by J. M. Keep
Initially, she had been forced to go naked. He laughed and guffawed as she walked around the court, offering wine from a crystal decanter from her homelands to all who were standing present. They would grope her, pinch her round firm bottom, tug at the rosy nipples on her small plush pillow-like breasts, and spit in her hair. Eventually, though, the novelty of seeing her so humiliated had worn off. It never phased her, never affected her. She acted as if it was all her natural lot in life, as if she had never known a life beyond or before this. Before him.
But she had. She had, and he knew that life, and looking down at her now, her light brown lips moving to circle around the slight point of his dick, he was reminded of who and what she had been. The orc reached out and gripped her chin, stopping his wife from suckling him only for a moment, staring into her eyes intently as if to see some different truth there than what he had seen a million times before.
It was the same. It wasn't mindless slavery she sought, and the intelligence in her eyes confirmed that for him. No, she was there, she was self-aware and she hadn't been beaten into drudgery and submission. This was simply her nature, to please. And he was the one to whom she had been gifted, so it fell to her to please him. Her master.
The orc released his woman's chin, and she continued, readily engulfing the head of his cock with her lips. The seal was tight, perfect. He could feel her petite little tongue teasing at the droplets of precum. Oh how she loved his seed, the taste of it, the feel of it. And she liked to let him know.
Had it been so long, he wondered, as he tried to relax and lean back against his chair. Had it been so long since he had let her pleasure him in this grand hall? Perhaps it had, indeed. He'd taken to having her only in their bed chamber, through a door behind the thrones themselves. He hated the idea of anyone seeing her naked anymore, and couldn't bear having her undressed around him without being able to take her immediately. The sight of her naked body always caused an immediate reaction in him. But during council meetings, it was bad form to swipe all the tiny markers representing enemy forces off the table of maps so that he could fuck his slave-turned-wife.
The Orc General grunted and bucked his hips, surprising his mate with the forceful thrust of his dick further over her tongue than she had been ready for. As always, though, she did not squeal and did not object. Instead, she turned her head slightly and allowed him to see how far into her mouth he had pushed himself. It was exactly what he wanted to see, and the orc couldn't help but brush that long and silky black hair out of the way, to give himself an even less obscured view.
His cock was barely halfway into her mouth. Already, he could feel the tight confines of her cheeks as she suckled and tried to twist back around him. He was too big to completely fit into her little mouth, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. The orc moved his hips again, slower this time, slipping a hand around to the back of his mate's head and pushing lightly. He wanted to feel himself bending and going down her throat. If she relaxed just so, she could take it. He had taught her how, and she had learned well. If she objected or resisted, though, he'd force himself anyway and she would be made to gag. He didn't mind the choking sounds too much, but it felt so much nicer when she didn't resist.
The woman's mouth was like a perfect sheath now around his bulging penis. He could feel her dragging her tongue around and along all of the ridges of his dick, pressing against the throbbing veins. Pushing slightly more on the back of her skull, he forced her down further, pushing and pushing until her nostrils were pressed to his groin. He was fully hilted in her face, and the Orc General closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling. He held his woman tightly over his sex, ignoring the fact that she couldn't breathe, not with him down her throat like this. It didn't matter. She lived and died by his whimsy. The best thing she could do was to let him enjoy himself, and she knew this truly and clearly.
At last, he released her. She didn't pull off too quickly, but instead let her mouth slowly rise up the vein-thickened shaft. Once he was out of her throat, she could breathe once more, and he could hear her gasping soft as a newborn lamb's first breath. She was so beautiful like this, weakened by his desire for her. It was how he liked to remember her.
In the beginning of their tumultuous 'relationship', he had thought of her only as a fuck toy. She was a slave intended to make his mother's duties of caring for the Orc General and king easier. The girl was to clean up what his aging mother no longer could. She would be taught to cook and to clean, and there would be the added benefit of fucking her. Oh she had been so tight. She had almost tried to stop him from fucking her, but one look in his eyes had told her that wasn't going to happen.
What did happen was the sublime feel of his sex invading her pussy. He hadn't believed it, even up to that first time, that she could be a virgin. She had been married. What husband would forsake the body of a goddess bestowed upon him in the name of 'wife'? But somehow, she had been married for several months and actually lived in the same house as her husband - and left it a virgin. It was absurd.
The orc wriggled slightly on the throne. All this licking and sucking, it was getting to be too much. His woman knew it, she could always tell. Rising up, she stood before him in the robes he had ordered made for her. They were of the same silky satin-like material that always came out of her homelands, though the seductive cut of the cloth, the way it draped around her breasts and hung like curtains over the rest of her, well, no, no one in her homelands would wear it just so. That was purely orcish in nature, especially with its transparency. The cups of material that clung to her small but round breasts were see-through, and showed off the dark shadowy disks of her nipples underneath the iridescent cloth. There was nothing left to the imagination where the material billowed and flowed from her underbust to the floor; anyone looking at her could see the hourglass figure of her tall, long body, and the V between her legs.
He was staring at it now, that sexy altar-like place where he himself had knelt and prayed oh so many times, mouth agape and full of 'blessings' for her hairless flesh. She tasted as sweet as nectar, like the flowers he had sucked dew from as a child in this or that oasis while his people wandered and searched for a land to make their own.
She reminded him of his journeys, of his travels and his battles. She was perfect and pristine beneath those robes, and he knew that, but wanted to see for himself regardless of how often he'd seen it already. The orc reached out a hand and tugged at the dress, and with the merest of bent arms and elbows, his slave woman reached behind her body and unfastened the strings that held the dress on. It slid slow as feathers falling to the floor. She didn't even have time to step out of it before he was reaching for her and dragging her onto his lap.
His need for her was impossible for him to understand. What was it about her that made him crave her so desperately? The orc had actually visited one of his shaman to find out what it might be, but there had been nothing to learn except heartfelt fluffy nonsense about emotions and feelings and blah blah blah. Half of him had soared upon hearing the near prose-like descriptions of her love for her master from the shaman after his vision; the other half of the Orc General hadn't believed a word, or hadn't wanted to. One look in his wife's beautiful mint-green eyes made the truth hard to deny.
Love or lust, their destinies were joined together. And it made him yearn for her flesh between his tusks and teeth, over his tongue. He held her in his lap and pushed on her sternum, forcing her head, neck and shoulders backwards as his tongue slipped down her linea alba towards her navel, then lower still.
"Speak," he hissed as his tongue thudded hard over his female's hairless mons.
He could already smell the scent of her, musky and sweet all at once. She was so ready for him, so ready for whatever pleasures he would give her. But gods willing, he would hold off until she had been reminded of who was in control.
"Speak!" he demanded gruffly.
He was not one to have to repeat himself twice, and she knew better.
"They
…they are a political…contingent, my m-master! I…I recognized one of them!"
"Continue," the orc quipped quietly.
He was curled forward himself, one hand on his slave's rounded bottom, held there between her ass and the backs of her calves as she knelt on his lap. His tongue was long but could only barely tease at the top of her cleft. Her back was no doubt objecting to the obscene posture he was forcing on her, but he didn't care. Not truly. He would never wish to harm her without purpose. Wasn't his need to taste of her cunt purpose enough?
Grunting and adjusting, the bulky beast of an orc moved first one of the woman's legs, then the other, until they were wrapped around him. Now both of his hands moved to cup her oh so fine ass, lifting her up and allowing her arms and upper torso to drape back. She struggled and fought, not to get away but to better angle her cunny towards his questing tongue. He rewarded her efforts with a long, slow lick. And when she didn't immediately continue speaking, he bit at her. Hard. A little pinprick of crimson graced his tongue.
"Continue!" he growled, returning to his long licking.
"No…no doubt sent out of…of fear of your p-power, my master! They come to…to spy! But also to offer s-s-s…."
It was next to impossible for her to get the word out. Not with her master's tongue delving deeper into her folds. Not with his strong arms lifting her and bending her back more, so he might force her thighs around his head and drink deeply from her.
The Orc General snarled, upper lip curling. He sternly dragged the dagger-deadly tip of one tusk against her clitoral hood. She knew what that meant, would recall the many times he had disciplined her for little accidents here and there by using his tusks and teeth on her sensitive and fragile nether folds. He felt the jolt of her startled body in his hands as she worked hard to say the words.
"S…s…surrender!"
"Yes, my slut…surrender to me!"
The Orc General's tongue pushed deep into the eternally tight little confines of his wife's vagina. No matter how much of himself he shoved into her, often going balls deep in her little pussy, she always shrank back again, as if by magick. Given who and what she was, it wouldn't surprise him if it was so. If it truly was some sort of sorcery that made her always feel so tight around fingers, tongue and dick. But no matter, so long as she eventually yielded to him, as she was yielding to him now.
The small but lengthy and lithesome form of his slave writhed and bucked now. She was begging for permission to release. And he was holding on to that permission, not quite letting it go, not quite letting her give in. Every time he felt her about to explode in orgasmic ecstasy, the orc would pull her away from his mouth and give her a gentle shake, almost like a rag doll. She whimpered but couldn't and wouldn't do more than that. Not to him, her master and lord.
Finally, he couldn't help himself. He flicked his tongue against the spongy upper pad of her tight little cunny hole, finding and dancing over the hidden spot that would force her to volatile heights of pleasure she couldn't control. As he had predicted, she released a stream of musky-scented nearly clear liquid over his tongue. The shape of his maw made it impossible for him to drink it all up as she gushed readily over his lips, but that didn't stop the orc from trying. He wiggled his head back and forth, twisting slightly so he could first suck on her with his bottom lip extended under her to capture her essence, then tightly draping his upper lip over her sexy hairless pubis. It was a near perfect seal, or would have been had his two tusks not been sticking out as they did with such a healthy and hale orc as he.
The General did his best to drink of her, caring nothing that most of her juices dribbled down the sides of his mouth and onto his lap. It felt so familiar, like it had been in the beginning, when he would regularly take her right on the throne, so similar to this. Back then, he hadn't cared who watched, who coveted her for themselves but knew they could never have her. She had almost come to represent his superiority over the others, had almost become a symbol of his power. If only they knew how much more than that she truly was.
The slave in his hands was jerking with every thrash of the Orc General's tongue, a sure sign that she could only take so much more before she would begin to weep. She had the most precious and sensitive pussy after she had reached supreme pleasure like this. It was nearly adorable. Still, she had been talking, and he knew he ought to listen to her.
Sitting her up carefully in his lap, the orc let her lean against him, an arm around her as he used his other hand to wipe at his damp. She was still trembling, but he was sure most of it was because of what he had put her through just now. Or was it? He glanced down and realized she was looking up at him. Again, waiting for permission to speak. He made direct eye contact with her, letting her know she could make noise.
"They come with surrender, my master," his slave whispered quietly.
"That's a lie," the orc said, and the slave against him nodded in agreement.
"Yes, my master. The people in the scouting party are prime elite militia, not scout soldiers at all. My master, they were coming to spy on your abilities, and intended to not only be captured, but also to be released."
Though her voice was still ever so soft, there was a hard steely warning to the slave's tones as well. She believed what she said, and he knew he could trust her. So why had she stayed his hand and kept him from ending their lives on the spot? As if she could read his mind, and the Orc General often wondered if she could, the slave continued on.
"My master, they will return now with a new retinue. They will make an offer of surrender, false as it is. You must allow them to come into your throne room."
"Must I?" he asked, not liking her free way of telling him what to do.
But all she did was nod and keep talking.
"Allow them entry to here once more. Allow me to speak to them in my language, and I will-"
"No!" the orc spat, almost pushing the woman from his lap as he sat up straighter. "No, you will not talk to the foreigners!"
His eyes were brighter than ever as he stared into her gaze. He was livid, enraged, and she had to see it, sure as he felt it. His muscles bulged and he could feel the rushing of fresh adrenaline throughout his battle-ready system. What she was suggested angered him, mostly because it frightened him.
Why did she want to talk to them? She would speak in her tongue, one he still couldn't grasp effectively no matter how she schooled him on it. Did she want to make a secret plot against him? Help them assassinate him in his very own throne room? Or was she going to try at long last to escape? Fear was at the root of anger, and he felt oh so very much anger in that single little instant.
Despite his fear, the slave in his lap seemed suddenly very calm and assured of herself. While he huffed and breathed hard, she barely breathed at all. Then she lifted a hand up and touched his cheek, slowly, carefully. Tenderly. Her long fingers spread across one of the scars on his face, and she looked deeply into his eyes, her face so very close to his, filling up his entire vision.
"My master," she whisper-purred in the very voice he could never resist or deny. "My master."
The Orc General melted, as he always did. He gripped her hard and held her to him, sitting back slightly and lifting her up as she adjusted her body over him. When he brought her down, her arms around his neck, his dick was already perfectly aimed towards her waiting pussy. Just before he entered her folds, he thought he felt a steamy drop of cunny honey dribble onto the head of his taut-skinned cock. But then he was diving into that blissful warmth and wetness, and a single drop suddenly didn't matter so much.
As she gasped and inhaled sharply, the Orc General moaned against one of her ears, parting his lips and even biting at her delicate lobe. He could pierce that earlobe easily with the sharpness of his smaller teeth. It was a warning to her, a sign of how much power he had over her, despite how she made him crave her and succumb to her. She did nothing to pull away from him as he continued to push up with his ass, feeding inch after dark green inch of orc cock i
nto the swell of her pussy.
His slave took him deep, but it wasn't enough. With his arms wrapped around her back, the orc bore her down hard, albeit slow. He wanted to feel that wicked feeling of butting against the plug to her womb. He needed to. He needed to feel himself so deeply filling her that there would never be any doubt of who she belonged to. The more of himself he gave to her, the more of her he owned, and they both knew it. Her arms around his neck tightened, and he swore he could hear the tremors of pain in her voice. No matter. She needed this reminder as much as he did, and he wouldn't stop until he felt the wet squashing of her labia caught between. Only then did he pause and look into her wet eyes.
"Mine," he growled possessively.
His slave nodded emphatically.
The General began to lift and drop his wife and woman on his lap. She couldn’t help him, what he was doing hurt her too much. In the past she had tried, but the anguish of being so thoroughly stuffed was too much, and her kisses failed, her fingers fumbled, her nails clawed him in distracting ways. Now she knew that in times like this, when his need was so great, so overwhelming, she was to simply hang on for dear life and not impede his rhythm.
Obedient as ever, she did exactly that, her arms around his neck somewhat tight but not enough to get in the way as his shoulders bunched and contracted, then released. Her tight little cunt slid up and down his shaft, and just as he had felt her lips earlier, he now felt the swelling of her cunt hole dragging over each and every vein. The lumpy ridges of his rock-hard meat drove up and down into her body almost effortlessly, at least on his part. For her, he knew it had to be the most torturous agony.
She took it. His mate and slave took him as she always had, since the beginning. She would cry and weep if it hurt too badly, if he hurt her too badly. But never once in these long years together had she ever tried to stop him. Not once.
