The night elves have been playing with me for many moonrises since I was dragged in chains to their dungeon. Everyone knows the inventive cruelty of the Drow but the tales do not do their perversity justice. The unearthly beauty of my tormentors only worsens my predicament. Their slim perfect bodies used to tease and deny every day since my capture in a warped parody of lovemaking. Each sunless day I am made to submit in the dungeon until I leak and drip precum in a continuous silky ooze pooling on the stone floor.
My cockshaft bound with cord, leather thongs or narrow buckled straps of greasy waxed canvas to keep my straining organ rigidly hard and denied no matter how many of the lithe mauve and blue skinned elves choose to ride me for their pleasure. They use me as a lonely maiden might use a candle or a length of broom handle. My bound cock is just a toy to them.
The sensitive intimate parts between my muscled thighs are now just a means for my captors to inflict pain or pleasure.
As a healthy human male it seems I have value in the dungeon. Certain of the night elves ritual magicks require fresh human pre cum and I am their latest source to be milked daily like some farm animal.
I shudder and moan as their tight inhuman cunts squeeze me and their long skilled tongues lap the pre cum from me. They compliment each other on it’s tang of desperation as they compete to see who can take me closest to release. Their conversation is arch and taunting as they drive each other to yet greater acts of cruelty and perversity.
The witch elves use cruel devices. Ironwood clamps for my nipples and my swollen balls, slender elegant probes carved from cave dragon bone to delve deep inside the tiny opening at the maroon swollen head of my engorged manhood. Larger, much larger rods of wood and bone for my rear opening. The shapes designed to fill me and bring me humiliating ecstasy.
I have seen worse devices in the catacombs. Cruel frames of sweat stained wood and intricate oiled metal designed for the most depraved functions by the sorcerer artisans of the night elves.
And the fiendish slavers whips and goads. Applied not just to my back and buttocks but also between my spread thighs to make my trussed up shaft and balls bounce under the impact.
Then when I am exhausted their apothecaries apply lotions and salves to heal my body and bring me to a desperate maddened peak of arousal until I plead to be used again.
The slender supple bodied wytch queens force me into sensual contortions sharing me with each other. Pert elven breasts with dark tinted nipples bounce above me and hairless purple lipped pubis engulf my sore reddened manhood. Things I might once have fantasised over but now I am at their mercy, a plaything denied relief in this subterranean torch lit dungeon little more than a novelty for their perverse lusts.
I was a feared warrior, a barbarian of the northern reaches. Countless foes fell to my axe. Now though I am little more than a hard cock for these cruel nocturnal elf kin.
I have quested alongside noble high elves. Nothing like these perverted fiends. Indeed I have seen elf prisoners here naked like me, cuffed collared and caged, their slim bodies taking their turn on the rack or the whipping frame. Noble elf ladies stripped and fouled in the dungeon forced to perform the most beastial of acts with the creatures of the tunnels.
I share sympathetic glances with the other captives, elf and human, as we watch each other’s torments. A semen splattered wood elf druidess is chained naked to the dungeon wall made to watch as my vine bound cock is subjected to the foul embrace of a cave squid. Then I watch as the same ichorous monstrosity is introduced to the frantically squirming druidess womanly hole.
No perversity is too great for these sunless decadents. It is said they draw power from the perverted torments of their captives. Having seen and experienced the twisted eroticism of the night elf dungeons I believe those rumours.
I lay here chained naked in my cell. My rear passage itches and burns stuffed with cave fungus. My unrelieved shaft twitches within a tight cage of thorny vines. I hear the moaning of a human woman and the high cruel laughter of my captors echoing through the humid air and I wonder if I will ever escape this twisted fate.
It is not long before I am taken from my cell once more and my bare body presented for the elves amusement.
The wytch elf has an alien beauty which belies her cruel twisted soul if one such as she even possess’s such a thing. Beneath her silky midnight cloak I see the shadowy contours of her naked body. Flawless purple skin taut over delicate elegant bones.
Her slender hands are encased in a pale gauntlet of woven spider silk to protect her grip as she pumps my rigid cock shaft with a palmful of quartz gravel. The small sharp rocks dig into the hot sensitive meat below the bloated head of my shaft as she twists her grip around my rigid flesh. The deceptive strength of her dainty hand makes me cry out.
The wytch potions have me so hard that even with this pain my organ stands up against the sweat drenched muscles of my belly. In sweetly accented common she asks me if I want her to stop. Crom help me but I do not, even as she grinds the gravel into my tender flesh I feel my long denied orgasm build. I have been used constantly since my capture yet the night elves have ways to keep a man from release. My ball sac is bloated with my unreleased seed. A strap of lizard hide is bound tight around the base of my sac keeping me at the wytchs mercy.
Through some sixth sense or perhaps just long experience she know when to stop or slow her milking. When she does her companion takes up the ornately wrought iron tongs once more. Their tips are cupped and spiked designed for a cruel purpose. They fasten around each of my balls in turn squeezing and twisting until I gasp for mercy and my release is denied so the wytch can continue her sensual play.
Chained to the dungeon wall opposite me a naked high elf Noble hangs exhausted from her bonds. Her slender legs are shackled wide apart exposing her hairless pale sex now swollen and reddened from countless cavern spider bites. Their venom is a powerful aphrodisiac and leaves her sex painfully tender and dripping wetly. Even in her exhausted state she is weakly humping at the air and her small pointed breasts quiver with fitful needy breaths. The foul cave spiders continue to roam across her sex drawn by the fungus paste our drow captors have smeared over her to attract the creatures.
In happier times I have lain with elf woman and I know how sensitive they are between their thighs, even more than a human maiden, so to see this noble lady tormented so has me groaning in sympathy. I wonder how long she has been imprisoned in this shadowy realm.
The devilish night elves delight in showing off their depraved kingdom to their captives making us watch each other’s torments so we may better imagine how it will feel when their attentions turn to us again.
I am paraded nude and shackled through the shadowy candle lit dungeons. The thick damp air smells of sweat and sex and the sorceries of the wytches. Stone steps carved into the dark living rock always seem to head downward deeper and never up. The dank air trembles with moans and pleas and sadistic laughter. My captors lead me on a narrow leash of lizard hide bound brutally tight about the base of my dripping cock. Each pull on the leash tugs my organ downward then let’s it slap painfully back upwards. Despite this the wytchs salves smeared over my shaft keep me as hard as if this were my wedding night.
I think of my betrothed back in the northern kingdoms. I remember my captors amusement as I moaned her name while a night elf warrior used me for his pleasure taking my organ in his mouth before introducing his slender blue skinned cock to my greased hole and filling my passage with his hot seed. Just one of many to use me that way since the Drow took me.
As I am led through the dungeon the warriors hot oily cum drips down the backs of my powerful thighs. My captors jerk on my leash encouraging me to gaze into a cage like cell.
Inside a golden skinned eastern maiden is bound naked bent over a wooden hurdle her arms pulled out in front of her holding her voluptuous body in an L shape with her whip marked breasts swinging beneath her tied at the base with waxed cord. A mauve skinned white haired elf torturess in a corset of troll leather stands behind the captive probing the human woman’s holes with greased wooden rods, twisting them inside the woman’s openings as if stirring a cook pot. The size of the rods is such that I can see the woman’s smooth stomach bulge. Fluids drip from the maidens straining holes to the dungeon floor. The elven torturess reaches down to scoop the humans fluids from between her thighs then licks the slick discharge from her fingers. As she does so I see that a clamp made of yellowish bone hangs from the prisoners clitoral nubbin. The elf toys with the clamp and talks in soft teasing tones to her captive who shudders feverishly in ecstasy.
Awful though the site is I am ashamed to say it excited me. My time in the caverns is already warping my desires.
The cloaked wytch returns and orders me to be strapped tight to the bars of the cell. My tormented cock is unbound and I groan with relief. Trapped pre cum dribbles out of me in a parody of orgasm. The wytch peels off her gauntlets and rolls my cock between her smooth palms. I groan deeply. The night elf sorceress makes an arcane gesture her hands move dextrously through the humid cave air.
I look on in horror as smoke drifts from the oily torches bracketed on the walls. It coalesces in front of me in the form of a serpent hanging in the air. The wytch elf leans back against the cavern wall, her cloak falls back from her perfect naked body. She reaches between her own thighs touching herself then raising wet fingers in the air to form arcane sigils.
The spell summoned creature twines around my naked thighs then up around the straining shaft of my penis. The creatures is formed from smoke and magic. It’s touch is hot and smooth as it tightens around my cock constricting and relaxing in a sinuous ryithmic motion. It pumps me relentlessly.
I have been brought to the brink of climax so many times since my capture that it is a shock to realise this time they will not stop at the brink. I cry out as if my very life force is being pulled from me. The smoke serpents mouth engulfs my cock as I thrash against my bonds.
I feel faint. The wytch elf cries out in a triumphant orgasm of her own. She leans close I smell her sweat and feel the hotness of her breath.
“Give me your seed human.” She demands in her sibilant accented common.
I have no choice as the wytch sorceries churn between my legs forcing me to reach my peak. I feel my tormented balls empty in long hard spurts. I cum so hard and heavily it hurts after weeks of cruel teasing.
The wytch elf’s laughter echoes around me.
Is this my fate now? Will I ever escape and feel the cold clean air of the Northern kingdoms again or I am destined to see out my days as a plaything of the Drow?
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/yr6t7g/prisoner_of_the_night_elves_darkbdsm_themesmale
I like this kind of erotica, thanks for the content and I’ll keep my fingers crossed I see some more soon.
Bravo! I’m not usually into this but damn…