The Prince and the Orc Queen Ch. 03

He ended up waiting much longer than he intended as that opportune time seemed to grow more and more elusive. When Shaka was not busy ruling she was busy training or sparring, and when they took meals together she somehow always managed to have a mouth full of food or drink. At first he believed her claim that she was merely very busy, but as the days stretched into weeks he began to suspect she was purposefully avoiding the issue. Part of him wanted to confront her about it, but in his new submissive mind he found it difficult to try and argue with her. Whenever he tried to bring it up she would stare him down with an intimidating look to quiet him. Their new dynamic was still fresh and raw and he was still learning the rules, but he felt that it would be out of line for him to push her on it. The aura of submission that he felt around her had now come to include a sense of inferiority that made him feel a strange need to please her. He found himself suddenly in awe of her powerful presence and to do anything to displease her seemed simply wrong. Still, he found it slightly out of character for Shaka, who had always been so direct and terse, to suddenly become so skittish about something like that. Never the less he resolved not to push her and wait until she was ready to discuss their relationship.

Not to say that her work rebuilding the kingdom was solely an excuse, whether in an attempt to avoid him or purely out an actual concern for her newly conquered people, Shaka threw herself entirely into her position as ruler and surprised Peter with how much she got accomplished. In a few short months the vast majority of the roads, which the Orcs themselves had torn up, had been cleared off and repaired. This meant that trade was able to resume between what was left of the cities. It was a smart decision to prioritized the roads, as people were much less likely to grow rebellious so long as they had access to the basic necessities like food. A similar pacifying effect was achieved through work, which thanks to the amount of repairs needed to the kingdoms strongholds was bountiful. The new roads allowed supplies and workers to travel to nearby sacked cities and start rebuilding. They were even paid for their efforts, a gold crown a day for honest labor. With the peoples busy hands pulling in a respectable income and having plenty of goods to spend it on, the indignant throngs of protesters and dissenters among them slowly started to shrink.

Peter could feel a change in the air about the city, things felt calmer and more orderly once again. It felt deceptively similar to how things used to be before the Orcs and war had come, soothing in its familiarity. But those that paid any sort of closer attention knew that it was actually a different society entirely that now inhabited the old stone houses and streets where the previous one had resided. It had changed, developed. The kingdoms antibodies had failed to destroy the infectious Orcs and they had ravaged the vulnerable system, till the last of its death throws settled and calmed. The body was taken away by time, decomposing throughout the seasons. Destroyed forever but not gone, only transformed into verdant nourishment for the world around it. Consumed and reconstituted into the dancing grass and singing flowers. The atoms of their old civilization still existed, merely rearranged into a new stronger incarnation of its self. The transformation was not yet complete, the creeping ivy of humanity and the sweet honeysuckle of the Orcs had yet to fully intertwine. There were still many, particularly among the noble class, who had yet to abandon the memory of their old world. They clutched it possessively to their chests and deluded themselves that there was still a way to go back. Peter wondered sometimes if all those people really needed was a proper Orc fucking to put them in there place, as he was. It may very well end up happening as well, as the prince had started to notice a lot more humans displaying telltale leather collars.

His own collar, which he had given up on attempting to remove, was the only one he had seen with an engraved plating. The common variety seemed to be little more than a rough piece of tanned leather with a simple iron buckle on the end. The constant sight of them made him think of Delilah, whom he had first seen wearing one. Ever since the feast he had maintained steady contact with the servant girl, once again enjoying her company. After his own domination he found it a lot easier to speak to her again, they suddenly had so much more in common. Fortunately unlike before he needn't worry about getting past her new lover. After her actions that night Mugg-Ran had been stripped of her status as captain and demoted to guard duty, meaning she could no longer shadow Delilah day and night. He was thankful for this as he had no desire for any further interaction with the Orc. She hadn't seemed fond of him at the best of times and he doubted that her change in vocation left her in any better a mood. Certainly not if the perpetual sneer she wore were any indicator, although it could be her face simply seemed more menacing with her fresh new scar.

He remembered the first time he had conversed with Delilah after the incident in the hall outside the feast. It was with some hesitation that he approached her, not knowing how much of the encounter Mugg-Ran had told her of, if any at all. Hopefully the conflict between himself and her lover wouldn't cause any undue strain on their own relationship. Even without any romantic prospects and even though she had been changed significantly from the girl he once knew, she was still his friend and one of the few he had at that.

He found her in a small courtyard by the servants quarters hanging laundry. The falling sun spilling over the plaster arches of the west wall, dousing the scene in a dusty yellow light. Delilah hummed to herself as she tossed the wet garments over the taut cord strung up across the yard. The fine doublets and breeches rippled in the soft wind as though being worn by dancing apparitions of light and air. Given her graceful flowing movement and melodic vocalizations, she seemed primed to join in their fluttering dance at any moment. Peter wasn't sure how long he stood there appreciating her, watching the rhythmic way with which she did the most mundane of tasks. He truly expected her to break into dance, though some who witnessed her might argue she was dancing already. Just a little extra bounce in her step, perhaps an additional wiggle of her hips, and she'd be waltzing with a washcloth. A lambada with the laundry.

Somewhere in her twirling she spotted him and an excited brightness lit up her face. She rushed towards him, leaving the clothes without a dance partner temporarily, and threw herself in his arms. The hug felt warn and genuine.

"Peter! You looked so amazing yesterday in that dress, I hardly knew it was you at first!" She giggled as he felt a blush creeping up his neck. "All these years and I had no idea you fancied women's clothing!"

"Neither did I, really..." He grumbled to himself.

"Well I think it's great! You never would have been able to wear something like that in public before, especially at your own wedding!"

"Er, well. It really wasn't exactly my intention to wear it at all, you know."

"Oh, no? But you have such a good figure for it." She teased. His only reply was to look away and hope she was joking. "Well, anyway I still think it's great. It's great that the Orcs are willing to openly embrace that sort of enlightened thinking."

"What sort of thinking?" Enlightened was certainly not the first word he'd use to describe his conquerors.

"You know, men in women's clothing. Or women in men's clothing, two men together or two women together, or maybe even a bunch of women and men all together at once! That sort of thing."

Peter hadn't thought about any of that before, having much more pressing personal matters on his mind of late. But he figured that, since when clothed the two Orc genders were nearly indistinguishable, it would make sense that they wouldn't place much importance on the concept. They certainly were indiscriminate in who they fucked, that was for sure.

"I suppose it is great" He conceded.

Delilah broke away from their embrace and floated over to a nearby stone bench relaxing against the wall, motioning the prince to join her. The waning sunlight just managed to reach the bench and Peters seat was warm and sunny as he sat.

"So..." She said, stealing a glance at his collar with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "How did it go? You said you two were waiting until you wedding night, right? So how was it?" She had heard amusing rumors about certain things being shouted out into the night but hadn't witnessed anything herself and was eager to know the truth about things.

Peter hesitated, not knowing where to begin. He felt like a lifetime had happened since the last time he had spoken with her. Between the humiliation of the wedding, the physical beating of the ratheliem, and the intense session of mind warping sex he felt like he'd been completely transformed. Sneaking a look at her own leather collar he idly wondered if she had experienced the bizarre Orc "marriage" ritual as well, but quickly decided that either way he'd rather not recount the story of having his balls trampled. He remembered their conversation at the feast and figured he might as well pick up from there.

"Well I... I think I get it now, what you meant about... being dominated. " He began, Delilah hanging off his every word. "How it feels, and what a relief it can be."

"Isn't it wonderful?" She swooned. "To have all your worries be taken away and be controlled by someone superior?"

"It is." He answered before he could stop himself. "When the queen was fucking me, I felt... so pure. So singularly. All that there was, was just me and her and the pleasure between us. There was nothing else to get in the way. I wasn't scared, or worried, or embarrassed any more! It was so different than I've ever felt before, like I knew exactly where I belonged and what I should be doing."

"Was it better than when we were together?"

"Oh, god yes!" He shouted automatically, immediately after words covering his mouth sheepishly. He searched Delilah's face for any signs she had taken offense but she continued to smile knowingly at him. "Yes I suppose it was. I guess I can understand now why you acted the way you did."

Delilah embraced him again, tickling his face with the tresses of her hair. "Oh Peter, I'm so happy for you!" She exclaimed before pulling back with an imp like grin. "So... is she as big as everyone says she is?"

:Over a foot long, easily 14 inches." Peter almost couldn't believe he was able to say something like that without blushing or looking away, but found he actually felt a small surge of pride at the size of his mistresses mammoth cock.

It was Delilah who blushed instead, dropping her mouth open and staring at him in disbelief. "No fucking way!" She said, giving him a playful punch on his arm. "Seriously? There's no way you took that all the in, did you?"

"Well... I kept gagging when I tried to suck it, I wanted to try and swallow it all but we moved on before I really got a chance. It did fit all the way up my pus- er, my ass though." Wanting to impress her he neglected to mention the practice he got in with his dildos beforehand.

"Damn! And here I thought I was the biggest Orc slut in this castle!" Delilah's merry laughter tumbled up into the air, each barking chuckle climbing on its brothers shoulders until the tower grew too great to sustain itself and they wafted gracefully back down over the lounging couple.

The sun had finally slipped behind the west wall and a cool blanket of night was pulled over them as their conversation went on for much longer than either one realized. One by one pinpricks of light twinkled to life above them, freckling the blushing sky. The moon was conspicuous by its absence, hiding from them somewhere behind the stoic towers and parapets of the castle. Or perhaps it was gone completely that night, turned away from the earth and nestled comfortably beneath a cloak of darkness. Soon they were lit only by the stars and the dim echoing light seeping through the high up window in the courtyard. Some where in the rooms above them a fireplace sputtered and grumbled, pushing out a warm glowing aura into the cold night air.

All of Delilah's details were lost in the wavy shadows of the flickering light, leaving Peter conversing with a faded gray outline of a woman. He thought about the change he had noticed in her before. Without seeing her, communicating purely through voice, it was easy to think of the girl in front of him as being an entirely new person. Strangely though that thought no longer bothered him, his relationship with the old Delilah was over and he looked forward to exploring the new Delilah. It would be like meeting her and getting to know her all over again. He wondered if she could see a change in him as well. He definitively felt different. All that time he had wasted being afraid of becoming another person, he hadn't understood he would be moving forward in his life and not back. Now his worst fears had been realized and it felt so incredibly good.

It felt good to be a new person, and it most certainly felt good to get fucked like a whore. While she largely avoided him during the day, Shaka never missed an evening in their shared bed chamber. Her specific intentions regarding their relationship may have been murky but she made sure he knew who was in charge by hammering his pussy with her meaty cock day in and day out. Every night it seemed she had managed to fantasize some new sexual exploit, each more depraved than the last. She fucked him in every position he knew, and taught him several new ones as well. Most of the time she was on top, pounding him so hard and rough that his brain squirted out his ears. But occasionally she would order him to bounce on her dick, letting him do all the work. She put his throat to use too, forcing her bulging rod down his tender gullet nightly until he became an expert sword swallower. It delighted her to no end to lay him on his back on the bed with his head hanging over the edge so that his throat became a straight tunnel capable of taking in her entire length. She would drive her dick all the way in and hold him there, with her balls sagging over his nose and eyes and a frothy concoction of spittle, snot, and tears dripping messily down his face. With her cock lodged so deeply in his esophagus he couldn't breathe and his desperate struggling and thrashing against her iron grip made her all the more excited as she took him to the edges of consciousness. A couple of times, whether by accident or just through sadism, she actually allowed him to pass out, the fuzzy darkness filling up his head completely before she gleefully slapped it back out of him. It wasn't long before he had become intimately familiar with her body, having dragged his tongue over every inch of it. Every last inch. There were even evenings where she made him wear his wedding gown and pose for her before they fucked. The submission and humiliation burned up his entire body, but it was a pleasure to burn. Her viscous bites and beatings excited him to no end. She taught him to love even the most degrading of acts as he sank ever deeper into the pits of depravity.

Yet the closer they grew physically, the more emotionally distant Shaka seemed to get. He had grown fond of cuddling to sleep in her powerful arms after their intense love making, but more and more she began abandoning him after she had finished. She simply tossed him aside like a used cum rag and exited their chambers without a word, leaving him a quivering mass of orgasmic fuck meat. Where she went on those nights was a mystery to him. Being far too exhausted to follow her he would make his best effort to crawl into the bed and collapse into sleep every time. He tried to bring it up to her several times but only ever received disinterested grunts, weak excuses, and on one occasion a firm spanking for his troubles.

Peter found himself more and more attracted to the queen as their nightly rendezvous went on, his heart growing soft and tender under her violent affections. But with her refusing to speak of it he had no way of knowing whether or not she returned any of his feelings. Her behavior perplexed him and was a constant topic of conversation for him and Delilah. They had continued to meet with one another during the day while Mugg-Ran was out patrolling the city, telling tales of their sexual exploits with their partners and spending long hours talking quietly in the shadiness of a tree or a quiet tucked away alcove. Their conversations meandered through a wide range of issues, touching on everything from the recovering political state of the kingdom to what they had for breakfast. But much of their time was spent theorizing on the queens brooding nature.

"Sometimes mamma doesn't feel like talking either, Orcs can just get moody I guess." She attempted to convince him one cold autumn evening as the chill of the approaching season crept surreptitiously towards them.

"It's not that she wont talk, she just wont talk about her and I. She flat out refuses to speak of it or even acknowledge that we have any kind of relationship at all!"

Peter was wearing a wool coat over his usual silk outfit to insulate himself from the cold even as he sat in direct sunlight. He gave Delilah a side long glance, wondering how she didn't get cold still wearing just a leather vest and loin cloth. She seemed to be emulating the style of dress of her lover, but lacked the thick resilient skin that the Orcs enjoyed. Sooner or later as the end of the year rolled around she would have to change her attire to something warmer. If the frigidness of the air bothered her any, she gave no indication.

"Well..." She began to muse to herself. "Maybe she just shows affection in other ways? The Orcs seem to prefer actions to words, so maybe she feels that her fucking you should already say everything for her?" Delilah seemed pleased with her answer, though recently she had seemed pleased with everything. She happily rubbed her slightly swelling stomach, radiating that warm glowing content that only expecting mothers can achieve. Perhaps that's what kept her so warm.

Upon first learning of her pregnancy Peter had been shocked and perturbed. Delilah seemed far too young to him to be with child, barely more than a child herself really. But he quickly reminded himself that this was a new Delilah and not the naive young girl he had loved. This new girl was strong willed and knew what she was getting in to, she was a woman. As the idea hung around in his skull more and more he grew accustomed to its intrusion and found himself genuinely happy for her. He only hoped that Mugg-Ran would begin to treat her a little more gently now that she carried her child.

Delilah wasn't the only human woman to be with Orc child either. Perhaps unsurprisingly given the fervor with which the Orc futas copulated, bulging bellies and swollen breasts began popping up all over the city. By the time next summer rolled around there would be a whole new species in the world. There were of course legends in both societies of half Orcs from thousands of thousands of years ago, of futa and women of lighter complexion and lacking tusks. The real question on everyone's mind was whether or not it was possible for a male half Orc to be born, seeing as the two species had stayed so rigidly separated before no one could be sure.

Peter realized he was staring at Delilah's large belly and forced his eyes upwards to her face, where she was giggling at his fascination with her stomach. He blushed through the event and attempted to continue their conversation.