The Prince and the Orc Queen Ch. 02

"I'm ready." He finally announced to a round of chuckles and excited whispers.

Shaka continued to stare him down as she simply replied. "We'll see."

One of the Orcs stood up and reached behind her seat, returning with a wood and deerskin drum roughly the size and shape of a vase. She held the drum beneath one arm with the deerskin facing forward and stepped into the ring with them. Peter assumed she would act as some sort of referee.

"Stand back to back." The referee told them curtly.

Peter shuffled closer to Shaka and turned around. A moment later he felt the subtle heat from her body radiating against him as she took her place as well.

"Closer." The drum Orc insisted.

Peter hesitated but the queen did not, immediately stepping back to press her body against his. Now leaning against the comfortable warmth of her smooth emerald skin, he had to keep himself from melting into her. It also highlighted the height difference of the two, with his head nestling between her shoulder blades and the large curve of her ass resting heavily on his own pert buttocks. He tried his best to keep himself from being distracted by the difference in stature of the erotic feel of her cheeks on his back. The standing Orc squatted down slightly and slapped her large hand one time against the skin of the drum, letting loose a deep hollow boom that vibrated wildly around the room.

He was unsure if that was the signal to start or not, until Shaka twisted her torso around to drive her elbow into the side of his head. The echoing sound of cheers and laughter never made it to Peters ears, drowned out by a high-pitched ringing that suddenly eclipsed his world as he went tumbling to the ground. So much for her going easy on him. Swatting away the black spots from his vision he climbed back to his feet, only to have Shaka's fist swing into his face with the force of a horses kick. Not giving him any time to recover, Shaka moved in for a flurry of blows. She moved swiftly and erratically, like a living piece of lightning repeatedly striking his body and leaving painful burning craters in his flesh. Forced on the defensive he crossed his arms in front of his face to absorb her blows, feeling the impacts deep within his bones. He would never last like this he realized. Either he made a move soon or she would snap his limbs like tinder for a fire.

Amazing everyone in the room, most of all himself, he managed to duck away from her next punch. Slipping beneath her arm he saw his opportunity, her exposed stomach calling out to him seductively. All his strength was sucked into one arm as he cried out and let it fly like an uncoiled spring, bounding away from him at a ludicrous speed. His fist impacted with her abdomen and shattered like glass against her chiseled abs, along with all his remaining hope in the world. The ensuing fractures in his hand traveled up his arm, winding their way into his chest and cracking open his abused heart.

In the deepest recesses of his mind some part of him desperately picked up the pieces and mashed them together in a pathetic attempt to rejoin them. This was his very last chance it warned him, after this you become property! Panic seeped into his shattered heart through the million little cracks and he began looking around in desperation. He searched the titan in front of him for weaknesses. Her legs! If he could trip her up and get her on the ground he'd have the advantage.

Still riding off the forward momentum from his failed punch he dove below her and grappled one of her thick shapely legs, wrapping his limbs around it like ivy climbing a massive tree trunk. She reached down and gathered a fistful of his hair to try and drag him back up but he held fast, not even caring that in her thrashing her flaccid dick was slapping against his face. Sweat started to leak from his pores making his hands slippery as he attempted to twist her knee. The muscles of her leg jumped and squirmed beneath his grasp, continually evading him as he dug his fingers into her iron thighs. No matter how he twisted or contorted her leg she kept her firm stance on the ground, as if she were bolted to the floor.

It was during his desperate thrashing that he he happened to bump into her genitals again, her dick and heavy ball sack smacking across his face. As the musky acrid smell flooded his senses an new idea illuminated his mind. Abandoning her leg he reached up and wrapped his hand around her soft smooth testicles, dragging them down away from her crotch as far as they would go. Shaka gasped and twitched in the first indication of weakness he'd ever seen from her, giving him the slimmest of hopes that he'd finally found his edge. He didn't care that this was dirty fighting, he was a rabid animal backed into a corner. Roaring with effort he launched his other fist into an uppercut, squashing her tender orbs between his hands. The Orc queen grunted in pain and doubled over, apparently paralyzed from shock. Peter knew this fight was far from over and didn't hesitate to reel his fist back in and shoot it out again. He beat her ball sack over and over, pummeling her green plums and causing her to contort in anguish with each impact. The boos and jeers of the audience were drowned out by the urgent pounding of his own heart in his ears as tried to do as much damage as he could before she was able to gain the upper hand again.

It didn't take long for that to happen it turns out, as when he went for his next attack his arm was suddenly arrested dead in its tracks. With eyes full of sweat and desperation he looked up and saw Shaka tightly gripping his wrist with fury steaming off her face. The dark cloud of her anger engulfed them and he felt his hairs stand up from the static of the approaching storm, he suddenly felt he had made a grave mistake. He opened his mouth to try and calm her down but before a single syllable escaped him she smashed her knee into his face, pushing him on his back to loudly crack his head on the cold stone floor. He was still swimming in a dark concussive fog as Shaka gathered up his legs in both her hands and pulled them apart.

"So that's how you wanna play things, bitch?" She screamed down at him, raising her foot above his exposed crotch.

Her voice was a weak echo weaving its way through his clouded mind. Before he even realized what was happening She hopped gracefully into the air and brought herself down heel first onto his own pink fleshy sack. The clouds around him were blown away by the whirling dervish of pain clawing its way up his stomach, chewing him up inside and crawling up his body to fill his eyes with white light. He was still blinded when he felt the next attack to his nuts. A second tsunami of agony washed over him, forcing the wind from his body as he shriveled up in a fit of dry heaving. Her foot steadily pumped up and down, mashing his balls against the floor until they were bruised and swollen. Repeated waves of torment flowed through him, bouncing off the top of his skull to fly back and crash against the oncoming bursts. He had no way of knowing if she planned to stop before castrating him or not but even in his pain riddled state he knew better than to take chances. Almost automatically he began furiously slapping the ground, hoping to god the Orcs would recognize the universal human symbol for tapping out.

Mercifully they did and the referee beat her drum once more. The deep rumbling echo caused Shaka to freeze with her foot less than an inch from his pathetic discolored sack. Instead she placed the foot to the side of him and stepped over him, holding her arms up in victory to the cheers and applauds of her comrades. Peter had no awareness of his surroundings as he curled up into a ball and tenderly cupped his most likely ruined nuts. The pulsed in blinding pain anytime he moved them, which at least told him they were still alive. As he cradled his balls he slowly started to hear the voices of the Orcs congratulating their queen on securing her prize as well as laughing and taunting him.

The realization that he had lost crept up on him but in that moment he didn't even care. Even as he had worked hard to convince himself that he still had a chance at freedom over these past days, he would have had to have been stupid to actually believe any of it. It had all been an elaborate act he realized, almost like a play that he put on for himself. Maybe he had felt that it was his duty as a prince and as a man to at least try and resist, even when he had no chance of success. In an ironic way the realization was almost freeing, now knowing that he didn't have to pretend to have hope any more. He could just give up. The burning feeling of submission spread across his skin like a soothing ointment to dull his pain, relaxing his muscles for the first time in days and lulling him to a delirious slumber.

Before he could fully drift off he was shaken awake as Shaka pulled his head up by the hair. "You put up a better fight than I expected slut. I like some fire in my playthings." She panted into his face. He winced from the heat of her breath and hoped she wouldn't still be mad at him for his low blows.

She showed no signs of resentment though as she pulled him up higher, forcing him onto his knees with his chin held up. One of the other Orcs produced a thick leather collar much like the one he had noticed Delilah wearing and handed it to the queen. Unlike her collar however this one had a shining golden plate bolted on the front which had been inscribed with the letters P. L, his initials. Shaka excitedly took the collar and quickly wrapped it around his neck. She brought the two ends together behind his neck, each one capped by a metal contraption. On one side the metal jutted out in a flatly like a key, and the other had a corresponding hole which must serve as the lock. Peter hadn't noticed any king of latch or mechanism on either end leaving him to wonder how, if ever, the collar was removed once it had been buckled. He would find out one way or another he bleakly thought as his new owner joined them together with a loud metallic click. Slowly he brought one hand away from his aching balls to experimentally tug at the collar, it was fairly loose though not nearly enough to slip it off but at least it wouldn't choke him. He went to the lock on the back of his neck and noted that he couldn't find the seam between the two ends at all, as if they had merged into a single piece of metal.

Shaka pulled a long leather leash from somewhere and fastened one end to his new collar before pulling him towards the door. Peter struggled to stand with the burning pain still radiating from his groin and was pulled stumbling forward as he got up. But as soon as he finally managed to stand up straight Shaka grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him painfully to the ground again.

"Hands and knees! I'll decide when and if you get to walk like a person!" She commanded him.

The prince obediently clambered to his hands and knees like a dog and shivered as he felt his submissive sensation flood over him stronger than ever before, stroking and caressing his tender body. He didn't even notice his penis twitching despite the intense pain so close by as she once again started pulling him after her. From the corner of his eyes he spotted his dress still lying in a puddle on the floor.

"W-wait, what about clothes?" He asked, pulling back on the leash as she attempted to drag him through the door. He was a bit shocked that he actually wanted to put the garment back on but if they were going to be walking anywhere people might see them he figured it would at least give him some level of modesty. At the least he hoped she would let him wear his underwear.

"What about them?" She answered wickedly as she stared down at him possessively. "Another tradition of the ratheliem is the combatants are not allowed to put on clothes again until the next morning. Normally it would take place in the woods surrounding the village so that the loser is dragged through naked for all to see the results of the match. So be thankful we will only be going through the castle and not the entire city."

Confident that her explanation was enough of suffice she turned and forcefully tugged him behind her into the darkness. A final cacophony of well wishing and cat-calling followed them back out into the dim dungeons as they began their march. Before long the rough stone of the ground dug painfully into his knees and hands as he struggled to keep up with the queens lengthy strides. She never slowed down to allow him rest, at times pulling him so hard he found himself being dragged along the ground. He collected deep scratches and scuff marks on his arms and legs as he scurried after her through the dark. When they blissfully reached the stairs leading back outside she was forced to slow somewhat as she climbed them, not that this actually helped him any as he now had to navigate the narrow steps on all fours which slowed him down just as much.

Thankfully they made it to the top without him ever losing balance or falling over, he definitively did not want to be dragged over those sharp steps. As they set forth across the main courtyard Peter looked worriedly around for anyone who might see them, sighing in relief when he found none. Without pausing Shaka led him onto the dirt and gravel floor of the yard, instantly making him nostalgic for the cold flat stone of the dungeon. Sharp flakes of stone embedded themselves in him at every step, stabbing his limbs with long slivers of pain. He was sure his palms and kneecaps would be bruised and bloody by the time they got to the other side. While he whimpered in distress his submissive tendencies tried to sooth him, kissing his wounds gently and whispering to him that the pain was a gift from his new mistress. He suffered through it as best he could, trying to stay strong for his queen. His only consolation was that in the bright moonlight he was able to see Shaka's fit swaying ass as she walked in front of him, he focused on that to distract himself from the pain.

When they moved inside to the soft plush carpets of the castle hallways he nearly cried in relief, surreptitiously taking small pauses to brush the gravel and debris off his hands and knees. However with the heavenly comfort of the interior also came the prying eyes of the palace staff. The maids and errand boys gasped in shock and backed away from the pair as they paraded through the halls and up the stairs. He kept his head straight down, not wanting to see their faces as they looked down upon their once great prince. It would be better if he didn't know who had seen him in this sorry state, as he didn't think he would ever be able to look them in the eyes again if he did. It was while staring down that he happen to look back between his legs and was shocked to see that he was fully erect and dripping. His submissive thoughts had actually stroked him to full mast. For once he didn't cure himself for his libido, he was past that now, he merely accepted it.

After what seemed like hours of walking to Peter, they finally arrived at the queens bed chambers. The grand polished ebony doors were flanked by a duo of Orc guards standing as tall and straight as the spears they carried. They both wore matching smirks as they watched the two approach, one of them reaching over to push open the doors as they got close. Peter was eager to get somewhere private, even if he knew he would be immediately ravished by a muscled Orc futa once inside. He had simply had enough humiliation for one day, even if some part of him did enjoy it on some level. Excruciatingly Shaka stopped just outside of the doorway to address the grinning guards.

"You'll probably hear some screams and loud noises in just a few moments, " She said to them, giving her prize a sidelong glance. "But even if the kingdom is on fire, we are not to be disturbed."

The couple nodded in unison as she dragged him into the darkened room. There were no torches burning inside, with the only pale illumination coming from the moon shining through the open balcony doors. Peter wanted to feel relaxed at having finally reached their destination, but he knew what was coming. As much as an ordeal this day had been so far, the worst was yet to happen he felt. This would be it. This would be the ultimate destruction of who he was. His mistress would dash him upon the hard craggy expanse of her own body and rebuild the pieces of what he was into a new shape of her own making. He thought he would feel fear at this moment, but he had already come to accept it. Everything and everyone from his old life was dead and soon he would be too. Everything had been taken from him, his kingdom, his lover, his dignity. He was empty now and ready to receive what ever new elements she saw fit to put into him. The two guards shared a knowing smile as they pulled closed the doors, smothering to death the last of the yellow light streaming into the room.

*****

The next part will the last, I promise. I want to apologize again for how long this story ended up, and for ending on something of a cliffhanger. Just be content that next part will start off with a big sex scene. I hope you enjoyed and I appreciate your feedback.