The Company Whore

Bad Things Happening to Elves

WARNING: This is a dark and unhappy story, a work of niche fantasy. I want there to be no misunderstanding upfront.

If that sounds like something you don't want to read, please don't read this story. I'm not out to shock or offend anyone. I'm just catering to my audience.

But if you're the type to get offended anyway, don't worry, everything's alright in the end. I follow the rules.

You have been warned.

*****

The Company Whore

Nialle strode into the recruitment office, past the attention of the soldiers within, and straight up to the recruitment officer's desk. "I want to join your army," she said decisively.

The recruitment officer glanced up at her from his paperwork for only a moment before smiling and turning his attention back to his desk. "That's funny, girl," he said, "but I don't have the time for jokes."

"I'm serious," said Nialle.

The recruitment officer afforded her another glance, this time without the smile. His eyes lingered as he took in her appearance, including the delicate cast of her face and the ears behind them. "Why's an elf woman want to join a human army?" he asked.

"You're fighting the orcs, yes?" Nialle asked back.

"Aye," said the recruiter. "And why's an elf woman want to fight orcs?"

"I have my reasons," was all she said.

"And what's an elf woman think she's gonna do against an orc horde other than provide them with some reluctant entertainment?" the recruiter continued.

"I can handle myself in a fight," said Nialle, growing impatient. "What's it matter to you? You get one more body in the field between you and them. Sign me up already."

The recruiter grinned. "You're spunky, girl," he said. "The men'll like that on the front. Been a while since most of 'em seen any kind of woman, much less one as fine as you."

"I'm not applying to be the company whore," said Nialle, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "I'm applying to kill orcs. Do you want my help or not?"

The recruitment officer looked at her again, this time long and lingering - not as a nuisance, or as a potential soldier, but as the delicious looking young woman that she clearly was. Her skin was lightly tanned, her black hair pulled back in a long braid that hung over her shoulder and draped down to her navel, which was exposed in the cropped and tight-fitting shirt that she wore. Beneath it he could make out pert, ample breasts, still firm and held upright by her youth alone. Long, slender legs rounded out her eye-pleasing package, exposed for inspection by the short shorts which she wore low on her hips. At the top of them, a slight V could be seen curving down into her shorts, out of view, toward that prize which these elf girls treasured the most on themselves and which, unfortunately, few human men were ever allowed to experience - at least, by elf girls who were allowing them willingly.

This thought led quickly to another, and the recruitment officer grinned to himself in such a way that Nialle shuddered and took a step back from his desk. Whatever trepidation it may have given her, however, was replaced when he looked up at her face again and said, "Luckily for you, you're right. We need every body we can get between us and the orcs. You have no qualms about heading out to the front lines of the war?"

"None," said Nialle, her eyes shining. "I prefer it there."

"Good," said the recruitment officer, removing a sheaf of papers from a drawer in his desk. "Then that's where you'll go. That just leaves us with the paperwork..."

***

A week later, Nialle set her first foot into the main camp of the human forces on the front lines of what was being called the Orc War. She had dug out an old suit of her family's leather armor for the occasion, which consisted of a light breastplate, short faulds, and gloves and boots which ran to her elbows and knees, respectively. It was light and scarce by human standards, leaving her midriff, thighs, and upper arms exposed, but elven armor was designed for movement and agility, not bulk and coverage.

She wore it even during the long trek to the camp itself, nestled as it was deep in the forests at the foot of the orcs' mountain stronghold. At night she slept with it on, clutching her longbow in her hands and imagining the feel of it tensing and loosening again and again, sending arrow after arrow into the faces of the orc horde.

The weapon was the last item that she had by which to remember her sister, who had been unable to get to it before the orcs had come upon her.

Nialle remembered hearing her sister's agonized screams, remembered sprinting through the trees to reach the edge of the cliff. In the clearing below, the orc raiding party had come upon their camp while her sister slept and Nialle was away, and by the light of the fire she could see every detail as they held her down, their massive and rough hands crushing her naked torso to the dirt, and raped her mercilessly. Her bow lay beyond reach in the shadows of the camp, and Nialle had been carrying no weapon but a small dagger. She was helpless above the scene of the cruelty and could only watch in horror and anger as they passed her sister between them, each of them driving their thick, brutish cocks greedily into her even before the one before had finished. The scream which had alerted Nialle had been cut short as one of the monsters stuffed her mouth and began pounding away at it, but she could still hear her sister's muffled protests even up here.

Nialle had dared not call out for fear of alerting the orcs to her presence. They would either disappear back into the forests with her sister or, perhaps worse, send a pack of their raiders up to collect Nialle as well. Instead, the terrified elf had fled as quickly as she dared down the path leading back to camp, hoping to find a more suitable weapon and catch the brutes by surprise.

By the time that she reached their camp, however, her sister's muffled cries had ceased. She realized why once she reached the circle of firelight. The orc raiders had vanished before she approached, surprisingly swift and stealthy when they had need of it. Her sister was gone as well, carried away by her attackers, leaving only a few leftover splatters of spilled orc cum and the tattered remains of her underwear to show where she had been at all.

That was months ago. Since that time, Nialle had scoured the forests surrounding their home looking for traces of the orc raiders and her sister. Of orcs, she found plenty of evidence; as time went on, the bastards were becoming bolder and bolder in their activities, leaving traces of their presence all throughout the land. Other tales like Nialle's became commonplace, of people who had lost sisters, wives, mothers, and daughters to the lust of orc raiders, who came upon their travels or even their very homes when they were at their most unguarded. Those few who reported trying to fight back, and living to tell of it, bore the scars of their encounters. None were able to claim to have saved their loved ones from their fates.

Of her sister, however, Nialle found not a trace. It was as if, after her group ravaging, she simply vanished. This, she realized, likely meant that they had taken her sister back over the mountains, where their strongholds flourished.

The only way that she would see her sister, she realized, would be if she could reach the orc strongholds themselves. And the only way to do that, apart from becoming one of their victims, would be to drive the orcs out. When she heard that the humans were massing an army to take the fight to the orcs for a change, Nialle knew what she had to do, even if her own people thought it suicide and folly.

***

Upon arriving at the human camp on the front lines of the war, Nialle was greeted by one of the company lieutenants, a man of middling age who already bore the rugged wear of combat. He looked her over with incredulity and not a little bit of obvious desire before she handed him the sealed papers given to her by the army recruiter. After opening them and reading them right there, the man smiled warmly and led her into the camp proper, welcoming her to the war effort and introducing himself as Lieutenant Grange.

The looks that she received from the other soldiers that she passed were all the same, a mix of surprise at seeing her there and lust at seeing her more closely. Not one other person in the camp, she realized, was female. She was the only woman in a sea of men. They really had made an exception, then, when they allowed her to join their ranks. She had thought that the recruiter was simply being dismissive and prejudiced, but now she saw that he had actually been fairly open minded when he signed her up and handed her her papers.

Still, she couldn't help but wish that there were at least a few more female soldiers around. At least then the men around her would have more to look at than just her. While she understood the effect that she was probably having on them, their undisguised attention nevertheless put her off her ease.

Lieutenant Grange led her to an outdoor table where sat two other men in uniform, one closer to her age with greasy hair and a wiry build, the other a full head taller than her and rippling with muscles and a pepper-streaked beard. The lieutenant stopped before them and smartly saluted, and they returned the gesture. "This is Drill Sergeant Marik and Quartermaster Haim," he informed the elven girl. "They'll be in charge of your training and lodging, respectively. Soldiers, this is Nialle of the elf settlement to the west, sent over recently from the recruiter by the plains."

Nialle tried to replicate the salute that she'd seen the men use, not sure if she pulled it off properly. The two seated men smiled at her, their eyes predictably trailing over her body and outfit, as the lieutenant handed her papers to the massive drill sergeant. The bearded man looked over them quickly and grunted wordlessly in acknowledgement before handing them to the younger quartermaster to do the same. As the smaller man read them over, his grin grew wider and wider, and by the time he set them down, it looked to Nialle that he might jump out of his seat in excitement if the other two weren't there. Whatever commendations the recruiter had sent with her, she thought, they must be glowing indeed.

The gruff Sergeant Marik stood and gestured with a flick of his head to a nearby shack, a small and ramshackle building that looked to have been erected in a hurry. "This way, new meat," he rumbled. "Let's get you inducted into the army."

Nialle bristled slightly at the offensive name before reminding herself that these were combat-hardened men she was dealing with. All new recruits doubtless got the same treatment to toughen them up and get them ready for the necessary discipline. She had insisted in the recruiter's office that she could hold her own here; she didn't need to prove herself wrong by demanding special treatment or taking offense at something any other soldier worth his salt would shrug off.

Instead, she followed Sergeant Marik and Quartermaster Haim to the small cabin, with Lieutenant Grange bringing up the rear. The quartermaster unlocked the padlock on the front and only entryway with a heavy iron key on his belt and the four of them stepped inside.

Inside the shack there was only a small cot sporting a worn mattress with no pillow or blanket and, next to that, a low and simple rack made of three iron bars welded together. Besides that the room contained no other furniture, only a window on either side of the room looking out onto the camp. The strangest part of the whole scene, thought Nialle, was the length of chain attached on one end to the cot and ending on the other end in an open iron shackle.

From her position sandwiched closely between the three men, Nialle looked up at the rugged countenance of Drill Sergeant Marik. "What room is this?" she asked.

The sergeant and the quartermaster shared a knowing smile with one another before the former said, "This will be your bunk. It was initially intended to house spare supplies from the other storage areas, but our commanding officers decided that it would be put to better use as a place to keep the company whore."

Nialle's blood suddenly ran cold in her veins as she recalled her own words a week ago in the recruiter's office. "That...that's not the position that I signed up for," she said, her voice trembling as she backed away from them. "That's not what I came here to do."

Her back pressed against the chest plate of Lieutenant Grange's armor, and before she could move further, his calloused hands grabbed her wrists and held them tight behind her back. "We know," was all he said to her. "Get that useless armor off of her, men."

They fell upon her then, and with her arms pinned, all Nialle could do was scream in protest as the sergeant and quartermaster grabbed her light leather armor and ripped it away, tearing at straps and buckles in their frenzy. She wore nothing beneath it but a modest bra and panties which they soon tore away as well, leaving her trapped and naked in their grip but for her gloves and boots. Her longbow was discarded into the corner of the room, far out of reach even had she been able to reach out to it.

"Let me go!" she screamed, kicking out at the soldiers. Quartermaster Haim snatched her ankle before her foot connected and hoisted it into the air, Sergeant Marik grabbing her other leg and doing the same. Suspended between them, Nialle bucked and twisted in their grip but could not break free as they peeled her boots off of her calves. "Help!" she cried, turning to one of the windows and hoping that the camp outside could see the savagery being done to her. "Somebody help! Rape!"

"Ha!" laughed the quartermaster, and soon they had her hanging over the worn mattress. "It's not rape during a war," he said with a grin, picking up the open shackle and fastening it securely around her bare ankle. "Everyone knows that. It's a healthy exercise to boost morale."

"Leave me alone!" Nialle shouted, feeling the first brimming of tears stinging her eyes as they dropped her to the bed. "Why are you doing this? I want to help you!"

"You are helping us," Lieutenant Grange answered calmly as he forcibly tugged her leather gloves from her arms. "What other use did you think we would have with a woman out here on the front? Did you think we'd send you after the orc hordes?" He laughed, pinning her wrists together over her head before she could swing at him. "That would be worse than pointless. It would be a waste of good elven cunt. That's hard to find even when there's not a war on."

"And now the whole company gets to enjoy some on their downtime," said Sergeant Marik with an ugly leer. "You're giving us lonely men something to fight for, girl. Here, hold her, I'm going in."

"What?! No!" Nialle thrashed even harder, but Grange had her wrists and Haim held her legs as Marik began to hurriedly unfasten his breeches. "Please, don't! I beg you! I'm trying to save my sister!" She could no longer hold back her tears as she thought of her poor abducted sister on the night that she was raped and taken. "The orcs have her! That's why I'm here! I need to get her back! Please!"

"If the orcs got her, then there's no saving her," Marik said, mounting the mattress and grabbing her legs. "They don't turn lose good pussy when they get it. Your sister's gonna spend the rest of her days as their sex slave." He shoved her thighs wide open and prodded the tight slit between them with the tip of his shaft. "Be thankful that we're keeping you here and saving you from that fate," he said, then pierced her resistant young womanhood with a slow, powerful thrust.

"Nooooo!" Nialle screamed as she felt him force his way inside her. She had never been with a man before, even one of her own kind, and her unexperienced pussy shuddered in pain as it was suddenly stretched and filled with the sergeant's thick, hungry cock.

"Oohhh, fuck," the sergeant groaned as he buried himself in her to the hilt. "Gods, this elf has the tightest snatch I've ever felt. I think she's a virgin, boys."

"What good's a virgin in the army?" the quartermaster asked with a cruel smile. He'd moved around to the side of the bed and was watching intently as Nialle struggled and trembled in pain and fear. "We need to fix that problem."

"Agreed," said Marik, then slid himself out of her to the tip and thrust in again.

"Aahhh!" cried Nialle, the tears flowing freely now, her eyes wide and staring up at the leering countenance of the lieutenant as he held her arms pinned. "It hurts! Please stop! It hurts!"

"I love when they beg," said the sergeant as he began fucking her in earnest. Each thrust was slowed by the sheer tight fit of her deflowered elven cunt, but he made up for in depth what he lacked in speed, each thrust filling her entirely and stretching her untested pussy. A small trickle of blood from her popped cherry trickled out around his shaft as he raped her, grunting in pleasure with each thrust.

Nialle's protestations devolved into wordless cries of pain. Her bucking and squirming proved not only futile in escaping but also intensified the pain flowing through her from her victimized womanhood, stirring the sergeant's cock around inside her as it did. She went limp in the soldiers' hold, each of the sergeant's thrusts rocking her body roughly and sending her breasts bouncing.

The quartermaster stepped up to her then and grabbed one of her heaving breasts, squeezing it roughly and kneading his fingers into the soft, firm flesh. "That's right, give up and take your pounding, whore," he said through his grin, his eyes glazed with animalistic lust. "This is why they sent you here. This is all you're good for."

"N...no...!" she gasped through her pain, her face burning red with shame. Even this small protest was cut off, however, by Lieutenant Grange pulling out his own cock and stuffing it between her open lips. She almost gagged on the thick shaft as he shoved it into her mouth, the head of it twitching against the back of her throat. Then he too began to rape her mouth while Sergeant Marik raped her pussy, the both of them pinning her to the mattress from either side with their cocks, until she felt as if her insides were stuffed to bursting with cock.

All she could do then was lie there and cry as she endured their punishment. So she did.

It seemed like hours later to the young elf when Sergeant Marik's hard, steady pounding quickened frantically. He grunted low in his throat as he rammed himself into her fast and rough, intensifying her pain. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he groaned. "I'm gonna fill this virgin whore with her first taste of a man's cum!"

Nialle tried to scream at this pronouncement, to cry for help again, to beg him not to degrade her further by dumping his vile seed inside of her already humiliated body. But with the lieutenant's cock filling her mouth, all she could offer was a muffled moan as the sergeant rammed himself as deep into her as physically possible and held her poor slit there impaled on his throbbing shaft. He groaned aloud as he let himself go, and Nialle felt the hot liquid wave of his climax wash sickeningly through her. She shut her eyes tight against the tears and the sensation, trying to will it from happening, but it was no use. The sergeant shot load after load of his hot, thick cum deep into her ravaged pussy until it filled every last little space of her and began to flow out down her thighs and backside.

Nialle's whole body tensed as he released himself inside of her, and the only sound that she could make was a pathetic whimper as he filled her up, as if she were nothing more than a receptacle for his lust. No matter what happened next, she knew that she would never feel clean or pure or whole again. Her shame was complete.