Descent

Erin shouldered the door to the run down flophouse shack open, leaving the always aggressively noisy streets of Old Town behind. Blessed, dusky silence, or near enough, the continual tumult of the outside diminishing with every hard step taken, the impact of her army-issue boots threatening the very life of the decades-old floorboards. She spared the joke of a receptionist, an old, perpetually drunk woman one had to whip to get anything done, but a single look, storming past, down the hallway which lead to her shoebox room. Fourteen doors down, with a lock that might admit anyone at so much as a mildly displeased stare. It was courtesy, nothing else, that kept her belongings safe there. Or her, for that matter.

It had been two months since she was discovered, ass desperately clenching back up, her belly bloated obscenely with the colossal loads of the two night elves, Rana and Dana, on the floor of the gray chamber, in the cathedral. The two long gone, only one person remained to suffer punishment, and, having offended the Matron Mother and Dame Ulla both that very day, mercy had been in short supply. Had, since then, remained in short supply. Erin removed her still mostly presentable vest, tossing it on the floor. The single cupboard and chest stuffed into the tiny room next to the door were already overfull of her things, those things she had been able to bring with her from the last place. Everything else laid in piles, some growing to be over five feet, making the little rectangle a kind of labyrinth.

Since having been discharged, or, rather, put on leave from the cathedral program, she was no longer a squire, or a prospective paladin. Not actively, at least. The judgment that she needed time to reflect upon her actions had been made, and that reflection was, apparently, best carried out not in the presence of her classmates. Having trained for years, Erin had been assigned to train raw recruits. Her quarters and meager stipend gone with that reassignment, she had had to abandon her old quarters in great haste. Find a place so far buried in the squalor of deepest Old Town that it was a wonder the building still stood.

Not exactly enlightened about her wrongdoings, she nevertheless set to her new task with as much vigor as she could muster. A single encounter with some rapturous, skilled, and lovely kaldorei was not something she was going to allow to derail her entire life, and so, with a little luck, she might train recruits for three or six months, and then return to her former position.

That was the plan, of course. Had been. But, as she was yet young, several of the raw recruits, especially those of even minor status, turned rebellious at the notion of being instructed by her. A failed paladin-squire, someone as young as them. Younger, in some cases. This had turned, eventually, into an altercation with the son of the most minor of merchants, who had utterly refused her commands one day, and gotten in her face about it. Naturally, then, she told him in no uncertain terms to right himself, or face the consequences. When the dust settled, she had only been hit once, and he had been downed after three punches. The last laugh was his, though, as his father wielded what influence he apparently had, and got her discharged from her position as instructor.

With that development, her path back to the classroom and the training fields of the cathedral had turned terribly murky. With no way to demonstrate her reliability, and no one to advocate for her, and no income, it seemed more likely that she would end up spending her days begging on the streets of Stormwind, rather than protecting it from the enemies of the Light.

And, just that day, she had been utterly ignored by the knight, Dame Ulla, when going to the cathedral to try to make her case. She had not even been offered a response, as if she no longer existed. All the people Erin had once worked with, interacted with, even looked down upon, in some cases, now studiously ignored her. She was not even a common visitor, but something less than that. As if no one else in the cathedral had ever been caught doing something indecent. Was it somehow worse just because she had had the most mind-blowing hour of her life with two night elves?

The answer, it seemed, was yes.

No friends left, no money, but far too much time. In a week, she would be thrown out of the flophouse, and, other than not having a place to store her things, sleeping on the street might actually be an improvement. She told herself as much, at least, because it distracted her, for a moment, from the hollow in her chest, the pit in her stomach. Her body understood the great change, the danger, the downward trajectory of her life, even when she tried very hard to deny the realization its place in her conscious thoughts.

With no money for even the worst possible moonshine, and not enough desperation to go entice someone in a bar to buy her drinks for as long as she could without actually having to engage in anything with them, she faced a night alone in her little box of a room. Too worried to even spend the evening in pleasantly reclined pleasure, goading herself on with thoughts of the two impressive kaldorei still occupying much of her mind and many newly grown fantasies. Half a year ago, she would not have even contemplated something as maddening and overwhelming as those two, and their monstrous cocks. Even less so the two of them working themselves, at the same time, into her ass. Now, it seemed almost as if her body recalled the sensation at the merest thought, as if she had been conditioned, through one single meeting, to respond to the kaldorei. To the mere thought of them.

So, in the end, Erin spent the night in her own company, after all, her fingers finding much work. Still disappointing, in many ways, when compared to the impressive size of the two kaldorei. And the endless thrusts of someone real, rather than imaginary.