Ashenvale Forest. It's lush beauty hid a war zone between Alliance and Horde, as Night Elf and Orc forces drew battle lines: the Night Elves sought to protect their ancestral home from the Orcs. The Orcs saw a large source of lumber, and sought to drive the Night Elves out. Ever since before the Cataclysm, the two sides fought long and hard over the territory. Even now, after the heroes of Azeroth had driven out the Legion all the way to the planet of Argus, tensions in the forest remained high as Alliance and Horde forces fought, as if there had never been a truce.

Alanea Sharphoof looked up at the bright sky from her camp, several miles east of Astranaar. The white-furred Tauren druid-in-training had been sent from Moonglade to keep watch over the forest. After the sword of Sargeras pierced the planet and exposed its blood, the Cenarian Circle immediately convened to figure out how best to help the planet; they dispatched druids all over Azeroth to make sure there were no adverse side effects to the blood of Azeroth flowing freely on the surface. Alanea was one of those druids. Young and still in training, but with great potential...or at least, so she was told. Given her inexperience, her post was closer to Moonglade compared to other druids, but she didn't mind...at first. The forest was a beautiful place, even if it had the scars of battle throughout.

After a morning prayer to the Earth-Mother, she packed up her camp and began her patrol. Entering her cat form, she made her way eastward, toward the Splintertree Post. In her time in the forest―all one week of it―she had only come across one or two skirmishes between the Orcs and Night Elves. As a general rule, she wanted to stay away from the faction conflict unless there was an immediate threat to the forest. The Orcs, seeing her as a member of a Horde-aligned race, might try to force her into service, while the Night Elves distrusted her for the same reason; she was only granted entrance into Night Elf held outposts due to being a druid of the Cenarian Circle. And even then she always had eyes on her. She didn't like it.

The day passed uneventfully. Nothing to do now but make camp yet again. It was monotonous work. She wanted to prove herself to the Circle in any way possible. Deep down she yearned for something to happen during her patrol, so she could prove to her fellow druids that she could undertake missions further from Moonglade. But then, why would the older, wiser druids put her in Ashenvale unless she was supposed to learn something? Maybe this whole thing was a test, some lesson on learning to be patient and appreciate the relative peace compared to extreme chaos.

Or maybe she was thinking about it too hard.

Either way, the day was over. She glanced upward and noticed that the sky was full of clouds. The moon wouldn't be out until much later. Even with her cat form's eyes, it would be difficult to continue her patrol with visibility so limited.

Looks like it's time to make camp, she thought to herself.

The wind picked up, moving southeast to northwest, the first time the wind moved south to north rather than north to south that day. Along with it came the smell of blood. Her nose twitched. With the scent came a howling sound. A wolf, having earned its meal? The sound of steel on steel. No, not a wild animal. This was something else.

Suddenly energized at the thought of action, Alanea turned to the direction of the sounds and smell, and changed forms, shapeshifting from a cat to a stag. She bolted forth at full speed. She wasn't sure if it was a battle between the Night Elves and Orcs, or if someone ran afoul of bandits, but she had to make a note of every encounter she came across.

Three minutes into her mad dash, she came upon a harrowing sight. Along a thin dirt path lay the bodies of several Night Elves and humans. The Night Elves were dressed like ordinary citizens; the humans seemed more like guards, wearing cloth armor, though two wore mail. Bags lay strewn about, their contents scattered all over. Alanea made note of various trade goods as well as food. A merchant caravan. She searched the area for a carriage or cart but had no luck. She wasn't sure what happened.

She then heard a voice, faint, piercing the silence. “Help...druid...help me...”

She looked around, listening for the voice again. It repeated itself. She pinpointed the source, one of the fallen human, his body against a tree, and very quickly returned to her normal Tauren form. Trained for combat, her healing power was limited, but she could still mend wounds. That would be enough, for now.

She channeled and cast a Regrowth spell on the dying human. In an instant, much of the wound suddenly closed in a green glow. The human groaned as the warm feeling of the healing spell spread through his body, smiling faintly.

“Thank you, Druid...” he said quietly. “You're a gift from above.”

“What happened here?” Alanea asked, kneeling beside the man and casting another Regrowth spell.

“We were...escorting this caravan. A Worgen ambushed us. A fellow member of the Alliance...”

“You say a Worgen did this?”

“Not just any Worgen...this one was mad, almost feral, not like the...refined ones from Gilneas. But it wore armor...used a sword and a shield. It cut through the bodyguards like they were nothing.”

Alanea nodded. “Alright.” She looked around at the carnage again. “I need to get you to Astranaar.”

“Oh, thank you...thank you, thank you...”

After healing the man fully, Alanea spent the next five days escorting him back to Astranaar. She couldn't get much more from him. A Worgen with thick white fur, donned in arms and armor, that was it.. She wondered if there was more to it than that, since it was hard for her to imagine how a single Worgen, armor or not, could kill so many Night Elves and humans. Even if it seemed only the humans were armed, it didn't make sense to her.

But she knew better than to question someone who just went through a slaughter.

Once they arrived in Astranaar―eyes on her, as always―she dropped the man off at the inn. He gave her some gold as thanks and warned her to stay away from the beast. As she purchased bread and water from the vendors at the inn to replenish her rations, she couldn't help but think to herself. A Worgen―a sane one―that has killed people...the other druids need to know about this...it could be dangerous if it's attacking members of the Alliance. But it's just one Worgen, would it be worth the effort to tell them all? I could take a Worgen, I bet. Yeah...yeah! I could take a Worgen! Nothing beats a cat's claws. Nothing!

With renewed determination, Alanea resumed her patrol. For the next week, she searched for traces of the Worgen. With only basic tracking skills, and the inability tell any temporary camps from ones a Worgen might use, she was effectively searching for a needle in a haystack. Even her cat form's boosted sense of smell and hearing didn't help. The forest was much too quiet or much too noisy to pick out singular sounds, and while she imagined the Worgen might move around more at night, the moon hid behind clouds for most of the week, rendering night searches useless.

If it wasn't for her luck, she would have never found him.

She finally came across the Worgen searching the body of an Orc soldier as the sun was going down for the day. The Orc's uniform didn't match the uniform worn by Ashenvale Orcs, so he was clearly a stranger to the land. Nearby was the body of a wild Worgen, claws red with blood, slash wounds all over her body. The living Worgen flipped the Orc's body over, revealing a slashed throat, still oozing blood. The Worgen then sifted through the Orc's pouches. Finding a scroll, he removed his helmet with his other hand to read it better, letting it fall to the ground before unsealing the scroll.

After a minute of reading, he tore up the scroll, grumbling, an angry look in his eyes.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “If that's how it's going to be, fine. I liked it here.”

He continued grumbling as he grabbed his helmet. She saw him get up and start to walk away, and knew she had to move now before losing her chance.

“Stop!” she shouted, stepping out into the open.

The Worgen's hands darted to his shield and a sword, ready to draw. He wasn't aware―or maybe didn't care―that his helmet hit the dirt again. Upon seeing Alanea, he momentarily relaxed. “...A Druid?”

“You've committed crimes against the residents of this forest!” Alanea exclaimed. “You are to come with me to Astranaar so you can stand trial!”

The Worgen chuckled. The look in his eyes unnerved Alanea. She couldn't help but shudder as they became beady, trembling with a hint of madness.

“Go away, Druid,” he told her. “You know nothing of what you go up against.”

Alanea stood her ground. “So you refuse to come peacefully?” She let out a quiet roar, challenging him.

“Don't provoke me, Druid.” He raised his voice, now pulling his sword and shield free from his back. “It's taking what little humanity I have to avoid lashing out at you; don't try to push me further!”

He began to walk away. She rushed to cut him off, blocking his escape.

“As a druid of the Cenarian Circle,” Alanea exclaimed proud and confident, “I have been tasked with protecting this forest! If you won't surrender willingly, I'll make you submit!”

The Worgen growled loudly, gripping his sword and shield tighter as he took an aggressive stance. “One...last...warning...!” he warned her. “Leave, Druid.”

Alanea broke out into a run, letting out a savage roar as she dove into melee range. The Worgen raised his shield to protect himself and she bounced off the heavy metal, jumping off the shield to gain a bit of distance between herself and the Worgen. She had no time to think about her next move; he leapt after her, driving her to the ground with his body mass. He drove his sword downward, hoping to impale her, but she rolled away. Getting to her feet, she quickly looked him over to see if there was a vulnerable spot between his protected areas for her to strike. The obvious targets were the feet, as Worgen didn't have armor that fit them. 

Running circles around the Worgen to confuse him, she made a sharp turn and clawed at his feet, drawing blood. Letting out a pained howl, the Worgen slammed his shield into her head as he spun around. Stunned and in pain, Alanea could only stand there for a moment, eyes glazed over until a burst of pain struck her.

She jumped backward, letting out a whimper as she glanced at her right side and saw her fur slowly turning pink. The Worgen's blade was stained with fresh blood. The air brushing against the gash made her squirm and whine.

“You're bringing this on yourself!” the Worgen howled. “I warned you! But you wouldn't listen! You stupid tree-hugger!”

Panting softly as she tried to focus on the fight and not the wound, Alanea devised a new plan. She had noticed his helmet in the dirt. His head was unprotected. It wouldn't be an easy target. She still had to try. It was her only hope.

She tried to rush him again, pain flaring every time she moved. She curved to the left sharply, moving around and past him, dodging a slash from his sword. Now facing his back, Alanea jumped up, burying her claws into his armor, trying to scale up to his head. It took some effort, but she eventually managed to get close enough to start biting at the back of his neck. The Worgen roared in response, and suddenly lowered his head. Alanea wondered why for all of half a second.

He was swinging his blade backwards, over and past his head.

She scrambled to jump off him, barely avoiding the steel. Landing on her injured side, she let out an intense cry of pain, writhing in the dirt for a moment. The Worgen turned and jumped at her again, slashing with his sword one more time. The blade struck its target, opening up a gash on her left side.

Alanea took several quick breaths as she began to feel lightheaded. She was running out of options. Returning to her Tauren form, she began to cast Entangling Roots as a last-ditch effort to buy time for herself. As thorny roots shot up from the ground and entangled the Worgen, he let out a laugh.

“Run, little Tauren!” the Worgen shouted, malice practically dripping from his muzzle. “Run! Try and escape your fate!”

She shifted into her stag form, turning and running as she trailed blood behind her. The Worgen's laughter followed her as she fled, panic overwhelming her mind.

Her speed gradually slowed, too weak from blood loss. Gallop, trot, walk. She was very lightheaded, stumbling a few more steps before collapsing. Breathing heavily, she shifted back to her Tauren form.

“Got to...heal...” she muttered to herself, dizzy. “I can...I...I can...”

She tried to focus. Maybe she pushed herself too far. She should have healed and then run. Her hands began to glow as she tried to focus her mind on another Regrowth cast.

She saw a figure emerge from behind the tree to her right. It faintly resembled the Worgen in her blurry vision.

Her hands lowered as she lost her focus and strength.

The Worgen's voice was cold. “Your life is mine, cow.”

Alanea let out a quiet sob. This was how it was going to end. Killed by her hubris. She wasn't ready for this at all, she knew now.

“Mother...F-Father...” She faintly called out. “Help...”

Everything went dark.
* * *
Warmth. Warmth and hunger. Alanea groaned. The only things she could feel were warmth and hunger. Warmth, hunger...ache, a slight tightness around her throat.

She opened her eyes. She was looking at a fire, crackling bright against the black of night. A small tent stood by the fire. She looked down and found her body bare, exposed to the world.

She tried to move. Her hands were unresponsive. Looking to her left and right, the Tauren found that her wrists were tied to a tree.

She was fully nude and tied to a tree, like a sacrifice for a horrid creature.

She struggled against her bonds, only for the bark of the tree to scrape against her back, making her wince. That was a stupid idea, she thought to herself.

The flaps of the tent opening parted, the Worgen stepping out. He sniffed the air and looked in her direction. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of old shredded pants, almost overtaken by his thick fur. He looked terrifying, an ear twitching as he stared at her.

“Ah...awake, I see.” The Worgen smiled. “You've been asleep for a while, Tauren.”

“You think this rope's going to keep me still, Worgen?” Alanea challenged.

“If you shapeshift, it's going to be real bad for you.” The Worgen wagged a finger. “That tightness around your throat should tell you that much.”

“What did you do to me, you cursed beast!?”

“It's a souvenir I picked up from the Legion and a Warlock. It's a nice little pet collar for a nice little pet cow.”

Alanea's eyes flashed with rage. “Don't call me a cow!”

She shapeshifted, changing to her bear form. Almost immediately, she felt her air cut off as the collar retained its size, crushing her neck to the point all she could do was thrash on the ground.

“You're welcome to die, Druid,” the Worgen chuckled. “But if you want to live, you'll need to change back.”

He watched her squirm and choke for several more seconds before Alanea changed back. She coughed and gagged and gasped as she tried to get air.

The Worgen loomed over her, smiling. “I used a perfectly good healing potion on you, Druid. I hope you don't upset me enough to hurt you and waste it.”

Defiant, she tried to get to her feet. The Worgen kicked her to the ground, and followed it up by pinning her on her stomach.

“Struggle all you want,” he told her quietly, all his weight on her frame. “I warned you to leave me alone, but you had to involve yourself in my affairs.” He grabbed her horns and lifted her head up before slamming it into the dirt.

She let out a cry of pain.

“I warned you that if you insisted on fighting you'd forfeit your life to me!” the Worgen shouted in her ear before lifting her up by the horns and slamming her face down once again.

“S...stop!” Alanea begged, feeling blood starting to leak out of her nose. “Stop!”

He stood up and kicked Alanea. She whimpered and curled up to defend herself. He scoffed. “You're alive because of me. I could kill you with my bare hands.” He turned around as she cowered and shook, adding, “You stay right there.”

Alanea held back a sob as he walked into the tent. All these years of training, wasted. All those promises she made to her parents, broken. Her potential? Gone. She wasn't sure what her life was going to be now, but she knew she wasn't going to enjoy it. The Worgen was violent, mad. She couldn't fathom what he might have in store for her.

He emerged from the tent with new rope in one hand, and his pack in the other. “Good girl.” He smiled. “You behaved and didn't try to escape.”

“W...what are you going to do to me?” she asked, voice wavering.

He forced her on her stomach and tied her hands behind her back. “We're leaving, you and I.”

“L...leaving? Wait, where are you taking me?” she turned her head to keep an eye on him. “It's not enough you're keeping me prisoner, you intend to kidnap a Druid of the Cenarian--”

He grabbed her horns. She let out a panicked shout and said nothing more, her body trembling.

“See? You're learning,” he remarked with a cold laugh.

She was silent as he made her stand up.

“I'm going to get you cleaned up,” he told her. “Tomorrow, anyway. I need you nice and clean, not covered in blood and dirt.”

“...Why? Are you going to sell me?”

“No, I just want my prize nice and clean.”

“'Prize'...that's all I am?”

The Worgen chuckled, then broke into full laughter. “Of course. I warned you to leave. You didn't. You wagered your life. You lost. My prize.”

“...The Cenarian Circle is going to destroy you once they--”

“The Circle is irrelevant. Now, in the tent!”

He pushed her toward and inside the tent. The inside was bare. Aside from his sleeping bag, there was a collapsible stand for his armor. The tent didn't even have a floor. He shoved her past his sleeping bag and she fell to the ground.

“I can't take you out of my sight yet,” the Worgen said as he grabbed his shield. “So...you sleep on my terms.”

“W...wait!” Alanea pleaded as she turned on her back and saw him approaching her with the shield in hand. “I...I'll listen! Just tell me what to do!” she exclaimed, shaking in terror.

The Worgen stood over her and smiled.

“Sleep.”

He proceeded to start bashing her with the shield. She screamed in pain with every blow as he slammed it into her head over and over, until she became still with a final strike.
* * *
Alanea coughed and gasped for air once she felt water on her face.

“Wake up,” the Worgen commanded as he tilted a canteen of water even lower.

She blubbered something incoherent. He tilted the canteen back and began to drink from it as he turned his back to her. The Tauren coughed up some water as she turned on her stomach. The camp had been packed up, the tent tied to his backpack.

“Can't you...just...just be nice...?” she asked.

“Shut up, cow.”

She sighed. The Worgen tied a length of rope around her neck. She froze, a terrible thought running through her mind.

“No, I'm not hanging you,” he told her, as if reading her thoughts. “Just making sure you don't try to run.”

He made her eat after that. She was thankful for the food at least. It was a meager helping of bread and water, but it was better than nothing.

“If...we're moving...” she began quietly, trying not to make him angry, “don't I need...clothing?”

“I got rid of your stuff. You don't need it anymore.”

“E...everything?”

“Except the food. If I had to split my supplies with you, we'd both go hungry for a while.”

She looked down at her filthy body. Everything. Her journals, the gifts from her parents, all her gear. Just...gone. He really was taking her life from her.

“Now, we make our way to the Zoram Strand Outpost.”

“...The Horde port?”

“I said we're moving. I'm taking you across the sea, to the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“...You're not taking me that far!”

He drew one of his swords, still stained with her blood, and pressed it against her neck. “I can see it in your eyes,” he said. “You'd rather live than maintain your dignity. You'll beg all you want, but you won't run, not after you running effectively killed you before.”

She stood stone still, not even trembling. Eyes locked on the sword, she spoke quietly. “Please...you can't do this to me...”

“You brought this on yourself, Druid. Now, up.”

Alanea began to sob as she rose to her feet. “The Horde...they'll--”

“We're not going to the port itself. There's a Goblin ship that will ferry us across for the right price.”

Now Alanea's mind raced. She absolutely had to escape now. If she got aboard a ship, she'd probably never see Kalimdor again! She had to do something, anything!

As the Worgen moved his sword away from her, Alanea suddenly lunged and pushed him. He swung the sword as he fell, and Alanea felt the sharp blade cut into her chest, above her breasts. In pain, she knew she just screwed up. She wouldn't have time to heal. She'd bleed.

But it was arguably better than being a prisoner. She couldn't really focus anyway.

She shifted into her cat form. The ropes fell off her, but the collar shrank to match the circumference of her neck. She broke into a mad dash to the east, not bothering to look back.

Just need to keep going. Just need to keep going. Just need to keep...keep going. Don't think about the consequences. Don't think about what might happen if you stop. Never stop running! Run all day, run all night! Just run! Escape! Get away!

Her mind raced as fast as her body. She wasn't sure if the Worgen was following her, but she couldn't think about that. Not right now. Now, she needed to run.

Her chest fur slowly became soaked in blood as she ran. Like before, her strength was fading. Slower, but still fading. She would need to rest before she grew too weak.

The hours passed. Midday. She was much weaker now, merely moving at a brisk pace. She felt she had put enough distance between herself and the Worgen, at least.

She shifted back into her normal form, and found it incredibly difficult to breathe. The collar had adjusted to her cat form's neck, and refused to expand for her normal neck. She tried taking deep breaths, but to no avail. Straining, her hands began to glow as she prepared to cast Regrowth on herself.

A warm glow bathed over her as she healed her wound. It still bled, but was smaller now. She needed air.

Back in her cat form, she spent a minute gasping for air. Sitting next to a tree afterward, she thought to herself. I have to stay like this until I get help...what am I supposed to eat? Should I hunt? The Earth-Mother wouldn't mind if I had to sustain myself that way...I need to get my bearings, too. I need to find Astranaar...or the Felwood...anywhere...I need to get this collar off too...

She thought about slashing it, but if it was from the Legion, that wouldn't work. It was probably protected with their fel magic. She had no choice but to find anyone who could help her.

Alright, let's get this wound healed first, Alanea...

She took a deep breath and then shifted back to her Tauren form. She began to channel a Regrowth spell again, and healed the wound shut. It took all her focus.

All her focus, leaving her unable to defend herself when the shield smashed into her side, knocking her into the tree. The wind knocked out of her, unable to breathe, she found herself face-to-face with the Worgen again.

“Too slow,” he taunted. He grabbed her with his free hand and slammed her to the ground on her back. On top of her, he pressed his thumb against the green gem affixed to the collar's front. It adjusted to her throat, and she took a deep breath of air, gasping. “If there's a next time, heal before you run; you won't leave blood to track you with.”

He then beat her with his shield and his fist. Every strike brought forth a shriek of pain from her mouth. Every blow, a fresh bruise. Her face and upper body were assaulted as she begged for mercy. He gave none. He battered her, the shield's impacts hurting more than his fist, until she was weeping.
“I was hoping to save you until we got to Duskwood,” he told her with a dark growl, “but for this...for this...”

He moves away from her. She curled up on her side, crying freely. Everything hurt. She didn't struggle as he tied her hands behind her back. Nor did she struggle as he ripped up the remains of the pants he wore, and shoved them into her mouth to gag her. It wasn't until Alanea noticed his length emerging from its sheath that she began to panic and struggle again.

She didn't know much about the world, but she knew enough that she wasn't going to like what came next.

The Worgen made a move to grab her. Alanea lashed out with her legs, trying to smash her hooves into him. The Worgen laughed as he watched her flail. He kicked her side and pushed her onto her stomach, following it up by stunning her with a blow to the back of the head. Dazed, she was unable to stop him from spreading her legs and positioning himself between them.

Taking his cock in one hand, he adjusted her position slightly. He raised her lower body up until he could comfortably press the tip against her vaginal entrance. She became absolutely still as her mind went blank with panic.

“I could have been gentle. This could have been nice for you too.” The Worgen licked along his muzzle. “Make it nice and loud for me!”

He gripped her hips and pulled her back. His cock began to push inside her, and she screamed past the fabric stuffed in her mouth. She could feel every single inch of his intrusion, and a burst of intense pain as her virginity was snatched away without a care toward her well-being. She could do nothing but flail. Flail and scream. Nothing she could do could save her. Tears streamed down her face as he began to thrust forward, forcing more of him inside her and spreading her pussy's walls further.

“You earned this, Druid. You were the one that tried to escape. I was going to take you to get cleaned up, take you somewhere you've probably never been before. You forced my hand, and now here you are.” The Worgen laughed. “But I'll give you this: You're tighter than the whores in Stormwind.”

She could barely hear him over her sobs and misery. Every thrust inward made the pain flare, every moan from his muzzle disgusted her. He was breathing like a wild animal. There was no semblance of humanity left in the Worgen, as far as she cared. She began to pray to the Earth-Mother, begging to be saved. She didn't care the cost, she wanted to be free. She wanted to be saved from the Worgen.

For minutes this went on. Harsh, painful thrusts, muffled screaming, bestial moans. His claws pierced her flesh, drawing blood as he kept her body still. She wasn't sure how long he would do this. The one thing she knew was that her mind was getting tired from the panic. It was getting hard to think. Maybe it was better not to think. Maybe it was better if--

His moans mixed with growls as she felt something bumping against her pussy. Wide-eyed, she tried to glance back to see what was happening, but she couldn't see anything except his hips moving. What was happening back there!?

“You feel it?” he asked her, his breathing heavy, the look in his eyes one of insanity. “That's my knot, Druid. Get used to how it feels. I hope you're ready to take it all!”

His thrusts became more manic. Every thrust in was the entirety of his cock, every pull took almost the entire length with it. And with every thrust forward she could feel the bump that was his growing knot, trying to force itself into her. She shook her head wildly, mentally begging him to stop.

Finally, he pulled her back as hard as he could, while thrusting forward. She could feel a new kind of pain as the knot was forced into her. She let out one final scream as her senses flared, mixed in with a howl from the Worgen. Along with the pain came a wet, warm feeling that spread inside her; his semen filling her in multiple, heavy spurts.

Shock overtook her mind and body. Her world quickly faded as she fainted from the pain.
* * *
She didn't fight anymore. She knew better now. He had made her suffer, taken everything, even her purity. He had punished her for assuming she could escape from him. She knew better now. Even as the days passed, as the pain slowly subsided, she knew better now. This was her fault. If she had obeyed from the start, she might have been treated better. He led her by a rope leash, hands bound behind her back, still naked.

Three days after the rape, he bathed her body in the lake near Stardust Spire. It was the only time that he had been gentle to her. He asked her name. He gave her his: Andereon, formerly Jayden Andereon. After more assurances that all of this was her fault, he went on to explain himself: Fel magic during the Legion's invasion of Azeroth during his final assignment had seeped into his mind, bringing madness. The madness built upon the stresses of years of fighting in Gilneas and as an Alliance soldier, “killing” his human mind and leaving the Worgen in control.

During his final assignment, he acquired the collar from a Warlock experimenting with Legion tools, who taught him how to use it. After protecting his group from a Legion commander, he came across one of the Tauren also assigned to the continent's defense. It took everything to not try and enslave her. He had abandoned his post that night, knowing that he was a danger to everyone. Taking his savings, he had a house built in Duskwood, away from most cities and settlements. He wanted to stay away from civilization unless he needed food or money.

Alanea's spirit was further destroyed when he told her the merchant caravan she came across was ransacked by the humans. She had unknowingly aided a criminal in escaping. She didn't believe him―she didn't want to. But if she had aided a criminal...

A full week after the rape, he raped her yet again. She had messed up. She complained about her treatment. He offered to let her go if she could beat him in a fight. But if she lost, she'd be raped again. He pointed out she could have just let it go. But instead, she spent the night in pain and agony again as he had beaten her easily. It made her feel worthless. Even in a fair fight, she couldn't win. The plate armor was just too thick for her claws and teeth to pierce.

Her spirit practically faded completely when they got to the Horde port at Zorom Strand, four days after the second rape. Rather than enter the port, Andereon led her to a Goblin ship that was smuggling Night Elf relics out of Ashenvale. It took most of his gold, but he convinced the Goblins to let him take Alanea out of Kalimdor. On the ship, he explained that the Horde was preparing to fully invade Ashenvale. In two weeks time, the forest would be host to a bloodbath. Alanea was horrified.

It took a week and a half for the ship to reach Westfall. They took a small boat from the ship to reach the shore. Under the guise of escorting a prisoner, Andereon was able to take the druid through Westfall and into Duskwood, a place that terrified Alanea with its darkness, even during the day.

Finally, they reached Andereon's home. It was modest, plain. A simple living area, a kitchen, a storage room, a washroom, two bedrooms, and three rooms for whatever he wanted. Now far from home, far from help, far from the possibility of rescue, Alanea didn't move an inch as Andereon untied her wrists and undid the leash. She knew her place now. This was where she belonged, this was what she deserved.

He led her to one of the bedrooms. It was plain, barren. One bed, one chair, one desk, one chest, no window. “This is yours. Unless you misbehave.” He turned her so she could look at him. “Your training will start tomorrow.”

“...Training?” she asked, trembling. Any training he had in mind for her would surely not be conventional.

“I can still see the smoldering embers of resilience in your eyes,” Andereon replied. “I will do everything I can to put out the fire for good. Until I can make more gold, we'll have to settle for my shield and fists, but that'll just be the start.”

Alanea whimpered, but she knew better than to dissuade him. All she could do was nod.

“Now, on the bed.”

She lowered her head slightly, but she obeyed. Laying on her back, she saw him approach, ripping apart his pants and leaving him naked again. He got on top of her, smiling. His penis was already starting to poke out again.

“I wonder what your parents are thinking,” Andereon remarked casually. “What they think their little daughter is doing right now. If they only knew...”

Alanea whimpered again. He had taunted her like this ever since their first time, and it stung her the same even now.

“All those years of training, all that promise...and here you are.”

“Here...here I am...” Alanea whispered, trying hard not to think about her parents, her trainer, or anything else.

“Spread your legs.”

She did so. He hoisted her toward him, his cock pressed against her pussy. The Tauren watched it, not wanting to do anything else. Andereon adjusted his cock so the tip was pressing against her entrance, and he pushed in slowly. Alanea shuddered at the intrusion. She grabbed the bed and held on as he began to thrust. The pain was still there, but even the second time didn't hurt as much as the first, and this third time hurt less than the second.

She wasn't sure what to make of it.

Andereon moved a hand to her left breast and squeezed it. Alanea let out a quiet squeal of surprise. “I can be gentle when I want to be,” he told her. “Don't get too used to it.”

She looked away as he continued to thrust. The pain was steady, but joining it was another feeling, one of slight pleasure. She whimpered. This was confusing. Was it because he was being gentle? Was he doing it on purpose? It was messing with her mind, her feelings. She let out a quiet moan, surprising herself. Her hands went to her mouth as she let out a second moan.

“You're confused,” Andereon whispered to her. “You don't like me, I hurt you...but you're feeling pleasure, aren't you? Curious.” He smiled. “Curious indeed...”

He was doing this on purpose. What “this” was, she didn't know exactly. But she was already mentally exhausted; this confusion was making it worse. Her hands muffled more moans, while Andereon was growling softly between breaths. The Worgen pinched her nipple, and she shivered, muffling another squeal.

Something was building up inside her. It was a feeling that she was only aware of when he sped up his pace. The bed under them groaned quietly with his thrusting. “Move your hands,” he ordered. “Listen to yourself!”

His other hand moved to her other breast as she reluctantly took her hands from her mouth. Her moans were louder now. Her body was burning from embarrassment and shame. Andereon leaned in and licked along her neck slowly.

“You're getting close, aren't you?” he asked her with a smile. “Your eyes tell me everything.”

She was close to something, that was for sure. That buildup was growing more intense, and her moans were even louder. Her body was tensing, almost as if--

She let out a cry as her body shuddered. Andereon grunted as she squeezed his cock with her body. She held onto him unknowingly as she came, the pleasure overwhelming to her. Andereon's continued thrusting made her mind hazy as she was almost preventing from coming down from her high. It didn't help that she was confused and trying to rationalize why she felt such pleasure.

“See? You're learning to love this.”

She shook her head slightly, unsure what to think. She could feel his knot forming again as he tried to thrust it inside her before it could grow to full size. Her grunts mixed in with his until he finally drove it inside her, letting out a howl of victory. Alanea let out a cry of pain as she felt it stretch her―it would certainly take a while to get used to it―and felt his seed filling her. She was more aware of the warmth now, and it was an odd feeling. Not so much a pleasant feeling, but it didn't gross her out as much as before.

She didn't know if she liked the change or not.

Andereon caught his breath as he lay on top of her. Alanea muttered something incoherent. Andereon chuckled. “Once I'm finished here, I'll be tying you to this bed. Can't yet trust you to be alone.”

“W...wait...I...I can...” Alanea began before Andereon shut her up with a look. She whimpered. “I...I don't want to get beaten again...”

“You'll get beaten regularly as a part of your training, little Sharphoof. I want all of the fight taken out of you.”

Alanea looked away from him sadly. “There's nowhere for me to run to,” she muttered quietly. “You won already.”

“Ah, but you need to be trained to enjoy being abused,” Andereon pointed out. “The only way for that to happen is so suffer.”

Alanea didn't respond.

“When I'm finished with you, you'll be a good little plaything for me.”

“Please...please...”

“If you don't want to suffer for too long, you'll break fast.”

He laughed. Alanea couldn't find it in herself to sob. Maybe if she did break quickly, he'd be nicer to her. It wouldn't be too hard, she was sure. Just give up on rescue, give up on seeing my parents again, give up on accomplishing anything in life, give up on living for myself, give up ever being free...

Now the tears flowed.