Elven Love Slave Ch. 02

Author's note: I strongly recommend reading chapter one first! The chapters of this story can have quite a bit of exposition, as the characters are intended to be more fleshed out. If you just want the sexy bits, no worries: the sex usually occurs at the end of each chapter.

An Orc's Elven Love Slave Chapter 2

It had been several months since Varod had claimed Aronea, and while she would not call herself happy to be a slave, it had certainly proved less horrifying than she had feared when she was first put on that auctioneer's pedestal.

The Orcs did not treat their prisoners as badly as Elves treated theirs, and this seemed to be true for more than just her; while the Orcs could be stern, the other Elven women she occasionally saw in the camp admitted that they were fed well and given comfortable bedding.

Aronea had discovered most of the other women were not used by their Masters in the way Varod used her, and instead tasked them with cleaning or cooking. Varod explained that most Elven women, smaller and slighter of frame than she was, were not seen as good mates by Orcish males. They preferred women like Aronea -- taller, but softer and more voluptuous.

Orc females with wide hips and larger breasts were seen as healthy breeders. It was a strange twist of fate for Aronea that here, she was the one who was lusted after, and not the other Elven women. For the first time in her life, Aronea felt her body was desired -- she just wished it did not have to happen in this place.

Varod came to Aronea's chamber almost every night, and gradually any remaining reluctance she felt had given way. Having only been with men smaller than she until now, Aronea at first felt intimidated by the way Varod's huge, muscular frame towered over her, but increasingly she had come to like it. And her body had slowly become more accustomed to his size, finding it ever more pleasurable.

Like all Orcs, Varod could be coarse, but he was a much better and much less selfish lover than her husband had been, and he proved quick to defend her if any Orc derided her as a mere slave. While Varod was frighteningly fierce in his role as Warchief, when he came to Aronea at night, he was very caring. He would often stay long after they mated, holding her and caressing her softly.

While Aronea had come to enjoy Varod's visits, she had been frightfully worried at first about pregnancy; she did not know if such a thing were even possible, but when she imagined returning to Callon, she knew he would disown her if she arrived with a half-Orcish child in her belly. Luckily, while it was rare for an Orc to take an Elf mate, it was not entirely unheard of -- and to her great relief, Aronea had learned that no Half-Orc, Half-Elf children had ever been born.

By the second month of her capture, Varod had begun arranging lessons for Aronea to learn Orcish. A female Orc named Bola, who also knew Elvish, would come to her room during the day while Varod was training or commanding his armies. Bola was taller than her Elven student, as most Orcish women were, and her skin was a paler grey than Varod's. Her black eyes matched her hair, which was fashioned in to a mohawk, and like most Orcish women, she had a full, wide figure.

To Aronea's surprise, she and Bola had proven quick friends; the Orcish woman was warm and friendly, a gracious teacher, and she seemed to hold no disdain towards Aronea for being either an Elf or a slave.

Bola had helped with clothing as well. Aronea's Elven dress, destroyed by the first night of her capture, had been replaced by several outfits of female Orcish clothing; comprised of a brown loin cloth, a top that wrapped over her shoulders and breasts, and with a bare midriff, it was made for the taller, more thickly built Orcish frame, and thus often looked wrong on the other Elven captives, but it fit Aronea's figure quite well. It was perhaps more revealing than she would have liked, but she found it comfortable.

On a few days, Bola had also taken Aronea to the kitchen to begin teaching her how to cook Orcish dishes. She had prepared a few for Varod, but she had added some Elven spices of her own, and had been pleased to find that Varod had greatly enjoyed each one. It was a welcome change from her husband's constant disdain for everything she made for him.

Today, Aronea had been instructed to help Bola with an unfamiliar task -- she was to prepare bandages and first aid for returning warriors. Aronea was never informed of imminent battles, but she could guess when Varod was leading his army on a raid when he failed to visit her. He had been missing for three days, longer than any time before. As Aronea sat with Bola preparing the cloth bandages, she decided to sate her curiosity.

"Varod is at war?" Aronea asked In Elvish, trying to confirm her suspicions.

Bola looked at her for a moment in silence, deciding what was safe to share. "Yes. They return tonight."

Bola was the wife of one of Varod's lieutenants, so her husband was likely off to war with him.

Aronea paused once more. "Do you worry about your husband?" she asked.

Bola fidgeted for a moment and stopped wrapping. "Of course," she said. "He is my love mate. I worry about him in every battle. But the world is not kind to Orcs, and we must make our own way."

Concern was clear in the Orc woman's voice. She returned to wrapping.

"Are they..." Aronea paused. "Are they raiding another Elven village?"

Bola eyed her again, then shook her head. "Trolls. The Elves are not the only peoples who war with us. As I said, the world is not kind to Orcs. We must make our way."

Orcs and Elves had long hated one another, but Aronea knew both races despised Trolls even more. As savage a reputation as the Orcs had, the Trolls were known to be cannibals. They even hated one another; Trolls fought amongst themselves constantly, which thankfully limited their power. She was glad to hear that Varod was fighting them.

Aronea inquired further. "Will they come back with Troll slaves?"

At this, Bola laughed heartily, her black mohawk swaying on her head as she did so.

"Oh no. No. Have you ever met a Troll?" She asked. Aronea shook her head. "You might as well enslave a rabid dog. They would die from collar burns on their first day."

Bola smirked. "Besides, they are not nearly as pretty as you." She reached over and pinched the Elf on her thigh playfully.

Aronea sighed. "I do not think Orcs see beauty in the same way that Elves do," she replied wistfully.

Bola feigned outrage and gasped. "What, am I not alluring?" She asked. "Just look at these!" She hefted her large Orcish breasts up as if to put them on display.

Aronea giggled. "I meant no offense! Elven men never liked mine, so I doubt you would fare much better."

Bola heightened her feigned outrage. "Pah. Fools! As best I can tell, Elven men would like nothing better than to marry a stick."

Aronea suddenly became worried. Her brow creased, remembering she was still a prisoner here. She had become so close with Bola that at times she forgot her situation.

"I really didn't mean to offend you," she replied.

Bola pinched the Elf again on the thigh. "Do not worry so much! My husband desires me, and that is what matters." She wiggled her hips flirtatiously.

"We are friends, and it would hardly be a friendship without occasional mockery." The Orc smiled warmly. "You truly are beautiful, and if the Elven men do not see it, that is their failure, not yours."

Aronea blushed; she was still not accustomed to the kindness Bola showed her, or to compliments of her beauty. She had been sometimes told that she has a pleasant face, but amongst her people, Aronea was far too tall, and her wide hips and prominent backside were considered unrefined and lower class. She shifted her weight slightly, and spoke.

"Why are you and the other Orc women always so kind to me?"

Bola's eyebrows raised in surprise. She stopped wrapping once again and looked at her friend.

"Varod speaks of you often during the day when he is not with you, and his affection for you is plain. He speaks not just of your beauty, but of your generosity, and of your kind spirit. He has seen you out in the camp, helping the other Elven prisoners. I have come to know you, and have seen the same."

Bola paused. "We Orcs are attacked from all sides. The Dwarves despise us, the Trolls hate us, the Elves believe we are monsters to be destroyed. If any woman shows us kindness, we do not question what race she is."

Aronea shifted once more. "I did not know Varod spoke of me so."

Bola nodded and smiled. "He adores you."

"He may adore me," responded Aronea ruefully, "but I am still his slave."

At this, Bola's lips tightened. The two sat in silence for a moment, until Bola placed her hand back on Aronea's thigh more tenderly this time.

"You have a husband among the Elves, yes?" she asked. Aronea nodded slowly in reply.

"And did he not see your beauty either? Like the rest of those Elven men? Did he care for you as Varod does?"

Aronea hesitated. "We made love at times, but..." the Elf trailed off and fidgeted slightly.

Callon had rarely shown her much kindness. He lay with her only occasionally, and when he did so, thought only of himself.

Bola seemed to understand. She leaned in further and spoke quietly to the Elf. "Your husband may not see your beauty, but Varod does. He had never taken a slave before you, and he would risk his life to protect you. If the Elven men would not do the same, perhaps this is where you are meant to be."

Aronea's pointed ears flicked unconsciously, and she tucked her long silvery hair back behind them. She was an Elf, born in an Elven village, and with an Elven husband. Those were her people. The Orcs were among the Elves' most constant and most ferocious enemies. And yet, she could not deny the truth of Bola's words -- she had seen for herself that Callon would not risk his life for hers. She felt confused, and her heart ached with it.

The two friends returned to wrapping. They continued to chat, and eventually finished up the last of the bandages. Bola got up to store them for the Monk healers, then turned to Aronea again.

"The warriors will likely return soon. They have been gone for nearly three days, so the fighting must have been grueling." Bola paused and looked at Aronea meaningfully. "Varod truly does need you. You are the source of his strength, now. When he returns, try and comfort him. Whatever he requires."

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It was well past sundown when the drums in the center of the Orcish camp finally began to beat their steady rhythm and the horns began to blow. Bola had become increasingly nervous as the evening wore on, but jumped up immediately when she heard the sound.

"They are home!" She shouted, her elation palpable.

After a moment, she looked down at Aronea, still seated. "For long battles such as this, the partners of high-ranking warriors often meet their loved ones at the palace gate. Come. I am sure you would be welcome."

Bola reached out her hand and smiled warmly. Aronea still felt uncertain, but she placed her hand in Bola's and stood up. Quickly, the two women rushed off.

When they arrived at the palace gates, several other Orc women were already there waiting for their mates, speaking to one another excitedly. As Aronea and Bola approached, they seemed surprised by the Elf's presence at first, but Bola spoke to them in Orcish slowly enough for Aronea to understand.

"The Elf is Aronea, and she is Varod's strength. He would want her here."

There was a moment of silence, but then the other Orc women nodded, and after embracing Bola, they embraced Aronea as well. Aronea thought again of the disdain Elves had for Orcs; they would never welcome an Orc into their fold this way. Elven culture was refined and sophisticated in many ways, but they thought of all other races as beneath them -- perhaps most of all Orcs.

One of the Orcish women introduced herself as Naz. She was uncommonly short for an Orc, almost half a head shorter than Aronea herself. Her black hair was fashioned in to two long pig tails, a common style for Orcish women. She accepted Aronea's presence without hesitation.

"Earth Mother bless you," Naz spoke, as Aronea struggled to keep up with her Orcish. "You are welcome here. Have you received the warriors before?"

Aronea's Orcish was not yet good enough to reply in kind, so she asked Bola to translate for her.

"Varod has visited me after battle," the Elf responded, then she shook her head. "But never at the front gates. And never a battle like this."

Naz looked at her slyly. "He will want to see you. Our men can be... forceful after such a fight. Tend to him. He will need you."

Aronea nodded dutifully in reply.

Some time passed, and Aronea began to nervously twist strands of her silver hair between her fingers. She felt at her collar. What would happen if Varod had been slain in battle? Would she be given to another Orc? Thrown in the dungeons after all? She was a slave, but she could imagine much worse fates than this one.

Finally, the Orcish men made way to the palace, and Aronea could see Varod at the front of the tribal chieftains. The huge Orc's hulking armor was covered in dirt and blood, but after looking closely, she could see it was not his own. He stood tall and strong. She breathed a small sigh of relief, and realized she was happy to see him safely returned to her.

As they approached the women, Bola leapt forward and embraced her husband; he grabbed her with both arms and kissed her passionately. He groped her buttocks right in middle of the hall, but Bola did not seem to mind. She chuckled and continued kissing him.

Varod came to Aronea, his face still focused and intense from war. He looked down into her eyes and spoke to her in Elvish.

"It is good that you are here." His hand reached up and brushed her cheek. "We have won. We have taken back lands the Trolls took from us generations ago."

The Orc looked back towards his lieutenants. "Our lands are ours alone!" He yelled in Orcish, and the other warriors cheered and beat their chests rhythmically.

Varod turned to his Elven slave again. His nostrils flared, and his shoulders heaved with threatening energy. Aronea was unsure how to respond, so she simply smiled up at him.

But she did not have to respond; suddenly, Varod picked Aronea up with one arm and threw her over his shoulder, and she yelped in confusion. To quiet her, Varod smacked her full Elvish bottom and began carrying her towards her chambers. Aronea heard Bola snort with bemusement behind her as the din of returning warriors gradually faded into the distance.

As the huge Orc carried her, Aronea occasionally squirmed slightly on his shoulder, and each time she did so he smacked her again on the bottom. Once she had stopped protesting, the Orc slung her off his shoulder and carried her in his arms. His chest smelled powerfully of blood, dirt and sweat. She looked up at him, and remembered what Bola had told her: comfort him. Whatever he required.

"Master, I..." Aronea considered her words carefully. "I am here to please you."

Varod looked down at her, his face still focused. "Good," was his short reply.

When they arrived in Aronea's slave chambers, Varod finally set her down. The Orc stared at her again, his nostrils flaring once more, his body still radiating that ferocious intensity. For the first time in many weeks, Aronea was frightened by him. She looked down at the floor, and her Elven ears bent back submissively. There was silence between them as he stared intently at her.

Varod began to circle Aronea almost predatorially. When he got behind her, he snorted and smacked her once more on the bottom; he then grabbed the loin cloth Bola had given her and tore it from her body. The Elf gasped. He circled back to her front and grabbed at her top, and her generous breasts spilled out before him. Aronea instinctively moved to cover herself, but then let her arms fall and allowed the Orc to see her.

Varod circled her once more, his eyes hungrily drinking in her naked body, his broad shoulders still heaving with adrenaline. Although Aronea remained anxious, she had never seen any man look at a woman as hungrily as Varod now looked at her, and her heart fluttered. Eventually, he placed his hand upon her collar and spoke, his voice forceful and dominant.

"You are mine."

Aronea nodded apprehensively. She could plainly see that Varod's anger was not aimed at her; it was the Trolls who had ignited that ferocity. Instead, she was his release, and she tried to remind herself what Bola had told her -- he cared for her, and would not truly hurt her. She could see he needed her, and so she reached up and placed her hand upon his armored chest timidly.

Varod seemed pleased by her willingness, but then moved her hand away and quickly began to remove his blood smeared armor. As his top covering fell to the floor, she could see small wounds on his chest and abdomen, but they seemed superficial and, given his immense strength, did not appear to hinder him. As he removed his leggings, Varod's enormous cock sprung free, and Aronea could see it was almost entirely hard already.

He moved to her once and encircled her with his broad arms, and she placed her hand back on his now bare chest. As he held her, Aronea realized she had grown to enjoy the way he made her feel so small and delicate. She could smell again that sweaty, bloody mixture of battle upon him, and she found the aroma somehow intoxicating.

Varod was often gentle with her at first, but not tonight. He picked the pale Elf up and effortlessly tossed her on the bed; her body jiggled about as she landed, her silvery hair splayed across the covers, and she squawked once more in confusion. Varod then approached the bed, and she opened her legs submissively for him as he placed himself between them.

He looked her in the eyes once more, and Aronea could feel her own chest heaving with nervousness and anticipation. Varod leaned over her, his face now just above hers. He took her chin in his hand as she looked up at him with her pale blue eyes.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked the Elf with that deep, powerful voice.

Aronea thought briefly of her husband. She hesitated for only a moment, but Varod sensed what she was thinking. To her shock, he slapped her across the face, and she gasped at the sting it left.

His voice grew more assertive, and he asked her again. "Who do you belong to?"

Aronea stammered. He slapped her once more, and Aronea felt tears well in her eyes.

"Who do you belong to?" he said even more forcefully.

This time there was no hesitation. She replied to him in Orcish. "I belong to you," she said breathlessly. "I am yours."

Varod nodded approvingly, then stroked her cheek to soothe it. "Good little Elf," he told her.

Aronea's face flushed. The sting of the slaps, the soothing touch and the praise created an unfamiliar mixture of pleasure and pain that inflamed her and left her fuzzy.

Varod then sat back on his heels, took the Elf's delicate hand, and placed it around his cock. She reached down between her legs and began stroking it for him, and he grunted in pleasure. Despite her circumstances and her stinging cheek, Aronea still found it perversely satisfying that she incited such lust in her Orc Master. He wanted her urgently, and she liked being so desired.

Varod ran his hands through her silvery hair, then pushed her face towards his groin with his huge, muscular arms.

"Tonight, you live to please me," he told her forcefully. "Wet my cock with your mouth."

Aronea shifted her body to get up on all fours. As Varod pressed her face toward him, the smell of blood and sweat was especially pungent, and with her face so near, she could see now that the ridges and bumps that had given her such pleasure were intended to seal the seed inside the Orc's mate.