted… but not too distracted that she doesn't let out a muffled shriek and squeal, followed by a choking noise as Jaina tears the anal beads free of the MILF's asshole, leading to Harry groaning, tilting his head back, and letting loose in Moira's mouth once again. When she tears the blanket away as well, she finds the dwarven woman's dazed, facialized features staring up at her beneath it. Moira is panting hard and covered in Harry's cum, but she still manages to glare up at Jaina through the white sticky seed splattered across her face.
Jaina is not at all impressed or cowed by that glare though. Reaching out, she grabs the dwarven woman by one of her half-ruined hair buns herself, dragging a yelping Moira up off the ground and tossing her onto the closest bed. Climbing on as well, Jaina sinks her prodigious and wide bubble butt down onto Moira's face, the dwarf's nose ending up in Jaina's crack while her wet, aroused pussy lips end up covering Moira's mouth. She grabs onto the Dark Iron's massive tits for good measure, squeezing and tugging at them roughly as she finally speaks.
"You shirked your royal duties today, claiming you wanted to attend to Harry, to your savior. Claiming you wanted to help him heal. Instead, I find the Queen-Regent on her knees sucking my apprentice's cock like a little whore. Like some sort of filthy gutter-trash slut. What would your people think of you if this got out, hm? Lick, Moira! Eat me out and buy my silence!"
There's a pause as Moira stops squirming, stops struggling beneath Jaina… and then the Dark Iron is licking at Jaina's cunt as the Archmage grinds her sweaty mound down onto the dwarven woman's unwilling mouth. Harry snorts indelicately as he stands at the foot of the bed. Of course, not missing a beat, her beloved apprentice climbs on as well, and a moment later he's got Moira's short stout legs up in the air and his cock pushing into her tight, lubed up anus.
As inch after inch of his shaft disappears into the Dark Iron Empress' back door, Moira's tongue grows a bit spastic in Jaina's cunt, causing the Archmage to moan and gasp her encouragement at the cunt-licker's technique.
"That's it, ah… just like, mm, that…"
She looks up at Harry and smiles, well-pleased at this turn of events.
"Well done, hah, Harry. You… have no doubt cemented Moira's loyalty to the Alliance… or at the very least, to you. I know just how that cock can make a woman feel, after all."
Harry just grins in response, and Jaina can't deny that her heart melts just a little at the sight of that lopsided grin. She'd almost lost him today, and that thought alone sends a pang of pain through her heart next. She'd almost lost him… and only by almost losing him is Jaina able to recognize and realize how much of her love Harry has managed to steal away. He's… he's her everything now. Theramore is gone. The Kirin Tor… the Kirin Tor are truly just a means to an end if she's honest.
Him though, this dimensional traveler that rose from the ashes of her destroyed home and became her closes confidant and companion… he's everything. Jaina can't lose that. She won't lose that. So, when he lifts an eyebrow in response and asks the question, she's happy to give him what she knows he wants.
"So, what sort of reward do I get for all of my… hard work?"
Grinning wickedly, Jaina flips around atop her seat quite lustfully, revealing her fat bottom even as she grinds her pussy lips down on Moira's mouth all the harder. She can see the Dark Iron's eyes now, and they look up at her with a glare… but a resigned one, showing that Moira knows when she's beaten. At the same time, Jaina juts her ass out towards Harry, and then brings up the string of anal beads, licking her lips salaciously as she proceeds to pop the golden anal beads into her ass, one by one.
Only then does Jaina find out the things are vibrating, and only then as she loses herself in her moans is she truly content. So is Harry, for that matter, even as he slams home into Moira's back door with greater and greater strength, all while watching Jaina fill herself in preparation for when he'll be fucking her ass as well. The golden anal beads he'd conjured are self-lubricating and of course they vibrate as well. Perfect for preparing an anal passage for conquest, in the end.
Moira was proof of that. Just as she was his latest conquest altogether. And honestly, even if he had almost died on this trip, Harry couldn't bring himself to regret coming along. This had turned out a lot more worthwhile… and rewarding than he ever could have expected
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone