Chapter 3

Liriel woke to the feeling of pleasant exhaustion, warm and weakening aches seeming to roll and self-perpetuate through her body, making it seem as if she had, just the day before, done a whole-body workout. Right up to the edge of what she could handle, and perhaps a little beyond that. The kind of exertion that left one sated, satisfied, without even the ability to feel oneself lazy or unproductive for lying in bed, snuggled into a small pile of soft covers.

At length, she opened her eyes, and saw slivers of bright daylight leaking in around black curtains. But she saw, also, the soft, golden light of her eyes mix with the silvery-blue of the simple rune painted upon her forehead. It seemed less powerful, now, having shone with the strength of a small star, before. At that thought, at the thought of what the rune had enabled her to do, she moved a hand to her stomach, and was met with the remnants of a bulge. Slowly diminished, but not entirely gone, just yet. A pleasant, slightly wobbly dome, which she thought warm. Was she warmer than usual, or was it just the comfort and coziness of the piled purple blankets?

Indeterminate time passed, minutes, perhaps tens of minutes, Liriel remaining with her hand cradling her bulging belly, slowly drawing a circle upon it. It diminished, but very slowly, and still felt as if parts of it were warmer than the rest of her. Finally, her mind having crawled up out of the blissful pit in which it seemed to shelter when she slept, and hesitated to emerge from, curiosity won out over relaxed warmth, and she shoved aside the blankets enough that she could look down at herself.

The dome remained, but had sunken from the sloshing, colossal entity it had been before, early – night? Morning? – when Tessa had carried her to this new room. Told her that it would be hers, now, and then left her to recover. What had not been there, at least as far as she could recall, more focused on clinging to the sentinel Captain’s body than examining herself in the post-orgasmic, foggy delight, were slowly curving, silvery bands. A little wider than her thumb, they rounded and formed spiral patterns that ended in a central crescent, glowing just slightly. The priestess had not drawn them, and Liriel recalled neither herself nor Tessa creating them, either. Certainly, the goddess who had so blessed her had better things to do than finger-paint the cum-bulging belly of her newest convert, so, the conclusion had to be that letting Tessa pump herself empty prompted those physical changes.

Again, Liriel’s thoughts reprimanded her for not knowing, not understanding, that such things could happen. And, again, as last time, she wondered in response to those stray, uncontrolled views: What should she have done? What should she have read? When should she, a Blood Knight’s servant, have found the time to read about what intercourse with the kaldorei would lead to? Was there a single tome that wasn’t but a sordid smut novel that detailed such things happening? Which respected researcher would release a study going over the physical changes wrought upon a sin’dorei as they were fucked by a large sentinel, ever more?

Liriel caressed the slowly slimming dome, tracing her right index finger along the path of one of those silvery, tattoo-like stripes. They were the source of the warmth she felt, though each seemed to shimmer and fade, as if they fed on the seed still within her, and had less power to fully manifest the less that remained.

The one thing that did not diminish was the circle on her forehead, with the crescent moon within it. That, and the baseline, quiet certainty within her that she was made for Tessa, now. That Elune had shaped the two to be together in a physical, complete way which no other ceremony could match – they were not bonded mates, as such, not married, had tied no knots, but in spite of that, Liriel knew now that they would be together. That she had found someone to whom she could belong, who desired her, though she could not yet bring herself to express any possessive feeling for the large night elf. It seemed wrong, in that she was prey, tolerated, kept, and not an equal. But, then, that was the state she desired, what she wanted to feel, and so it was offered her. The kaldorei did not shrink from such things, where she imagined her own kind would find it terribly base, and deplorable, and uncouth. And several other, unflattering terms.

She shifted, then, and several more unflattering words came to mind. No matter how desired it was, how much the blessing of the Goddess helped her, her ass was still sore, felt bruised from the repeated impacts of her sentinel. Hand on her stomach slowly sinking until she, at last, felt herself to be as flat as normal, Liriel turned to lie on her stomach, burying her face in a pillow for a moment. Then turning it aside, huffing at the difficulty breathing. It felt better not to rest on her butt. It still tingled, warmth and comfort burning away any hints of pain shortly after each movement, in a way that almost made her want to move just to experience that satisfying drowning-out of the ache. The way it dissipated into uncomfortable sparks, and then into gradual ease, into nothing.

A knock on her door interrupted this self-indulgent reverie. Knowing, already, the propensity for just barging in after knocking, Liriel rolled rapidly to her back, grimacing as she came to rest on her backside, and then tugged the covers into place. Life-long propriety taught her to do at least as much, though it seemed as of yet uncertain how much the kaldorei really cared for that kind of propriety. Their priestess had held her head while their Captain assfucked her not so many hours ago. Would any of them really care if they saw a bit of skin?

The night elf that entered was unknown to Liriel. Clad in gear similar to what the two at the door had been wearing, she had to be a sentinel. That was the reasonable assumption. One the blood elf had time to make, as the two exchanged glances for a silent moment, the kaldorei seeming to take in the rune shining on the girl’s forehead.

“Seneschal,” the sentinel said. “The Captain asked that I go to you, this once, to inform you. You ought to rise, and go to the Captain’s quarters with breakfast. With water, and washcloth.”

And to make herself available in general, Liriel thought, finishing the sentinel’s sentence for her. Outwardly, though, she only nodded.

“Thank you, sentinel. I won’t be long. And I won’t see you spend your time on me in this manner any more, either. My apologies.”

The sentinel offered what was more an indication of a nod than a real movement of her head, and then withdrew. Closed the door after her, and left Liriel behind in the dusky room. In the process of turning her day and night around, apparently, though she had not made that decision consciously, she rose for what seemed to be late afternoon. For the nocturnal kaldorei, it would count as very early morning, she imagined.

Much more spacious than the cell-like room she had first slept in, Liriel nevertheless saw how her new quarters were somewhat reminiscent of it. The bed was larger, its dimensions such that a kaldorei could actually, more or less, fit into it. Which meant that it was spacious indeed for a blood elf, unless two had to share. Pushed up against one wall, there was room for a proper, if small, desk at which to work, and a padded chair before it. A chest of drawers next to it, or rather, two of them stacked atop one-another, to form a small tower in which she could archive things. What she would archive, she could not yet imagine – surely there would be no reason to preserve old weekly schedules, once she had other servants to direct? Atop the worn hardwood floor was a simple rug, dyed to be mono-color and pale purple. Thick, though. Thick enough that one could kneel on it in relative comfort, should one wish to. The door out was centered in one wall, a cupboard on one side, and a free space with a thin floor-to-ceiling mirror on the other.

Even though she had been hurried along, and had not gotten the impression that Tessa cared over-much for her second being dolled up, merely that she was of proper, comparatively diminutive stature, Liriel still took the time to adjust the single article of clothing provided her. The one thing in the cupboard which was not oiled or sullied with saliva and cum and who could tell what else: A simple red summer dress, pleated skirt reaching her knees, thin straps over her shoulders to hold it up. Something distinctly of her own people, she thought. Another compromise, until the embassy could supply more appropriate garb of more fitting color. Then again, perhaps dressing her like a sin’dorei was part of what Tessa desired. Liriel took a breath, ruminating on that thought as she finger-brushed unruly locks of hair out of the way, settling a few behind her ears.

Merely standing was tolerable, although not terribly comfortable. Her backside, firm and round and peachy, had not enough padding to handle the bulky sentinel Captain’s advances. Standing was, at least, better than sitting. She reached down to press on one buttock, as if that might alleviate the ache. It intensified, but, in some sense, the change from continual, dull ache to something new, different, did stimulate her mind. Allowed her thoughts to coil around in a different way, even if she longed to crawl back into bed to lie on her stomach. Or side. Really, expecting her to do anything of use after such a pistoning powerfucking ... pounding. Somewhat unreasonable.

And, yet, she left the room behind, wearing only the dress and the crescent-moon necklace given to her in the cell. And, stepping outside, she came immediately to the conclusion that, hired or not, faithful of Elune or not, she still had no idea about the layout of the embassy. Where Tessa’s room was. Where she could get food, or a washing basin. Or water for that basin. The only place she really knew the location of was the priestess’ quarters, and the supposed ambassador could not possibly be meant to spend her time directing servants around.

Some time later, Liriel having quietly and carefully explored most of the hallways, she felt relatively certain that the rooms next to hers were, on one side, those of other, as of yet un-hired servants, and on the other, those of the two acolytes. Then, centrally, atop the grand stairway, the priestess’ chambers. And, on the other side of that, those of the sentinel officers. Tessa, and her Lieutenant. Below, in one wing, were the sentinel rooms, as well as several rooms for recreation. Across the central hall, in another wing, were the servant quarters, and all the practical rooms and places of the embassy. Kitchens, the laundry, the small cell-like rooms, one of which Liriel had first been lead to. On either side of the central, grand stairway, behind it, doors lead into unoccupied, three-room quarters, which Liriel imagined would be for meetings, or perhaps to house those temporarily taking up residence in the embassy.

Thoroughly late, then, she went to the kitchens. Cold, and quiet, and poorly stocked with what seemed soldier’s rations. Hard, dried food, condensed and tasteless, over-salted. Much of it unsuited for immediate consumption. Unable to make much of it ready in a short span of time, and realizing that, really, she knew nothing of what kaldorei liked eating anyway, she prepared a plate of something she might have thrown together herself, hungover and entirely too tired. Water, and a bun cut in half, buttered. A poor meal, even for her. More so, she imagined, for a sentinel several feet taller, and much wider, than her. Rummaging around, she managed to find a small selection of fruit and berries, and so, pears, red apples, and a handful of blueberries made the otherwise bare plate seem a little more enticing.

Locating a tray, which she wiped clean of the dust of perhaps a week’s disuse, Liriel placed the glass of water and the plate on it, and then found what seemed to be a mostly clean, folded up square of cloth. With no source of warm water, and feeling she was behind schedule as it was, thus not wanting to boil any, she poured cold water into a bowl and placed it on the tray, too. And, internally protesting as the back of her upper thighs and butt ached, she walked the ensemble to Tessa’s door, balanced it on a single hand, and knocked.

Someone in the embassy, Liriel felt, had to start a trend of waiting to be invited in when knocking, and so she did not barge in. Instead, she stood with the tray in two hands, staring expectantly at the dark brown doorway, steadying her breathing, trying to distract her thoughts from circling around the ache in her rear. It was not bringing the tray to Tessa that smarted, it was the idea that, so soon after having been inducted into this new life, where she was to be paid to serve at the feet of a woman she would have done the bidding of for free, she was expected to function without problem, without any difficulty. In her mind, she could still replay the harsh, repeated meeting between the kaldorei’s muscled form, and her softer, smaller self.

“Enter,” Tessa said, voice muffled by the door.

Liriel did so. Turned the shining brass handle, another remnant of her own kind, she imagined, seeing as the night elves seemed to prefer silver, and stepped inside.

As her own room did, the Captain’s room had coal-black curtains keeping most of the late sunlight out, only a few lances spearing the inside of the chamber. And of those rays of light, most were horizontal, lighting along the surface of a table inset with glass squares, providing a view, even from where Liriel stood, of a glittering arrangement of precious stones sheltering beneath the glass, set in the shape of blood red flower petals, the stamen of each flower the predictable gold. Why was everything red and gold? Why had she never noticed it before?

Liriel took a step forward, expecting to plant her bare foot upon the near room-sized carpet which laid beneath everything inside Tessa’s quarters. Instead, somehow, a toe caught on the edge, and she stumbled forward a step, letting out a wordless shout of alarm. Sensed, more than saw, the plate and glass and bowl on the tray slipping, and so she jerked her arms, with the tray, forward to arrest the fall of them, resulting in what tenuous hold she had on balance slipping. A solitary word slipped her lips as she fell forward, and to the side, rotating on her way down.

“Fuck!”

The best possible introduction to her new commander, leader, Captain.

Liriel hit the floor on her side, her right arm squeezed between her and the carpet, absorbing much of the energy of the fall, alongside her hip, and knee. She bounced only once, rolling with the inertia, so that she came to rest on her butt and shoulders, each cheek a strange, fraying, white, disc-like void in her head. Pain. She rolled back onto her side, and tried to continue rolling, but one of the apples from the tray had come to a stop right where her lower ribs ended up, and so she went back on her side. Gasping for breath.