Majutsu-shi no Chikara Ch. 01

Billsby kicked the sinking ork in the groin, though the blow seemed to have little real effect. Billsby seemed satisfied with the result as the ork collapsed to the ground and went slack.

"Not very creative, orks." Billsby spat on the dead guard before turning to Damon. "We'll need to use that... but trouble's... remember -- they'regoing to breed us. You want ta live you..."

The shouting from outside interrupted.

"More mules!" Billsby's arms went wide as two more orks stormed in, their tusked faces twisted in rage. "Remember to keep your breeders safe for your slut, or they might break yer dicks off an' feed em ta ya!"

One of the orks managed to wrestle Billsby into an arm-pinning hug and grabbed the human's face with his massive jaws. The other ork was already dead on the ground when another trio of orks swarmed in and grabbed every breathing human. None too gently, they hauled them out of the prison tent into searing daylight.

Dazzled by the sudden change in light and crushed nearly to breathless by the grip of orks (and their stink), the humans were carried and dragged across the substantial camp of orks to a large, solid-looking yurt. The only permanent fixture of the entire camp, though Billsby did not have time to explain as they were hauled inside, deposited onto a sprawling rug of pelts, and left in the relative dark.

The door was barred behind them. Shouting, barking, snarling rose beyond the door, and signal horns blasted. A drumbeat started. It sounded like a heart-beat. Another drum, beating in rhythm, with the barest delay such that each boom became an echo of itself.

B-Boom, B-Boom, B-Boom, B-Boom.

It set Damon's teeth on edge -- especially when he found himself breathing in time with the rhythm. A small brazier cast dancing firelight, revealing murky shadows within the yurt and giving the walls the look of a living thing moving around them. An aroma, like honeysuckle yet not so cloying amid the scent of dried pelts, insinuated itself into Damon's nostrils even as his eyes adjusted feebly to the faint light.

"Oh yes, set the mood for us." Billsby stood and limbered himself, shaking his arms and legs, his secret blade carefully concealed in his palm. "This'll get their fuck-sluts ready..."

His voice trailed off as a half-dozen female orks fairly appeared around them from the shadows. The light of the brazier seemed to increase, though the flames did not grow... Damon found he could see far more clearly than before.

It was at this moment that Damon realized he knew absolutelynothing of orks.

...

"Hush, little man." her voice was melodious, and thick like honey.

Her yellow-gray eyes were like a wolf's, keen and predatory. Her face was strong, almost mannish, but far softer in its angles than any ork face Damon had ever seen, with a narrower jaw and small tusks no longer than half the length of Damon's smallest finger. Her mouth was wide, but looked narrow on her face, with full lips tinted almost purple. Her nose was broad and flat, but seemed to draw attention from her mouth directly to her eyes. Her ears -- large, sweeping, pointed ears - that were as long as Damon's hand and peaked just near the back of her skull. Naked and hairless, her brown-green skin contoured every muscle of her body in such a way that every movement seemed to cause a different part of her body to bulge or bounce. Her breasts were perhaps the most confusing part of her, for they looked like the smooth, round, soft masses he expected on a woman -- but they swelled forward from the lean, hardened muscles of her chest in a contrast that defied his mind. The nipples were dark, purple nubs set on purple-black areola nearly as big as Damon's palm. His eyes trailed down her body involuntarily to her crotch -- the smoother flesh between her legs swelling just slightly from the muscles of her stomach and away from the rippling cords of her legs into a plum-colored mound with the barest evidence of her midnight-purple lips shifting in and out of view as she turned. She was easily a head taller than Damon and everything about her oozed sex.

Confounding Damon further, she was casually holding Billsby's head with one hand -- lifting the broad human by his skull effortlessly, her palm splayed across his nose and mouth... the end of each finger ending in black fingernails that might be polished-down talons, each drawing a trickle of blood from Billsby where her digits met his skin. Her other hand coolly, almost delicately, peeled the tiny blade from Billsby's hand and dropped it to the pelts below. Damon felt the drumming rhythm in his chest, and his naked flesh seemed to pulse with the sound... his cock was hard, but he'd not realized it until just now.

As if in a silent dance, the other ork females move around them... each as imposing, impressive, strong, naked, hairless, and delicate as the first. They moved, touched, caressed, lifted, and examined the man-flesh that the mules had delivered to them.

"What devilry...?" Billsby finally breathed. "What sorcery is this...?"

It sounded like begging, though whether for an answer or for the sweet, sexual embrace that these females offered, Billsby couldn't decide -- and it was his own voice. The pressure her hand was making on his skull was immense, and he knew she could have killed him in that instant. His feet weren't even touching the ground.

"I am in heat, human." she cooed to him, and set him on his feet before her. Billsby was a large man, but she was half a head taller and just as wide. She leaned down, her hand tilting to cup his face, as blood ran from the wounds where her fingernails had been. She licked the blood over his brown, tenderly and Billsby visibly shivered.

"What..." but Billsby lacked the strength to form the question. His cock ached, it was so hard.

One of the other females, her skin likewise brown-green... or green,brown? Grunted...something. She was kneeling over the one human that didn't respond to these creatures...

Something in the air changed, and the spell was broken. As a flood of earthen flesh, they stormed the door and it burst open... the drums stopped, and the feral snarling of what Damon realized were mules went quiet.

The lead female snarled something -- but Damon noticed the fear in the mules, more than the malice in her posture. One of the mules was singled-out by the group, and surreptitiously torn limb from limb by the females in a bloody rage. Damon became aware of a keening wail and was only distantly aware that it was coming from several of the other mules, prostrating themselves before these females... begging forgiveness.

The entire spectacle took moments, and then the females turned away as though nothing had changed. One of them -- perhaps the most green of green-brown of the six lifted a hand, and the drumming resumed. The females entered the yurt single-file, and a dozen mules surged to close the doors. Damon noticed that another beam was being hefted to replace the one the females had destroyed when they "opened" the door.

Daylight stabbed through new holes that this door had likely never seen, a sobering reminder of the raw power in the bodies of these females. Damon realized that he hadn't looked at his fellows from the village since they were in the prison tent... now, to his shame, he felt he didn't want to look at them. If they saw his arousal -- if they felt similar arousal from these women... nay, orkfemales... he doubted any of them would want to share the burden of such shame.

Gods protect us. Damon prayed, his lips forming the words soundlessly.

"Don't like the toys broken, sluts?" Billsby seemed to find his mettle, though from his face, he spoke with far more confidence than he felt. He'd found his secret blade during the brief, violent interlude -- but now it was forgotten in his hand, ill-poised for either slashing, piercing, or throwing.

"Haaa...." the lead female breathed out -- a hiss like a sigh (or was it the other way round?), as she approached, the scent of her breath oddly compelling to Damon's senses. It was as they closed the distance that he felt the strange calm of the drums align his breathing, the rippling, predator's grace and wolfish stares pulling lust into a fog through his mind.

"Stay..." Billsby meant to sayStay back. His voice failed him, and even as he tightening his grip on the blade to attack, his fingers fumbled the sliver of metal and twitched feebly.

"You amuse me, human." The lead female smiled at him, her teeth gleaming and eyes fairly shining. "I am called Abhilash."

Billsby returned the smile placidly, then shook his head and frowned. The streaks and speckling of blood on their naked forms seemed to aid his resistance.

"Fuck..." he trailed off, meaning to hurl a throatyFuck you, but having lost his momentum and forgotten what he was doing.

"Yesss." There was the barest trace of green light shining from her eyes, or was it Damon's imagining? "That we will."

She touched the side of his face again, tenderly, and leaned forward to kiss him. He returned the motion with gusto, his lips mashing against hers in an obviously awkward reversal of a more familiar posture.

"Abhilash?" One of the other females said the name, and it was like hearing wood-chimes beside a stream. Damon's mouth turned up in a smile, though he didn't know why.

"No." Abhilash parted her lips from Billsby long enough to breathe the word on his face, her eyes locked on him. "Mother has given me seed-right."

She kissed Billsby again, her tongue dancing along his lips as his hands reached up and clumsily touched her solidly muscled body.

There was no other complaint -- no other movement. The other females simply stood and watched as Abhilash and Billsby kissed, the latter finding new confidence in the repetition... perhaps finding more of his wits the longer he was surrounded by whatever spell had trapped Southwold's men here. He kissed Abhilash deliberately, and cupped her groin with one hand while his other sought a breast and caressed it.

He seemed to be searching her body with his hands, the muscles of his face twisting in concentration and passion by turns.

"I never..." Billsby managed between kisses... Abhilash stopped cold, her ears twitched and her eyes stared into Billsby's face.

"Never kissed a proper ork, b'fore." Billsby flushed, his cock bouncing in time to his heartbeat... the drum-beats... Damon thought he noticed that everyone in the room was breathing in time to that rhythm, but he wasn't aware if he'd moved at all.

"Am I not gentle?" Abhilash purred, brushing a tusk down Billsby's jawline. "Am I not... pleasing?"

Her hand found his cock. As delicate and feminine as her tone implied, her body -- while a superb feminine specimen -- was nigh comical against the much more pale human flesh. Her hand was at least the length of Billsby's erect dick, and could grip it easily. Damon shivered at the raw power in those hands and thought, with some relief, that his own erection faltered however slightly.

Still, she caressed him like one might expect of fluted glass... or, as an immensely powerful ork caresses a human to not rip its flesh off.

"Right." Billsby's face contorted, an inward struggle taking place.

Damon realized that, if ever Billsby had meant to effect an escape, now was most definitelynot the time for it. Perhaps the two of them could defeat one of these females...maybe... but six? Six while naked?

We are dead men. Damon's mind screamed. His cock bounced in time to the drums.

Abhilash guided Billsby to the floor of pelts, her lips playing along his and her tongue dancing with his tongue.

"Ah..." Abhilash breathed out as Billsby's hands fondled her, his fingers at last reaching her mound in a way that -- evidently -- she found pleasing. "A seasoned male is a rare gift."

"Y'ain't seen nothing." Billsby growled, his demeanor seeming to melt slowly back into the brusque, mercenary candor. "I'll fuck ye' til ye' can't walk."

"Please." She smiled, and Billsby gave her a lopsided grin before attacking her mouth with his own.

To Billsby, Abhilash has offered herself to him -- at last content that he was "man enough" to rut with her and give her the fucking she wanted. To Damon's ears, having recently bedded Ginga in similar fashion, there was nothing pleasant in Abhilash's tone. There was no lust, no passion... no pleasantry.

It was the cold, spine-freezing call of the hunter. Damon's mind was his own, once more, and the horror of what was happening invaded his thoughts. His erection vanished, even as the other five females remained fixated on Abhilash's mating. Even as he looked to the faces of the men he knew -- their eyes glazed and staring at the carnal display.

"Please." She said again, her eyes holding Billsby's gaze for a moment before the human's mouth assaulted first her right breast... then her left... and his hips lurched forward with forceful purpose. Abhilash purred, smiling a small smile on her lips as her mouth opened. She slid her tongue over her lips and caught her lower lip just in her teeth -- a message any mate would understand -- and Billsby sneered lustily and thrust with more force. He seemed to forget the crippling power in her legs, the throat-tearing power of her jaws... all that seemed to matter was the pussy that was squeezing his cock so hard he thought it might burst just from her tightness.

"Yer..." Billsby grunted. "Tightest... ever... fuckin..."

His eyes clamped shut in concentration and Damon realized the poor bastard was so close to orgasm he was probably going to be done in less time than the burning of a single candle. Something in Abhilash's eyes made Damon recoil physically. That movement caused a ripple within the room.

While his friends and the mercenary might not have noticed, the ork females most certainlydid. At first, it was the two nearest him... then the other three as an imperceptible intake of breath seemed to freeze the five of them with their eyes locked on Damon's flaccid penis. They looked horrified, ashamed...embarrassed. The humans were entirely at their mercy, and the ork females wereembarrassed.

That's when Damon noticed Abhilash staring at him, her face a scowling mask of hatred.

"Oh, fuck..." Billsby grunted, his face scrunched. "Fuckin' ork... slut..."

He screamed.

Damon watched as, mid orgasm, the ork female smoothly clamped her legs around Billsby's waist and squeezed... like she was hugging a lover... Billsby's scream became a strangled moan and went silent -- his face contorted in agony, eyes bulging and face turning purple. His spine snapped, and the air rushed out of his body, his eyes searching blindly.

"You." Abhilash was on her feet, dropping Billsby in a lifeless heap and stalking toward Damon with murder flashing in her eyes.

She stopped, arms-length from him, and looked at his flaccid penis, and then into his face.

"Why do you not lust for my flesh, male?" She demanded.

"Abhilash." a voice from behind, somewhere in the yurt Damon couldn't see. His eyes wouldn't leave the hateful yellow eyes of the ork demon staring him down.

"Answer me!" She screamed, sweeping him up by the neck and shaking him like an insolent child -- or a child shaking a doll. "Where is your lust? Why are you soft?"

Faint whining from the other villagers was barely audible as Damon struggled to breathe. His feet kicked the air, striking Abhilash in the stomach and face with little effect to the ork. His face turned purple as he made soft choking sounds and a faint whispered gasp left his lisps -- his eyes wide in panic.

"Abhilash." The voice was moreinsistent, this time, though not louder. Now, even Abhilash stopped to look.

As though struck, the ork females turned to the rear of the yurt and threw themselves face-down on the pelts. Damon tumbled to the ground, barely conscious and forgotten.

"Mother." Abhilash whined, and Damon heardfear in her voice. "His cock is soft... it's his fault."

"Child." the voice became a figure, just smaller than Abhilash and her sisters... for indeed, if this was her mother, then these other females must be her kin. Her tone was one of kindness and gentle reproach -- but Abhilash shook with terror and Damon thought he heard weeping.

Her skin was the color of an oak, with faint wrinkles and sagging skin as one might expect to see on a human woman in the fullness of thirty winters. Her pointed ears drooped just at the tips, causing them to flare down slightly, and her tusks had a dusty ivory stain to them. Her nose was narrower, and longer, and her lips a black-brown. Her eyes, like silvery moonlight, stood apart from her daughters. Her flesh was well formed, and she wore her years proudly; her breasts had the healthy sway of one who has nursed their young, and the black-brown nipples fairly glowed with their vitality.

Unlike her daughters, the taught cords of her muscles were softened by the womanly flesh of motherhood, and Damon saw tattoos... nay,scars along her hips and belly. He had seen the scars of motherhood on some women, whose children had filled their bellies near bursting -- but this was something beyond even that. This wasart on ork flesh. These scars told the story of a mother that carried six daughters atonce. The flesh of her sex was likewise fuller, and more visible -- and it called to him in a way he could not understand.

"Come to me, male." she beckoned with her dark-skinned hand. Her claws... or fingernails, were deliberately polished and smooth -- black as pitch and seeming to suck the light from the room as he looked at her. How many males met their death at those hands?

Damon resisted if for no other reason than he didn't think he could move without being struck dead. His body felt stuck. A point of heat formed on his back, where a shaft of light beat against him to the rhythm of the drums, pushing him forward. At last, he took a step. His leg ached, and he noticed that his left leg was bleeding -- likely from where he'd struck Abhilash's tusk when she was throttling him. When his eyes went down to his leg, that moment of distraction... he heard a faint intake of breath.

"Male." again, the voice was more insistent, but not unkind. Damon looked up, feeling the compulsion but wondering if, maybe, now he was going to die.

"Spare my friends." He whispered, talking another step forward, his back getting warmer and his leg still throbbing.

Abhilash looked up from the floor. He hadn't made it far enough to pass her, so he could see her look at him... it made him flinch. She waslivid... coiled like a serpent about to strike. Damon found his mind in that calm space between living and dying where the mind simply accepts all that it perceives. He had never been here, before. He would memorize every moment, every heartbeat. And then, they would kill him.

Abhilash opened her mouth to hiss, or spit, or curse at him... and Damon tilted his head with curiosity -- wondering if her next breath would be a tidal wave, sweeping his life from his body... what would it feel like?

"Child." and now he heard the harder edge a mother uses to warn her child. Abhilash recoiled, color draining from her face. It was in this moment that Damon saw the power of an ork female.

With that one reproach, all sound in the war camp stopped. Damon looked up at the mother ork and tilted his head to the side. She was very alluring, he admitted, and very dangerous and would probably cut him in half with a glance... but something about her dragged his attention closer, so he took another step and another.

He got the feeling she was watching a baby bird take flight, or catching a butterfly on her finger... or...