Warning! Very graphic chapter…
***
For a bandit, Ligor lives a luxurious life. He has gold, silver, and henchmen who will follow his commands to his every word. Moreover, he has an elf on his bed.
The pristine white skin, luscious blonde hair, and the smell of the blooming flowers just add to the charm— if this is not the height of beauty, then what else?
Ligor savagely torments the elf below him. To his mind, it is not even a woman. A woman would need caring, loving, and respect. But this elf? It is livestock. He can enjoy himself with the immoral pleasure of the flesh all he wants.
The elf woman below him cries in pain as Ligor penetrates her over and over again. His massive frame and weight press over her, as his beastly huffing, intermingles with the elf's moaning. The elf was helpless as the vulgar bandit ravishes her.
This is how half-elves are usually made.
The chances however are slim as they are of different species. Still, the idea of having a half-elf child excites Ligor. With a half-elf in his brigands, his prestige would surely rise, and with it comes the wealth that would follow.
An excellent skilled half-elf would inherit both the good of their parents. The good senses of an elf and the incredible growth of humans are what make half-elves an enviable product in the black market.
If the half-elf turns out to be quite remarkable, Ligor would definitely love to have the half-elf for himself to improve his brigands' might.
Impregnating an elf would be difficult, but if he tries and tries again, he will surely succeed, right? What is the harm? Moreover, he can enjoy his elf slaves this way. Ligor grins in his perverse fantasies as he pleasures himself with the elf below him.
His meat viciously inserts and exits itself to the proverbial valleys of pleasure. It slides so easily, Ligor is getting addicted to this. So long since he had the last touch of a woman, and now, he has an elf for all himself.
At first, he plans to keep one for himself and sell the others. But now, Ligor's ambition is taking form. Rather than ambition, it is more of a dirty desire of overwhelming lust… Ligor just cannot see it yet.
His hips are like pistons going back and forth, and it is just getting faster and faster as he reaches climax. The elf's moaning is becoming more intermittent, and shorter. All too of a sudden, a wave of pleasure comes at him. The elf's squealing is just as arousing. Ligor pours his white liquid inside the elf.
Ligor's thick palm chokes the elf and uses his other hand to feel the elf's chest. He exits his meat and aims it at another gate. It slides off, but the allure of carnal pleasure is just too much for Ligor to miss.
"Here we go~"
The elf cries in futility.
"No, no… NoOoo~"
Ligor savagely smiles for he enjoys this crying just too much. Thus, he violates the 'other' gate with great pleasure.
The elf silently cries at her miserable fate. She didn't bother resisting anymore. She is weak and frail. She opens her gates to the horrible ugly creature that calls himself 'human' and it breaks her.
All too abruptly, crimson stains her sight. The human becomes headless, as blood pours from his neck like the overflowing water of the Great Anisia River. The elf is in disbelief at this sudden reality.
The human is dead.
Yet, she didn't feel any happiness. Neither sorrow nor relief can awash her dirtiness. She looks over and sees the handsome visage of an elven warrior. He has dark brown hair and stubble. His eyes have a hint of gold and apricot.
The elven woman weakly pushes the dead human who violates her, but their human weight just has too much of a difference. The elven warrior helps her and removes the dead human. The elven woman feels the meat inside her sliding away… She cries an outpour of tears.
She cuddles in a small embrace to herself. She curls on the smelly bed and covers herself with the sweaty fabric from where she was violated. She wants to hide. She wants to die.
The elf rubs her stomach and the very gate that was violated. She stretches it out and tries to get the white liquid out of her. It disgusts her.
"I— I… Please… kill me…" She begs under the blanket.
The warrior remains silent to her request. But not for long as screaming echoes outside the bed chamber. The clattering of iron and shouting pervades the should-be silent night.
Trudviar knows he can stay no longer. His fellow elves need him, so he leaves hasty words of advice to the pitiful elf woman as a form of compromise. "If you want to die… Kill yourself. Don't make someone else do it for you. Also, you shouldn't waste your life. His majesty, the King of the Elves, might find use in you… If you don't know your direction now, then the King might know…"
The elf woman peeks from under the blanket and sees the shadow of the elf warrior joining the fray.
She stands up and regards the bruises on some places of her pristine skin with remorse. She arrives by the dresser and searches for clothes she can find use. She covers her naked body with clothes offering her little sense of comfort.
The bed chamber decorates itself with gold and silver. There are even some weapons displaying themselves on the walls and glass panes. She hears the crying outside the bed chamber. This sounds so much better than the huffing and humping…
The elf feels almost like vomiting at the horrible memory. Her eyes land on the blissful face of the dead human. Even in his death, the look of pleasure seems to etch itself on his face.
She smashes a glass pane where an axe dwells. She grabs it and uses it to disfigure the face of the human's head. She brings the axe down again and again. It brings her no pleasure, but it eases her heart down a bit.
However, she stops as the head turns to an unrecognizable bloody pulp. She then proceeds to the headless body and starts chopping on it in her raw madness.
"Boss! We are under attack! We are—"
Interrupting the elf woman's session is a brigand who finds his way into the bed chamber seeking his boss. The brigand freezes as his eye meets the bloody mess that was his former boss.
With a sickening smile, the elf beckons to the brigand. "Do you want the boss? Or… Do you want me?"
The brigand sees past her allure and recognizes the monster that was recently born out of her. However, before even the brigand escapes, an axe goes flying in his way squarely hitting his chest.
The elf's smile is enchantingly pure yet the blood decorating her cheeks stands in contrast to her pure image.
"Your boss doesn't know my name, but I am Lafira by the way… Make sure you tell him that when you go to the afterlife…" The elf comes to the brigand and drives the axe deeper into his chest.
Flickering to the last of his consciousness, the brigand starts seeing demons in the elven woman who calls herself Lafira.
The beauty of an elf is not something a human should carouse, covet, and abuse. Lest it summons a demon mankind would wish not to ever exist.