by J. M. Keep
"Say you like it!" he snarled in her nearest ear. "Say it!"
"M-my master! I…I love it!" his little elven slave mewled.
It was all he needed. He could feel the brush of her cervix against the slit on his strangled dick, but it was her words, her admission of loving his thorough and intense fucking of her on his throne that pushed him at last over the edge. The Orc General tilted his head back and let loose a mighty war cry, such as had only been heard on the battle field before this day. It echoed off the heavy timbers that ran beneath the rafters of his hall's ceiling, and he was sure the very walls of the building shuddered for a brief moment.
When at last he was calm, he listened to her breathing, to see if she had survived his onslaught of fucking and thrusting and cumming. Of course she had, she always survived. The sound of her soft wheezing breath was like a song to him. It affirmed for the orc how very powerful he was, and how much she was willing to endure for him. Slowly, though, he began to lift her and remove her from his lap.
The slave gripped him harder around his neck for a moment, despite hearing the entry of guards at the far end of the hall, no doubt coming to ensure their General was well.
"Master," his wife and slave said out of turn.
The orc glared at her but did not discipline her. Not yet. She would never speak like this without good reason. He had to believe that, after all this time. At least that.
"Allow me to speak to them, my master. My love. And I will secure for you the whole of the world…"
Snickering, the Orc General tried not to laugh too hard. She really thought something of herself if she thought a simple speech would hand him what his people had been questing for over many centuries. But as he put her on her feet before him, he looked into her searching gaze and gave a nod.
The guards hadn't heard her request. They wouldn't know he had given in to her, so what did it matter? And he doubted anything she said would make a difference. How could one kidnapped elf lady affect the whole of the orc campaign, even a little bit?
"General, they have returned."
"Different elves, General!"
The guards were beside themselves, looking at the shaken form of their General's recently fucked wife. His seed poured down the insides of her legs, a sight they were blessed to see even as she drew her elegant dress once more up over her body, barely hiding herself from sight.
The Orc General waved his hand. "Bring them in. Bring them right in to me."
His wife barely had time to re-smooth her hair back over her shoulders and gingerly sit on her seat before the new contingent was brought in. The group was bigger and some of the elves had been in the smaller group from before; the new ones were more regally dressed and more thoroughly armed, from what he could see.
Warily, the Orc General glanced at his wife, holding up a hand in a 'stop' gesture when one of the elves stepped forward and tried to speak.
The orc knew a trap when he saw one. There were no doubt more elves in the woods not far off from the orc city. They would be hard pressed to attack secretly with little to no cover between where they hid now and where they wanted to be, in the city itself.
But if the elves in the throne room right now were to cause a fight, create a disturbance, the Orc General himself couldn't keep his men on the walls and at the gate from charging in to 'save' him. They would lose sight of what came out of the distant savannah trees and through the tall golden grasses beyond the sand around the city. No one would be there to defend the front gate at all. Everyone would be in the throneroom itself, or trying to get in.
It was effective. It was a smart and wise ploy, against orcs, the General knew.
Would it work?
The plan was never put into play. As he held out his hand to stop the pathetic voice of the elf from offering false platitudes and a fake decree of surrender, his wife slowly rose up, looking suddenly taller than he had ever seen her. She seemed…regal…royal, even, in her stance. He had seen her in many positions all this while, but never had he seen her like this.
Behind the throne, the Orc General heard his mother make a noise. When he turned to look at her, she had a cackling expression on her face, her beady eyes squinted up with mirth as she pointed at his slave and nodded, for some reason he couldn't yet fathom.
The orc turned his eyes back to his woman. She was exquisite. And now she was beginning to speak. He couldn't follow her language, and knew most in his court were unable to as well. So they had no choice but to stand back and let her speak. Suspicion rose up and down inside the General, like tidal waves rushing up and down the shore, pulled by celestial forces far out of sight. One moment, he was sure she was giving away all of his secrets. The next moment, she seemed to be the tender and loving slave he had officially married only recently.
She didn't speak loudly. She didn't speak especially long. But by the time she was done, the elves were slowly turning towards a single human amongst them, glaring at him. As one, they lifted their swords, and before the astonished orc court, the elves became brutal murderers, slashing the man's throat, spilling his guts freely out of his abdomen, and painting the carpet that ran up to the dais a much darker red than previously.
The elves turned back around. All eyes were on the 'slave', whose chin was now high and proud. She may as well have been wearing robes of purple and gold, she looked so very queenly. A few more words dripped like honey from her lips, all in the elven tongue. And then the deed was done.
The elves of the contingent knelt as one, just as they had killed as one. Some sort of allegiance was sworn, then they rose and looked to the Orc General.
"My master," the orc's wife whispered, "if it pleases…dismiss them and bid them never return."
"Why?" the General asked, bewildered as he stood up.
Looking into his woman's face, he saw such an expression of exhaustion upon her features. She looked near to fainting. Gripping her slender elbow, he guided her back into her throne, and she looked up at him with love and gratitude. Then his mother reached around the throne and shoved a carved wooden cup into his wife's hands. She drank from the cup deeply, looking only a little refreshed, but his mother appeared quite satisfied and took the cup away.
"Why should I dismiss them? Why should I not kill them?" the Orc General asked, stunned, ready to believe just about anything in that moment.
What he had witnessed, what all of his advisors and best officers had just witnessed, he knew would not likely be repeated again.
"My master," the elf woman on the throne next to his whispered, smiling weakly up at him. "They are my kinsmen. They are my soldiers. And they have just surrendered all the human lands to you in exchange for release from my rule."
"Your rule?"
She nodded slowly and looked straight ahead, her chin lifted in the same way it had been when she had spoken to 'her people'. Slowly, the truth of everything dawned on the orc, and he waved his hand dismissively at the elves. They disappeared as fleeting as shadows, and it was as if they had never been there at all, except for the awful corpse left in their wake.
"You were their queen," the Orc General said, falling into his throne.
"And always will be," she whispered. "Despite how readily they give up allegiance to me for fear of their souls…my master…"
She was smiling at him. His beautiful elven wife and slave was smiling at him with oh so much love and more than a little of that arrogant elven pride he had thought he would never see on her face. But there it was.
"How?"
"My master…?"
"How would you be able to convince all of them that the human lands were worth giving up for the sake of losing your rule? What…bargaining chip could you have had over them?"
The elf queen reached out and took the Orc General's hand. He was leery of giving it to her, but eventually gave in. Slowly, she moved it to press over her dress, and against the flatness of her abdomen.
"Inside me grows a child," she whispered, searching the orc's sudd
enly nearly ashen face. "A child that by my blood and yours would rule two armies. They had a choice. Either forsake me as their ruler now in exchange for the misbegotten human realms, or risk having me place my son…our son…as the future ruler of all that is Elvish, my master."
"They…they couldn't allow that," the Orc General said in a near breathless voice.
"They could not, my master. They dared not. So they chose to release me as their queen, even if it meant forsaking their alliance with the humans."
"The human they killed?"
"…my master," she said quietly, her upper lip curling only a teeny tiny bit. "That was my husband, the king and Great Commander who sold me into…slavery…rather than consummate our marriage…"
"The one who sold you to troll traders. Who…didn't even take your virginity…"
For a long while, the Orc General stared at the woman seated next to him. Then, a low cheer began in the hall. It started in the back and rose in volume, truly shaking the entire hall with its vibrancy.
The Orc General's people were cheering because they had just realized what now dawned on him wholly and completely. With wide and oddly vulnerable eyes, the orc king turned towards the elven queen sitting prettily and submissively in the throne next to his own.
He had ruled the orc armies successfully and found them a home, built them a city. He now owned the human kingdoms, had them in the palm of his hand and could squeeze and squeeze, and make them pay for all their atrocities
And…he would have a child! If this was not a happy ending, then all happy endings in all fairytales were falsehoods, children's stories made to make them hope pointlessly for things they would never achieve.
This was indeed the happy ending the Orc General had never thought to have. He turned to his wife and embraced her, drawing her out of her chair and lifting her up to scoop her into his arms, near charging into the bed chamber behind the throne room. The sound of a hundred orc warlords followed them, cheering them on. Cheering the fact that for once, there was a future to think about, a bright and shining future full of prosperity for all orc kind.
~~
A Note from Kaye Skellington
Kaye Skellington, alternatively known as DireLilith in the world of adult erotic artwork, began writing over fifteen years ago. Her prolific style of writing helped her write several hundred short stories currently shared for free at various popular adult venues for writing and/or art across the internet. Now that she's turned a critical eye towards ebooks and the new market of hot novels coming out, she works hard to compete and deliver not only prolific but high quality erotica for the erotic connoisseur. If you've got a taste for what's taboo, forbidden or considered dark and delicious, this may very well be the author to watch!
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THE DRESSMAKER'S DOLL
By Leona D. Reish
This had all started like something from a fairy tale. Yes, a magical, fantastical opportunity to get away from everything was exactly what Amy had wanted. A chance to start afresh, beyond college, was a perfect opportunity. A new job in the countryside, so different from the city really seemed a different world. In the sleepy hills of a village detached from the major cities by a bus that passed if but a few times a day, it had been exactly what Amy wanted.
Of course, it helped that the job was a perfect fit for her talents, too. She had been given the chance to apprentice to a fashion designer and doll maker known mainly in rumour and hearsay whom refused the limelight and city life. She could hardly believe it, but the paid arrangements made for her had proven as true as the private offer at the high profile talent event the college had hosted for its graduating students.
Brushing strands of soft black hair out from her eyes and back behind her ear, Amy smiled quietly as her vivid, light blue eyes focused on the limbless mannequin propped up on a pole-grip before her. She was in the middle of fixing the seam buttons and straightening the puffy lace trim out on the red silk dress it wore. The sleeves would come later, arms socketing into the doll to give it more shape and figure to model when necessary.
Swept off her and feet and into a dream, truly, this was a fairy tale of chance.
The sudden fritz of a power surge, blinking the lights and cutting the power to the radio and other electrical devices said it wasn’t all magic and perfection. Perhaps his insistence on leaving the archaic, faulty electrics alone was a part of the charm. The detached villa was a thing of ancient beauty with its own historic plaque at the front gates, after all.
Julian Landon, the mysterious bachelor and owner, had been adamant about not uprooting the structure and breaking those walls merely to improve electrics that could be tripped back on easily enough.
Amy sighed to herself and left the doll to its design. While it was still light out, with a fair spring breeze caressing her neck as she turned away from the open windows of her studio to go fix it, she rather work with power. He really wasn’t a man to want others fussing over and invading his space, if he was so willing to deal with outages and fuse breaks like this. Walking through the dimmer hall and around to the stairwell, Amy barely cleared the landing before he had dashed past below.
“I got it! Don’t worry!” Julian’s voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs, just slipping out of sight as Amy came to the balcony. Sighing and shaking her head again, she sat on the railing at the top of the landing.
“Isn’t this getting a bit beyond safety regulations or something?” She shouted back as the door into the expansive basement squealed open. There were a number of passages down, and Amy was sure she hadn’t seen the half of the house yet, but she had been down there. The suffocating lack of light and hard metal doors had made her skin crawl, but finding the fuse box had been easy enough with the light from her phone.
“You know the rule, no S word!” His retorts always made her giggle quietly despite herself, and he really didn’t care that much for ‘proper’ safety. The door squeaked and slammed shut behind him as Amy hopped up to sit on the banister rail and slide down it. The fine ridges and waxed finish of the wood felt amazing against her skirt, or even under it. She’d been glad he was nowhere to be seen the one time she’d tried doing this without any underwear on. Just out of curiosity, of course, but that had left her with a telling expression.
Hopping off at the bottom, just past the smooth up-curve that had a way of leaving her breathless when she hit it head on, Amy smiled and dusted down the back of her skirt as she looked up the tall flight of stairs. Much more fun to slide down than walk up, but of course the only thing resembling a mechanised lift in the villa was a small freight lift to get things like doll pieces and material bolts between floors.
“Tch, he probably thought even putting that in was a bleeding… crime.” Amy muttered as she thought on the eccentricities of the villa. Her idle words trailed off as the tall oak entrance doors opened. There had been no knocking or ringing of the bell, and she hadn’t known he was expecting visitors, much less rather intrusive people like this.
The first man through was a tall, broad thing with a trim, greying-blonde beard in a black business suit with red tie that held the door open for those behind him. With an unlit cigar in his grimacing mouth, he was rummaging around in the breast pocket of his jacket, probably for a lighter.
The second and third through – less heavy-set men, wearing much the same – ignored him and carried a heavy looking black crate with metal binding between them into the house. Amy was rather speechless, glancing from the gathering procession to the door Julian had disappeared down to fix the lights. She hadn’t heard anything about visitors or a delivery of some sort
.
“Hey, here.” The last person to enter was a shockingly red-headed woman with a long bang hiding half her face. She raised a gold-plated lighter emblazoned with some foreign symbol to the stocky man’s cigar. Grunting a word of thanks, he held it to the flame to light it properly before her lace-cuffed wrist whipped the lighter shut, slipping it back into her pocket smoothly. There was an intimidating sort of dexterity in her motion that set Amy off balance.
Behind them, through the glass panels that lined the heavy oak door that was practically a relic in its own right, Amy could see a black car of some sort. Four doors and an expensive look was the best she could make out from the side. She was a tailor and artist, not any sort of mechanical enthusiast.
“Ugh, hey kid, Doc around?” The one in front with the case asked as he dropped it, rubbing his hand and brushing it through short, bleach-blonde hair. He had no tie to his suit and the top button undone, a more ragged, ‘loose’ appearance. Along with the seemingly natural, slimy grin he had, Amy did not have a fond first impression of him.
“Uh… he… Julian? He’s just downstairs fixing the fuse box.” Amy explained, her voice lacking confidence around this strange group that just showed themselves in. Glancing to the woman among them, Amy caught a glimpse of some pad and strap under her hair. It looked like an eye patch. A quick glance at Amy made her quickly turn her gaze away, a chill running down her spine.
“Heh, down there, eh? Yeah, I bet he is. So you his latest take? Not bad.” The guy in front, the ragged looking one said, as he closed in on Amy, backing her into the banister. The man behind him – a man with short black hair and a clean-shaven face that looked no more innocent for it – made his presence known with a brief chuckle as he too came over to bear down on Amy a little too closely for comfort.
“She’s cute, no doubt. Ya like it here, kid? We could show you a whole different world, no worries, all the money and power you could want if you know how to get it.” That second man offered. His voice alone made Amy’s skin crawl, and it didn’t sound like a legitimate offer at all. The woman among them sighed in vexation, her back turned to the whole thing as she looked up at one of the paintings to adorn the front hall of the villa.
