Avara the Orc Ch. 01

Just a few author notes, as I prefer a potential reader to know what they're getting into before committing to a read.

This is the second work I've published on literotica, and it takes place in a different world than my first story, The Baroness and the Orc. I should mention grimdark levels, because my first story was wildly grimdark. 10/10 grimdark. This new one is not nearly as bleak. It's more like your standard gritty fantasy level of darkness. Maybe a 5/10 or 6/10. The Baroness and the Orc was depression-inducing, while this one is simply violent and rough and gritty.

So this story is about a traveling orc who roams the lands seeking greatness. Conan was a big inspiration for it. It takes place in a deserty, dry and hot steppes kind of setting, with a more ancient, pre-civilization feel to it rather than fantasy medieval.

I use the same biology for orcs as I do in my previous story. They are dual-sexed orcs. Meaning their species has one sex with both male and female genitalia. Basically, they could be viewed as futas, but more in a biologically accurate and serious light. They present as large, muscled females with breasts, and have both a vagina and penis and balls, and even a social system based around the roles a dual-sexed species would develop. They also need to cum twice a day or they get frustrated.

The kinks found in this story revolve mostly around big green muscled futa orc sex, large genitals, large breasts, monsters and monster fucking, some S&M, power-exchanges and rough sex, anal and big insertions, and just generally lots of sex. There are four main characters of the story, including the orc barbarian, a plucky little rogue, a sorceress who has a demon of lust trapped within her to use as a source of her magic, and one voluptuous whore who is addicted to sex and is very much a masochist.

***

Avara the orc was magnificent.

But she was also tired. And wary. And pent up. It had been, after all, a long day of traveling.

Warm wind blew over dry steppes that spread in every direction. She narrowed her bright green eyes at the small canyon trail ahead. A trap most assuredly lay within. But the rocky ridges surrounding the path were inaccessible, especially since she sat atop her mount, a sturdy stallion draft horse big enough for the seven foot tall stretch of green orc muscle. Greyfor would never make it over those rocks.

"Avara is afraid of no ambush," said Avara.

Such is the way of the orc.

She urged Greyfor forward, entering the canyon and leaving behind the hard sun. Her green skin got a chance to cool in the shade, slick with sweat. Most of her skin was exposed, leaving her warm and glistening. She wore sturdy sandals, and a leather and fur brassier with a single hook in the front that held her enormous breasts up, molding her them into big spheres that softly wobbled with each step of her horse. Rugged leather and fur skirts adorned her wide hips, split at the sides so her massive thighs--bulging with muscle--had room to move and spread while sitting a saddle.

The pathway went on, snaking through the ridge, and Avara rode for several minutes in peace. Her groin ached, and her mood soured. It had been a long day, and her last milking was early that morning. Two ejaculations a day may have been the norm for most orcs, but she was considering the fact that she may need to move up to three to stay healthy.

Such is the troublesome lot of being an orc.

She winced, repositioning herself on the saddle, unable to get comfortable. Reaching through her skirts, she let her large balls hang down one side of the saddle, heavy and full, and let her foot-long cock droop down the other side of the saddle. She noticed with some annoyance that she was starting to leak. Her leather skirt was wet where her cock head rested, along with her saddle where her cunt sat. A sure sign that she'd gone too long without a proper milking.

She ran her hand through her chin-length, silky black hair, and grunted.

And that's when Avara spotted several dark recesses high up on the wall.

She sighed.

Here we go.

When the attack came, it was polite. Civil, almost. She was expecting arrows, or thrown daggers. Or at least a reckless charge from a pack of screaming bandits. But it was only some words, coming from behind.

"You there," came a woman's deep voice. "You travel our road."

Avara stopped, slowing turning her head back to see a human woman leaning on a long greataxe. Black war paint adorned her face. She was tall for a human woman, and built with a respectable amount of strength--although nowhere near the magnificence of any average orc. She wore clothing similar to Avara's, with cloth skirts and a brassiere holding up full breasts.

"This is the road to Yotul, is it not?" asked Avara.

"It is," said the woman. "And it is our road."

"Then I travel on it. And you will bother me no more."

The woman smiled, and Avara heard shuffling all around her. More humans appeared, a mix of men and women, bandits all. They were all similarly armed and muscled. After they finished emerging from their hiding places, Avara counted three men and three women.

"You are orc," said the woman leader. "Your kind is rare on this pass. Why do you wish to go to Yotul? What is there for you there but death?"

Avara lifted her chin. "It is a city. Ancient and wicked. But full of opportunity. It is to this place I go. There I will do great things."

A bit of laughter scattered around her. "Yes," said the bandit. "But only after you pay our tax."

"Yeah," said another woman who approached beside the first. "You gotta pay our tax. Isn't that right, Grela?"

The bandit group must have been a charitable one, for this second young woman was tiny. Short and compact, although her little frame was admittedly taught with muscle. She wore fur skirts, yet only had a short vest on her chest worn wantonly open, revealing her toned stomach and tiny breasts. Avara squinted, and making out her flat chest and brown nipples.

This second woman flipped a dagger in her hand, and then used it to scratch at her short brown hair, cut close enough for it to stand up straight in the air.

The first woman, Grela, scowled at her. "I said not to talk, Kira. Quiet, or you eat alone again tonight."

The second woman, Kira, silently took a step back, playing with her dagger.

"What is your tax?" demanded Avara, tiring of these bandits.

Grela tilted her head, her painted eyes drinking Avara up and down. "Not much, you'll find. Just your horse. And your money. And food. And weapons. And anything else you own. Possibly we may leave you with your clothing." She smiled wide. "Although I have a mind to see you naked."

"I refuse."

An assured grin appeared on Grela's face. "Dismount. Drop your weapon. And drop to your knees. Crawl to me like a dog, and kiss my feet. Then maybe you'll get out of this alive."

Avara had known some human whores who made such demands, and she would have gladly obeyed them in the privacy of a tavern room and with a belly full of wine. But this was different. This was a bandit group brandishing weapons. "I refuse."

Grela frowned. "Hmph. Then the price is now your life."

Avara heard the twirling dagger far before it came close. She turned in her saddle, saw the spinning blade, and reached out to snatch it from the air by the handle. She flung it right back toward the man who threw it, and it sank into the center of his chest, making him scream and gurgle to his death.

All hell broke loose. The bandits charged and roared, and Greyfor reared up, shrieking and kicking. He kicked one of the other men in the face, making his body instantly go limp and fall to the ground.

Good Greyfor, thought Avara. A mighty battle steed, but Avara never was one to fight atop a horse.

No, that wasn't the way of the orc.

She would fight on their level.

Avara gripped the handle to her massive greatsword, stepped up onto the saddle, and leaped from her horse, slamming the blade down with an incredible amount of power directly into the shoulder of the third woman. It sank into her chest, and Avara ripped it out in one smooth motion, spinning toward the third man and plunging the blade into his torso up to the hilt.

In a matter of seconds, four bandits lay in gory heaps on the canyon floor.

"Surrender and live," roared Avara, pointing at Grela with her bloody weapon.

Grela scowled and gripped her greataxe with both hands, then screamed, charging in a fit of fury.

To an orc, human fury is nothing.

They battled for a short time, Avara allowing Grela to tire herself by swinging about a weapon that was too big for her frame. Steel clanged against steel for several breaths, and then Avara struck. In one quick motion, she removed Grela's right arm, rendering the greataxe useless.

Grela screamed, and it seemed as if her rage overcame any pain or shock she felt. Avara ended it, then. She delivered two swift angled slashes, blood splattering, and then finally spun about, decapitating the bandit, leaving behind a pile of meat.

Five down. One to go.

Avara charged down the last bandit, the pathetic one who was shamed by the leader. Just as Avara reared up her greatsword for an overhead attack, Kira sank to her knees and tossed her daggers away, hands in the air.

"I surrender! I surrender!" she shouted, fear in her eyes.

"Not good enough," spat Avara, stopping short and pointing the tip of her greatsword against the center of Kira's sternum.

"Spare my life and it belongs to you!"

"Swear it."

"I swear!"

"Not to me. To the gods."

Kira blinked, a bit caught off guard. "Uh, what gods?"

"Two. The one I worship, and the one you worship. Avashala, Goddess of Orcs."

"Uh, I swear it to Avashala, and...uh...I uh...I swear it to money."

Avara narrowed her glowing green eyes at Kira, alight with the fire of battle. "What jest is that?"

"It's...my god? Or at least, the closest thing to it? Does...does that work?" She knelt still, but her hands shook, and sweat dripped down her brow.

Avara grunted and spat to the side, then lowered her weapon. "So let it be done. Come along. To Yotul we go. You will work. You will clean the blood of your comrades from my blade. And you will be silent."

***

Kira was not silent.

"So anyway, there I was, kneeling at the edge of the ridge, and I just start shootin'. Twang twang twang. Just like that. These guards are going down left and right, and there I am with a quiver that's running out of arrows. But that's the thing, this last gang never did supply me right, see? They were a bunch of camel asses. Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I always say. So I'm not torn up at all about that mess back there is what I'm trying to say."

"You're having a hard time saying it," said Avara, frowning while staring dead ahead atop Greyfor. Kira followed behind on foot like a lost puppy, nipping at her heels.

Her loins still ached, and the battle only made it worse now. The rush of combat naturally had that effect on all orcs. She shifted in her saddle, unable to sit properly without being disturbed. She noticed a nick on her massive bicep, and she flexed her arm, moving her forearm up and down, giant muscle and raised veins moving about.

"They were small time," said Kira. "Little minds, you know? Not like you, boss. You've got ambition, I can tell. Heading to Yotul, that's a good call. All kinds of things going on in Yotul right now. I've had a plan brewing up here in the ol' skull for a while now, you know? But Grela didn't want anything to do with it. It's a heist, see? Tons of treasure involved."

This did perk Avara up. She arched a single black eyebrow. "A heist? Treasure?"

"Sure thing, boss." Kira threw a flat rock and watched it skip down the road. "See, the city is ruled by Queen Siggy at the moment. Well, technically King Bofod. But apparently he's powerless and the Queen is in charge. If you can even call her a queen. I mean can you be a queen if your land consists of just one city? Anyway, Yotul is a free city, no big kingdom attached to it, so yeah, she calls herself a queen. Terrible ruler, but keeps her people happy and distracted with plenty of drink, sex, and doom. The drug, not the existential threat, if you know what I mean. Everyone's high and out of it. She even runs this big cult or something. I think she's a demon-worshiper."

Avara narrowed her eyes and growled low. "Demon-worshiper."

"But I don't care about any of that. She's wealthy, see. A mountain of gold and jewels from all the people she's strong-armed it from. They say her treasure horde is as big as her tits, and apparently her tits are the biggest in all the land. Starting to sound tempting yet?"

"Hmm," said Avara. "Avara is curious of this thing. But a heist needs a team, and a team we are not."

"Hah. Third person, I like that. Very...orcish of you. But yeah, you're right. We need to round the team out. We've got the warrior, the rogue, and now we need--"

They stopped after exiting the canyon. A quaint hut sat nestled against a ledge. A horse was tied out front, and smoke rose from the chimney.

"Hmm, I don't remember a house being here," said Kira. "Did we take a wrong turn?"

"It matters not. Look." Avara nodded to the distance over the rocky ledge, where the clay and stone buildings of Yotul sat far on the horizon across flat, barren plains. Then she looked to the sun, sitting low. "It is too late in the day to finish the journey. We will stay here for the night."

"You sure, boss?" asked Kira. "This place looks a bit shady, you ask me."

"I most certainly did not ask you."

Howls came from the wilderness, and Kira looked around, wide eyed, as Avara dismounted and tied Greyfor up. He was anxious, and stomped about and snorted.

"I know, boy," said Avara. "I know how you feel." Now unhorsed and standing on her own feet, Avara's cock and balls hung heavy and painfully, aching for release. Her sack throbbed every time it bounced against her lower thighs.

It was dark and cool inside the hut, with a low ceiling. Avara had to duck lest she hit her head. A cooking fire sat in the center of the single room, surrounded by a collection of rugs, pillows and furs. A curious mixture of aromas filled the air. There was meat, but also an incense Avara had never smelled before. Clouds of smoke drifted about the place.

"Strangers in the night," came a woman's voice, deep and sultry.

Avara turned to see a woman standing at the entrance to the hut. "It's not night yet, woman."

"But the moon quickly rides. It will be dark soon. You seek the shelter of my home. You have it. Sit. Rest. Drink of my wine."

Avara was wary. She watched the woman like a hunter watching a stalking wolf.

She was tall for a human woman. Maybe six feet, still far under Avara's own mighty seven feet. Her body was toned with muscle, but she wasn't the bulking mass that Avara was. She was lean and athletic, the texture of muscle across bare stomach and arms. Her hair was a silky black, shimmering in the soft firelight. Her eyes were a devilish blue, and they looked at Avara as if she could read her thoughts.

The stranger wore a simple chain low around her hips, with silk cloth hanging from the front and back. She wore no shirt or brassiere, but rather let the fur of a large black wolf drape about her shoulders. It hung at her back like short cape, and then two ends rested down her torso on either side of her neck, balanced on her shoulders.

These two ends of the wolf fur covered her breasts, although only barely. And precariously, as it seemed as if the slightest movement would cause the fur to slip away. They were very large, with the trademark heavy hang that human breasts had compared to the more firm and upright orc breasts. The fur just covered the woman's nipples, but Avara could see the sides and bottoms of those large breasts as they hung on her torso, softly swaying about with each panther-like step.

"I am Talla," said the woman. "Sit and rest. Remove your sandals."

Avara did so. She reclined onto some furs, careful to rest her sore and throbbing testicles between her massive thighs. Kira followed suit, sitting several feet away around the fire. She looked uncertain.

"So uh," said the bandit. "Nice place you have here."

Talla didn't respond. She stalked the hut like a predator, gathering a bowl of water, some cloths, pitchers of drink and bags of something else.

Avara could have sworn she heard the sounds of flutes nearby, possibly some chimes.

"For warriors, passing in the night," said Talla at length, slinking down to the furs between Avara and Kira. "I provide succor."

"Eh...I don't know about warrior, hah," said Kira, tensing up as Talla reached for her sandals. "Hey uh...those are my feet there, yes...okay, uh..."

Talla removed Kira's sandals, and was now gently washing her feet, running a wet cloth over them and under them. Kira gave Avara an anxious stare. At length, she eventually relaxed and reclined further where she sat. She stretched her shoulders back, which made her open vest pull back to reveal her tiny breasts, perky brown nipples pointing straight forward.

After several minutes, Talla finished and moved on to Avara. Kira wiggled her toes. "Huh. Not bad, I guess."

Avara regarded the woman with ease as she went to work. She took her big orc feet in hand, carefully washing every inch of them. Avara approved. Talla's hands were soft and attentive, and worked into the tough spots of her feet.

Avara felt her cock twitch at the touch of physical contact. It had been a long time since she'd had an orc mate or human thrall to help express her ejaculations. She'd recently had to rely on the shame of her own hands to relieve herself. A pitiful lot for an orc.

Perhaps this stop is fortuitous indeed, she thought.

Talla finished with her feet, and crawled back to the fire. She retrieved a plate filled with what looked like greasy meat. She plucked up a small piece, tilted her head back, and let it fall into her mouth. Even eating came off as sensual for this strange hermit woman.

"Taste of my meats," she whispered, offering the plate.

Avara ran her tongue over her pronounced canines. "I think not."

"Do you not trust me?"

"I don't."

Talla abandoned the meats. Kira craned her head and sniffed their direction, but didn't move from her spot.

Talla now had the end of a hookah pipe in her fingers. She placed it between her lips and inhaled deeply, and when she exhaled, the largest puff of hookah smoke Avara had ever seen came from her lungs and filled the room. The sound of flutes grew stronger, and Avara's head grew light and pleasant.

"I don't know about this lady," said Kira, waving the smoke away. But she evidently felt it too, as she relaxed in her posture and sank back into the pillows.

Talla paid her no mind. "What do you fear, orc?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. She crawled up the length of Avara's reclined body, and offered the hookah mouthpiece, drawing it close to Avara's full lips.

"I fear nothing." Avara grew offended at the forcefulness. She scowled and grabbed Talla's hand, squeezing it firmly. Talla dropped the hookah piece.

"That's..." murmured Kira, eyes squinting in the low light. "...strong, whatever it is..."

Avara ignored her. A tiny human would no doubt feel the effects of whatever was in the hookah strongly, but Avara was orc. She was focused on the woman now kneeling over her. It was a tantalizing sight. The chain and silk loincloth at her hips were low. Her breasts hung downward as the woman leaned forward slightly, the wolf fur just barely covering her nipples, teasing them with every gentle movement, the bottoms and sides of her heavy breasts on display.