She-Orc's Prisoner

Smoke lazily drifted up from the outpost's ruins. Believed to be a mighty structure of granite and oak, it's defences had been undermined by the complacency and haughtiness of the warriors who staffed it. Now the bodies of those overconfident fools lay sprawled amidst the burnt-out husk, slaughtered in a surprise raid by the savage humanoids they were charged with monitoring in the first place. And yet were one who knew the keep's original complement to count the corpses of the fallen, he might find two warriors unaccounted for...

Sir Varien of Sanderson opened his eyes to the sight of grass a few inches from his face, falling from eye level. He tried to reach out to the ground only to realize his arms and legs were shackled to a pole. Orc barbarians carried him on their march home, trussed up like the carcass of a stag, save that he himself was not a carcass- yet. He tried to recall what had happened to put him in this situation.

He remembered standing on the outpost's walls with the archers, scanning for targets that could help turn the attack aside; like a leader whose death might make the orcs lose their nerve. He heard a crack like thunder, but louder and closer- under the camouflage of shrubbery a siege engine had vaulted a boulder that all but pulverized the turret and sent the knight tumbling toward the hard ground...

Varien realized the fall had rendered him unconscious, setting him up for easy capture. And yet he found it strange orcs had gone to the trouble of taking him prisoner at all, instead of just slitting his throat when they found him still alive.

He turned his head to the sound of moans. Another defender taken captive was slowly coming to. He recognized young Loren, the squire of Sir Laird. Varien had not seen how Loren could also have been knocked out, but he knew Laird would have fought to and past the death to protect his pupil from the green-skinned brutes. Loren looked all around in panic before his eyes met Varien's gaze.

"Sir Knight," Loren pleaded, "What's going on? What do they intend to do to us?"

Varien had several theories, none of them good- ranging from torture for information, to ritual sacrifice to an interesting ingredient for the stew pot.

He kept these possibilities to himself however; partly to avoid giving the squire panic, but also partly because the orcs might understand human speech and he didn't want to give these savages ideas they might not already have.

"Stay strong," He tried to keep his tone comforting, "And keep watch for any opportunities to escape." The orcs carrying them evidently comprehended his words, if their guttural chuckling was any indication.

The beasts finally reached their home. Within a crude yet intimidating palisade, huts were laid out in circles, the rings decreasing in size the closer to the centre of the village in which a massive firepit dominated, surrounded by eating tables on one side and the largest dwellings- saved for the chieftain and his family- on the other. The peasants and 'maidens' of the tribe greeted the returning plunderers with deep-voiced cheers that would curl even a brave man's hair.

The soldiers carrying Varien and Loren slid the prisoners' chains from the poles, dropping the humans to the ground. With their arms cuffed behind their backs and their legs chained together at the ankles, the noblemen had to shuffle to turn themselves upright- a humiliating task that gave their captors no end of amusement.

Out of the largest hut an Orc taller, bulkier and wearing more impressive armour than the rest strutted. He looked over the prisoners as one of the raiding party spoke in a language that sounded like the grunting of pigs to the knight's ears. This Orc- presumably the tribe's leader, looked the captives over for a few seconds until his face gave the expression of being pleased with something. He particularly chuckled at seeing the short chains that bound Varien at the ankles.

Would you be so brave to laugh were I not in irons, Chieftain? Varien silently seethed, I don't recall seeing you fight alongside your people at the outpost.

The sun made its gradual pace across the sky. With little else they could do in their position Varien and Loren looked all around and not just out of curiosity; both still nurtured illusions of escape and thought anything they saw or learned here could be useful, if not for them then other human fighters. He paid notice not only to the warriors, but the peons and labourers who scurried about to obey the orders of those warriors, including the females.

In fact the knight paid particular attention to the females, surprised at how much they differed from his imaginings in the past. Few humans to his knowledge had ever seen orc women, creatures that many men (himself included) had rudely referred to as 'sows'- a comparison that suddenly seemed unfit now. True their hides were dark green like their men, bit their noses were smaller and the fangs that poked out from their lower lip were tiny- features that came as close to delicate as an orc was ever likely to get.

And while their arms and legs were more muscular than any human woman he had seen (including Lady Sanderson, whom for once he felt glad was leagues away from him), they were much leaner and shapelier than their counterparts.

Though most of the orcs either ignored or moved around Varien and Loren, the knight noticed two she-orcs in particular kept giving brief glances to him and the squire. One of these two stood slightly taller, wore slightly finer garments along with crude jewellery -perhaps the chieftain's daughter? And if so, was the other the orc's version of a lady in waiting? And what about him interested them so?

When dinnertime finally came, it seemed every orc, she-orc and orclet gathered to take part in the feast. It also looked as Varien's theory of ending up in the stew pot was wrong; though they knew better than to unchain him or Loren, neither did they let the nobles go without food or drink. Varien and Loren found being hand-fed humiliating but went along, if only to keep up their strength.

Whatever they have planned requires keeping us alive, Varien deduced, So why do I not find that reassuring?

A few short hours before sunset the tribe's chieftain stood before his captives while orcs danced drunkenly behind him. He cleared his throat and spoke, "You probably wonder," his bestial throat all but butchering the sounds of the tongue of men, "Why my warriors went to the trouble of bringing two survivors here?"

As much as he dreaded hearing the final answer, Varien nodded.

The Chieftain pointed to the she-orcs who had been gazing at the prisoners, "My daughter Shauthay," indicating the one wearing jewellery, "And her friend Myev. You might say you two were brought home as gifts for the two of them."

So they were slaves then. Strange as it might sound Varien feared worse; this way he still hoped he and Loren would find a chance to escape and return with enough knights to skewer each and every one of these beasts on their lances.

But something about what the Chieftain said sounded strange, "What use would she-orcs (he knew better than to call them sows in front of one's father) have for two full-grown men-" four human eyes flew wide open and one orc face grinned.

"You cannot be serious!" like others Varien had heard stories of the savages having their way with women they found but the reverse? Insane didn't even qualify as an understatement!

The chieftain shrugged, "I don't understand it either, but for strange reasons some of them seem to like soft, pink, humans for bedmates." He put his hand under Varien's chin and in mock-tenderness lifted the knight's face up slightly.

Loren was of the mind that it wasn't possible for a woman to force herself on a man and said as much. The chieftain chortled as if he'd heard that before and answered, "Just be careful, I've seen them get pretty nasty to men who won't play along," then turned and walked toward his 'princess'.

Loren met Varien's gaze, "How could their females possibly be any crueller to us than the males?"

"Don't know much about women, do you squire?" was all Varien replied.

The chieftain returned with the she-orcs following him. His words were indecipherable, but from his gestures it seemed Varien was to be 'Shauthay's'; possibly because he was older, or of higher rank or simply more appealing to the eye. The one named Myev looked disappointed at first, yet as she turned to regard the squire, she grinned a grin that chilled Loren's blood. Loren struggled to break his chains harder than ever, but Myev slung him over her shoulder like a sack of turnips and carried him back to her dwelling.

Shauthay on the other hand picked up and brought Varien to her domicile in a manner closer to dignified, though not by much.

Lying on bedding made of various animal furs Varien watched the orc princess slowly peel off her garments, the small fire in the hut's centre casting shadows along the walls. She slowly stalked toward her new pet with a roll to her hips.

Looking down on Varien, Shauthay reached out with both arms and tore the breastplate off his armour in one effort, then did the same to the loin-guards. She then gazed up and down the now exposed parts of his body, until she finally wore a slight smile that implied she liked what she saw. Varien wondered what his fate might have been had she decided him less than satisfactory.

Instead of immediately mounting Varien, the she-orc crouched down and positioned her left breast to the knight's mouth, indicating she wanted him to suck on the nipple. Though he knew it would likely get his head bashed in, the still defiant part of Varien prodded him to bite down with all his jaw's strength.

It did no good- orc skin was tough enough to deflect a dagger thrust. In fact Shauthay seemed to find the bite enjoyable, as she giggled, "Do that again". Varien turned his head away rather than give her more pleasure, then suddenly started seeing points of light as the princess cuffed him on the side of his skull and snarled "I said do it AGAIN". This time the knight finally accommodated her.

A short while later Shauthay tired of this game. Sitting up, she extended one hand toward Varien's crotch and firmly grasped both scrota. Not tightly enough to cause actual pain, but soon to Varien's shock his prick swiftly began to ascend despite all his efforts toward willing it to go limp, to the she-orc's glee.

How does she know to do this? His mind raced, Is it something their mothers teach to their daughters?

In little time Varien's organ pointed skyward like a banner pole. Positioning herself over him, Shauthay locked eyes with the knight before dropping down, taking his whole length inside her in one swift motion.

Varien let out an involuntary groan. Lady Sanderson had been tighter, but Shauthay's vaginal muscles could crack open walnuts. Again and again she rose and thrust down on him, squealing in joy; and though it seemed to take an eternity, he found his body tensing toward an orgasm even as he silently pleaded for it not to give in to the she-orc's whims. And soon...

The knight gave out a yell as he erupted more intensely than he had ever done before in his life. He had no idea how many times he ejaculated, but not long after the orc princess collapsed on to top of him. She stroked one side of his face with her hand and nuzzled against the other until she finally fell asleep.

At dawn Shauthay brought Varein outside with her to breakfast. Other orcs finally got around to unlocking the knight's physical chains, but only because they somehow knew them to no longer be necessary; where once he bolstered himself with plans for rebellion and breaking free, now any soul who would look in his eyes would only see surrender. His defeat had become his cage.

Someone set down a bowl of thick gruel in front of Varien; as the knight slowly ate he gradually noticed that the squire Loren was not with them, in panic he looked about in all directions until he despaired at seeing two peons carry a shrouded form out of the hut Myev had hauled the youth to the previous night. He could not help but notice they treated Loren's body with more care, if not reverence, now than when it had still drawn breath.

Shauthay saw what Varien saw and sadly shook her head, "Myev always was too rough with her toys, even the live ones". She took the knight by the chin and moved his head to meet her gaze, "You were fortunate to be given to me, you should see many more summers than you would with her".

Lord Sanderson never returned home, his loss was mourned by both peasant and noble alike. The orc tribe that sacked the outpost where he had been stationed would grow bolder in the years to come; many raids led by the chieftain's grandson- a strange-looking, gray skinned creature known by his warriors and his people as 'Uruc-Topah'- loosely translated as 'the half-human.'