Elven Eradication (mass rape/snuff, human/elf raceplay, mind break, enslavement)
The women of a tiny elven village, its men off to war, face the gruesome violence and depraved lusts of a raiding party of vicious human warriors.
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Elven Eradication
The morning was crisp and dark and lovely under the forest’s spreading canopy of leaves. Miralyn walked with light steps towards the well closest to her dwelling, on the outskirts of the small elven village.
Miralyn’s town was under the authority of Marchlord Belgrael. Presently all of the village’s dozen males were under arms, fighting for the Marchlord in his campaign against the upstart human settlers who had planted their gaudy and violent flags on the islands and fjords north of the forest.
She shook her head. When would those fools understand that humans’ burly strength and love of metal was no match for elven war-magic, stealth, and cunning? Orcs had learned that lesson long ago, and now rarely attempted more than a minor raid.
Her thin silken dress moved lightly over her skin, the air stirring her carefully-braided scarlet hair, and she sighed at the pleasant sensation. She had never formed a marital bond, and her insides quivered at the thought of the village men returning, of being swept up by some champion to be made his bride.
“Good morning, Miralyn!” Loriveth called. Like Miralyn, she wore sheer silken garments and carried a delicate water vessel, although unlike Miralyn she lacked the magical training to make it float behind her.
“Good morning, Loriveth!” Miralyn responded, feeling slightly smug about her greater achievement. She was almost ready to be trained as a warmage, she was sure of it.
The elven maiden looked back at the water vessel following her, smiling at her ability. Then her ears twitched at the sound of the crash of pottery, a thud, and a wet, choking cough.
Loriveth was standing, shards of her vessel in her hands, staring down in shock at the heavy human arrow protruding between her proud breasts. She drew a hitching breath that dissolved into bloody coughs, red splashing from her lips to drip down her cleavage and belly.
Her left knee buckled and she collapsed, her head striking the stone pavement around the well, her bare feet moving randomly as she slowly bubbled her life out.
“Loriveth!” Miralyn screamed, barely understanding what had happened. She jerked her head towards the suddenly threatening woods.
Out of the trees stalked a human in stained and battered armor, so different from the elegant elven leathers strengthened by magic. He held a short, heavy horn bow in his right hand and wore a simple steel skullcap with a chainmail veil to protect his neck and shoulders.
He stared at Miralyn through the eye holes of his helmet, and her knees pressed together in terror.
The human walked towards her, around the well, and as he passed Loriveth’s wriggling body he drew a short sword.
Loriveth managed one sad little whimper as he pushed the tip of his sword into her straining throat. Her flesh parted easily, and then blood spurted up over the sword as Loriveth’s soul fled.
His gaze had never left Miralyn’s.
Startled into sudden action, she released the minor spell she’d been maintaining on her water vessel and it crashed to the ground. Raising her left hand, she drew in energy, then twisted her index and little finger of her right hand, hissing a syllable, to send two zig-zagging lines of force lashing out at this bestial murderer.
He raised his right hand, sword dripping red, and she saw the crude silver charms dangling from the swordhilt. They shone red from Loriveth’s lifeblood. Her two attacks diverted, slamming into the tangle of charms, and fizzled out into nothingness.
Miralyn gaped. Then the human launched himself at her, and she screamed and turned to run, but his heavy fist slammed into the back of her head and her world disappeared in aching, starry blackness.
Some time later, Miralyn gasped back into wakefulness at a splash of water that made her thin dress cling to her lovely elven curves. She was laying on the pavement of the village’s central clearing, and all around her were the sounds of horror.
She could hear screams and groans, ugly human grunting, the wet flesh-on-flesh sound of brutal rape, high keening sounds of elven agony.
As she blinked the darkness from her eyes, she saw Thalindra, the youngest elf in the village at a mere 49, on her knees begging for her life. The man she was pleading with held a slim elf-rope.
Thalindra’s cheeks was flushed, her voice raspy, her face marked by tear-trails and thick white gobs of human semen, and Miralyn could imagine what the poor thing had been put through – her pretty mouth used as a cocksleeve by the gods’ only knew how many of these savages!
And now, there was a noose around her neck, and the human had thrown the rope over a tree branch, and he was pulling… pulling Thalindra off her knees to her feet, her pleas breaking into incomprehensible sobbing.
She was on her tiptoes, drawn up by the noose, her fingers clawing at her neck to try and get underneath that awful rope. Her bare feet flexed, her toes straining to push against the pavement, and then her legs were kicking crazily as she was lifted up into the air.
Her flushed cheeks darkened further, her eyes bulging with horror as she danced in the air, helpless to control her young body.
“Thalindra!” Miralyn moaned. Gods, she was so young! She had centuries of life left, centuries of elegance and beauty, of song and sunlight, and now…
As Thalindra gurgled, choked, and kicked, Miralyn saw glimpses between her legs – the bruises and the lines of sticky human semen that marked the elf-maid’s brutal rape.
Future centuries of love and joy condensed into an hour of agony, abuse, mockery, and violence, all those lovely days that could have been wrung out in moments to serve as a cock socket for the outlet of base human impulses.
It made Miralyn sick to think of it.
Thalindra’s eyes widened so much that it seemed like they would pop out of their sockets. Her movements slowed, stilled, her legs now bending only at the knee. Her hands had fallen away from her neck, where the rope cut in so tightly, and her fingers and toes were softly curling rather than frantically twisting.
Miralyn could see the moment Thalindra disappeared, the light behind her eyes fluttering away with her last scraps of breath, to the sound of raucous human laughter.
The man who’d captured her grabbed her by the hair, dragging her out into the paved clearing, bringing more horrors into her view.
Keillin, the village’s healer, was sprawled over a wooden bench. She was young and supple, a prodigy of the healing arts, and she had been raped so thoroughly that it looked like her pelvis had been broken. There was a potion bottle thrust up her asshole, and two curious humans standing around her, cutting her open and watching the magic heal her.
One of the men took her head in both hands and slowly pushed his thumbs into her eyeballs, harder and harder until the tissue gave way and popped under his thumbnails, drawing a wretched sobbing cry from the healer.
“Please, kill me!” she moaned. The humans laughed uproariously, and one thrust a dagger up through the underside of her jaw to pin her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Scarlet spurted from her lips, and the other man tore the potion bottle out of her to replace it with his cock, spearing Keillin’s brutalized butthole with a huge, hard human member.
She wailed as best she could with her mouth pinned shut, and Miralyn turned aside with a shudder.
The smells of blood, sweat, terror, and elven pussy filled her nostrils. Ahead of her, the older elven woman were being hauled in front of an impromptu “court.” To one side were five living elves – on the other side, a stump, an amused man with a huge-bladed axe, and three headless elven bodies, nude and twitching, their heads mounted on spikes with horror frozen on their faces.
Seraphine was being dragged, struggling, before the self-appointed judges. They stripped her delicate clothing without a word, surrounding the lush elven mother and groping her, feeling her heavy breasts and the generous curves of her hips. One thrust two fingers into her abused cunt, then pushed them into her mouth so she could taste the mixed elven honey and human sperm there.
“Your verdict, my lords?” Miralyn’s human shouted – and it was clear this was a game they’d played before.
“Too old! Too flabby!” one judge called back. The others nodded, and Seraphine screamed as she was pushed towards the headsman.
“Hold this bitch down by the block,” he ordered, and two humans hurried to obey. Seraphine’s bountiful tits lay beautifully displayed on the red-stained wood.
“No, what are you doing to me?” she pleaded. “Please, please, I…”
The headsman raised his axe, the men behind her pushed her hard against the block, and Seraphine let out a despairing howl as the axe fell.
The broad blade chopped straight through her breasts close to her chest, and the huge orbs flopped forwards. One fell from the block, the other landed nipple-up to jiggle before the horrified eyes of the formerly busty elf.
She drew in a breath to scream, and one of the men behind her pulled out his knife and cut deep into her pretty throat.
Her eyes shot wide open as the air she’d sucked in bubbled out of the terrible wound in her throat – air and squirting blood. Blood was pouring down her windpipe into her lungs, squirting out over her severed breasts and the dead bodies of the three previous victims of the headsman.
The man kept sawing, holding onto Seraphine’s thrashing body with his left arm as his companion pulled her long silvery hair back. She tried to arrest his relentless cutting, but her attempts were futile, and soon the blade was against her vertebrae – against them, and through them, and then through the back of her neck. Her body seized once and fell away as the human pulled her head off. Her eyes widened, narrowed, flicked rapidly left to right, then slowly drifted in different directions as her mouth slackened in death.
Miralyn looked miserably at her human – gods, why was she thinking of him as her human?
“Why are you showing this to me?” she asked. “You should just k…”
He backhanded her, sending blood spraying from her nose. “Shut up, elf bitch,” he said. With his right hand in her hair, he squeezed his cock through his pants with his left.
Oh gods, it turns him on, Miralyn realized with a thrill of hate and fear, as he jerked her forward and rubbed her face against his erection through his pants.
“I’ll bite you,” she hissed.
He took her hair in both hands, dragged her over to a low stone wall, and rammed himself against her head so he drove her skull against the stone.
The first blow made her ears ring, the next made her see stars, as he used his restrained erection to slam her head over and over into the wall. She opened her mouth to beg for mercy, and the next blow made her jaws clamp shut, drawing blood from her tongue.
After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled away, leaving Miralyn slack-jawed and concussed. He unbuttoned his trousers and thrust his dick into her mouth, the taste of his sweat and precum mingling with the taste of her own red blood.
“Still feel like biting, elf cunt?” he snarled at her, driving himself deeper in. With and effort, he picked her up and dropped her on her back on the wall. The position opened her throat up and he began to fuck her like a sex doll – ramming himself into her tight, hot tunnel with no regard for her wellbeing.
Her hands fluttered around his hard-driving hips, obscene noises rising from her brutalized throat as he facefucked her like a wild beast. It was like nothing she’d ever felt, a total helplessness, an animal need and a monstrous disregard for her personhood.
For his own amusement, he thrust his hand between her legs, and at his harsh touch on her pussy she realized through her concussion that she was dripping wet.
Miralyn’s vision blurred, her hips rolling up against her human’s fingers, and he laughed again.
“Fucking sluts, the lot of you,” he said, and tears rolled out of her eyes, tracking down over her forehead to drop to the ground.
He pawed at her breasts, fondling them animalistically, fingers pushing into her cunt, and as the minutes dragged on with only the occasional sniff of oxygen, Miralyn’s battered mind spiraled in an internal conflict.
He’s raping me… They’re killing us… Poor Seraphine, poor Loriveth… He’s fingerfucking me… My clit, my tits, gods they’re on fire… I can’t breathe…
Round and round she spun as the world grew darker, redder, sounds more muted from her lack of air. Then he squeezed her sizzling clitoris tightly as he fucked himself balls deep in her throat, and as she felt his balls tensing up against her face and shooting a fat load of human seed into her belly, Miralyn’s legs jerked upwards, knees folding up under her breasts as she orgasmed.
Then her human was pulling out of her, she dimly felt him wiping his spermy cockhead off on her face and hair, and she opened her eyes to see the two humans who’d been torturing Keillin holding her legs wide open as a third human held a long, pike-like spear.
She stared, still recovering from her oral rape and her pounding head, as Keillin begged uselessly for her worthless elven life.
“Please, I can make you healing potions, I’ll suck you off, I’ll…”
“We’ve got plenty of elven heal sluts back home,” one of them men holding her said. The man with the spear readied himself, and Keillin gave the loudest scream Miralyn had ever heard as he rushed in and thrust the spearhead deep into her guts through her cunt.
Crimson streams jetted from Keillin’s skewered pussy, and her scream got momentarily louder before trailing off in a pathetic series of groans as the men hoisted the spear vertical, tearing her insides with the spearhead as they levered her up. The spearman dropped the spear butt into a ready-made hole in the ground.
The jarring impact drove Keillin half a foot further down the spear shaft, and her eyes and mouth opened in round O-shapes of shock, blood dribbling from her lips as she writhed, impaled deep inside her.
One of the men lifted a hooked knife, flipped it, and dragged the sharp hook down from just under her breasts to her pubic mound. Keillin’s straining belly opened at its touch and she made an animal sound as her intestines slopped out of the great red wound, to the laughter of her tormentors.
She’s still not dead, Miralyn realized as one of the men poured another healing potion into her open belly. They’re not going to let her die.
Miralyn’s man reached between her legs from behind and drove his fingers into her wet pussy, making her whimper and guiding her along with him.
There were still screams rising, but they were dying off. Two elf-maids had been collared and were being led off, sobbing, and Miralyn heard the evil thudding sound of others being beheaded – lovely, sad, cum-stained elven heads bouncing off the pavement as they were lopped off.
Two, and Keillin, and me, Miralyn thought. Out of twenty-one women.
Seventeen gorgeous elven ladies had been repeatedly raped and put cruelly to death, their dying sounds mingling with the lustful sounds of their pussies, throats and assholes being violated.
“Why are you taking me?” she whispered. It didn’t make sense. Surely Keillin would have been the one they wanted?
Her man pushed her down onto her hands and knees like a dog, and she couldn’t untangle the combination of emotion and sensation that filled her heart as the feeling of his cockhead pressing insistently into her tight, wet pussy.
“Your little magic trick,” he said. “We’re taking the ones who can cast spells. I’m going to fuck a litter of half-breeds into you and we’re going to take that.”
Take that.
Take elven magic. Breed it into humanity.
It was a fearful thought, but that fear sped through her mixed with the ecstatic sense of a hard human dick plunging relentlessly into her elven cunt.
He held a fistful of her disarrayed red hair with his left hand and smacked her bouncing butt with his right, sending shockwaves over her body.
She felt like her skin was burning, like her whole body was supercharged with… something, some need.
The need to be bred by this human animal, she thought, and the words made something deep inside her clench with desire.
Whether consciously or not, he sensed her succumbing, and she mewled as he ravaged her even harder, making her whole body shake with the force of his thrusts. She threw her head back and cried out at the pleasure, and when she opened her eyes she was looking straight at a pile of lopped-off elven heads, dripping blood, pain and fear stamped on their lovely features.
Looking wide-eyed at her murdered sisters, her consciousness dissolved in a climax that washed the world away.
Miralyn’s human felt her stiffen and growled as he shot creamy jets of cum into her needy elven womb.
She slumped forward, sliding off his cock, and the last few spurts splashed on her reddened ass.
He stood up and flung the exhausted, debauched elf over his broad shoulders.
“Let’s move, boys,” he said. “Lots of miles between here and home.”
Home, where dozens of captive elven women would be streaming in from their raiding parties – latent sorceresses, healers, just plain cocksleeves. And his new slut would breed him powerful children to strengthen the race for conquest – fucked into oblivion for the destruction of her own kind.
Posted Jun 20, 2025, 9:17 PM UTC