by Quiller

The gods help me, I shouldn't have been this aroused.

She was tall and muscular with large, firm tits, a narrow waist and well rounded hips. The oil she used on her lithe body made every curve gleam, and moving as she did with sensual grace made her look even more exciting. The scant clothing she wore seemed intended to enhance rather than hide her obvious charms, and where her dark red hair tumbled over one naked shoulder in a profusion of curls she toyed with it as an innocent maiden might.

Yet she was far from being innocent. She knew how she looked and could see, all too clearly, the effect she was having on me. I couldn't help it.

The spirits alone knew how difficult it was for me to not be this hungry for sex. I shouldn't have been, I knew. I wished on my ancestors that my cock wasn't so hard at the sight of this female. I stood, squeezed into that narrow cage and unable to move in full sight of her with my cock poking out through the bars, as rigid as the iron that held me captive.

Perhaps you should never judge anyone until you have been in their place, walked awhile in their boots. Yet I would have condemned anyone who said they were so stimulated, for she was an orc – a sworn enemy of the humankind – and I shouldn't have been like this.

She could see the size of my cock and though they say orc women scorn male erections as too small and worthless, I have always been well-endowed. My cock stood out prominently and from time to time I saw this monstrous, erotic female cast a sly glance at it, seeing how the veiny shaft swelled even more as she ran her long, swarthy fingers over her plunging cleavage or lifted the flimsy short apron that served as some sort of skirt, so I could see her close-cropped sex all too briefly.

Of course she was toying with me. Was there ever an orc who, having captured a human, hadn't done the same?

I groaned inwardly as she flicked her fingers over her sex, flicking at the oysterlips of her snatch. The candles in the room, looted from humans I guessed as Orcs aren't candlemakers, gave enough light for me to see a glint of moisture on her sex. Or was it more oil, massaged into the folds and soft ridges in some barbaric ritual of self-pleasure?

She was doing all this to tease me. Or torture me in a fiendish new way rather than the traditional cruel game of making human captives dance, as orcs would have it. Yes, I have heard the horrific tales of how humans, once they fall into the hands of raiding orcs, are treated. I simply never thought it would happen to me, on the way to my wedding at that.

The caravan train I rode with on the way to the village of Pilam to be married to Erenva had all but been wiped out when the orc horde fell on us early that morning. We weren't fully awake, or at least our guards weren't, and anyway we had heard no tales of orc raiders here. We had all anticipated a peaceful if dull journey across the plains of Unbax and through the Cemlan mountains.

The orcs descended on us as we made our way through a narrow gorge and I was one of merely eight humans to be rounded up alive – strong-looking young males spared to carry the loot. I had struggled with mine but survived the trek to where the orcs had pitched some crude tents, and now I found myself, exhausted and beaten, in an iron cage in this female's tent.

A man all but broken, but erect nonetheless.

"My oh my, human, I clearly excite you," the orc said, startling me. So few orcs speak human language passably yet this female was clear and well-spoken. Even more amazing was that she didn't add the word "shit" at the end of "human."

When I didn't respond she added, with a smirk: "Have my warriors removed your tongue, or does that rod of your cock deny you speech?"

"Wha-what do you want?" It was the best I could do.

She lay back, legs wide apart, on a low bed (more a tumble of blankets stolen from other caravan trains) and laughed gently. "I want you to amuse me, isn't that clear?"

I gaped at her. "M-me? Uh... How?" I managed to ask, feeling stupid at sounding as if I didn't know my own language.

"I want your thick cock in me. I want to have you fuck me. That iron rod of yours should not be wasted."

I felt both a terror and a new excitement. I had heard that some human males are excited by the thought of finding a monstrous, sallow-skinned orc female and riding her, enjoying their animal passions. But I had never thought that of myself. But then, for all the tales one hears most humans never encounter an orc. I had imagined that all orc women were brutally ugly, never as good looking as this one.

The stories I heard of orcs were of foul tortures and depraved games, men made to endure orc cocks two at a time, or put to endlessly licking the slits of orc females before being crushed between their powerful thighs. Was this to be my fate too?

Yet I had to confess to myself as I trembled in my tight iron cage that I was more excited than ever. This female was unattractive in human terms but she was beautiful in a raw, base way. She bore no tribal scars on her face and I felt she must be above such things. A queen I imagined, with her own tent and more comfort than many orcs might expect. She looked alive in away I had never seen among human females, able to enjoy sex simply for what it was.

She stood, discarded her skimpy clothes and I could see her magnificent, sensual body even better than before. She picked up an earthenware jar, scooped out some more oil and rubbed it across her large breasts and red-brown nipples, making them grow and harden. I gave a loud gasp at what she did, and she smiled at me and sent a shiver through me and a new surge in my cock.

"Ah, human – you will like the taste of this, I assure you," she laughed. She put down the jar and approached the cage and extracted the locking bolt before flipping the front half of the cage open.

There was a moment when a small voice in me said I should run, I should try to make it out of the tent and the camp and flee. But if she was a queen she would have guards outside the tent and even if I managed to knock her down in my escape in bare feet on the rough ground outside I would be slow enough for even a moderately good orc archer to bring me down.

Anyway, she had taken hold of my cock in her long, strong fingers and was leading me to the bed. I neither could escape nor wanted to.

* * * * * * *

Her name was Gzakki and she and I made love on those blankets for what seemed an eternity. She was a princess, not yet a full queen, but she ruled her band of loyal tribespeople with affection and savagery when needed. She may have been an orc and capable of many cruelties but she had learned human language and ways. "Better," as she said as we rested between fucks, "to know my enemy."

I felt I was far from being an enemy as I kissed her full, dark lips, sucked on her large breasts and hard nipples (yes, the oil was sweet) and above all licked her slit with a frenzy I had never known before.

Gzakki didn't crush me with her muscular legs – though I have no doubt she could – and a little pressure now and then reminded me to probe deeper with my tongue into that deliciously hot, sweet tunnel.

She let me fuck her from behind, several times when my poor sore cock had recovered enough from each union and though I longed for the human way of male on top of female, she would have never consented. Yes, she had heard human men and women made love that way but it amused her to think that was even remotely exciting. Sex, for orcs, is raw passion and she was showing me just how raw and unrestrained.

And as she said: "A cock goes deeper when the woman's rear is bent like an animal." True, I had to reflect as I hammered at her.

In one of our rest periods as we ate some food she had brought in by a younger orc female (who also eyed my flaccid but still thick cock with some approval), Gzakki listened as I told her of why I was traveling. I hadn't quite forgotten Erenva, but I had put her at the back of my mind.

My orc princess (as I termed Gzakki to myself) listened when I told her of my impending wedding, and was amused that my wedding night would be just me and Erenva. She expressed pity that we humans don't know how to fuck in a group. An orc wedding night apparently is a sea of bodies, all sharing the same passion and a good bride should be served by at least five of the best warriors.

I thought of Erenva, who probably had yet to hear of the caravan being ambushed, and if she did eventually hear the tale from some survivor our wedding day would have long passed. In a way I missed not knowing her, but I knew after sex with my orc princess that it would be difficult to go back to human ways in bed.

If of course they let me live. I was after all an orc prisoner and not many captured humans were allowed to leave. If I survived it would be as a slave. Hopefully a bedroom slave, I found myself thinking. Gzakki's bedroom, I prayed.

Gzakki, during a session where I was rimming her asshole, must have been thinking much the same. "This woman of yours, this bride waiting for you, is she good at sex?"

I broke off pushing my tongue into the orc female's soft, tight ass to admit I didn't know, as my marriage was arranged by go-betweens. Family politics it was, which now sounded hollow. I could see why orcs thought humankind strange. As I resumed my foul but thrilling task Gzakki laughed. "And after me, you are willing to try her?"

It was the first hint I might be allowed to live and I gulped. "You would allow me to live, to see her?"

"Push your tongue deeper into me and I will consider it."

I pushed as deep as I could, and not just because of that. To my shame I wanted to please Gzakki, my princess, as much as I could. The way she gasped, I had to hope I was doing just that, even when she settled her weight on my face and I could hardly breathe.

Just let me make her come, I prayed, and licked and probed more fervently.

Above me, she gurgled with pleasure at what I was doing and laughed at the sight of my thick, stiff cock twitching in desperate need of a touch or a kiss. Twitching and ignored.

* * * * * * *

Of course I had never seen Erenva, but she was overjoyed at seeing me arrive at her village. She was a good looking human female, if pale and scrawny compared with Gzakki, but pleasant looking nonetheless. Blonde like the color of straw.

The whole village had heard of the attack on my caravan from two people who escaped. From a hiding place in the rocks one of them had seen several captive men marched off, laden with looted goods, and was sure I was among them. But he couldn't be certain.

Erenva was overjoyed to see me alive, and the whole village listened in awe at how I escaped, though I declined to accept statements of bravery on my part. I had simply slit the wall of a tent and run away in the night. They were equally amazed that I was in one piece and surprisingly healthy. "Those orcs must be getting soft," they murmured among themselves. "Perhaps we do not need to get up a band of warriors to scour the mountains and drive them off if they are so easy going."

My wedding to Erenva was a pleasant, subdued affair. No mass of bodies on the wedding night, no muscular brutes screwing my bride. No bridesmaids for me to hump as I watched my new wife taken in each hole. Pity, I thought as I mounted (in conventional way) my blushing bride and fucked her, trying not to be too much like an animal. I also resisted rimming her asshole, curious how she tasted after Gzakki.

Ah, Gzakki – she was in my thoughts all the time. After our two day marathon sex session in the orc tent I wasn't sure my cock would work again or if it did, if it would enjoy anything even remotely "normal." But as a good husband I did my best to satisfy my young wife.

The time soon came for me to leave Pilam with Erenva and make our way back to my home town. She bade her family farewell and I assured them I would take good care of her.

"Aren't you worried about the mountains, with orcs about?" They all asked that.

"No, I know a safe way. The orcs will not bother us." I responded and we set off by horse with a mule carrying our wedding gifts.

Erenva wasn't sure but she had to trust me. We mostly rode in silence, she no doubt wary of any shadow or sound that might announce bandits or, worse, orcs. On the former she needn't have worried: orcs tend to drive human bandits out.

For my part I was absorbed in thoughts of Gzakki. I led the way through the mountains and up paths I barely knew, but I was going the right way.

Erenva for her part was astonished to see the orc camp, amazed we weren't killed then and there. She clutched me in terror as I led her into the tent of the princess. She almost fainted at the sight of the naked Gzakki, her powerful brown body glistening and ready for sex.

She did indeed swoon as she was introduced to the iron cage I had occupied, locked in and gagged with a leather bit, having to watch me helplessly as I fell swiftly to making love to my red-haired orc princess.

"You brought her, as you promised," laughed Gzakki as I got underneath the muscular woman to lick that wonderful asshole.

"A gift for one of your warriors," I said as I lapped eagerly at the tight tunnel slowly opening to let my eager tongue in, while she bent forward to take my thick, hard cock in her mouth.

I groaned in delight. I was about to enjoy Gzakki's wedding gift to me: letting me finally cum in her sensuous, commanding orc mouth.


Copyright Quiller 2007

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