Chapter 2

After Tessa left, Liriel remained on the floor for a long while. She might have sat there forever, had the hardwood not started to chew at her skin, making her knees and ankles and feet ache from the complete lack of cushioning. Though she had not been conscious of it, despite hands slowly caressing the small dome upon her previously flat stomach at a constant pace, the thing sloshing with the sentinel Captain’s seed, it became apparent to her why she had not moved. Despite her body hungrily devouring the enormous meal she had eagerly taken, much still remained, and it made standing and taking the few steps over to the bed a much more difficult proposition than she had imagined.

Placing herself next to her neatly folded breast bindings and stained shirt, carefully set aside by the kaldorei when still examining her sin’dorei candidate for seneschal, Liriel began to put both on again. At a glacial pace, though. She had to give up on buttoning the lower few buttons on her shirt, the potent load still bulging her belly, shifting at every little move of hers.

There was a knock at the door. A pause, and then another, the lock clacking as a kaldorei, clearly still a sentinel by her armor and dress, but not one Liriel had yet seen, entered to place a small bundle of clothes on the floor. She dearly wished the woman would take pity on her and walk it over to the bed, imagining the waddling she would have to do to fetch it herself, but could not bring herself to make the request before the sentinel was gone again.

She believed not at all in anyone being naturally superior to anyone else, or, rather, had not done so her entire life. Accidents of birth did not really change one, so much as the station of one’s parents. Within her own kind, at least. It was rather more obvious where one ranked when faced with forsaken. But, then, she had found herself in the presence of the feral, statuesque night elves, and realized that, without conscious thought, she ordered herself below them in a hierarchy they did little to enforce.

Little obvious effort went into it, at least. No one tried to propagandize her, no one shouted her down, but she found herself naturally feeling small and subservient after having so eagerly encouraged Tessa to jerk off and cum into her mouth. She had never gotten so intimately acquainted with anyone’s balls, least of all imagined she might with the set on the sentinel. They did nothing to encourage, and yet she was encouraged. Was it any wonder, then, that she felt a little vulnerable?

It was a wonder that she felt the need for more. There was a civilized, socialized part of her mind that told her that she was doing something out of the ordinary. That she should stop straying from the herd. Always, though, she had preferred the side of herself that she had had to hide away for many years. The side one of her old friends, when she drunkenly confessed to it, had called “the cock fiend.” In the dim light of the little room, she smiled to herself, and took up the task of fetching the clothes brought to her.

Not a perfect fit, it turned out, but then, no one had taken the time to get her measurements. Nor were they made with the current state of her stomach in mind. Nor would any clothes ever be, not unless having an intimate relationship with a kaldorei caught on like nothing had before, in Silvermoon, save perhaps the fel magic use encouraged by the late Prince.

Liriel shook her head, and focused on working her way into the lacey, purple undergarments, the blood red dress which clung to her upper body, but compromised and did not show off her firm, small, but pleasantly curved rump very much, in favor of freedom of movement. She was supposed to be – to be interviewing for the position of – a servant, after all, even if one in a position of leadership. Restricting her movement too much would be an odd signal to send, and, in any case, her measure of the sentinels in the embassy told her that they would more appreciate loose and more easily removed garments than their servants being wrapped like presents. Even if that had its own appeal.

Sandals and a necklace of thin silver links, a crescent moon hanging from it, completed the ensemble. It would have been more appropriate, in Silvermoon, to wear something golden, but the night elves favored different decoration. Silvers, purples, greens, browns, blacks. Odd, really, that she had been given the red dress. Perhaps all they could get on short notice.

Liriel sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the crescent moon in both hands, shifting with the uncomfortable pressure on her still bulging stomach, straining against the cloth of the dress. Where it all went, she could not imagine, but she felt stronger. Awake, and energized, in a way she could not easily recall having felt before. It seemed absurd even just to think it, but all she had done different, save not having a croissant and a mug of tea, was have tens of thick ropes of kaldorei seed pumped into her stomach. Perhaps the cousins of the sin’dorei had more to them than her own people thought possible? Then again, would anyone even note something so prurient, even if they should somehow discover it? “Kaldorei seed is extremely nourishing, and energizing” was a difficult title to imagine on some somber and proper treatise displayed in the spire. Or some noble’s private collection. Unless it was a very, very private collection, of course.

She looked down to the polished necklace, the moon between her fingers, pursing her lips. It was difficult to imagine herself taking up the faith, no matter how much she appreciated the physique of the sentinels, and their more than generous size. Liriel could not recall ever really believing in anything not directly in front of her, that she had seen, if it was of a supposedly transcendental nature. How, then, could she declare herself for the goddess of the kaldorei? How could she profess a faith she did not feel, and was it honest, in any case, if she had to kindle faith? Was it not just supposed to flow from a supposedly eternal wellspring somewhere within, a place that one might deny for a time, but something one could not turn from?

The idea of a guiding light, of a sort, had always attracted her. Sometimes, on her weaker days, she thought that life might be a whole lot easier if one had its direction pointed out, if one knew which values and decisions were the right ones. But, then, that kind of state seemed frightfully easy. What if Elune mandated that someone, some people, be wiped out to the last, naming them unthinking, unfeeling enemies of all life? Much as she was disgusted by what had happened, and by their current forms, that had been the case with the forsaken. Setting aside the thugs haunting her, they had turned out to be thinking, feeling creatures trapped in the grip of a cruel tyrant. What they had done made them easy to hate. It was uncomfortable, difficult, not to hate them. But it was something she struggled with, and, were she to truly convert to the goddess of the kaldorei, were she not setting aside such considerations for whatever morality came with the faith?

A swift knock at the door. The lock clicking, key turning, door opening, presenting Tessa once more. In her uniform, but, seeming cleaner – she had bathed, perhaps? Liriel could not tell for sure, but the sentinel’s hair seemed just a touch damp when she leaned down to get through the doorway. The embassy would have to undergo significant rearrangements to better suit the dimensions of its new occupants.

For a moment, Liriel wanted to discuss her thoughts on faith and morality with the night elf, but, seeing several pieces of paper and twin pens in the woman’s grasp, it was clear that something else was afoot. Some test.

“Ma’am,” Liriel said, remaining on the bed.

Tessa moved to the table hugging the wall, using one finger to unseat the latch holding the wooden square in an upright position, then lowering it until the chains were taut. The thin stack of papers placed on it, pens and ink next to it, she turned to regard Liriel, attention traversing the small blood elf’s form. Head, to chest, to stomach, lingering there to observe, as if trying to spot any hint of the sloshing bulge. Self-conscious, Liriel smoothed her hands down her front. Her belly was as flat as always. As if she had not, an hour or two earlier, consumed the equivalent of several full meals from the kaldorei.

“You handle it well, Liriel,” Tessa said. She indicated the stool before the table, then. “Sit.”

Liriel stood, walked to the table, and sat. Acutely aware that the towering sentinel stood right next to her, even more aware of the monster that waited within those creased trousers, and how close it was to her. She swallowed, straightened, and focused her attention on the paper and pens, her concentration soon broken when the kaldorei laid a hand on her shoulder, and moved close enough that Liriel could not help but touch. Lean against one strong thigh, letting her head fall to one side to rest against Tessa’s abs, exhaling. Closing her eyes for one moment.

“You are to draw up a plan for the necessary staff of the embassy, as well as a proposed schedule for one day’s work for those you consider necessary. You may assume that the priestess, two acolytes, a sentinel Captain, a sentinel Lieutenant, and twenty sentinels reside here, and need service. Do you have any questions?”

“Will we be handling everything? Meals, cleaning, washing, and so on?”

“Assume, for now, that kitchen duties are a separate matter. The rest, yes.”

“Very well.”

“You may begin when ready,” Tessa said. She did not move.

Liriel drew a breath, as if she might build the strength of mind for the task with it. Reluctantly, she straightened again, no longer leaning her head against the night elf, though, with how close the woman stood, it was impossible not to be in contact with her while working. Meant as a distraction, perhaps, and certainly working as one, Liriel nevertheless set about her task. The sentinels were assumed to sleep four to a room, and so, adventurously, knowing she would have to find very particular people to handle such, she assigned but one servant to each room. One servant to the priestess, one to each of the acolytes, and one to each sentinel officer. Ten, already.

This seemed a huge number, certainly if each only had cleaning and occasional service to the residents to concern themselves with, but, even so, Liriel drew up another two for the washing, and then a further two to handle shortfalls, or step in when someone was ill. And as backup, should more people come to live in the embassy. Fourteen, in all.

All throughout this exercise, as she scribbled and then paused to think, only to return to her writing, Tessa remained in place. A hand on one of the sin’dorei’s shoulders, thigh against the other, dangerously close to that fat cockshaft grinding against Liriel’s arm. Enough that her mind told her it might happen any moment, though it remained elusive.

Once done with the first part, staffing needs, she glanced up at Tessa. The kaldorei nodded back down at the small stack of paper, and so, Liriel returned her attention to them, drawing up a simple schedule. Assigning one servant to each their proper places, allowing generous amounts of time for the morning meal and baths before cleaning duties took over. In general, not only would the embassy be heavily peopled with servants, but they would work at seemingly unusually slow paces. Not necessarily around meals, or when doing general chores, but any time they had to service individual kaldorei, Liriel allowed twice the time she might otherwise have, based on experience with sin’dorei nobles.

When she put the pen down and pushed the schedule a few inches away from herself, Tessa almost instantly placed a finger against one of the large blocks of time set aside in the mornings. “This is rather a generous schedule, is it not?”

“Ma’am, it is my assumption that waking, serving food and drink, and bringing water for washing is only a part of the duties of each servant, when she is with the sentinels. Was I wrong to assume so?”

Liriel looked up, way, way up, at the sentinel standing over her, and so very close. And, after a second, she was rewarded with what she thought was the first easy, relaxed smile she had seen on Tessa. The sentinel squeezed her shoulder, and nodded.

“Very good. You catch on quick. Another point in your favor.”

The praise, however mild and obvious, made Liriel’s cheeks tingle, the warmth spreading to her chest, and to her upper arms. She smiled in return, a thought at the back of her mind telling her that she should not be melting in the kaldorei’s hands at a simple compliment. Somehow, though, praise from Tessa dug right through her defenses, every wall society and its people had made her build, and settled in her core, pulsing comfort and trust and heat.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tessa changed position, then, to stand behind Liriel. Entirely without shame, that hefty, thick shaft pressed against the blood elf’s back, and both the sentinel’s hands found their place upon her shoulders. She remained upright, occasionally trying to roll her eyes up far enough that she might catch a glimpse of the warrior behind her, some indication of what was to come. Was something expected of her?

“As seneschal, my second, there is one thing we must ensure. I believe you capable of doing the job, of organizing, and I believe you a capable leader.”

“I have never lead anyone, ma’am,” Liriel said.

“No, but you have the mind for it, of that I’m sure. Unproven, but capable,” Tessa said. Once again, she squeezed Liriel’s shoulders, and the girl’s cheeks flushed. “But we must be physically compatible. You cannot serve me if we are not.” There was a pause, and then Tessa continued. “You are small of frame, even for your kind, Liriel. It will be a struggle for you. It may be impossible for me to bottom out in you. In your ass.”

The sordid flexibility of mind and body required of any potential candidate for the position had now been revealed in full, and yet, Liriel’s worry was entirely that Tessa might be right. That she was of too small a build for the two to unite. Deeply. Wholly. She gathered her hands in her lap, after smoothing down the front of the dress, down over her almost miraculously flat stomach. Swallowed, and then nodded. She imagined, for a blessed moment, how it might feel to have the sentinel’s body meet hers, buried to the hilt.

“I will ... do everything possible, for you, ma’am. Anything.”

“I have no doubt, Liriel. But we must find out if it is possible.”

She nodded, mute for a long moment, taking another deep breath, leaning back against the sentinel’s strong legs. Against that warm, weighty dick. There was no way she could take its girth, she felt entirely certain of it, but she would have only one chance such as this in her life, and abandoning it was out of the question.