Entire SMUT CATALOG: Volume 2

by Kimberly Gray

  Though not yet past the solstice, all in the villagers knew this would be a hard winter. The omens loomed clear. The cold was already freezing the ground, destroying the final harvest of the season. A trip would need to be made. It was many miles though the Wylde Forest, with a perilous journey over the Iron Mountains, to the nearest town of Birion. There, provisions could be bought for gold, to see the village folk through the long, hard winter. It would be Eireen who would lead the expedition, accompanied by five other maidens, as was dictated by their laws, and a dozen burly farmers, poorly armed with axes and spades. None in the villagers possessed steel blades.

  As with any journey over the mountain, prayer was given that they pass unmolested. The orcs lived in there, in the crags and crevices, and, for them, a man's flesh made for a fine repast. There once was a time when orc's raided their village, taking all they wanted, killing any who they saw. But, for the last 12 years, the orcs had not come down from the mountain to raid and kill. Not once. The village folk thought the Gods had answered their prayers.

  The village came together, to give gold, silver and other things of worth to Eireen. She would use these to purchase dry meats, grains, and other necessities the villagers required to see them through to the coming spring.

  “Thank you, old mother,” Eireen took the hand of an old woman gently in hers. She had given an old family heirloom, a small silver and gold icon, to trade for supplies.

  “Keep this, we do not need it,” Eireen continued. She took five pieces of silver from her own purse and placed them in the basket she used to hold the coins from the other villagers.

  “This is your family, so it is you,” Eireen explained to the old woman. “Those five pieces will take its place.”

  She smiled at the old woman. The old woman said nothing. She lowered her head, kissed Eireen's hands and returned to her home.

  Eireen was a Nordic goddess. She stood a full six feet high, with hair of woven gold. Her eyes as blue as a clear sky. She had full, firm breasts, a flat belly and curvaceous hips. Her lips were full, her face angled perfectly. If she had been anywhere but here, she could have been a queen.

  Eireen was the daughter of the village blacksmith. Her mother had descended from a strong, noble warrior tribe, now gone. She had been the last of her line. Her death, many years ago, had left her empty. She had filled this emptiness by serving the village in any way she could. This soon made her a leader among the villagers.

  Her father approached her as she sat in the village square. He was a massive man, tall, heavily muscled with broad shoulders from years of folding iron and long, straight brown hair, tied behind him. In his hands he carried an oiled cloth, tied at each end with leather binding.

  “Father,” Eireen bowed her head slightly, in respect.

  She had seen this oilcloth in her father's home many times, but had never asked about it.

  “Daughter,” the smith responded. “Take these. They will bring much in trade.”

  He laid the cloth and its contents on the table before his daughter. She opened it carefully. There, each in its own cloth sheath, were six magnificent daggers. Each were inlaid with gold and silver, forming the most intricate and delicate patterns. The words etched upon them were impossibly small, yet perfectly clear. She saw the blades had been sharpened to an edge that would have passed through leather as easily as if it had been warm tallow. But these blades had not been forged for battle, the blades were much too thin. They were ornamental, which each blade a homage to one of the six gods.

  “Father, they are most beautiful,” she told him.

  “I put iron to forge the day your mother was taken from us,” his booming voice almost broke as he told her this. “I offered them to the gods, that they would protect you and keep you strong.”

  “Father...” Eireen could think of nothing else to say.

  The two looked into each other's eyes. Something passed between them. Something only they would ever understand. No further words were needed. The man that was her father returned to his forge.

  By the time the sun sank behind the Iron Mountains, all was ready for the journey to come. Six of the largest carts in the village had been readied with yolks for two great oxen. One, full with gold, silver and trade goods, the others, empty. They would leave at first light, and return a dozen days later, with all carts full to overflow with supplies.

  Eireen slept a restless sleep. Thoughts of what lay between the village and the town heavy on her mind.

  **********

  The next day the sun came up strong and bright, the day clear. Eireen and the others took their places on the carts and, with a snap from a whip, the caravan headed out through the forest, bound for Birion, on the far side of the great Iron Mountains. The men gripped their axes tightly, heavy bows at their feet. All were silent. They knew orcs called the mountains home. They all prayed silently to the gods, asking for safe passage.

  The gods weren't listening this day.

  **********

  The caravan made camp at the foot of the mountain, the sun quickly falling behind them. The men had ran down a boar, its meat now sizzling over a great open fire. As they ate, they talked of trade, of the village, of Birion, but none talked of the orc aloud. To do so would have cursed their journey. The fire was made bright and six men stood guard as the others slept on the ground, wrapped in their cloaks. None slept well.

  **********

  They woke at first sun, and after dowsing their fire, they pushed their carts up the mountain pass. The road consisted of great slabs of rock, more than wide enough for the largest cart. The rocks had been worn smooth from centuries of travel, making for easy passage. With the sun behind them, shadows covered the mountain, and with them, fear.

  **********

  After a time, the villagers sought out a place to make camp. They had been taught from youth to always stay near the road. One of their group, Orin, a baker by trade, stood up and pointed to a place on the side of the road where they could make camp.

  Without warning, hell descended upon them.

  Eireen saw a shaft pierce Orin's body, taking him off his feet and throwing him back past the last cart. The javelin's shaft was as long as Eireen was tall, and as wide as her wrist. All took cover behind the sides of the carts, but no further shafts fell on them, instead, they heard a war cry. It was that of the orcs.

  Within moments these fearsome beasts, so ferocious, caring for nothing but themselves, appeared like spirits from the shadows. The men leapt from the carts to meet them in battle. The orcs cut them down with their great, angled blades as easily as a man guts a fish.

  In the dwindling light all that remained were the maidens. They were taken, roughly bound, and lead deep into the canyons of the mountain. They no longer screamed, giving themselves to their fate. All except Eireen. We will not die here, at the hands of these beasts, she told herself.

  **********

  After hours of forced march into the night, their travels ended as they entered a large, round canyon. Its walls encircled the orc village high on all sides. There was only a single entrance, and the maidens had passed through it. There, in the center of the orc village was a fire larger than any Eireen had ever seen, and around it, the grotesque faces and bodies of many orc. Each wore a deep blue lion cloth, embossed with a gold crest. All except one. This orc wore a gold cloth with a blue crest. He was their leader, their cheiftan.

  As the maidens were paraded before him, he rose from his great stone throne. The chieftan examined the maidens, intimately. Eireen didn't know what his thick, probing hands were searching for. This would be made clear shortly.

  The chieftan of the orcs was huge, standing well over eight feet high. His mottled gray-blue skin looked like soft leather. He was muscled far beyond that of a man. His broad chest and back gave into the hard bulging muscles of his arms, then narrowed sharply to his hips, wide and flat. His large hands held thick, rounded finger nails. His mouth protruded from his skull in two rounded plates, eac
h with rows of sharp, white teeth meant for tearing flesh, thin bands of muscle for lips.

  His ears resembled a bat's wing and moved constantly, to direct sound into the canals bored into the sides of his head. The bridge of his nose was long and narrow, with a slit on either side. His eyes were reptilian, with leathery lids. He was monstrous in every way.

  “Who speaks for you?” he asked the maidens, his voice deep and menacing.

  “I do,” Eireen spoke up immediately.

  “Then I tell you this. You will bear us children or you will die most slowly, and in agony,” the cruelty in his voice left Eireen with no doubt that, should they refuse, they would indeed die in slow agony. She shivered at the alternative.

  The orc told her of a disease that had all but taken their females and children. Without a new generation, they would die out. This, he could not, would not allow.

  “Make your choice and make it now,” he growled. “Bear our children and remain under my protection as honored mothers or die as your flesh is rendered slowly from your bodies.”

  He made it clear no other choice was possible.

  Eireen looked at her companions, bound and ready for torture. One by one each of them nodded to her almost imperceptibly.

  “We agree,” Eireen spoke, trying hard to cover the fear in her voice.

  “It is done, then, the bargain is struck,” the chief of the orc tribe proclaimed. From the mouths of all the other orcs came an “Ayrgh!”

  The bargain had been accepted by all.

  “You will be mine,” the chieftan looked directly into Eireen's eyes. An unholy shudder passed down her body. She said nothing.

  The orcs laid ceremonial blankets on the ground, in a circle around the fire. They were thick and red, with ancient orc writings sewed onto them in gold thread. This was their mating ritual.

  Each of the maidens were stripped of all clothing and laid on one of the six blankets. Five of the most virile orcs joined their chief, then each went to one of the maidens, naked on the blankets.

  Eireen knew the strength of orc seed. She had been taught that orcs multiplied so quickly because their seed always caught, always producing a child. Unlike men and beasts, orcs did not need to inseminate their females multiple times to produce a child. Once was always enough.

  Eireen lay naked on the blanket, it's red color accentuating her soft, pale white skin. The enormous orc stood over her. He removed his cloth, folding it ceremoniously, then laying it on the ground. It was only then did she get a look at his member. Fear filled her mind.

  The orc's phallus was erect, and seemed hard as the finest steel. Its light blue skin still resembled leather, though very thin. Many huge veins, a deep blue in color, ran from mound to tip. Its length almost equaled Eireen's forearm, less her hand, and was almost as wide. Its tip was a wide, bulbous piece of flesh, nearly the size of her tightly closed fist. She steeled herself against the pain this flesh shaft would bring her.

  “On to your knees before me,” the great orc ordered in his low, menacing tone. Timidly, Eireen moved to the position the orc had indicated, not knowing fully why. She had heard of things, pleasures woman gave men with their mouths, but knew nothing of how.

  With one of his great, wide hands he grasped up the hair on Eireen's head, pulling it up and towards his massive member. With his other hand, he cupped the back of her skull. The orc's bulbous tip met the maidens soft, silken lips and push past them, filling her mouth with his soft mushroom's flesh. Eireen's hands shot out to the beast's hips, trying valiantly to push him away. It had absolutely no effect on him. The orc slide his flesh bulb in and out of Eireen's mouth in a slow, deliberate pace. Deep, powerful moans emanated from deep inside him, in harmony with his motions.

  Finding that struggle was useless, Eireen made all efforts to accommodate the large, blue flesh bud in her mouth. Each time it slipped over her lips it stretched her mouth to near tearing, while forcing her to breathe through her nose. Her mouth filled with saliva, which frothed from the side of her mouth with each push of the huge cock tip. The orc pushed more of his inhuman phallus into Eireen's small mouth.

  Eireen felt herself choke as the tip of the orcs cock pushed further into her mouth, followed by his shaft. The tip passed into her throat and she began to gag wildly, unable to breathe. More and more of her saliva was pushed from her mouth to now drip down her chin. The orc withdrew from her mouth until only the pulsing blue cock tip remained. Then, again, he pushed his massive flesh club far down her throat as she gagged with each thrust. The maiden's eyes became crazed as this act was repeated over and over again, growing more rapid with each passing moment. The moans from the orc were now animalistic howls. Eireen felt the beast's cock flesh throb in her mouth and throat. She was not prepared for what happened next.

  Holding Eireen's head firmly, the orc erupted in her mouth, driving himself ever deeper into her throat. It was a steady, high pressure discharge from the slit in the blue, bulb of his cock head. The orcs silky, white cum, thick as pitch, flowed down Eireen's throat like rapids in a river. She tasted blood from her torn lips. She was drowning in orc batter.

  Eireen felt her mouth and throat fill with the orc's hot, thick cum. It forced itself down her throat rapidly, and in great volumes. She was choked by the mass of thick, sugar sweet orc cum that filled both mouth and throat. She struggled for breath. The massive meat of the orc's phallus was still in her mouth, as it filled it full of his hot, viscous cum. She struggled madly, finding she could draw breath through her nose if she opened her throat even wider, while working her throat muscles to desperatly swallow this oily, silken orc fluid faster than it could accumulate.

  The orc saw streams of his seed, mixed with saliva, running like thick oil from the corners of the maiden's lips and around his flesh mass, still buried in her mouth. Her gagging, gurgling sounds had now become a series of gulps, one after the next. He smiled wickedly, exposing his sharp, pointed teeth, but did nothing to remove his cock from her tiny mouth.

  In a final burst of thick cream, Eireen felt the orc end his climax. It became easier for her to swallow his warm, thick seed. She knew he had torn her, but not where. Her face was numb. Just as quickly as it had started, it ended. The orc removed his enormous, but deflating cock flesh from her mouth. He grabbed her lower jaw and throat in his large, strong hand and spoke.

  “Show me,” he said no more, but Eireen knew what he wanted to see. She opened her mouth wide, her jaws aching, and exposed the inside of her mouth to the orc. It was still brimming over with his oily, white seed.

  “Swallow,” he commanded. Eireen closed her lips and swallowed the warm, thick cum slowly, almost defiantly. She then opened her mouth to the beast once more. It was empty. All that remained of the orc's cum lined the inside of her mouth and her tongue.

  “Give her food and drink,” he commanded an underling. A huge cup of stolen wine and a piece of salted meat was brought to her. Eireen took a sip of the wine. It was bitter and caused the tears at the corners of her lips to burn. She was tempted to pour this wretched liquid on the ground, but stopped herself. It may be horrible to the taste, but she knew it was strong. As strong as spirits, she thought. She drank more and more of it, feeling a numbing warmth come over her body. She knew what would be next, and she wanted to feel as little of it as possible.

  Looking around her, she saw the other maidens. Eireen saw her companions laying flat on their backs, cushioned by the thick red blankets. All were gasping hard for breath. They stared at her, fear and desperation in their eyes. She took a long draught from her cup, motioning it to them. She saw flickers of understanding on their wet faces. Other than this, she could do nothing to aid them.

  The six mating orcs sat in a circle, apart from the others, cups of wine in their hands. They had completed the initiation of the maidens. This was the initial act of the orc mating ritual. Their ritual demanded that all orifices be filled with their seed. No orc knew why. Their incredibly potent seed meant only a drop need reach th
e inner chamber of the female, to begin the fertility process. But the ritual must be followed, no orc was above it. Of course, the maidens knew nothing of this, but they would soon learn.

  Eireen saw the circle of orcs disband and the chief of the orcs returning to where she lay. The large cup that held her wine lay on its side, empty. She felt the fog and the numb that came with strong drink. She was no fool. She knew what the orc would do with her next, but the drink held back some of the fear.

  Standing at the foot of the red blanket on which Eireen lay, the orc spoke.

  “On your hands and knees,” his voice boomed. Slowly, Eireen rose from the blanket and took the position as commanded. Looking up, she stared the great orc in his eyes.

  “No,” his voice held both agitation and impatience. “Look toward the fire.”

  Eireen turned the half circle, face looking into the flames. She felt the orc drop to his knees behind her and grip her shoulders with his strong hands. She closed her eyes and waited, silent except for her breath.

  The orc's light blue phallus, with its enormous head, was again hard as a iron spike. He placed this enormous flesh staff against the smooth, slick lips of Eireen's neatly trimmed cunt and pushed his wide, bulbous cock head passed her lips and into her cunt. The maiden screamed as if she had been lit aflame.

  Eireen felt the full force of the orc's entry inside her. His wide knob had stretched her delicate cunt lips. She thought that some great mace had been forced inside her. The pain was almost unbearable, even through the numb of the wine. Her throat hurt with each of her blood curdling screams of pain. Inside her, she felt the orc's tremendous flesh bulb force her cunt walls apart to their limits.

  The orc contained himself, allowing only his darkening blue lance tip into the maiden. He observed a ring of precum outlining her cunt lips, where it would collect and drip onto the red blanket.

  Her screams of sheer agony, told him what he had done to her. He had less concern then that of a farmer tending an ill beast. All he required of her was to finish the mating ritual and live. Anything else was secondary. He pushed more of his long, wide flesh lance into the maiden's hole.