She glared at me. “When the time comes, you think, what? I will bare myself to you and beg for you to take me. That I will happily submit to a lesser male? Or do you mean to tell me that Ya’av’s teachings of the inferiority of males are wrong too? Even the Father acknowledges that his daughters are superior through the very nature of his children. Did he not make us so that there were more of his chosen daughters? Did he not create us so that only enough sons were born to continue the species? That is the only VALUE of a male…”
Tears fell again.
“But… You spit even on that.” She snarled. “No male can claim to be the strongest of any elven sister… but even before your boons… you made a mockery of House Xen’thir and House Mor’Vakth. You survived a direct attack by a slave bearing a Death Detonation spell, Kathra saw the spell touch you before her slave perished… But here you stand.”
She turned her back to me again. “I know nothing anymore. And the more time I spend with you the more I KNEW to be true is proven a lie.”
I knew what she was going through was fucking rough. Deprogramming a brainwashed zealot was one of the hardest things to do. She had the cracks in the delusions that had held her down were big and the lies were crumbling hard. Chunks of lies were falling around her, and that was fucking terrifying. I’d seen it a few times before. I’d been part of a team to exfiltrate individuals from regimes before, and been part of guard detail while reality gave lie to their former existence.
There had been one woman who had been convinced that god would kill her if she went for more than five days without submitting herself, sexually, to the man who had declared himself king of his corner of the Middle East. She’d seen multiple fellow captives drop dead after denying him. We’d gotten her out, and as the end of the fifth day had come she had begged us to take her back until she fell asleep and woke, confused why she wasn’t dead. Truth was, he was just drugging the women and swapping which of his harems they were stuck in. They were rewarded well for their performance. The longer she lived, the more she realized everything had been wrong.
I’d thought that was extreme, but…
“How old are you?” I asked, hoping she-elves were less touchy about their age.
“I have seen the cycle of the world conclude one hundred and forty-two times.” She declared.
A hundred and forty-two. She was born just after her people slaughtered her cousins of other lineages, and had been raised under the celebrations of Shadow Elf supremacy. Now, she was seeing the reality of war, and the reality of their oppression. She’d been told it was all justified because the gods of the other elves had oppressed her people, starved them, and waged war against their god. Ya’av had used her divine power and influence to cloud her children’s thoughts and understanding. Just like the woman I had saved, she was seeing undeniable facts that refuted what she ‘knew’ and it was tearing her apart.
I did some quick math. If a 120-year-old elf was the equivalent of an 18-year-old human, she was the equivalent of a 21-year-old woman. Still young and learning, and likely Amura had never left El’Muth’Ran or had any real interactions with anyone other than her fellow brainwashed.
“I know this is hard,” I told her. “I’ve seen people work through this shit before. I can’t help the fact that I don’t fit into what you were taught. All I can do is be here for you to lean on as you find the truth for yourself.”
“Truth…” She laughed. “Does it exist? Or do the gods just make a mockery of everything and laugh as we stumble?”
“Can’t say what your gods do or don’t do,” I admitted. “But some things will be true regardless. I’m here to help.”
“Help me out of my clothes and onto my back with my legs spread like you have the others?” She jabbed. “I see your eyes linger on me, even while you take them. There is no point in denying it. I just wonder how long you can last, before you order it. Will you order me to enjoy it so that you may maintain your facade of righteousness?”
I sighed. “I’m a man with a pulse. Do I want you? Yes. Are you beautiful? Most definitely.”
“Am I some exotic treat, like your latest ‘love’?” She laughed cruelly. “I saw how you looked at her. You are bound by the expectations of her people to continue to give her your seed, but was all she is to you an exotic specimen to experiment with? Is that all I shall be? See? Is my bizarre skin appealing?”
She in a flash loosed the bindings on her leather corset and pulled it down, letting her breasts hang free.
“We all wonder at your fascination with our teats, are they strange because you lack them? Do you crave mine because they are freakish and alien to you?” She sneered, rocking her shoulders to make them jiggle.
I stared for a second. “I mean, they’re fucking nice. Every elf I’ve seen has fabulous tits. I wouldn’t say ‘freakish’ or ‘alien’. I mean, back home, blue wasn’t exactly a color of skin you’d see walking around without it being painted on, but… no. It’s not that you are ‘exotic’. Everything here is exotic.”
She looked at me in confusion, “But your skin is like a Wood Elf’s, the light color of cut wood… is that not why you chose to be their protector?”
I snorted. “I just got summoned by Tavorwen. If Laliera had summoned me, I’d have helped the Wild Elves first. All I was told was the people who had summoned me were good people, not perfect people, but good. That was enough for me. They could have had red skin, horns, and hooves, but if they were legit good.”
She blinked, “… why would red skin…?”
I sighed, “I really need to stop making assumptions… We picture the Devil as having red skin, horns, leathery wings, hooves, and a tail with a spike on the end. His demons are similar.”
Amura nodded, “Ah! You speak of Zilfodin, and his legions. Your description is not far off. He leads the devil’s armies in the First Hell. I have seen his rage devils summoned, they are indeed a cause for fear.”
I stared at her, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Amura, her corset still hanging open and her fine supple breasts on display, looked even more confused. “Why would you wish that upon yourself?
I sighed, “It’s an idiom.”
“Your people have strange idioms.” She informed me.
“Anyway, as much as I enjoy the sight of your amazing tits, if you want to have a serious conversation, maybe you should cover up,” I told her.
“Oh? Already succumbing to your male weakness? Would this help?” She challenged, standing and dropping the corset to the floor. “How about this!?” She dropped her skirt, then pulled the cords on her thong-like undergarment and let it drop too. She stood there, wearing nothing but her thigh-high boots, her body on display, her hips rolled to expose as much of her pussy as possible. “Come now, you’ve seen me bare before? Is this all that it takes to make you crumble?”
“Do you want me to fuck you?” I demanded.
“I-I… I don’t KNOW!” She confessed and threw herself on the bed. “It-it makes me angry, that you resist, but… at the same time, it makes me…” She didn’t finish the statement and trailed off.
Man, these must be some confusing emotions. She wanted me to be weak because that would mean some part of what she’d been taught was right. But at the same time, no woman truly wants to be forced or molested. She just expected it, regardless of what she wanted, and the expectation being defied confused her, and that confusion manifested as anger. But on the other hand, every moment I resisted seemed to make her think more highly of me, which, unless I was crazy, made her want me. But if I took the chance and went for it, I’d just be destroying the image she was building of me.
And goddamn, it was a good thing I’d had so much sex today. Amura wasn’t making resisting easy. As she lay on the bed, her head away from me and her legs partially spread, I had a perfect view straight up her legs at not only the dark blue folds of her pussy, but the pucker of her ass as well. The faintest pink could be seen between the lips of her sex, calling to me, tempting me. And her ass begged to be nailed too, and while I hadn’t found a lot of girls pleading for anal sex, I’d always found it fucking hot when a girl had given it to me. There was something extra intimate about being trusted with that part of her body. Like, if you were going to have sex, giving your vagina to your man was kinda expected, with a few weird side cases, but letting your man take your ass, that was totally a choice you made just because you wanted to.
Assuming you weren’t raped. And I had strong feelings about rapists. I’d seen the horrors of societies where the only thing keeping men from raping indiscriminately was the family of the intended victims, which meant those without family, or whose family wasn’t nearby, were violated at the pleasure of their tormentors.
That was one reason why no matter how tempting her body was, I would never force Amura. Besides, if she got me too horny, I could surely find one of my matrons who could find a way to satisfy me.
Besides, while I seemed to produce prodigious amounts of sperm, and I could feel I was already capable of going again… I wasn’t exactly blue balling. Did I have an erection? Yes. Would I love to nail her and show her a good time? Abso-fucking-lutely. Was it a need? No. Was it going to mess me up to not? Nope.
Amura screamed into her pillow, her lithe body bunching up, and her legs lifting her sexy ass into the air, her pussy and ass pulsing as the muscles rippled. She thrashed about letting all of her emotions just stream through her.
I felt bad, about how fucking hot it was. She was here, tormented and miserable and all I could think was how fantastic it would be to have her thrashing on my dick instead.
At last, she rose, kneeling on her bed.
“I owe you an apology, Master.” She apologized, her back still to me. “This was unseemly and unnecessary.”
She climbed from the bed, and fished out her underwear, pulling it up before awkwardly holding it in place as she tied it over her cunt and butt crack. She pulled her skirt up and tied it, before pulling on her corset, settling her breasts into the cups built into it, before pulling the lacing tight to secure it, but not so tight as to cause any discomfort or deformation.
She glanced up at me, “Why do you stare so?”
I shrugged. “You’re beautiful and it was a great show.”
She narrowed her eyes, then blew out a frustrated breath. “You are such a confusing male.”
“Are you okay now?” I asked.
“I am well enough.” She snipped.