The Faceless Executioner

In the early afternoon, he led a beautiful half-elven maid towards the stables and showed her the inside of the impressive family coach. By the swaying and creaking of the vehicle's suspension, Gabreth surmised that he showed her quite a bit more. Their tryst lasted more than half an hour. Afterwards, the maid slipped back into the house and Martus followed a bit later, obviously sated.

In the evening, Martus again left the house for the stables. This time, he joined the coachman in the tack room, where he had his ass plowed by the broad-shouldered, bearded driver.

After dark, Gabreth left his vantage point and crept back into his house. Martus' promiscuity and his desire for the easy catch made this almost too easy. The trick would be to get him back to his house, preferably alive. While cleansing himself, Gabreth made a list of all the things he would need for his plan to work. A disposable coach. Elegant clothing and exotic scents. And last but not least an invitation to Urs the Sailor's gala. He was sure Nazha could provide. The only thing Gabreth needed to come up with was a convincing, irresistable disguise.

* * * *

"Welcome, Ser Krae'Gor," the doorman said, barely stumbling over the half-orc's name as he read it from the gold-rimmed invitation card. He looked his latest guest up and down. He was an almost seven-feet tall half-orc, dressed entirely in black and silver. A long coat only hinted at the impressive physique hidden under it. It was decorated with silver buttons and buckles. A wide belt was slung around his hips underneath the coat, with an axe on the left hip and a curved, serrated combat blade on the right. The weapons were naked, held on the belt by hooks threaded through their ring pommels. Even the boots looked dangerous, the toe caps topped by a wicked spike. The half-orc favored the doorman with a friendly grin, displaying his tusked underbite, the protruding points capped with silver. His mint-green skull was bald except for a braid trailing down his back. Silver rings and bands were threaded into the inky black hair.

"Ser may not be aware but weapons are not allowed at these functions," the doorman murmured, trying to be as discreet as possible. Krae'Gor impaled him with an angry scowl, his hand going to the blade at his right hip. The doorman gulped, paled and cleared his throat. "Maybe... maybe we can make an exception if Ser promises not to start any bloodshed?"

"On my honor," Krae'Gor rumbled. One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. "I' here for entertainment, not slaughter. May I pass already?"

"Umm, of course. Have a wonderful evening," the doorman said, bowing deeply and pulling the heavy oaken door to Urs' mansion open. Krae'Gor snorted and stomped past him, into the brightly lit entrance hall. He knew he had every eye on him, be it man or woman. A servant drew near. Krae'Gor allowed him to take his coat. The doublet he wore underneath was black, with a roaring wolf's silhouette stitched in silver thread on his lapel and across his back. Purposefully, he strode from the entrance hall into a salon. Along one wall, an opulent buffet had been set up, with servants and maids bustling to and fro, serving platters of snacks and drinks to the lavishly clad guests. A set of double doors led into the adjacent ballroom, where gentle music could be heard and swaying couples could be seen. Krae'Gor took a wine goblet from a passing maid's tray and sniffed. It was a heady, sweet red, almost black and overwhelmingly fragrant. Perfect for hiding poisons in. This particular glass was untainted and he allowed himself a sip.

"Oh my, what a positively barbaric appearance!" A woman with a towering powdered hairdo and shockingly low-cut bodice drew up to him, the tip of her gem-encrusted tiara just barely reaching his chest. "Have we met before? And if not, why in the Blazing Pits not?" Her lacquered fingernails clicked against the buttons on his doublet.

"I've been here on occasion," Krae'Gor growled.

Her gray eyes roamed his body, examining his crotch none too subtly. "I do hope we can get to know each other a little more closely, handsome. Rarr." She smiled sweetly. Krae'Gor tried not to wince. No matter how much make-up she had applied, it could not hide the fact she was approaching old age.

Krae'Gor drained his goblet in one long, thirsty drought and handed it off to a passing server then he leaned in, wrinkling his sensitive nose at the strong floral scent enveloping them both. He could smell her age underneath it. "What's your name?" His eyes took in her prominently displayed cleavage. An unfortunate beauty mark drew his gaze.

"I'm Lady Verana Tesserhal. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Or is it 'again'?" She used her arm to brace her breasts, nearly shoving them into Krae'Gor's face.

"You want to know how our kind makes love, Verana?" Krae'Gor asked, a dangerous growl lacing his whisper. Lady Tesserhal swooned, leaning against him. Her hand, hidden by a fan in her other, closed around his member through his pants, squeezing it. Krae'Gor's teeth sunk into the soft of her neck, breaking the skin.

Lady Tesserhal gasped in shock but held perfectly still. Pulling away, she instinctively knew, would end in torn flesh and a ruined dress. Fortunately, Krae'Gor released her immediately. "And then I'd fuck you raw and bloody," he snarled, straightening up. A passing guest gasped as Krae'Gor snatched his goblet and drained it to wash the sour taste of her skin away.

"I- I-," Lady Tesserhal stammered, as pale as her wig, pressing her hand to the puncture wounds on her neck. Thin rivulets of blood seeped through her fingers. She stormed away, the living embodiment of indignation. "Never been so insulted!" could be heard over her rapidly receding steps.

"Krae'Gor. Still offending my guests every chance you get." Urs the Sailor strode up to him, the image of the well-groomed nobleman. He sported a neatly trimmed beard and his brown hair was meticulously cut and combed back. Expressive blue eyes sparkled as he smiled, clasping Krae'Gor's forearms in a warrior's greeting. He was young, eager and ruthless. The last trait had only been amplified by his recent acquisition of the Storm Lord title when he had distinguished himself by repelling a pirate fleet with only a handful of vessels.

"What are you up to these days?" Urs asked. "Still in the mercenary business? Your clothing suggests you've struck gold recently."

"Left the battlefields behind," Krae'Gor said. "Why fight when you can supply those who fight instead? Arms dealing is such a lucrative venture, with all these small villages trying to arm against drow incursions and orc raids."

"Shrewd as always. Well, my house is your house. Come by tomorrow so we can talk. I may have a business proposal for you," Urs muttered, so that only Krae'Gor could hear him. The half-orc nodded vaguely and strode off. He had spotted a most peculiar sight and was eager to investigate.

She wore a simple red dress, low-cut both in the front and back, putting much of her black, scaled skin on display. Her tail, barely hidden by the wide cut of her gown, swished slowly from side to side. Nazha's snout was hidden by a red two-part veil, leaving only her eyes visible. Not that the veil did anything to obscure her true appearance, the horns ruined any chance of blending in. But the veil hid the disfiguring scars she had gained during her long and often bloody career as Storm Harbour's head criminal. Gem-studded gold bands encircled her forearms and a huge ruby choker rested against her neck.

"My, look at you," she purred, embracing Krae'Gor. "You look stunning tonight. Next time, come to me like this. We could do much more than just talk business tonight." Her forked tongue parted her veil and nipped at his earlobe.

Krae'Goth withdrew, patting Nazha's rock-hard behind. "Maybe. Probably not. Have you seen him?"

Nazha scowled. "Spoilsport. Yes, I have. He's already on the prowl. If you want to beat him to the punch, you should get a move on." Her head on its long, flexible neck indicated the ballroom. "I wouldn't mind taking a nibble out of him," Nazha said with dark intent.

"I have to leave him in plain sight. No souvenir for you," Krae'Gor whispered. "And don't ruin my cover or you're next on my list."

"After all these years it's always the same song with you. You can't live without me and you know that," Nazha whispered. Her hand went for his crotch, talons scratching the expensive fabric hard enough for him to notice.

"Yet, one day it might come true. Mark my words, you owe me for this one." Krae'Gor retreated until he was an arm's length away then bowed stiffly. "I bid you a good night, Lady Nazha," he said, much louder.

"To you as well, Ser Krae'Gor," Nazha replied, curtsying with much more gusto than was strictly necessary. "May the Mother of Plenty smile upon all your endeavors tonight."

Snarling, Krae'Gor entered the ballroom. Martus Elmhold leaned against a marble pillar molded in the form of a swaying nymph, his eyes passing over the sea of outlandishly garbed and jewelry-hung dancers. His posture screamed 'boredom' but his eyes keenly scanned the crowd. Krae'Gor recognized the hunter's gaze when he saw it, although this man only seemed to hunt for sport. The half-orc plucked two glasses off a tray and sidled up to the young Elmhold, offering a wine flute.

"Thank you kindly, good ser," Martus said, taking the offered glass. "Strangers bearing gifts are always welcome."

"I couldn't help but notice that you are not accompanied by a curvaceous beauty," Krae'Gor observed. "Spoiled men belong together."

"Spoken like a true wordsmith!" Martus laughed then gave Krae'Gor a once-over. "You don't look like one though. What brings you to this boring festivity? Business or pleasure?"

"A little bit of both. You?"

"I would have preferred to stay at home but my parents insisted I accompany them. Duties of the heir and such." He nodded to a small group of people in the gardens. "I'm afraid they're negotiating a marriage with the Dunwalls. Who wants to marry one of their horse-faced daughters?"

Krae'Gor followed his outstretched hand. Two young girls, one tall, blond and lanky, the other one impish and red-headed, stood with the group. "They look rather innocent," he observed. "Might be fun to break 'em in."

"I'm way past that. It only ends with blood and tears in the bedroom and me, unfulfilled and with a guilty conscience. No, I prefer experienced lovers," Martus said. He sipped his wine and fixed Krae'Gor with a long, thoughtful look. "You're... a forceful lover, hm?"

"Orc mating is a battle. Half-orcs are just a bit gentler." Krae'Gor bared his teeth. "There are those who relish the challenge, the pain."

"I've had a dwarven lady recently," Martus boasted, licking his lips. "What fire. I couldn't walk straight for two days afterwards and my back still has some scars of her fingernails."

"Sounds more like she had you," Krae'Gor snickered then looked Martus deep in the eyes. "Want to compare orc to dwarf?" His voice was soft, menacing.

Martus stepped closer until their noses were almost touching. "Are you offering?"

Krae'Gor grabbed Martus' head and held it as he brutally kissed him, biting his lips. His hand dropped to Martus' crotch. The young noble was hard as a pipe.

* * * *

Cecily Elmhold yawned and stretched in the bathtub. There was nothing better after a long, arduous journey than to arrive home and soak in a hot bath. When she had arrived earlier that evening, the butler had told her the others had already gone to Urs the Sailor's dance. Too bad. She would have loved a long, hot night with her cousin Martus right after she was done bathing but, as things stood, she would have to make do with one of the servants. Cecily washed the last remnants of foam out of her black tresses then reached for the bell pull and summoned one of the maids. The red-headed, freckled half-elf dutifully entered, bringing warm towels and a welcoming smile.

"Milady has called?" she asked, unfurling one of the soft towels. Cicily rose, water seeping down her pale skin, over her small, firm breasts, taut stomach and shaved mound. She could feel the maid's eyes on her every move. Smiling, she stepped out of the bathtub and into the maid's towel-clad embrace. The half-elf's skilled fingers wandered over her back, lower, towards her toned behind. Cecily's hands slid under the maid's dress, encountering only goosebumps and naked skin underneath.

The maid chuckled and licked Cecily's ear. "Lord Martus recommended I came prepared," she whispered. She spread her legs to allow Cecily's questing fingers easier access. "He anticipated your mood perfectly, it seems." She drew a shuddering breath as Cecily's fingers slid into her, a thumb teasing her most sensitive spot. The gentle intrusion suddenly stopped. The maid looked up to see Cecily cock her head. "Did I displease you, Milady?"

"No, no... but didn't you hear something?" Cecily asked, drawing away from the puzzled maid. "There, again!"

The maid strained her hearing. Indeed, there was a soft thudding. "What-?"

But Cecily was already gone. She had slipped into one of the many hidden passages lining the old mansion. Her aunt and uncle didn't approve of their son fucking his cousin so she had soon found ways to move from her suite to Martus' unseen. Wrapping the towel tighter around herself, Cecily padded through the narrow passage linking the bathroom to Martus' bedroom. She smiled hungrily. Maybe her lecherous cousin had returned earlier, bringing someone from the dance for their shared amusement? The last time had been exquisite as they had shared a hot-blooded dwarven warrior princess, especially when said dwarven woman had used one of Cecily's toys to brutally fuck Martus' ass while he was balls deep in Cecily's pussy.

A tiny circle of light on the inner passage wall marked the place. Only two more steps to the right and she could easily slip into Martus' bedroom. But before that, why not have a quick peek?

Cecily pressed her eye to the peephole. Only barely hidden by a sheer piece of drapery, she had a magnificent view of Martus' bed. Her cousin, sweaty and naked, knelt on the bed, ass high up in the air. A huge half-orc was behind him, grunting as he fucked Martus' ass, long hard strokes shaking the bed. The half-orc bent forward, growling menacingly, and sunk his teeth into Martus' neck. Her cousin tossed his head back and moaned, his hand furiously tugging on his rock-hard rod. The half-orc's huge fist joined his flailing hand, grabbing hold of Martus' hardness, pumping and squeezing.

Panting softly, Cecily let the towel drop to the floor. Her hands were on her breasts, pinching her nipples. She enjoyed watching her cousin almost as much as being fucked by him and those two did put on a show to remember. Sneakily, teasing herself, one hand crawled over her body, lower, ever lower, until her fingertips could caress her moist folds. The half-orc effortlessly tossed Martus onto his back and bent low, devouring Martus' rod, sucking and slurping hungrily. Martus, gasping and panting, bucked his hips into the half-orc's face. The half-orc grunted in surprise then gulped several times as Martus came.

Grinning, the half-orc wiped a thin trail of semen from the corner of his mouth. He grabbed Martus' legs and put them against his shoulders.

"No, I don't think I'm..." Martus began, only to be cut short as a pained moan erupted from his lips. The half-orc rammed his monstrous cock deep into Martus' behind.

"But I haven't come yet," the half-orc growled, his deep voice going straight to Cecily's stomach. The half-orc pounded Martus into submission, their bodies slapped together with meaty noises. Martus moaned weakly, somewhere between pain and pleasure. Cecily closed her eyes, imagining how it would be if the half-orc would pound her like that, his gigantic cock ploughing her delicate pussy with the force of a battering ram. She bit her knuckles as not to make too much noise. She used two fingers to fuck herself, then three, to imitate the huge cock tearing into her. If she kept this up...

There was a gurgling noise. Cecily's eyes flew open and she squinted through the peephole. Martus was really struggling. The half-orc had wound a curtain drawstring around his neck and was brutally pulling it tight. With his legs pinned against his body, Martus had only his arms to fend off his assailant and the half-orc ignored the feeble punches raining onto his head and shoulders. Not long thereafter, the struggling stopped altogether. The half-orc stepped away from Martus' lifeless body. He pumped his huge rod and shot rope after rope of hot cream onto Marthus and the sheets. When he finally was spent, he bent low. When Cecily could see him again, he held a vicious curved and serrated blade. His gaze traveled down Martus' body then he grabbed her cousin's flaccid cock. The blade came up.

* * * *

Half an hour later, the maid found Cecily where she had fainted, slumped onto the towel. She kneeled down next to the naked girl then hesitated. The stench of blood was overwhelming, even in the passage. The maid stepped over Cecily's catatonic, glassy-eyed form and opened the secret door to Martus' bedroom. She gazed inside. She screamed.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed this twisted fantasy of mine. If you did, let me know. Vote and/or comment. It's the only way for me to know if and how you liked this. Thanks for your time.

Blind_Justice