The Nut Parlor

It was early evening in Thistle Spear, a small village along the trade route between Dorn's Valley and the Husken Highlands. Just a day prior, we had wrapped up disbanding a decent-sized bandit troupe that had been tormenting travelers along the route. We were paid this morning, but I was too exhausted to celebrate with my mates. I spent the day, instead, resting and soaking my muscles. My left arm and shoulder were still sore.

I did, however, had a shop I wanted to take a look at. I overheard some folks talking about it on the way to town. Not only that, but I was a bit... embarrassed about the idea of going to one of these places, but I was aching something fierce. I needed relief, and I was a tad desperate at this point.

I pulled on a loose, comfortable shirt and a pair of breeches. Quietly, I made my way downstairs past the inn's common area. My crew had ended up there after hitting a few other pubs and shops throughout the day. I didn't want them to see me come to this.

I slipped out the door and into the cool breeze. The air in this region was a bit chilly for most, but I grew up on a small island in the north. This was summer for me.

I made my way down the road. Most of the shops were packing up, but I knew my destination would be open. I was told they were almost always open. A turn down an alley, a few buildings down, turn the corner at the old smithy, and there it was: Madame Basalt's Nut Parlor.

The building was a bit deceptive. It looked small and quaint from the front. Hell, it looked almost like a regular shop. The sign even had a relief of a walnut. Inside was warm; the lights were dim, and the air smelled of spices. I couldn't tell you what kind, but it smelled foreign. Along the right was a thick wooden counter, and along the left and to the back were shelves of boxes of nuts. Pecans, walnuts, cashews, some brown, round ones I had never seen before. Now that I think of it, small, brown, and round describes most nuts. So, that isn't very helpful.

Was... was I led astray? Was this just a regular nut shop?

Behind the counter was a dwarf. He was about half my height, with his red hair and beard neatly woven into thick braids all around his head. He wore a thick turtleneck sweater, and a slightly pink apron adorned with small flowers over that.

"Excuse me, sir", I began.

"Please, call me madame", she said in a voice made for hollering down a mine shaft.

"Sorry. Madame. Is this?...", I hesitated, not wanting to say what I was told to say. "That is. I'm looking for someone to 'take care of my excess nuts'". I could feel my face turning red, and was slightly embarrassed upon uttering the phrase.

She abruptly exclaimed, "Ah! Of course, of course. Tell me, hun, is this your first time?"

Trying not to look nervous. I nodded "yes". Quickly and with business-like care, she went through her questions.

"No worries. We'll take good care of you. Tell me what you're looking for? Any preferences? Certain types, shapes, or activities? Any favorite tools you like to use?"

I have been having this urge lately. A curiosity had struck me in one of the bigger cities down south. Since then, I was thinking about it over and over again. I wanted to try it. See if it was just passing curiosity, or something I really wanted. I told the madame what I was looking to have in detail. She regarded me thoughtfully, smirked, and said, "Now don't you worry, young man. I have just the thing, and I think you'll love it".

She hopped off her stool, and came over to the side of the counter and gestured me to come around behind it. We approached a door behind the counter that I hadn't, in my nervousness, noticed before. It was very plain, but had a cheeky sign that said, "Nuts Only" and included a little drawing of a walnut with arms and legs and the goofiest grin a nut had ever had. It did not calm my nervousness.

Behind the door stretched a hallway. The spartan nut shop decor, or lack thereof, was absent here. It was gaudy and frilly and, despite the dim candlelight, bright. The center of the hallway had a runner adorned with flowers and vines in every color and fringe running up the length of it. Doors ran along both sides, and between them sat low tables with drawers, and atop were bowls of implements and shapes that I had never seen before. Hanging on the walls above the tables were paintings of silhouettes in erotic poses. I wasn't certain how to react. This was all so very new to me. So, I kept calm and tried not to sweat myself to nervousness.

The madame took me to an unassuming door. Granted, everything is unassuming when compared to the hallway decor. She beamed up at me and motioned to the door, "Here you are, deary. This lass will take good care of you."

My heart thumping a bit, I stepped inside.

The room was fairly plain. It held a cushioned bench chair covered with oddly shaped pillows, along with a small table in front of it. On the other side of the room was a large, dark wooden bed with linens of various of blacks and dark grays. On either side of it was a small table. And just off to the side of all that was a tall cupboard of some sort. And there was where I saw the tall women. She must have easily been a head taller than me. She was wearing some sort of robe, but it was faintly see-through. Enough that I could see she was wearing almost nothing underneath. Just a triangle of something on her ass and a band of some kind on her back.

She was also not how I imagined her to be.

Without turning, she said, "do I hear someone new to play with? I'll be with you in just a sec, my pet".

She finished whatever it was that she was doing, turned, and strode over to me. This... this was not what I expected! She was big. Not just tall, I was hoping for that, but she was big the other way. I was looking for something lean and green and powerful, like a mountain lion. This woman was gray and soft: round shoulders, large breasts, a belly, wide hips, thick thighs. There were enough peaks and valleys to make a mountain jealous. And what little clothing she wore, a shirt that barely covered her tits and a bit of triangle over her lady parts, was stretched so tightly that I was surprised they stayed in place.

I wanted an orc warrior to overpower me, but instead I got the orc milkmaid.

I should have known better than to try a brothel. I felt like such a damn foo-- "Hey!" The orc interrupted my thinking.

After a pause, she said, "I see the pet is disappointed, and we can't have that". I didn't realize I was wearing my disappointment so clearly, and felt a little ashamed, but still frustrated.

"Tell me", she continued with a hand on her soft hip, "were you expecting something else? Maybe, perhaps some kind of green-skinned, muscular bimbo? A powerful woman to sweep you off your feet and ravage you? The look of disgust on your face says it all."

She eyed me sharply. I stared back nervously, but defiant. Those eyes... almost looked predatory. The orc woman barked out a sharp couple of laughs, her canines on display. She then stepped forward. Her massive frame towered over me, and I fell back into the bench chair, lowering me further under her. Her eyes continued to watch my every movement like I was some cornered rabbit.

"Unfortunately for you, green-skin for us is about as rare as red hair in humans. Fortunately for you, Madame's been in this business a very long time. With a glance, she knows what you want more than you do. She sent you to me for a reason."

She lifted her foot and placed it next to me on the chair, leaning further over me so that I had to bend back to see her face past her breasts. A smile, hungry, slowly spread across her face. Smoothly she introduced herself, "I am Victoria, your host for this evening. And you, my pet, will be called 'Scraps' because that is what you deserve after your rudeness."

I began to protest, but I was cut off before words came out, "I don't care what your name is. Here you are 'Scraps', and you will address me as 'Mistress'. And, if you make up for your behavior, you might be rewarded. Is that clear?

"Uh, yes?" I replied.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" There was an edge to her voice.

"Yes... Mistress."

"Good boy, Scraps!"

Victoria straightened up, and strode over to the bed. A quick motion of her arms and the robe was off and on the floor. Her calves curved up gently, widened to her big thighs, which gave way to a large, soft, round ass. Small dimples lined the bottom half of it. For a moment, the gray skin made her almost look like a living statue. The sight was brief as she spun around and sat on the bed. Her movements seemed more powerful and sure than before. Or... maybe it was in my head. I wasn't sure.

Victoria gestured to the robe, "pick it up, Scraps. Hang it nicely on that hook there", and she motioned to a set of hooks on the wall nearby.

I hesitated. The orc's bright-green eyes narrowed. "Don't make me repeat myself."

This... this was what I wanted, right? An orc woman to dominate and overpower me? She looked confident, but was it all an act? I wasn't certain, but I was going to find out. I steadied my resolve and uttered, "No. I'm not your servant. I hired you."

"Indeed", she replied. Her voice wasn't sharp, but there was something to it. I couldn't put my finger on it. "It seems we have some training to do."

The orc stood, and I thought she was about to bend down and pick up the robe. Instead, she grabbed me by the shirt and tossed me on the bed. It was effortless. At least, no more effort than I would have had to give a bag of flour. I sat up, but she was ready with her hand to my chest and pushed me back down. Firm hands grabbed my ankles and lifted my legs. This kept me from being able to sit back up. A quick twist, and I was on my stomach. I heard two loud clicks and felt cold steel on my legs. My one arm that was out was then grabbed and cuffed. She came around and pulled at my single free arm. I resisted, but she had the advantage. I was trapped, and tied down in shackles.

I felt her breath on my ear as she murmured, "Now, Scraps, since you are new at this, I will not gag you. If you want this to stop at any time, simple say 'Walnut' and I will stop. No questions asked".

So, there I lay. I was helpless, and at the mercy of a fat orc on a power trip. I had felt a little embarrassed at the idea that some prostitute was able to easily get the jump on me.

I felt long nails running up my legs. Slowly. Sensually. The nails reached the waist of my pants, and with a quick tug brought them to my ankles. My ass was exposed to anyone who may have entered.

The nails ran up my legs again, gently scraping as they went. They stopped and swirled a bit on each cheek. It... actually felt kind of nice. "My pet has a cute butt", Victoria purred.

Smack!

A red-hot sting marked my left cheek.

Smack!

Then the right one.

Smack!

It continued. Each cheek in succession. God, it hurt. And yet, my cock was harder than it had felt in a year, or maybe more. The spankings continued until I felt like she had evenly coating each side in red. My ass was on fire, and I wasn't certain how much more I could take, but then it stopped. I felt her hand cup my balls, and gave them a gentle squeeze. She reached further underneath, and found my stiff dick. Victoria's nails gently scratched at my stomach as her soft hands wrapped around my member, gave it a gentle squeeze, and felt it up and down from tip to base.

"It seems you are enjoying this," she purred, "Does this mean you are ready to cooperate?"

I thought about how much it hurt. I thought about how helpless I was. I thought about how, despite me voluntarily delving into danger again and again, this woman was able to best and restrain me without me putting up so much as a fight. I thought about how horny I was. God, I was just feeling a little excited before I had gotten here, but then I had become so worked up that I feared I would cum from the spanking alone. I felt ashamed. Me. A strong warrior. A man. One who struck fear in his enemies. Trapped and ashamed of looking a fool in front of this fat whore.

Fuck, but the shame. I... I almost wanted it. I was throbbing just thinking of her disapproving look. I wanted her "tut-tut"-ing me after my dick went limp and leaving a stain on her sheets.

This was weird, but it was clearly something I enjoyed. Thinking back. I don't even think it was specifically her approval or disapproval. I just wanted her attention. She was strong and confident and cocksure. Approve or disapprove, I craved her gaze. I hungered for her words.

"Yes, Mistress", I said through the soft linens, "I'm sorry... for disobeying you, Mistress".

A pause. The words of my deference hung heavy in the air.

A couple of metal clinks, and my legs were free. My arms soon followed, and I was able to move again. I turned over to sit up. Pants still at my ankles. Dick still hard and throbbing. I wasn't sure it would ever stop.

A slow shuffle to the edge of the bed, and I was up again. I started to pull up my pants, but the Mistress stopped me. "No, no. You still have a task to finish."

I looked down at the robe. With a slight sigh, I said, "Yes, Mistress, of course".

I waddled awkwardly, with my pants slowing my movements and my ass stinging with every step. I grabbed the robe, trying not to show irritation, and got it over on the hook. The Mistress praised me, "Very good, my pet. A lesson learned is a lesson earned."

The Mistress once again sat on the bed, and this time crossed her legs so that one foot was slightly in the air. With an air of command, she fed my attention, "You're a quick learner, and so a reward is in order. Come. Kiss my feet."

I wasn't into feet, but maybe if I was lucky, she would praise me and allow me to kiss other parts of her. I got to my knees and started to kiss. First, just the soles in general. I moved to individual toes. And eventually worked my way to her ankles. Mistress looked down on me the whole time. Intently watching what I was doing. Probably judging me for being terrible at it, since this was a first for me. The thought of her judgements surged my dick back into stiffness anytime it threatened to go soft.

Experimentally, I started licking the inside of her foot. Going from the sole and going up past the ankle and further to the calf. I brought my hands up to grip and massage her calf as I licked. Her skin was so soft compared to my rough hands. It was like she was made of pillows. But, beneath that pillow, I felt power. Hard muscle just under the surface. I pushed my face deeper into her leg. Swirling my tongue in little circles against her. Slowly worked my way up. Almost to the knee, and I was waiting for it. A command, a shout, a kick. My dick pulsed at the thought of her pushing me down with her foot.

I kept creeping up until I reached her thigh, my movement almost mimicking that of a cat, sweeps of my tongue pushing against her. My cheek brushing up against that sweet softness. She smelled intoxicating. It wasn't flowers. It wasn't perfume. It wasn't sweat. I couldn't put my finger on what I smelled. The best I can say was that is smelled of people and lust.

After I felt I had licked her whole thigh, all while massaging the doughy flesh like a perverted baker, I moved up to her belly where I started with kisses all over. Just as I had got to her belly button, Mistress grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed me into her nether. "Lick", she commanded.

Her hair there was thick, dark, curly, and neatly trimmed. All atop a plump mound, and more taken care of than I'm using to seeing. Granted, the sight was brief as the Mistress pressed my head into her. My nose pressed into the hair, and my mouth was flooded with her taste. I reached out with my tongue and pressed it deeply into her. I swiped and pushed and swirled. Within moments, I found her clit. A little bump that was the target of my attention.

I was hungry. I pushed my tongue flat against the Mistress's clit. Rubbing it in circles and feeling it bend this way and that. I then used the tip of my tongue to rub circles around it. Teasing the sensitive areas until flicking this way and that.

My mouth was watering. I was literally drooling at this opportunity she had bestowed upon me. I made sure to keep everything wet, so I could smoothly glide across her. I ran my tongue down and up, and made her clit feel as much of my tongue as I could manage.

I had thought I heard some noise from her. I wasn't sure. Even now, I'm not sure, but I tell myself that I did. That I was pleasing her and those noises escaped her in reward for my efforts.

Either way, I was sure she was getting what she wanted. It was evident when her nails ran through my hair, and she palmed the whole of my head, and shoved hard. My tongue was plunged deep into her pussy as I felt her pelvis grind hard into my face. Again and again she thrust, my nose being shoved up and down as she used my face to pleasure herself. I was pretty sure some part of my nose was rubbing up against her clit, and I darted my tongue with each thrust into her.

My nose and my mouth and face were wet. In small opportunities, I took breaths of air. I dared not stop her pleasure. I lapped and licked and rubbed, and she used me as her sex toy. Thrusting and beating against my face. Hammering at me as the wetness got wetter. Juice was leaking everywhere. My cheeks were coated in her. My chin dripped with her love, or my spit. I didn't care. I thought I felt splashes of it on my forehead. She humped and ground and thrust, and the splashing continued. My nose began to get sore.

I thought again that I might have heard something, and this time I was sure as a deep moan turned to growl came out of her. One last deep push of my head into her pussy, and she climaxed in a way I had not seen before. Her juices exploded out of her, a torrent of sweet liquid, and my face was washed with her scent.

She released my head and I fell backward. The Mistress growled again, and another spray of climax burst from her and on top me. My eyes cleared to her staring at me, rubbing herself until, for a third time, she moaned and squirted all over me.

She laid back and there was a moment of silence. I waited patiently, listening to her heavy breaths.

"Scraps", she barked, "fetch a towel from the cupboard. Come clean me up."

"Yes, Mistress", I replied and obeyed, still waddling with my pants around my ankles.

The bottom half of the cupboard had two baskets. One filled with neatly folded towels, the other with towels tossed in a pile. I assume those were used. The top half contained... tools? I had never seen anything like them in battle or dungeon I've been in. Except maybe the whip. That's pretty common, actually.

Without taking too long, I returned to her with a fresh towel and started to dry the Mistress. I rubbed up and down, trying to cover everything.

Without notice, she stood up, and I toppled on my ass. She looked down on me, probably in both ways. "You did a good job, Scraps. It's been a while since I had someone strong enough to really let go. Now for your reward. Lay on the bed."

I got up carefully, and crawled on the bed face down. I was worried about how much this was going to hurt, since my ass was still sore from last time.

"No. Turn around."

"Yes, Mistress."

In one swift move, she stepped up on to the bed and crawled on top of me. My dick was pressed between her and my stomach. She grabbed my shoulders and started to put her weight on them. The left was still a little sore, and I winced. Then her hips began to move, grinding against me in smooth, powerful motions. There was no penetration, and I dared not touch her without permission.

Gods, she was beautiful. Her dark hair draped around her face, strong shoulders and thick arms, eyes focused with purpose and confidence. Her tummy squished and stretched with each thrust, creased at her belly button. What's more, her breasts, one hanging out of her shirt, swayed forward and back with a heavy momentum. A dark, gray nipple hypnotically teased me. I wished I could suck it.