How Analea Became an Orc Queen Ch. 02

I regained consciousness when I felt something soft and damp press against my mouth, dripping something sweet between my slightly parted lips. My eyes opened to see Zyre above me pressing a wine soaked sponge to my eager tongue. He gave a satisfying grunt and moved from the bed to a large chair near by.

I looked around me to get my bearings and figure out where I was. I was laying in a large bed covered in skins and furs, warm and comfortable. It appeared I was in a large round tent that orcs often used when traveling. It was comfortable. A large fire in the center to keep it warm on cold nights. Large enough to roast a boar over. Orcs have a voracious appetite. There was some furniture. A chair, a high stump from an oak about waist high, probably used for eating and this make-shift bed of a huge pile of furs and skins. There were weapons of various sort scattered about, including my own. I was grateful he recovered them.

As my head cleared the longer I was awake I realized he was watching me take stock of my situation. It was only a moment before I realized I was naked under these skins

"You awake, princess."

"I have told you before Zyre, I am no princess. A simple envoy of the king. He would never acknowledge his half breed offspring."

He knew this already. This was simply his idea of a joke. He did it to annoy me, and it worked. I was annoyed. I had no idea how long I was unconscious for and I was annoyed and embarrassed. A simple envoy, yes; but also a trained warrior. What happened at the arena was humiliating.

Wanting to drive these thoughts from my mind I took a cup of wine and some bread and cheese from a platter Zyre had placed at the bedside. I rose to a sitting position, pulling a covering up over my ample chest, watching him watch me. He was, in my eyes, a beautiful being. Nearly 7 ft, muscular and well proportioned. A strong square jaw, dark and deep brown eyes. Black coarse hair braided in the orc fashion from the crown of his head and pale green skin. He wore simple leather breeches that did nothing to hide his extremely large manhood. His chest was bare and his muscled body rippled with every move, no matter how slight. His hands were huge and calloused with leather studded bands upon his wrists. Gazing at him made desire rise in me and I could feel my eyes go yellow with want.

He watched me with intensity burning in his eyes, turning a dull fire orange. I knew desire was taking hold of him as he watched me eat and drink. I had to break this tension between us, not that I wanted to.

"How is Melee? Is she recovering well?" My companion, and servant. But more than that, my friend and the only being who has ever had me.

This question amused Zyre who laughed in his orcish way, grunting and with a sharp quick laugh.

" Ha! Recovering? She's been recovered for a day now. It is my band who needs recovering from her. Her appetites are great, and she seems to be more than they can handle."

He said this with great amusement on his face. It is good to see him gentle and at ease. From the moment I met him he's been mostly serious.

"So Melee is more than your men can handle?" Narrowing my eyes staring at him intently.

"During the day she beats them senseless sparring, during the night she empties whatever strength they have left, leaving them drained by dawn. A more fitting name there is not. Ha!" He roared in laughter with that.

I pushed myself up to a higher sitting position and lifted my arms above my head to stretch them, letting the fur covering me fall into my lap, exposing my breasts as I arched my back pushing my chest forward. His eyes lit to a brighter flame.

"And what of their leader? Is Melee more than a match for him as well?"

I stared intently at him waiting for his response. Reading his every move. I knew my eyes were burning yellow and amber. Lust, and rage. I needed to know. I did not want to be jealous of, or compete with, Melee.

More laughter, gentler now, and a knowing grin, yet still his eyes on my heaving chest.

"I have other business to tend to Analea. Such amusements are a distraction now. Besides, poor fellow, I believe she has the attention of Gilead."

Gilead. Like Melee a half orc half human, and Zyre's number 1 captain. Always at his side. Poor Gilead indeed I thought amused. It isn't Melee's nature to mate with a single man. And a relief for me. His attention was, as far as I knew, on me alone.

"And our other companions? Do they live?"

"Yes they live. But keep their own company. They are itching to return home. I forbade it yet, until things are sorted out here."

I knew he was referring to a treaty between his father and the elf king. With his father betrayed, orc power was scattered among different chiefdoms.

We sat like this for a moment. Staring at the other, watching. Was this a contest of wills? A power struggle? I did not understand, but held his gaze. And honestly, it is all I wanted to do. Stare at his form, his strong manhood. That brute strength... imagining what it would be like having him over me. And to be gazed upon with those eyes, admiring my form; I wondered if his thoughts were the same? He broke the silence, the moment gone.

Breaking his gaze he stood to go, gesturing with his hand to a pile on the floor not far from where he sat.

"You have clothes here with your belongings. Your blade and knives and bow. Dress yourself, you will find Melee outside feasting, drinking, and fighting ha! You can leave your weapons, you will not need them. You are safe here. I have things that need tending to. Orc chieftains will be arriving the next few days. There will be a council and feasting. I will have my servants move your belongings to Melee's tent now we know you are well."

I nodded to him, and watched him leave before I rose. It was disappointing to me that I would be leaving his tent. I wondered why he wouldn't take me. Of course I knew part of the answer. I was a kings' envoy. Sacred. But he must know I would stay with him. Give myself to him. I all but begged him to take me. My frustration was mounting as was my need to have him in me. Realizing I could do nothing with it now, I rose from the soft furs and decided to speak with Melee.

I stood gathering the clothes he left me before letting them drop. I inspected my body. I stood tall, as all elves do. I was nearly 6'. Long flowing silver hair that dropped to just above my hips. Normally it shimmered bright, but I hadn't bathed in days. My legs were long and slender. My hips wide and well rounded. My breasts ample and firm. My skin pale blue with completely white eyes. My arms slender and strong like my legs, my fingers the same.

Was there something about me he didn't desire? I knew he liked my breasts, his constant staring at them was enough to tell me that; and the orange fire of lust when he did. It was amusing how hard he tried not to stare... that brought a smile to my lips. Looking at myself I could see the marks the shackles left on my soft skin around my wrists and ankles, but they seemed to be fading... Enough of this reverie, I must find Melee.

I slid on the leather breeches over my smoothe legs. They fit me well, accentuating and resting on my round hips just below my waist. Then the leather halter to cover my chest. Almost. It was tight and pushed them up higher than they already were, accentuating my ample cleavage, and squeezed them so tightly together you could sheath a sword between them... or something else... that thought gave me chills. Shaking my head, I must rid my mind of these thoughts. I decided that would have to do. Everyone here has already seen me exposed anyway. Tying my hair back I was exiting the tent but hesitated. Despite Zyre's words about not needing my weapons, I turned back and strapped my knife belt around my hips before stepping out.

The morning was well advanced and the heat was rising. The encampment was alive with activity. Groups of Orcs and the half breeds that were with them were scurrying about, preparing for more arrivals. Some bands were already eating and drinking; others sparring, shouting obscenities, egging each other on. Some stood around encircling combatants where the fight was interesting. This, of course, is where I found Melee. Typical I thought.

I pushed my way through a crowd who let me pass easily enough. I could feel the staring and leering. Perhaps surprised I walked at ease among them. And there she was, in the middle of the ring, a knife at the throat of a fallen orc. The crowd around harassing and mocking him. Melee looked about her, challenging anyone who dared. She was dangerous in hand to hand combat. Strong and quick. Shorter than a true blood orc, indeed, shorter than myself. But she was muscular and stocky. Thick thighs and legs. A smaller chest than mine, but stronger and broader. In all ways but height, an orc woman. And her hair. Her hair was light brown like a chestnut, and fine, like her human mothers' was. I certainly understood why Gilead, and apparently other orcs here and abroad, found her appealing, I certainly did. Which is why I worried about Zyre. Orcs admire strength. Have it, and you will be noticed... if not you could end up being a victim.

Watching Melee challenge everyone drew a smile from me. She taught me everything I know about combat, except the blade. My brother taught me that. A feared warrior indeed. I decided to accept her challenge. It has been some time since Melee and I sparred and I needed to stretch my limbs and stimulate my blood.

"Melee. I accept your challenge." With a mischievous grin.

"Mistress... I accept your challenge." She too smiling.

An orc, a captain I assumed since he spoke with authority.

"The rules of sparring are simple. No weapons unless you make a death move, ending the match. No wounding, avoid bloodshed as much as possible. Begin!"

I stood still as Melee began circling me. I was unsure how this would go and doubted I could take her. Certain I would end up like all the others. With her speed she leapt upon me but used too much force. We both rolled to the dusty ground and I avoided her grip. On her feet faster than me she renewed her attack but a quick leg sweep and she fell again. Elves are faster than orcs, by a lot. I was upon her in a moment rolling her on her stomach and stradling her back I was prepared to draw my knife and put it to her throat. But not so easy.

Her dexterity surprised even me. I should have pinned her arms with my legs. I did not. Mistakenly I left enough room for her to twist slightly, enough to unbalance my weight and I received a swift backhand to my face as she rolled me off her.

She pounced quickly then, on me before I could recover from her blow. Melee now straddled me. Both of us sweating and dirty. The dust thick around us, the circle around us growing larger, and louder.

Her hand went around my throat. She leaned close to my face ready to say something. I did not hear what it was. The position weakened her grip on my neck and I broke her hand away. I threw my head into hers with a loud yell. She fell back in shock. The blow caused us both to bleed. That move, proudly, drew a great roar of approval from all who were watching.

But one cannot hesitate in a fight. I pounced at her as she expected... almost. My aim was true. Just to her right I slid on the ground beside her. Melee had been in a low crouch waiting for the blow that did not come. Instead as I slid by her I grabbed her braid yanking her backwards to the ground. Coming out of my slide I was upon her, my curved knife at her throat.

"Did you have something to say Melee?" A bit sarcastically I admit.

She had no choice but to concede.

"Mistress I concede... albeit reluctantly."

The crowd roared with laughter and surprise. I helped her up and the orcs around us gave us each a mug of ale. There were looks of respect and admiration. I felt a little redeemed after what had happened in the arena yesterday? A few days ago? I do not know.

"Melee (I said laughing) it is a rare thing to catch you by surprise. And an honor to spar with you, but never to fight you."

"Mistress, I have no shame in losing to you. Except I believe this is the first time? And, after of course I've been fighting orc men all day while you've been napping. Ha!"

"Typical Melee, cannot lose gracefully, even to your Mistress." If I were human, I would have rolled my eyes to make my point.

We both laughed at this as did the group around us. They enjoyed the banter almost as much as the fight I think. But Melee was thirsty.

"More ale! Cannot a thirsty warrior get a drink in this backwater camp!"

"There are no serving wenches here, except the ones fighting."

A voice in the crowd cried out. Roars of laughter followed, but Melee was looking for another fight I think. Her eyes went in the direction of the voice who shouted it.

"Try this 'serving wench' in a fight, if your so bold!"

From the crowd stepped Gilead, holding two mugs of ale, laughing heartily.

"Nay, nay (handing us our mugs he put his hand to his head) I jest woman. My skull is cracked from our last encounter. But I could not think of a better wench to be served by." A glimmer in his eye.

'Call us a wench again Gilead, and I'll finish cracking that hard skull of yours."

She relaxed a little seeing it was him and took the mug he offered her, downing it in one gulp.

"I can think of better ways for you to finish me off."

"I would once wish a man to finish me off, but even in a camp full of orc warriors it seems an impossible quest."

"Aye, I accept that challenge, and will accept, again and again and again."

All this was rather amusing. Anyone could feel the tension between them. Although I knew Melee would certainly give him all the opportunities he wished for I still was sorry for him. I was uncertain if she would give herself to only one man. More likely to several at once to satisfy her appetite. This banter was suddenly interrupted by a grunting snort I have come to recognize.

"Gilead. Are you done with your amusement? Preparations must be completed."

I looked at Zyre standing there naked except his leather breeches. I suddenly felt mischievous. There was perhaps one way to put my hands upon him. And better, get his upon me.

"Does the leader of this band ever accept challenges?" My eyes narrow looking directly at him.

The crowd within hearing mumbled and growled with curiosity, Melee standing near me looked at me with surprise. About to say something I silenced her with a subtle motion of my hand. Zyre met my gaze directly before answering.

"All sparring rules apply. No magic, no weapons until the finishing blow. I will even go so far as to use no weapon."

"I ask you for no advantage, no quarter Zyre. A fair combat is all."

"It is no advantage I give you and there will be no quarter given princess."

That word again. Taunting me. I can give back.

"So be it.... princeling." This last delivered with condescension.

Now a real crowd was drawing in. Laughter and jests followed the 'princeling' comment. Melee and Gilead were at the forefront as a crowd pushed and pressed to watch their leader be challenged.

I was nervous now, and desperately trying to calm my nerves as he stalked back and forth, eyeing me, like a predator that knows his prey cannot escape. I had no chance and I knew it. But that wasn't the point.

I stood still, as I had with Melee. It was something my brother taught me. You learn much about an opponent if you let them move first. I had speed and agility, I could probably avoid his initial blow, but I knew he was quick as well. My agility would have to save me. It certainly would not be strength.

He stalked at me in an ever tightening circle and I simply turned to keep facing him. Within arms length instead of lunging or grabbing at me he drew up to his full height towering at least a foot above me. An intimidation tactic. He would learn such things do not affect me.

I crouched back and leapt towards him, my aim to go above him. I flipped myself and put my hands around his neck twisting myself mid leap. My hands on his neck, under his chin I pulled him backwards arching his back and throwing him off balance. As I came down a well placed kick into the back of his calf and he tumbled backward on me; me in a sitting position his head in my lap, my legs wrapped around him tight, my hands around his neck and my chest just an inch from his face.

Quick as I could with one hand I grabbed my knife, but to do so I had to release one hand, loosening my grip. Bringing the knife around he recovered from our tumble and with a fist knocked the blade away from me. I reached for it instinctively. A mistake. Now my balance was off and he took advantage. Taking hold of my arm around his neck he heaved me, and rolled, hurling me upon my back he quickly mounted between my legs, his hand upon my throat.

"Yield."

His weight was upon me and I was breathing hard trying to catch my breath. His face close to mine, I did not respond. His manhood pressed against me hard. Nothing between us but thin buckskin leggings. My body was responding to his pressure. Liquid was flowing from my body. His large shaft growing harder and bigger by the second, my juices flowing more as he did. I could see a good two inches of his hard cock above his buckskin and that was little more than the crown, which was leaking fluid, dripping against the skin of my stomach. If he claimed me now, I would be in ecstasy. He did not.

"Yield." Again he repeated, pushing his weight upon me more.

"Perhaps I would have yielded long ago, princeling. But this is no death move."

Indeed my hands were free and I would use them. Balling my hand into a fist I smashed it into his cheek, only moving his head slightly. Another blow, but he caught my wrist, and the other as I brought it to strike again. He took both my wrists easily in one of his huge hands and stretched them over my head slamming them into the ground.

He was leaning over me now. His face so close to mine, his chest pressed against my breasts. He let slip a satisfied growl. His hips pressed against me. I do not know if it was intentional. My body responded. I pushed back against him, his engorged cock pressed harder against my lips, my belly. I was dripping. My leggings would be stained. I cared not.

"Yield, princess." A half mocking, amused sneer. He was enjoying this.

So was I. Too much. I would not yield. Though I knew I could not maintain this much longer. But the pleasure of his weight on top of me, the weight and girth of his massive hard cock pressing against my lips and stomach. I thought I might actually orgasm right there. I continued to half struggle if only to grind myself against him a bit longer, prolonging the inevitable. Why did this have to end? But end it must. For now.

"So be it, lord. I yield."

With one last grind against me he pushed off me and stood above me. I lay there for a moment gazing at his bulk, missing his weight on me. I stood on my own even tho he offered assistance. His look at me was one of approval. As I said, orcs admire strength and independence.

There was a general chatter and mumbling. Some snickered that I dropped him so quickly. There was pride in that. Others saying they would not have let me off the ground without taking me. Some were commenting on my body, and what they would have done. Zyre heard some of it, and glowered at the crowd, but said nothing. Instead he looked around.

"Gilead!"

There was no response. I gazed round myself. No Melee or Gilead. I certainly knew what that meant as did Zyre.

"Bah!" He looked to the nearest orc. "If you see him tell him to come at once. Analea, follow me."

I followed, walking beside him. He said nothing, as we approached a tree with a boar hanging from it, drained of life and blood. Taking his knife he cut the thing down and dragged it behind him.