Majutsu-shi no Chikara Ch. 10

Would the delicate human sorcerer allow it? No. "Like eggs", the lot of them... he should consider himself fortunate to be a sorcerer at all, or his seed would have been useless. His seed. The woman, Ginga, was already sown with his seed. The thought burned in Abhilash, causing her to sweat and pant as she rubbed at her sex more intensely, her idle hand gliding down and pressing against her mound to spread her flesh and give her roving fingers easier access to the more sensitive nub of flesh hidden in the folds of her slit.

Seed-mate. Abhilash had seen few of these, but had been whelped on stories of seed-mates within the tribe in the time before all the true-breeding orks had been traded-away or slaughtered in battle. Mates sharing the same seed. These could be coteries likened to harems, and were most commonly centered on a chosen male (sometimes twins or triplets, as orks often had multiple births), with any females bearing their seed becoming seed-mates to each other. The sharing of male seed-mates by a central female was less common, as the males did not carry the female's seed so much as collaborate on servicing her. Exceptionally strong females would accumulate male seed-mates hoping to propagate their own lineage through her multiple births. All seed-mates suffered from infighting, as males and females struggled for dominance -- which would lead to regular bloody rows and occasional deaths. More often, those who could not maintain their position as seed-mate were driven to a lower tier within the tribe's hierarchy, gelded, or exiled (depending on their disposition within the tribe).

The idea that Abhilash (and her sisters) were seed-mated to a human was nauseating... but knowing she was an exile, and her siblings might never again get to mount Damon's cock, Abhilash felt a surge of elation at the idea of being first within Damon's seed-mate. First? Ginga was already sown when they returned to South-wold. While it was possible that she had mounted Damon's father and was carrying Damon's sibling in her womb, the smell was undeniable.

Ginga believed she carried Damon's whelp, and that meant she had beaten Abhilash to that seed-right without ever having to compete with Kamakshi's daughters. The very notion grated and confused Abhilash, dulling her enjoyment even as her arousal climbed.

They were on the floor, now, and their bodies were grinding together. Their naked bodies clapped and smacked together, louder echoes of the slurping kisses they seemed to not tire of sharing. Ginga's arousal was fast out-pacing Damon, the male likely still taxed from whatever idiocy he'd gotten himself into that knocked him unconscious shortly after he'd returned to South-wold.

At last unable to wait any longer, Abhilash groaned, grabbed the sword and yanked the tunic up over her head. Shrugging her way out of the garment, the fabric swallowed the length of the magical blade as the ork ducked into the house and nested the weapon against the wall in a corner.

That was immediately forgotten when she saw, on the floor opposite, the red-brown flesh of a lean, muscled back snared just at the hips by dark legs with pale soles on the feet hooked above a round, flexing ass. Damon's knees had pummeled grooves into the fur-covered mat on the floor, and his feet were braced against the near wall to Abhilash. Ginga appeared to have set the rolled lump of her clothes behind her shoulders, but the slapping, grunting, sighing mass kept itself from shifting and bumping too far from where it was... after several thrusts, Ginga would pull down hard with her heels, lifting her butt off the floor, and drive her hips opposite Damon's pounding rhythm. Ginga was a darker hue than Kamakshi, or most any ork that Abhilash had known. The sheen of sweat on their bodies shone in the shadows like glittering crystals, and Abhilash salivated at the sight of them.

She sank down against the wall, just near where Damon's feet pushed against the wall. Her knees went up and out, and she tucked one foot between Damon's legs (well away from his delicate pendulum that smacked loud and wet against Ginga's ass where she clung below him. Abhilash thought how much simpler it would have been to mount her from behind, but her hands were busy stoking the fire of her lust back into a blazing furnace and she quickly stopped thinking about stupid human behaviors as she was suffused with the heady odor of Ginga's orgasm.

The barest pang of jealousy evaporated as soon as it struck, but so close to them now and allowing herself to fully enjoy the sight and sound of them, Abhilash followed in a sighing release drowned-out by the growling, groaning efforts Damon was making. Ginga's cries of ecstasy lulled slightly, and Damon slowed, seeming to be near the brink of his own climax.

Abhilash leaned forward and swatted his arse with her palm, spurring the horse to the finish. The sharp smack flared in Damon's haunch and his peak vanished below him as he catapulted into orgasm and further into something like agony. The noise from him was a war-cry, a death-blow... the spasms as his body spewed his milk into Ginga and the sticky liquid pouring into her lent strength to her euphoria, despite the confusing noise that prompted it.

When Ginga was expecting to ride a long slow wave down from the height of pleasure, Damon's orgasm spilled a fiery river of pleasure into her pussy that flooded outward to every fiber of her being. She thought she might faint... or die... so mighty was the force of it. Unlike any orgasm before, her entire body shook and squirmed and clenched. It made her doubt her previous orgasms in life, until she could not entirely think, and spots of multi-colored light appeared to cloud her vision.

No sooner had this crashing bull of an orgasm trampled Ginga's reason, leaving her a limp, quivering mass below Damon; Abhilash made a snapping grab of Damon's ankle and in a few smooth movements she had flipped the male off his earlier partner and nested his softening cock into her waiting cunt. Damon thumped onto the floor with a cough as Abhilash threw a leg over him and centered her hips over his cock. She relaxed, guiding the semi-erect manhood to her entrance and consciously milked his prick into her. Once his dick was inside her, she began to squeeze with greater force.

Assaulted from all sides, Damon's penis could not retreat and was forced to face Abhilash's sex head-on. The tightening muscles allowed no blood to flow out of his spent member, and it soon ached from its hardness. Damon grimaced in exquisite pain, too disoriented to react before Abhilash had impaled herself and was massaging him forcefully back to hardness. Overly sensitive, he cursed aloud.

"Damn you, Abhilash."

Ginga started, fear and shock trying to surge through the fugue of bliss that had swallowed her world. Abhilash leaned toward the human woman and gingerly cupped her sex with a hand.

"Do not spill that, seed-mate." Abhilash grinned down from atop Damon's cock, her yellow-gray eyes narrowed against the louder pain in her skull at the sorcerer's forced recovery.

Eyes wide, Ginga felt the she-ork's heavy hand press against her sex with familiarity she could not have expected. Strong, long fingers caressed the outer flesh and two fingers curled slightly inward against her opening. She felt the sharper edges of Abhilash's talons, but no force behind them. The ork's palm rested with a tenderness against the thatch of dense black curls, the pillars of her fingers aligned around the hood of her clit, pressing in just enough.

"My sisters gave me many ideas to enjoy his seed." Abhilash cooed to Ginga, now using her pussy to more carefully squeeze Damon's cock as it answered her challenge. "It is good that only his cock-milk is magical, or we would be slaves to the touch of his cock."

Abhilash sighed at this admission, and closed her eyes to savor the feeling of Damon's seed still oozing from him from his first orgasm. It was enough. The match struck black powder, and Abhilash climaxed against the hazy, rippling pain in her head. She opened her eyes and looked down, first at Damon and then at Ginga. When the females' eyes met, Ginga felt a smaller pulse of pleasure mingling with the fear and shame that was bubbling beneath. The primal, almost feral look on Abhilash's face (tusks and all) was novel to Ginga, and the alien allure of it made her body tingle pleasantly in the glow.

"Too much." Damon panted beneath the ork, his hips trying to retreat and finding the mat of fur and earth below an unyielding barrier.

"Fine." Abhilash's smile slackened, but not quite into a frown. "I want to know if your seed works when eaten."

Without hesitation, the ork positioned herself between Ginga's knees and was lifting the human's hips up as she placed her mouth between her legs and plunged her tongue forward.

"What, wait-I..." Ginga yelped, her arse firmly gripped in ork hands and a thick, muscular tongue prodding into her and curling left and right. The pressure of Abhilash's tusks around the sides of her mound caused her pussy to push outward slight toward Abhilash, and set Ginga's toes tingling as the ork tongue-fucked her to get at more of Damon's semen.

After three deep, long, toe-curling slurps, Abhilash lowered Ginga back to the floor and sat up with a glistening grin.

"Mm." She sniffed, licking her fingers of Ginga's juices mixed with Damon's salty seed. "Not as strong that way. Maybe he can learn magic to spend twice in one rutting... but maybe that would kill us."

"What?" Ginga and Damon groaned in befuddled unison.

Abhilash laughed, slapping her palm against her thigh.

"I will remember, do not fear. His seed is magic... make you cum like a charging mammoth." Abhilash grinned down at Ginga, her wolf-yellow eyes still sparkling with hunger.

"Bison." Damon added helpfully.

"Yes." Ginga nodded in a round, lolling of her neck and chin. "Two of that could... could be bad... probably."

"Gods above and below, save me." Damon sighed wearily. "From the love of a good woman and the lust of an ork."

"Some shamans are said to take the shape of beasts." Abhilash looked thoughtful.

"I've heard stories." Damon gave a weak shrug, his words slurring slightly.

"Maybe you could take the shape of something with a larger cock." Abhilash leaned over him and smiled, looking in both of his eyes. "Like an ork."

"Or a horse?" Ginga offered facetiously.

"Yes, a horse." Abhilash nodded, meeting the human female's incredulous stare. "That would be a very large cock."

"I didn't..." Ginga blanched at Abhilash's eagerness and fell silent. Boldness was one thing, but mounting an animal? Even a sorcerer in the guise of an animal seemed foully depraved.

Soft snoring broke the silence.

...

"Give them meat and mead, but keep your wits and daggers near to hand." Akuji gripped the cross-beam of the corral in both hands and rocked back and forth, seeming to be trying to pull himself closer to the notion of celebration as his body pushed away from it.

The beams and posts creaked, but those around him scowled or nodded gravely and hands found knife hilts at their belts. Akuji's frown deepened and his eyes sought about for something deeper still in the earth.

"They have gift-right." The hesitation in the voice, the higher pitch: one of the younger men, or one of the women perhaps, but it was clear they knew this was an unwelcome reminder.

"So long as they honor their part in it, they will live." Akuji grit his teeth and thrust himself away from the corral and turned swiftly on his heel. "If they return, I'll have every drop of blood from them."

"What of your son?" This was a voice spoken from a frowning mouth on a slight strip of a man -- but he carried the weight of every heart in his words.

"What of him?" Akuji stopped but slowly and, when he turned, he did not turn fully around but stared back over his shoulder through his gray-streaked black hair with smoldering dark eyes full of blood-lust.

"Head-Elder... Akuji." The smaller man stepped forward, a few forming a phalanx silently at his flank as if to give wordless force -- for good or ill -- in confronting their chosen leader. "He cannot be allowed to remain."

"He knows." Akuji gave a brief review of each of these with his eyes, skimming from eye to eye that they would understand his meaning before he turned back about and marched back toward the gathering bell. "See to your tasks. Shaum and the fae are of a like mind -- we shall obey tradition, tonight."

"And tomorrow?"

"Let tomorrow worry for itself!" Akuji shouted back, already a dozen paces along. "Tonight, we celebrate!"

At that, there was mumbled answer and little enthusiasm for those tasked with preparing the village for revelry. In the growing hours after midday, before the slanting shadows stretched long toward sunset, South-wold whispered and twisted in recollection. A brace of goats and several chickens were butchered, the gamey flesh of the bucks beaten with wooden mallets and steeped in weak wine to tenderize it before it was spitted over an improvised fire pit on the edge of where the funeral pyres had burned. The chickens were stewed with dried roots and herbs, ground barley grain thrown in at dusk to thicken the runny melange into a slurry porridge. Simple fare, boiled or flame-seared, to fill bellies quickly with the aid of fresh loaves of dense sour-bread.

...

Kamakshi had been plied with watery mead, dried meats, and several links of cured sausage as preparations filled the remainder of the day. Of the lot, she felt the sausage was the most like to the spiced meats she had enjoyed in the north and brought the secret of them south with her horde. The smells, aromatic and savory as they were, did not make her mouth water for what South-wold readied -- but she hid that disappointment behind a tall jug of mead that was steadily refilled with more of the sweet wine and water from the stream in equal measures. After the third pitcher of water approached, she waved the red-haired human youth away. Too young to have a shape like a male or female, Kamakshi creased her brow and bared her teeth at the human.

"No water, whelp." The she-ork gestured, not quite eye-level with the human while seated on the ground. "More wine."

"Thank you, Tomas." Nurcan called after him from where she stood two paces to Kamakshi's right. "That will be all."

"Getting drunk is rude of a guest." Tomas did not meet Kamakshi's eyes and made all effort to appear to be talking to Nurcan as he bobbed his head to take his leave.

"Your guest is..." Kamakshi eyed the youth up and down as she considered her words a moment, understanding the undercurrent of malice and promise of steel dangling on every belt. "Not one to get drunk on a river of wine."

Tomas gave a furtive sweep of his eyes toward the gray-brown she-ork before bobbing politely to Nurcan again and hastening away. Nurcan clucked her tongue against her teeth, steadying her aching knees by swaying from foot to foot where she stood. The ork shaman glanced about as she had uncounted times since Nurcan had brought her to the edge of the village where a fallow field had been converted into a series of pyres and now looked a blasted and barren battlefield.

There, Nurcan had beckoned that meat and drink be brought to slake Kamakshi's great hunger, even before Akuji had sounded the signal bell to call South-wold to prepare as great a celebration as they could muster. For it was never known that the dead should return to life -- but those thought lost were ever welcomed back with great joy. Shaum attended, though briefly, to lend his support to the matter, and it seemed he genuinely harbored no ill-will toward their ork guests. Whether this was a clever deceit or honest adherence to tradition, none could say. From this gathering, there was much to-do, and Shaum met again with Kamakshi only to seek her pardon from the celebration. He was, after all, an old man, and would likely be asleep before the feast meal was even served.

Kamakshi thought it wisdom to play the old human's game of hospitality, though she did not think South-wold could offer her much threat if their hands took up weapons against her. The nymph, however, was a different matter. That one, elusive and ever-present, seemed to appear first on one side of the village and then the other. Always greeting, embracing, touching, smiling... and from there, her prey would seek a moment's respite -- if not in Prende's arms, then another's. Of the children, Kamakshi noted Prende engaged them in singing and dancing before guiding them into the care of the red-haired twin of the one that brought her water and wine.

Work-song and music made fitful starts a half-dozen times before the sun at last dipped into the trees of the Willow Wood and down toward the horizon. It was not the thunderous cacophony of ork song, and it bore an eerie kinship to the reedy shrill of bone flutes and gut-string lutes more popular among humans in the north. Here, the flutes were wood, and of a different shape, and the lutes were three-stringed with great long necks and shallow bodies.

She did not know if any of them possessed any great musical skill -- certainly none so proficient in their song as the nymph, nor with the lungs of an ork warcryer. The shaman gave many a weary sigh for it all, feeling the familiar itch in her palms for want of bloodshed or a more intimate violence.

...

"I will not harm you." Abhilash gave a toothy smile, but Ginga's eyes widened as the human groped for her skirts in a hurried attempt to cover herself.

"It's not..." Ginga would not look that predator in its wolf eyes.

"Proper." Abhilash interjected, licking her lips and sucking again on the fingers of her hand that had been caressing Ginga's crotch. "I hear that many times."

Ginga hiccuped in fear, stealing a glance at the unblinking she-ork staring at her. Fighting her clothes back into a tangled semblance of modesty, she stood to move toward the hearth. Abhilash watched with quiet amusement, nudging the comatose mass at her side before taking her own leave of that wet, matted pelt. When the ork had taken a choice spot beside the door, cradling her tunic-swaddled sword over her knees, she made a thoughtful growl.

"What's that mark on his chest?" The human woman's whisper was clear enough to Abhilash's ears, but she doubted anyone outside would overhear.

"Mmph." Abhilash shrugged, her softest voice carrying much further no matter how she tried. "Where Inkar tore his chest open."

"What?!" All thought of prudence and modesty forgotten, Ginga descended at Damon's side and inspected the markings with fervent touch and closely leaning down to see as near or clearly as possible. "How... is this from his healing magic?"

"That was days before." Abhilash shook her head, studying the slope of Ginga's shoulders and the line of her back as she fussed over Damon's naked body. "The marking is not the scar that was."

"What do you mean?" the puzzlement was easy to read, and the flimsy human movements were getting easier to understand as doubt -- the smell helped.

"What I said." She grunted. "Inkar tore open his chest. He was healed. There was a scar. Then, no scar - that was his magic. Now, this marking is here."

Though she was still terrified of the massive hulk of ork blocking her door, Ginga could not help but watch and listen. She looked a most fierce creature, all sinew, tusks, and yellow eyes -- but she appeared subdued, now. Placated, perhaps. The ork's flesh was smooth, unblemished, with a haze of blue-white fuzz growing from her scalp and above her sex. Even her brows bore a stubble of white hair that looked to have dots of blue among them. The purple of her lips was darker than wine grapes Ginga had seen from a vineyard near Renks Cairn, and the large areola of her breasts were of equal complexion. That Ginga caught herself staring worried her. That her lip caught in her teeth, even for a moment, set her own brow to sheen with sweat. Her dark brown cheeks flushed with embarrassment when the she-ork looked up from Damon and smiled at her.