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Your vision goes red. Groggily you throw your hand over your face to block the freshly risen sun from your face and interrupting your sleep. The world slowly paints itself in in sounds, first the shrill chirping of those damn sparrows that have roosted in your attic, then the clatter of cartwheels and the clanking of armor on cobblestone from the streets just outside. You groan still tired and not ready for the day. The chill of first winter fresh in your home and still unable to penetrate the warmth of your covers.

Rubbing the “dust” from your eyes you slowly get up, you feet balling involuntarily as they hit the cold stone of your floor. You swig the water beside your bed and chew on some fresh mint purchased the day before from the alchemist down the street and before you know it your clothed and out the door. The presence of winter makes itself well known in Stormwind these days. Snow powders the rooftops and a light chilling breeze seems to rip right through your cloths. The sounds of children playing and business transactions of all kinds fill the streets you now weirdly tread as per your daily commute.

You clasp your hands together and breath into them hoping the chill to leave your fingertips as what seem like hordes of so called “adventurers” rush past you in all manner of ridiculous shapes, sizes, and professions towards the auction house no doubt. A fine business that was no doubt. All manner of ill gotten goods from all sorts of damnable places stored under one roof for only the greediest goldbarron to smuggle out. It’s a wonder no insane twisted combination of wands and murloc eggs or whatever had caused the whole place to blow sky high. 

You laugh briefly to yourself for but a moment before a chill different than that of the weather rolls up your spine. A sharp coldness pressed against your back. “What do you want?” you ask, frozen in your tracks. “Should be pretty obvious you moron.” A small albeit… fancy voice responds from further to the floor than you’d expect.

“A pickpocket… in the middle of the day and in the streets?” you wonder allowed. “Move.” it responds, accenting the word with a slight poke. Slowly you begin marching again, not daring to look around, the assailant seemingly struggling to keep pace with you. Most likely a Gnome. You could outrun her you suppose, but the guards aren't the brightest bunch and may get the wrong idea especially considering your rather… worn attire.

“Seriously you’re just going to r-” “Turn here. If you think about running of move suddenly the knife goes in. You’ll bleed out in about an hour or so provided a priest doesn’t get to you first, but your spinal column will be severed crippling your dumb ass from the waist down. Got it?” A clearly re-pitched and raspy voice interrupts. No doubt something of an amateur in the art of the hold up, but at least smart sounding enough to be threatening. This is regrettably not your first robbing, so you comply and slowly trot down an alleyway to your left, your shoes leaving footprints in the snow as you maneuver around crates, barrels and all other manner of rubbish one would expect to find in such a place, the suns early start not having risen high enough to penetrate this forsaken place yet. 

“Here’s good.” the now returned polished voice returns. “Just hand over what’s in the sack and I won’t gut you.” “I have no idea what you’re talking abo-” “Cut the crap, guys like you are easy. You dress up in this crap to try and outsmart cutthroats like me, but the good ones can tell you’ve got gold.” She’s not wrong, you’ve recently taken to the habit of doing just that for those reasons and for the past year it worked out rather well.

* “I should run for it” you think to yourself. “No way something that small would be able to keep up.” The moment this thought crosses your mind and you shift your weight you feel a pinch in your lower back. Your pint sized assailant having nicked you with the tip of her dagger. “Sorry pal, not on my watch. Any deeper and I’ll be wearing your guts for garters now hand it over.” The small voice growled.

“Fine I’ll take it myself!” You feel a small hand pat about your hips and waistline, patting you down, her hand soon begins rubbing at you, looking for a coin purse no doubt before she reaches toward your front. She taps at it, bouncing it with her fingertips from the bottom; her arm reaching from between your legs. “Well look what we have here, guess someone was headed off to the bank.” her voice grins, “Now why don’t you untie that and hand it over?” 

“That’s… not… not what you think it is.” you stutter. The small hand clenches and pulls, causing you to double over before it reaches up further on your crotch, grasping at your erection through your trousers. Erection? When the hell did that happen? You ponder, the small fingers tapping along its length like when your ex did to the table when she was bored of your tales.

You hear a sharp inhale as the taps become a caress. Slowly the nubile hand slinks its way past your belt and grabs hold of you directly. You moan in protest as you’re fished out and exposed to the air. Her grip firm and gentle, her mysteriously soft furry hands lovingly caress your engorged shaft, tracing every bulging vein, every curve.

“Ohhhh looks like someone’s a huge pervert…” the voice behind you teases, gripping your shaft hard at the base, then squeezing and pulling up towards your tip, eliciting a moan from the both of you as a glob of pre forms at the tip, quickly becoming too heavy and falling to the frozen ground with a plop, dispersing the soft snow below. “A big one too…” your robber adds, inhaling deeply. 

“For you…” You respond, your voice being your only way to protest this treatment. “Hah, I’ve seen bigger… but I tell you what” she coos from behind you “I’m going to take your gold, but I may as well give you a little something in return. How does service sound?”

“It’s not like I have a choice do I?” you stammer. “Nope.” the hand tightens its grip to a painful level causing you to throb before it relaxes and begins softly stroking, the soft furs tickling and enticing you. A finger stops just below the head and she starts pressing up and in with her knuckle, her free fingers convulsing around what portion of the shaft they can hold. You feel the knife disappear from your back as a second hand wraps around the base of your shaft.

“Come on and let me show you a good time… it's been awhile since I’ve gotten my hands on a hunk of meat like this.” she coos, her fingers slowly working your shaft before one of them wraps itself around your balls, rolling them between her fingers. Her other begins slowly circling your glans. “A growing girl needs it…” 

Heat washes over you at the odd sensation. You’ve never experienced finger or hand work like this before. You fall forward, bracing yourself on the freezing brick walls, your hips begin lightly thrusting on their own, your massager warning you to watch her face as your hips move back and forth, your cock sliding in and out of the makeshift tunnel she’s formed for you.

“How’s that feel?” “g-good” you stammer, your breath growing hot and heavy. You can’t believe it, you’ve been pickpocketed and robbed, but never “raped” before and you hate yourself for enjoying it, but this woman’s quite skilled in the craft… “growing girl” you ponder… wait. Your thoughts are interrupted as she starts vigorously stroking you with one hand now.

“Awwwww is the man gunna cum? Is he? Is he?” “HGNNNNN…” you can only respond as her small hand rapidly works over your shafts length, loosening as it nears the head then tightening as it reaches the base. You feel something slide over the head of your cock, some sort of cloth, then her other hand once more wraps itself around you and pumps in unison.

You feel your teeth grind, your eyes clench tight, and your ballsack swell, and soon find the weight of the past few days dissipate as you climax. “Awwwww yes he IS!” Her nimble hands pump and squeeze in unison with your thrusts, coaxing more and more of your essence out. You pant heavily, too focused on your current task to notice the cold, the pain in your back, or anything else. All there is is release. A faint moan comes from your attacker as you open your eyes and the world redraws itself for the second time today. 

You look down and a single hand grabs you at the base, using only its index and thumb, squeezes you from base to tip, coaxing out the last few drops of cum you may have been storing into a bag. More specifically, your change purse.

The small slut pushes you forward withdrawing her hand and stolen prize(s). You quickly turn to face her and have to readjust your gaze, before you stands a street urchen of a Worgen, near flat as a board and as short as a dwarf. Maybe smaller still.

Too perplexed to speak you simply “drink” her in, your now limping cock finally drooping and drooling on the snow and the front of your pants. She reaches in the bad and takes out a single gold piece, looking you square in the eye she licks the white glob from it then bites and pulls; bending it before dropping it back in.

“Thank you for your “donation” today sir.“ She says jingling the now dampened purse “The names Hilda and don’t you forget it because I’m going to be the best assassin and pickpocket in Azeroth.” She says curling her hand into a fist and pointing at her chest with her thumb “So count yourself lucky I took a fancy to you otherwise you’d be a gonner. Although now that you’ve seen me once… you can bet you’ll see me again. If you’re lucky.” The young thing continues to boast in her odd accent before kicking some of the snow on the ground into your face and scampering off over the tops of crates before falling flat on her face then scrambling back into the shadows.

A cold wind sweeps the alleyway, chilling your still exposed member. Unsure of exactly what just happened or why, you make a mental note that you need to reevaluate your opinions on city living. 


(I had originally posted this here on Jan 23, 2017: https://desuarchive.org/trash/thread/7354761/#7373268)