Doshvin was enjoying herself thoroughly; She would have been touching herself while she sucked off her master, but he had not given her permission to do that. In the days before she obeyed, she vaguely remembered being denied any sexual release of her own for days, weeks. Her arms had been bound, unable to touch herself; Master would bring her to the edge of an orgasm and then leave her to suffer without reaching that climax. She had learned to beg for his touch, for that release, because she knew she must have his approval.<br/><br/>When master commanded her to stop, she flinched as if she had been struck and crawled a few paces away from her master, wiping her wet lips and chin on her forearm, tasting her lips as if trying to savor the taste of his flesh. Her master stood tall in front of the pretentious, snooty elf, the one who thought she was too good for the orcs. He took her by the hair, and Doshvin swore that he would strike her, but he did not. His other hand grabbed her neck, but did not choke the life out of her; That had slid down to the swell of her large breasts, but the only tearing or rending was of the material covering her body, as it was stripped away and left in a shredded heap upon the floor. Doshvin was growing agitated, and a bit worried; Not only had her pleasure been interrupted, but Master didn't seem likely to kill this one. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself more than he usually did when he took one of the fresh elves. Master then tore the rest of her dress away, leaving the beautiful elven priestess fully nude.<br/><br/>Something happened inside of Doshvin's mind. For a second, instead of seeing the fair-haired, taller elf named Shaelee, Doshvin saw one shorter, darker hair, green eyes instead of blue, with muscles coiled like a snake. Her name was Makretia. There was a scream, but Doshvin couldn't be sure if it was Shaelee or the spectre of Makretia...<br/><br/><em>The beasts came in the night. Their camp had been erected in a wide open glen, in the far northwestern reaches of Elven land, not far from the mountains that were the end of their world. Impenetrable mists had prevented any elf from ever traversing them; It was agreed by all people that nothing lived on the other side. They had apparently been wrong.<br/><br/>More than a dozen finely trained warriors and scouts had set up camp there. They had not been prepared for invaders coming from the mountains, where no invader had ever come from. This was the oldest and most peaceful of Elven land; their scouting assignments mere formalities. It had been decades since these lands had seen any trouble; Once, long ago, human bandits had made their way into elven lands and had been harassing local farmers, preying on their livestock. So when the orcs came from the mountains, they had found a completely defenseless camp, with no guards set up to give warning. Twelve elves in bedrolls, fanned around the large bonfire; Twelve souls who would never return to their people.<br/><br/>Makretia had been awoken by a foot in her stomach; Someone had walked over her, unaware of her presence. She had been fully smothered by her blankets, hidden from outside view; One of her comrades must have stumbled over her, trying to get to the nearest tree to relieve himself. But that foot was gigantic, the weight behind it leaving her winded. As she struggled beneath her bedding, mind suddenly jolted awake, swimming in confusion, she heard the first screams, which were cut short with blades. She tunneled out from underneath her blanket and snatched up her sword, and she was met with a terrifying sight; The rest of her group was being ravaged by monsters. There were three women besides herself, and they were all being removed from their clothing, screaming as their leathers were stripped from their bodies by sharp knives. The men had it even worse; Some lucky ones had their throats slit, but another man was being disemboweled not five paces from Makretia; Another was being held over the fire, his skin blistering and falling off in drops, before he was finally dropped and left to die screaming. Others were simply being hacked to death or pummeled by large, iron-clad fists.<br/><br/>The attackers were giant brutes that she had never seen or heard of before. It was too dark to take account of their features, but she could see their red eyes staring at her as she forgot how to breathe for a moment. Then, with a furious cry, she charged the monsters, her bright blade dazzling by the firelight as she scored several marks on an orc who was unaware of her being. The cuts were deep, but apparently not deep enough; The monster howled in pain and backhanded her, causing her world to go white for a split second. She rolled out of the way before a large boot stomped the ground where she had been standing, and her blade severed a tendon in the monster's ankle. Instead of sending the beast to the ground, howling in pain, it just made it angrier. It punched her in the gut, the elf caught off guard by the monster's quickness, and she fell to her knees.<br/><br/>The rest of the night was fuzzy for her. In between the beatings and the rapes, she was aware that she was the only elf left alive; Why they had spared her, she couldn't say to be sure. The scene of her camp in the morning was carnage; The orcs had settled into the clearing the elves had made for themselves, creating a forward base for their impending invasion of the elven land. Makretia couldn't have known their intentions at the time; She didn't know what they even were. She was aware of being dragged through the dew-covered grass, and dropped at the feet of another beast, but this one was different. Larger, scarier, she knew this one was in charge of all of the others. She shivered, only able to look at his feet for a moment, but she gathered her courage and met the creature's red eyes, matching his gaze with a furious look of her own. "I swear I'll kill all of you," she muttered, spitting blood on his foot. The beast couldn't have understood her language, but it laughed, reading the meaning behind her elven words, and kicked her in the chest, cracking a bone or two and making her scream out loud.</em><br/><br/>For a moment Makretia remembered, her memories brought back by the forceful disrobing of Shaelee, her sister in law. She remembered everything, and she felt sick, knowing what she had become was a mockery of what she used to be. She wanted to kill herself, to end her life so that she would know no more humiliation at the hands of these beasts.<br/><br/>A second later, however, she was Doshvin again, and she couldn't remember exactly who Makretia was. It was another elf, but Doshvin couldn't remember how she knew this elf. Maybe one that Master had killed long ago. There were many like that, and Doshvin did not know their names. The creature tragically known as Doshvin licked her lips, remembering the taste of orcish cock, and whined pitifully, wishing for her master's affection once again.