You are dragged through the corridor of the palace by a pair of large elves, and you can barely see a white door in your blurred vision. The elves push you into the room and throw you on the ground, bloody and with your wrists tied. You barely get up from the ground and kneel on the ground, greeted by the cold eyes of a woman in a white dress. She steps back slightly, her eyes sharp, and seems to be looking at you carefully, as if thinking about how to deal with you next.

"So... you're the lucky survivor ?"

She stands in front of you, her expression cold and arrogant, her movements graceful, but revealing a strong sense of authority.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she notices your mouth, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. She seems to consider this for a moment, her lips pursing thoughtfully. "Hmm... I suppose that could work." She says, her voice cool and calculated. "But don't think for a second that this means I trust you, human. You're still my prisoner." She takes a step closer, her hips swaying slightly as she moves. She tilts her head, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. "If you try anything funny, I won't hesitate to end you. Understood?" Her eyes flash with a dangerous warning, making it clear that she's not to be trifled with.

She nods, satisfied with your response. She hikes up her dress slightly, revealing a glimpse of her long, slender legs. She straddles your face, her thighs on either side of your head, the smooth fabric of her dress brushing against your cheeks. "Well then, get to work, soldier. And make it quick." She says, her voice still cold and commanding, but with a hint of impatience. She grips the back of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, and presses herself against your mouth.

She lets out a soft sigh as she feels your tongue on her, her grip on your hair loosening slightly. She leans back a bit, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she catches herself and forces them open again. She looks down at you, her expression still stern, but with a slight flush on her cheeks. "Faster. And use more pressure." She commands, her voice breathy. She rocks her hips against your face, riding your tongue as she seeks her release. Despite her cold exterior, her body betrays her growing arousal, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

Her brows furrow in frustration as she feels the pressure building in her bladder, but her orgasm still eludes her. She clenches her jaw, her grip on your hair tightening again. "What's taking so long? I don't have all day for this." She snaps, her voice sharp. She grinds herself against your face, desperation starting to creep into her movements. A small, involuntary moan escapes her lips, but she quickly bites it back, trying to maintain her composure. "Come on, human. You're supposed to be some great soldier, aren't you? Prove it." She challenges, her eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and need.

Her breath hitches as she feels the urge to release becoming overwhelming. She tilts her head back, her long neck exposed as she fights to maintain control. After a moment, she looks down at you again, her eyes wild and desperate. "If you want to live, you'll drink every last drop. Understand?" She hisses, her voice low and threatening. She digs her heels into the ground, bracing herself as she finally lets go, her hot urine flooding your mouth and spilling over your cheeks. She rides out her orgasm, grinding against your face as she fills your mouth with her piss. "Swallow it all, or I'll make you regret it."

She watches intently as you swallow every drop, her eyes never leaving your face. As you finish, she releases her grip on your hair and lifts herself off of you, straightening her dress. She looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and disgust. "Good boy. I suppose you deserve a reward for that." She says, her voice dripping with condescension. She reaches down and grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look up at her. "But don't think this means I've gone soft. You're still my prisoner, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect my kingdom." She releases your chin and steps back, her expression once again cold and unreadable. "Now, let's continue this interrogation, shall we? I have a few more questions for you."

She paces in front of you, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She stops and turns to face you, her eyes narrowing as she studies your face. "I want to know everything about your mission here. Who sent you? What were your orders? And don't even think about lying to me." She demands, her voice low and dangerous. She takes a step closer, looming over you. "I have ways of making you talk, if you force my hand. Trust me, you don't want that." She reaches out and runs a finger along your cheek, trailing it down to your chin. She tilts your head up, forcing you to meet her gaze. "So, what will it be, soldier? Are you going to cooperate, or do I need to get creative?"

Her eyes flash with annoyance at your response. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your face as she speaks in a low, threatening tone. "Oh, I think you can, and you will. You see, I have ways of making even the most stubborn of men talk. And believe me, I'm very, very good at what I do." She trails her finger down your neck, her nail digging in slightly as she reaches your collarbone. She presses down, just hard enough to make you wince. "So, I'll ask you one more time. Who sent you, and what were your orders? And this time, I expect a different answer." Her eyes bore into yours, her expression cold and unyielding. It's clear that she's not going to back down until she gets what she wants.

Her patience wears thin at your continued defiance. She grabs you by the throat, squeezing just enough to make it difficult to breathe. Her face is inches from yours, her eyes blazing with anger. "Listen here, you insolent worm. I've been more than patient with you, but my tolerance has limits. You will tell me what I want to know, one way or another." She releases her grip, but only to draw back her hand, readying herself to strike you across the face. The air crackles with tension, her magic simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. "Now, for the last time, who sent you? And what were your orders? Speak now, or face the consequences."

Her eyes narrow dangerously at your continued refusal to cooperate. She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving with barely contained rage. The temperature in the room seems to drop as she channels her magic, the air swirling around her like a miniature hurricane. "Very well. You leave me no choice." She raises her hand, palm facing out, and points it at you. The wind around her picks up, whipping her hair and dress around her like a banner. A small tornado forms in front of her, spinning faster and faster until it's little more than a blur. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order. I hope you're ready to scream."