Chapter 2

Tyrande carefully walked through the streets of her new city. Hidden by the black cloak, no one could see her face. No one could see that she wore only an ornamental bra and a velvet, white loincloth underneath the cloak. No one saw her white thigh-high stockings.

She walked almost on her tiptoes, her leather shoes silencing her footsteps. The house she wanted to reach was on the other side of the city, but there was no danger to avoid, not to her. She just enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around.

She saw countless kaldorei littering the streets. Some were in search of food, others in search of work and shelter and a few of them, looking for pleasure. Most were traumatized, but even then, they managed to put on a brave face. Her people suffered a lot lately ... they suffered a lot throughout their entire history. Tyrande contemplated for a while whether or not it was their fate, to suffer, to fight endless wars and always achieve only a glimpse of peace.

When the Horde burned Teldrassil she couldn’t believe it. Somedays she wished, that she had burned with it ... the guilt was just too much for her. But she knew, that all the night elves that survived the fateful night felt the same guilt. They felt guilty for living.

How many wars had she endured, how many more will she last? Is there truly no end to the constant cycle of violence that plagues Azeroth for millennia? There has to be something she could do ... some way to ensure lasting peace ... at least for her people.

She looked into the faces of her kin, as she passed them. There was pain in there, yes. But also resolve and ... hope, however foolish it may be. They were hurt, but not broken ... not yet. She has to find a way to ensure some kind of future for her people ... before Azeroth breaks them.

She came up to the house ... it looked more like a large mansion, made of stone with intricate decorative carvings along its front wall. The carvings resembled branches and leaves, but a knowing eye would find other images hidden in plain sight. She had the door be made of emerald green wood, a twisted joke on her part.

She grabbed the golden door knocker and gave seven knocks following a precise pattern. The door opened and an older, muscular draenei butler dressed in emerald robes opened the door for her. “It is a pleasure to see you visit us once more, mistress.” he said still in a deep bow.

“I am glad to be here again, Kavord.” she said as she stepped in.

Tyrande was up in her office. She was looking at the books, checking the goings on in the Emerald House. The ledger was mostly meaningless, this place was not created to generate profit for her so most of the money went to girls and a special emergency fund. What was of interest, was information. Information about guests, their likes and dislikes, their behavior, and the secrets they speak of to the girls.

This pleasure den, she built here served two purposes. The first, which some may call noble, was to keep control over any malcontent elements in kaldorei society that could cause trouble, or perhaps to get information from the foreign dignitaries of the other alliance members, that frequented this place.

The second reason was more personal. Being the high priestess and a wife in mourning it wasn’t expected of her to ... enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. So she created a place, where she could partake of any pleasure freely ... and with the help of a little magic trick that Illidan taught her long ago, she could even adjust the memory of her acquaintances in such a way, that even if they knew her, even if they met her, she would be unrecognizable to them.

She checked the log and transcribed the information to a small piece of parchment that she hid in a blue amulet on her neck. Some interesting information about shady dealings in Kul’Tiras between some elements of the criminal underground from Stormwind and the members of local nobility, surprising developments in dwarven politics, and further skirmishes with rogue bands of warriors – deserters from the last war. A new, odd group of rogue warriors seemed to form somewhere on Horde territory that call themselves “the Unbent”. It seemed that they were out of control, moving across Horde territory and pillaging whenever they pleased. Soon they threatened to absorb other elements of wild soldiers from the last war and grow to considerable power – one girl got that from an alliance ambassador. Some of this stuff Tyrande already knew, but the Unbent were news even for her. She made a note to notify sentinels along their borders of this new threat.

But still no news of Saerion Autumnbranch. She was sure, he would show up someday. He seemed like the type to really enjoy what the Emerald House had to offer.

A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought.

“Excuse me, mistress, but the girls are ready.” said a young draenei woman, wearing only a short black dress and black stockings.

“I will be there in a minute.” replied Tyrande while locking the ledger and the log in the safe. She also left a sizeable reward for each girl that delivered information.

Today, there was more for her to do, but her duties now slowly faded into pleasure. There were three new arrivals that needed to be taught a lesson about how the Emerald House functions before she could put them to work.

She left her cloak and her shoes there, and went out barefoot, just in her stockings, her bra and her loincloth and a little ornamental panther mask she put over her face so that no one could recognize her in the hallway. The girls, or those that already worked here knew who she was, of course, but the new ones will have to earn that knowledge.

People working in this establishment were as loyal to her as only her priestesses could be. Well, some of the girls actually were priestesses, only ones with a bit more ... devotion, than they knew what to do with.

She left the office, with a sway in her hips and headed upstairs, where the new girls were waiting. On her way, she passed many rooms, filled with sounds of lust and many pairs that decided to enjoy themself right in the open, by a bar or at a table. But as she went, moving like a huntress on the prowl she knew, that all the eyes in those rooms, both men and women, were trained on her. They would not recognize who she was, but her body and her movements made them all watch her as she walked by.

Some of the girls, even amidst their pleasure, whispered their greetings to their mistress as she passed and she gave them all a gentle nod or a caress on their cheeks or thighs.

She loved the feeling of being desperately desired.

She entered the large room, its walls covered in red velvet, its floors softened by pillows and carpets and in its center a large, wooden throne-like chair. Without saying a word, she walked over to the chair and sat on it, crossing her legs and adjusting her panther mask.

Before her, three young, naked women kneeled.

One night elf, one blood elf and one human. What a rare sight, thought Tyrande, patrons are going to love these.

“So, whores, your initiation begins now. From now on, you will call me mistress and you are to obey any command I give you. You will not sleep unless I let you, you will not fuck unless I let you and you will not cum unless I let you, is that clear?” asked Tyrande with a commanding voice.

The girls were all clearly startled a bit, but eventually, they overcome their hesitation and nodded one by one.

Tyrande then turned to the night elf. The girl was young, nubile, with small, perky breasts and a petite frame. She was cute, her round face made her already big eyes seem even bigger, and her long, dark purple hair reached down to her cute little ass as she sat on her heels. She seemed scared, naive, and lost, but Tyrande saw that that was just her mask. Beneath it, deep in her eyes, little flame danced.

“What is your name, whore?” asked Tyrande.

“Faeya.” answered the girl, her voice thick, like molasses, Tyrande could imagine herself getting lost in that voice.

“And are you here out of your own volition? Did anyone force you to come here or did you come willingly?” asked Tyrande.

The girl came willingly, she wanted to be here, she wanted what the Emerald House had to offer. Tyrande then turned to the blood elf a rare sight in these parts. She was the complete opposite of Faeya. Petite in frame, but her body possessed all the curves that drive people crazy. Her hips were thick and strong, her ass ripe, her breasts large, assaulting Tyrande’s senses with their enticing shapes and large areolas.

Her name was Zaerel and her voice was high and cute, her hair golden as the sun. She too came willingly, she too wanted Emerald gifts. She heard about this house from a diplomatic envoy that returned to her homeland. So a girl from a good family thought Tyrande, how cliche ... and enticing.

Then she turned to the human girl. This girl was closer to Faeya in her figure, only her breasts were slightly larger ... and as Tyrande noticed, she had a tattoo on her inner thigh ... a rose with thorns. The girl’s name was Anne and she couldn’t hide her excitement very well. Her brown hair was tossed over her shoulders as she sat there, expectantly. She was giddy, excited, horny – a propper whore already.

“Now I know your names, whores. Faeya, Zaerel, Anne. If you want to work and live here, you will have to follow the rules. Understood? The first rule of the house is, that your loyalty lies with the house and with me. Unquestioning, unwavering, pure loyalty. I want you to trust me and I will place my trust in you in return. I will love you, embrace you and care for you, but if you break my trust, if you betray me in any way ... I will break you.” Tyrande scanned the girl’s faces to see hesitation or ill intent, but she found nothing.

“Today is your first test, others will follow, but by the end, if you will wish it, you will become one of us.” as she spoke, Tyrande felt her yearning sex push out a small droplet of her juices, that slowly spread over her nethers and inner thighs. She pushed her legs together, to make sure they wouldn’t catch it.

“Now you all agreed to be loyal to me, to protect me and to serve me as I wish ... but I want you to worship me.” she said, spreading her legs and pushing her mask up, to reveal her face.

Faeya and Anne gasped, both of them blushing instantly, fearful and excited. Zaerel was silent, only her brow pushed upward. Audacious, excited, but not ashamed or afraid. She wants to taste me, realized Tyrande.