The Sunrise of the Orc Lord

[the.amorous.bunny]

{note: this is essentially an erotica novella that I've already written out; in case the title wasn't a hint: it will involve monster sex between the heroine and orcs. It's also the first in a kinda half planned series, where I've got two partially finished stories already worked up. Feel free to enjoy.

Oh, and there's no sex in the first one. In fact, if you're looking for penetration... it's gonna be a while}


Bryony withdrew her sword with a triumphant smile. Blood splattered through the air some landing upon the warrior princesses’ face and torso. The splattered red did little to diminish the princess’s ravishing appearance. Fine features born from generations of marrying beautiful women became even finer with the fierce smile of battle. Hair the red gold color of an incoming dawn had begun to fall free from a tight braid. Fly away strands threatened to fall into piercing emerald eyes. The blood mixed with the sweat they came from the exertion of hours of combat. Still the armored princess did not sway, did not even pause in her triumph.

The princess knew that felling one orc would hardly break the lines. Her and hers had already defeated several dozen. Their bodies lay strewn about the princess proving her own worth in combat. Even now she followed through her slash with yet another, her ancestral blade cleaving into an orc. Despite her feminine frame Bryony still possess the strength to run her blade through the sinewy flesh of the grizzled monster. The creature growled in anger immediately raising his ax as if to cleave the princess where she stood. Bryony nimbly ducked dodge and under the swing moving towards the orc as she did. The fierce royal brought her blade up words cleaving into the work from below. She felt the fine steel digging deep, more brackish blood flowing over her armored hands. With a cry of frustration and wrath, Bryony pulled back with all her might. However, the orc grabbed onto the blade with one meaty fist, clenching tight. More blood began to flow around the tightly clenching hand, but the orc refused to move despite Bryony continued pulls. Through the irony stench of blood, the princess could just make out a thick musk. A quick stab of cold fear struck through the adrenaline beating through her veins. For it even Bryony at her the rumors of the orcs. Had heard of how the male’s produced pheromones at all times, their powerful stench only increasing for battle or lust. The heady aroma nearly always forewarned a woman. For it was known that these monsters did not simply prefer to destroy the female the species.

No, they preferred to breed.

And this monstrous horde continually lived up to the horrifying tales. Some would even pause on the edges of battle to rut with some more appealing females. Time and time again the green skin brutes had also shown their lust for the princess herself. Even this one, whom she had so grievously wounded, sported a noticeable bulge upon his loin cloth. Doubtless that had resulted in the increased musk, the stench that now assailed Bryony’s nose.

For even in her armor, the princess’s fine form showed. Indeed, she’d commissioned the armor to fit tightly to her lean frame. It did not quite showcase the slender curve of her hips, nor did the plate cling to her firmly rounded bottom, but it still displayed a form that could only belong to a woman. Plates atop the torso, now streaked with drying blood, had been formed to contain a bust. Bryony may not be the most well endowed lady of the land; indeed, she could have bound them completely flat, but she still possessed that feminine form. Those long legs and the lean body showed the results of hours of swordplay, of the training, and of the battles the brave princess had personally led. Even at eighteen, barely into her womanhood, she’d blossomed into a respectable warrior and an impressive woman.

One who this orc seemed intent on ending. He snarled, as if realizing that he would not be taking this prize, not with his gushing wounds. He’d satisfy himself with leaving Bryony for one of his fellows to take. His great thick head, as piggish as all his kind, descended rapidly, Bryony not able to completely pull away from the incoming butt, not while retaining her grip on her sword. Stars swam in her vision, more strands of the reddish gold hair falling into her eyes. Soon she felt a hand striking out, connecting with the side of her uncovered face.

As her head swam, Bryony regretted her decision to leave her face uncovered. She’d made the argument that the men needed to see their leader’s bravery, that she should walk undaunted and unhiding into the fray. It had served her well on several battles, even with close calls such as this. Now, as the snarling orc threatened to brain her again, it seemed like a foolish decision, the exact sort one would expect of a fledging ruler.

Desperate, Bryony wrenched, ducking once more. Her light mail, forged by elfish smiths, allowed her that free movement. She pulled a dagger from her belt, ramming it up into the orc’s side. He merely grunted, moving again, but before he could bring his head down, a long shaft feathered into an eye.

Panting, Bryony pulled back, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes danced with delight upon the sight of the tall, handsome man stepping lightly over the field of battle. The male, even more lightly armored than Bryony herself, had the willowy grace of his father’s people. Dark brown hair hung toward his shoulders, framing a finely boned face. Piercing blue eyes had an amusement all their own as he locked into the princess’s gaze. Just seeing that look made Bryony’s mind wander, insides quivering for just a moment.

“Prince Val’norous, I thank you for your aid,” she said, bobbing her head. “Though I hardly needed it.”

“Of course, Princess Bryony,” replied her companion, sweeping into a quick bow of his own, “I’m quite certain you would have been more than capable of handling one of these beasts,” he casually notched another arrow into his fine bow, hewn from the elfish forests, firing a shot without hardly looking. “Indeed, I’d wager that even if one got their hands on you proper, you’d still hold your own.”

Bryony flushed, the pink showing against her pale skin. “I would hate to make my betrothed jealous,” she replied, puling her sword free from the beast, casually wiping it upon his flesh. She gave the prince an almost teasing look. “He is quite an envious man, you know.”

“Then we had best not tell him about this,” replied Val, darting in to draw his lips along Bryony’s. The princess fought the urge to release a girlish noise as the dashing half-elf pressed his lips to hers. Still, she could feel her stomach fluttering, her toes curling in a decidedly feminine way, one that wholly betrayed her current image as the Valkyrie of the battlefield.

Naturally Bryony pulled away first, smiling up at her betrothed, the prince to whom she’d been fortunate enough to lose her heart. “It’ll be our secret,” nodding, she turned, raising her blade to rally a few other troops. Within moments she was launching herself toward another beast. Bryony spun an artful arc, glistening blade of ancestral steel flashing it cleaved another orc across the gut, while she blade-danced toward another, raising her weapon to skewer him. All along she could see arrows feathering the green-skins around her.

“I believe the plan is to aim for their leader?” asked Val, stepping alongside her.

Bryony nodded, pointing with her blade. “Our intel says that he’s ahead, near the front line,” as orc chiefs often were. They could only lead from the front, something that Bryony had to respect. After all, both her father and Val’s remained safe in their respected castles, though she supposed that could be seen as a sign of trust in their heirs. Many had doubted that a girl barely into her womanhood would have the strength of character or arm to lead a host against the incoming orc horde. But this would be Bryony’s third foray against them…

…but first against the chief himself.

She soon saw the orc as he tore his way through her lines. The massive creature stood head and shoulders above even the tallest soldier or knight that faced him. His broad chest had been mostly bared, rippling muscles threatening to stretch his dark green skin to a breaking point. Somehow despite his obvious muscles, he possessed an almost prodigious gut to match, as if he consumed as much as he fought. Indeed, The brute still had the slightly porcine visage of all his kind: protruding tusked mouth, dangerous yellow eyes reddening with battle-lust. Black hair fell about him in several braids, with one long continuous one stretching past his waist. Each of his impressive arms held a battleax that would have been a two-handed weapon for a man, and he wielded them effortlessly, their dark-steel hewing through armor and flesh alike. For only blood splattered most of his body, with a thick set of furs covering his loins and long boots protecting his feet from the ground.

“Well, he’s certainly a handsome one,” teased Val, earning a sharp glare from the princess.

“He’s the fiercest fighter I’ve ever seen,” she said, raising her blade, a smile curling her lips as her face hardened. “Be on your guard.”

For the princess and her promised worked their way toward the brute. And as soon as he saw the beauty approaching, a Valkyrie among these mortal beings, he altered his course to match. Soon enough, the other combatants realized what their leaders were doing. Orc launched themselves toward the royals, while brave soldiers held them back, parting the way for the two to reach their opponent.

“I am Garrosh, orc chief of chiefs!” yelled the impressive specimen of orc, swinging his weapon to punctuate, the heavy blade cleaving a soldier in two. “I am undefeated in combat, with the bones to prove it,” he smiled at that, a smile that Bryony didn’t want to understand, “as you’ll see soon enough, girl.”

“And I am Princess Bryony,” she replied, hefting her blade, “and it shall be my pleasure to end you.”

With that, Val launched his attack. The arrow sped through the air, Bryony leaping into action soon after. The orc hardly slowed his approach. Garrosh batted the projectile aside with an easy backhand, snarling as he charged toward the princess. Even a brute such as he had to know that if he took her, then the battle would go to him, and not to the winning humans.

Bryony knew as well, and saw his attack coming. She twisted once more, almost twirling as he approached. Her blade darted up, meeting his at a glance. She knew enough of swordplay not to attempt a contest of strength with one such as he. Instead, her blade deflected, knocking aside the orc’s impressive blow. Yet Garrosh proved a fighter born, bringing his other axe up immediately. Only a quick jerk back prevented Bryony from finding if the dark steel would cleave her elfish armor.

“I’ll peel that armor from your pretty form!” he growled, foam nearly dripping from his mouth, “I’ll see your belly filled with my pups!”

Bryony let out a derisive laugh, flicking her blade up once more. Another arrow flew as she did, Garrosh barely managing to deflect it and the princess’s incoming attack. He moved again, chopping toward her, Bryony again only just managing to dart away. She ducked low, attempting to move in to his reach.

Yet as she did, a thick, earthy smell hit her like a wall. The princess’s deep breaths, so necessary for combat, betrayed her, as she inhaled an almost complete blast of the raw orcish musk. The earlier orc had been a faint whiff compared to this. That intense stench of orc filled Bryony’s nose. It sank into her mouth, sliding down as if a physical presence. Something deep within her, her primal feminine core, kicked at the scent, as if her body couldn’t help but recognize an apex mate when it beheld one.

And so the princess stumbled, barely managing to remain upright. The orc chief must have known, for his lips twisted into a smile as he whirled. His axes fell with a will. The first rang against Bryony’s mail, her body only saved thanks to the expert elfish smithing. The warrior princess deflected the others, crying out with each blow, even as the sparks of steel on steel surrounded them. She could see arrows sinking into the orc’s back, Val not hesitating to support his partner.

Garrosh snarled once again, the noise bestial, making Bryony’s lower belly tremble. She cried out, twisting. Axes fell like rain upon her, her blade deflecting each. But as he drove into her, she felt herself breathing more and more deeply. Each inhale sucked in more and more of his scent, of his musk, of his pheromones. The princess could feel a twitching between her thighs, right in her core, letting her know she must end this soon, and end it for reasons beyond her own flagging strength.

With a desperate yell, the princess lunged again. She felt the axe drawing near, just cutting hairs. Her blade drew up, flicked forward, and she let out a cry of triumph as she saw it cleave against his side, a deep cut, though light for the bulky orc. He howled in fury, bringing his axes down. Bryony jumped back, cutting up and across as she did. Her blade drew a shallow line from his lower right side to his shoulder, the blossoming black blood.

The orc chief moved back, batting aside another arrow as he did. Growling, his eyes flicked toward the half-elf royal, then to the princess, already moving again. He pushed aside, likely realizing that he must escape. Bryony turned to confront him, only to find another orc standing in her way. She felled him, but the chief had already disappeared into the horde.

The horde which now retreated around her.

“Cheers for Princess Bryony, the Sunrise Blade!” yelled a nearby soldier, grabbing the princess’s hand and thrusting it into the air. She smiled, joy filling her as she looked to her cheering men. Val came to stand alongside her, his expression showing a matching joy of its own.

Bryony wanted to believe that the pulsing kick at her loins came from that visage.




As Garrosh, previously the undefeated, returned to his war camp, fury filled him. Red filled his vision, red tinged with his own frustration, and not simply from deprived battle. For not only had he suffered his first defeat, but at the hands of a woman. Bah, calling that princess a woman was almost a lie; she looked to be barely a strip of a girl, though she’d certainly have flowered. The orc let out a cry of frustration, axe flailing to behead one of his equally frustrated band. Several of his truest brutes had females of their own: elves and humans that they’d captured and taken from now. One of the most prevalent smells in the orcish camp was that of rutting, after all. Indeed, the smell eclipsed even the everpresent smell of blood and earth, providing a rich aroma that usually intoxicated the orc.

Indeed, he felt himself swelling between his legs. His orcish pride counted as a weapon in its own right, almost as long as many a female’s forearm and nearly as thick. Blood pumped into it with a will as his thoughts dwelled upon that pretty female. Her red-gold hair flying about as her eyes flashed in confidence. A woman who moved like that had strength, and would make an excellent brood mare even without counting the royal blood pumping through her veins. Oh, how Garrosh longed to take her, to shove himself into her smirking mouth, or plow into her quivering cunt until she screamed in ecstasy. For Garrosh, like many of the best of his kind, had mastered the claiming rut. His member could drive deep into a woman, and when his seed spread, he would utterly claim her, claim her on a primal level that she could not deny.

But that was not to be.

Another snarl left the orc as he thrust aside the flaps to his tent. He snapped at his attendants to leave, even the scattered healers and shamans. Garrosh the undefeated didn’t need their tending. Still snarling like a caged animal, Garrosh approached his throne. The impressive chair had been constructed from the bones and skins of his rivals, orc, elf, and man alike. They jutted out in a primitive display of raw might. He leaned upon it now, his thoughts drifting again toward the beautiful princess.

“You should let someone tend to your wounds, mighty chief,” purred a soft, silky voice.

The orc whirled, beholding the feminine shape standing near the entrance. Dark silken folds fell about her, but did little to hide a curvaceous form. The princess had the lean body of a warrior and girl just blossoming, but there was no hiding this woman’s femininity. Hips flared dangerously, and even with the obscuring robe, it became quite evident that her breasts swelled impressively. Perhaps more intriguing was the sign of the dusky brown flesh that showed as she walked gracefully toward him, and the sigils he recognized etched into the skin.

“You’re, what,” he said, turning fully, “a sorceress? A shaman of some kind?”

The figure paused, reaching up to brush back her hood. Garrosh almost started. “An elf? Don’t think I’ve seen one with your complexion before…”

“It happens when we ‘fall,’” the strikingly sexy elf said, cocking a hip, placing a hand upon it. Her features had the sharpness of her kind, all the way to impressively pointed ears. Each bore several piercings of dark metal. Hair the color of moonlight had been twisted into an almost sloppy knot upon her head. Piercing eyes of red-violet nearly glowed with arcane energies. “I think it happens to suit me well.”

The orc chief raised a brow. “You’re an elf female in an orc camp. I’m amazed you haven’t been fucked full of pups yet.”

The fallen elf shrugged. “And I’m surprised you’re able to complete full sentences.”

Garrosh smirked. “I was an elfish slave for a time,” he replied, moving to sit upon his throne. “I even speak the language,” he replied in that very tongue.

The curvaceous sorceress laughed. “Fairly well too. I’d imagine you’re quite skilled with your tongue.”

“My old mistress certainly thought so,” agreed the orc. He shifted, eying the specimen before him. Her robes had parted just enough to reveal what lay beneath. Wisps of the finest cloth fluttered about, barely hiding her charms. It almost served to spur the imagination further, and Garrosh found his eyes drifting toward her legs, his member stirring.

“Perhaps I’ll have the time to test it, Chief Garrosh,” she purred, slinking forward, “but I think we both know you’d rather have someone else bouncing on your cock.”

The orc snarled. “Careful, witch.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” the sorceress said. Smiling, she strolled up to him, raising a hand and pausing. He nodded, and soon purplish black energy crackled along his skin, sealing the wounds the princess had inflicted.

“What’s the keep me from taking you right now?” he asked, watching her. “One thrust of my cock into your tight little elf cunt and---”

“And I’d be yours forever? Perhaps,” allowed the striking female. “But again: we both know you’d rather have someone else,” she smiled, purpled lips twisting, “and I’m willing to help with that.”

“I’m listening.”

“We have mutual interests. I’d love to fuck over the elfish royal line, and you want to conquer them all, particularly the human princess,” said the elf. “But you’ll never defeat them together. But with a little help…’ she surged her power, and Garrosh hissed. He could feel the energies pulsing through him. It shocked along his body, igniting his veins. Blood pumped with a frenzy into his thick member, threatening to explode. To his shock, the elf’s hand fell to it, as if to still him. “Not yet: we want you to save your load for our little princess. The stronger that initial blast is, the more likely she’ll fall into your thrall. Of course,” the elf smiled, hands dancing through the air, sketching more magic, “I intend to make her all the more… receptive to it. So,” she gave his cock a squeeze, “do we have a deal?”

Garrosh stared, his blood pumping. His lips parted into a cruel smile, “We have a deal, witch.”

“Tah’lora will do, actually,” replied the elf, smiling and giving Garrosh a pat, “and we’ll have the princess squirming in due time.”

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

As Bryony accepted yet another warm thanks from yet another noble she barely knew, she began to wish there were more orcs to fight. For that matter, she fervently wished that she wore her perfectly sculpted elfish mail instead of the fine dress that now swathed her body. To be sure, the fine silks that draped her finer frame were of the utmost quality. Some expert seamstress had decided that the Sunrise Blade should be dressed to match her partner. Naturally this meant that Val got to wear a fetching elfish tunic made of fine gold, while Bryony was draped in green silks. The dress draped in frilled layers across her body. The skirt parted to show a white underskirt, the frills of silk seeming to pull attention toward the impressive legs beneath. The bodice clung quite nicely to her petite frame, showcasing her narrow waist almost too well. It also supported her perky, if modest breasts with only the slightest hint of a neckline. The reddish gold locks that had earned her the name had been perfectly curled by her handmaidens, then piled into a delicate twirl atop her head, with two curls draping down to frame her face.

At least the near throbbing between her legs had subsided…

…mostly. For as Bryony let her gaze drift toward her promised, she found that not only her cheeks flushed. Truly, the elfish prince looked handsome to a fault. Those dark brown locks had been twisted up to bare even more of his chiseled face. The trousers he wore clung nicely to, well, just about everything as well. Despite herself, the princess felt her lips twisting between her teeth. After all: soon all that would be hers.

“Bryony!” the yell of her name in a masculine voice made the teenage princess jump, twisting to face the incoming noble. Unfortunately, this one she recognized: Lord Arrington, a pudgy man with ridiculous amounts of wealth. Were she not blessed in Val’s proposal having an incredible alliance behind it, Bryony might find herself betrothed to this repugnant man, who bore so much in common with the orcs that she was hardly surprised to hear the rumors of his sympathy toward them. “I hear tell that you went toe to toe with the orc chief himself! Surprised you made it out of that okay!”

She smiled tightly at him. “More than that: I bested him.”

The lord, who had approached with several of his cronies, chuckled. “Ah, but only on the field of one battle!” He leaned back, almost as if to whisper to his confederates: “Heard that no woman can resist an orc in other places. Maybe she bested him with her charms!”

The men laughed, and Bryony’s hand fell to where her sword should be. But her father had insisted that she go to this celebration unarmed. Instead, her lightly painted lips parted to deliver a scathing retort, only to find the clenching fingers of her sword-hand grasped.

“She does have everyone charmed, doesn’t she?” said Val, giving his promised a squeeze. “Shame she’s already promised, or you lords would have a time courting her. Though I doubt any of you could keep up on a battlefield or off,” he gave them a wink.

The words nearly had Bryony laughing, even as they nearly made her flush as well. It did border on improper, not that Bryony had ever been a huge fan of propriety. She was all for respect, had always treated her father and the generals with the utmost courtesy. But she’d also been the girl who’d gotten into a duel with a young man at sixteen, been reprimanded for stealing a visiting dignitary’s horse, and successfully courted the half-elfen surprise heir. Words such as that had her mind drifting, and that earlier stirring ignited once more between her loins. She felt her breasts tightening as well, and she found herself drawing a little closer to Val.

There had been some more conversation between the dashing prince and the lords, conversation which Bryony mostly missed. She heard Arrington saying something about striking a deal with the orcs, which just had her rolling her eyes. Before she could say something else, however, Val suddenly saw someone across the room who he just had to introduce her to. While she sputtered a protest, he led her away.

“You can hardly afford to irritate the wealthiest lord in the land,” he whispered, “even if he is a colossal fool.”

“You do realize I don’t need you to defend my honor?” she retorted, eyes flashing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied airily, “it’s just that I’m more skilled at diplomacy. Trying to avoid a political incident is all.”

Bryony let out a light laugh, leaning into her partner as they walked. “I love you for that,” she said, her voice light. Val leaned down, Bryony up, their lips meeting in a soft embrace that made her stomach flutter yet again. As they parted, she smiled up at him. “And that.”

Val’s smile turned downright devilish, as he led the princess toward the edges of the party. As was common, the ballroom exited into the gardens, which were well known as being a safe haven for lovers. The thought sent Bryony’s pulse fluttering, and she found herself clinging to Val all the tighter.

“You do realize that you’re probably the best with a sword in the entire garden?” he pointed out, smiling down at her, “but you’re clinging to me like a rabbit?”

“It’s not that kind of sword that I’m afraid of,” she mumbled, flushing again. Val let out another light laugh, pulling her off the path. Bryony almost tripped as the ground shifted from cobbled path to grass, her heels catching. Val swept her up, and soon she found her lips connecting with his again.

The flare between her loins ignited once more. This time, however, it drove hotter, pushing against her. The princess found herself letting out a soft moan of joy. Her princely lover saw it and smiled in kind, cupping her face. Fingers brushed aside her framing curls, gently stroking her. The kiss deepened, curling Bryony’s toes as it did. That little flare soon fanned hotter and hotter. Heat pulsed through the princess, spreading faster than she’d ever experienced before. Her hands slid along him, feeling his taut muscles. They gripped against his side. His own moved to her waist, pulling her tighter.

Something hard jabbed against her, right along where her navel would be. The princess yelped, pulling back for a moment, breathing hard. “I thought we weren’t allowed to have weapons…” she breathed.

Val laughed, moving to brush back hair again. His lips found hers, soon kissing a trail. Each graze of his lips drifted further and further up, until he nipped at her ear, making her shiver. “That’s not a sword of steel, even if it is as hard as one,” he said. His hands squeezed Bryony’s waist, making her let out another little gasp.

She shifted against him, letting her hands trail along. Yet her lips hesitated. They did not immediately part before her lover, instead requiring coaxing. Gentle kisses prized her mouth open slowly, a moment at a time. Previously Bryony wouldn’t have even gone this far. She certainly wouldn’t have let Val’s tongue expertly enter her mouth, dueling with her own. The princess groaned as she felt him expertly swirling within her mouth. Her knees trembled, threatening to dump her.

She found them moving, traveling further off the path. The symbolism of it wasn’t lost on her as their embrace deepened. Val’s hands drifted lower, soon running along her lower back. Then lower still, cupping against her bottom. Bryony gasped as he pulled her tighter against him, his pulsing maleness once more thrusting against her belly. The princess didn’t know for certain, but she’d estimate her lover to be several inches in length, which, to her virginal estimations, would put him much larger than her snug little hole. Not that Bryony had much experience in her own body. She’d so long pushed herself physically that she’d hardly the time to explore herself. Certainly she’d heard stories, listened with rapt attention as fellow female warriors and her handmaidens spoke of their lovers. Further she knew her own body enough to track arousal, had certainly felt it before with Val.

Though… not to this extent. She could feel the heat pounding near her groin, pulsing harder than ever before. Stranger still, she swore she could almost feel moisture gathering. It took the princess a few confused seconds, during which her kissing slowed, to realize that she was not about to urinate, but instead had grown so aroused as to become wet. Her petals were unfurling, desire blossoming quite clearly.

“Is something the matter?” asked Val, ever the attentive lover.

Bryony flushed, biting her lip. “I---I’m aroused,” she confessed, gaze falling from Val.

The prince laughed. “It’s hardly something to be embarrassed of,” he said, “and you’re certainly not alone,” he gently took her hand, laying it near his waist. The princess gasped, both at his impropriety and at the substantial bulge she felt beneath her fingers. Her mouth remained open while she patted around, feeling along Val.

“Are all males this big?” she asked, looking up at him.

The half-elf smirked. “I’m actually bigger than most elves,” he said. “Thanks to my mother’s blood for that,” he brought his hands up, this time cupping against her breasts. The princess gasped at the touch, feeling the sensations dragging along her nipples. “Am I always this good, or are you feeling particularly sensitive tonight? Perhaps I should go back and thank Arrington, if he got my promised into such a mood.”

Bryony lightly hit him on the shoulder, glaring daggers. “It’s you, you twit,” she told him, trying to convince herself as well. She had a momentary flash of a hulking orc, one easily twice the size of her lover, and swore for just a moment she could still smell his thick musk. Before she could dwell on the thought, Val returned his lips to her own.

They dashed against one another, their mutual hunger soon becoming quite apparent. Bryony found her head twisting and bobbing, exploring new angles. Her hands drifted as well, cupping Val’s tight buttocks even as he played with her own frame. She felt him reaching downward, her body stilling as he tugged at fabric. “Val,” she breathed as she felt her dress rising, the kiss of the night air cold against her heated legs. She’d opted against wearing pantaloons below, instead opting for the new elfish fashion of “panties,” albeit in the decidedly more chaste human cut. Her current pair were a delicate green to match her dress, flaring out with legs almost like extremely abbreviated trousers. She gasped as she felt him teasing the edges of them now.

“These feel almost elfish,” he teased, making her flush. He kissed again, this time moving to his throat, while his hands drifted upward. Bryony groaned as she felt his fingers moving steadily toward her heated core. She hadn’t thought the warmth could flare any hotter, but soon found that just his light touch near her made her almost want to cry out in joy. His teasing fingers danced lightly all along, making her squirm.

“What’s this?” he breathed into her neck, his fingers shifting, “I think her royal highness, Bryony the Sunrise Blade is wet,” he let his digit press her pantie against her sex, drawing a high pitched squeak from the princess. Her hips bucked toward him, while her arms lashed about his neck. She could feel his touch so dangerously close. More and more arousal pounded into her, making her shiver.

Another sharp noise began to leave her lips as his finger drew along her, only to be smothered by his lips. The roguish half-elf smiled along the kiss as his fingers traveled along her, and Bryony had to break the contact. Nearly panting, she looked up at him. “We can’t,” she insisted.

He frowned at her, and Bryony found herself shaking her head. “I won’t lay with you before---before we’re married. We agreed,” she said, her face falling, regret showing with every word. She half expected Val to snarl or to insult her, perhaps call her a tease, which Bryony almost felt she deserved, if only for teasing herself.

“So we did,” he said, “though you can hardly fault me with such a beautiful woman in my arms.” Yet his fingers remained. In fact, they drifted upward, causing Bryony to gasp as she felt him teasing along the top waist, bulging her dress out in such a way that would leave it quite obvious to any passersby what the princess and the princes were doing.

“Then shouldn’t you remove that?” she hissed, letting a little of her venom leak into the words.

Val moved to kiss her, and she let out a groan of protest, hands beating against his chest, albeit not with much strength. When he parted, her glaring daggers at him, it was with another expression of pure mischief. “You do realize that there are things lovers can do without penetration?”

Bryony’s brow furrowed, just as she felt his hand sliding beneath her waistband. Her lips parted and she let out a noise of shock as she felt him delving along her. Red poured into her face and she nearly ducked her head down, suddenly feeling very much more like a teenage virgin and very much less like a fearless warrior princess. She could feel her lover’s fingers teasing along her mound, driving her mad with her own want.

Then they paused. “Why did you stop?” she demanded, drawing a light laugh from him even as the deadly look again entered her eyes.

“I think you looked at the orc chief with less venom,” he teased, nearly making her flush, her sex pounding again at the memory. “I paused because,” his finger trailed a circle, “I’m not feeling something I should.”

And Bryony had thought she couldn’t flush any further. Surely now her entire neck would be aflame. She ducked her head lower still, biting her lip. “I—I trimmed it,” she mumbled.

That caused Val to pause. “You… what?”

“Actually I had it all shaved off at one point,” she confessed, the heat rising to her head nearly making her dizzy. “I’d heard that elfish women are… are bare down there, and I figured that since you’re an elfish male… oh goddess!” the last was meant as an exclamation of embarrassment, but it turned into one of lust as she felt him pushing along her, teasing the light hairs that had returned since her shaving. Time on the field hadn’t exactly given her time to keep trim.

“I fell for a human woman, remember?” he whispered, “but I’m certainly about to show you just how much I appreciate the effort. In fact,’ his fingers lightly caressed the top of Bryony’s mound, ruffling the light thatch of red-gold that had grown, “when I think about it… elfish panties… elfish trimming, though we use oils…” he let his finger dip for a moment, drawing a gasp from his princess, “you were hoping I’d be down here, weren’t you?”

Again Bryony felt her cheeks flush, her lips twisting between teeth. She shot him a quick look, trying to figure out a good excuse for her actions. Unfortunately, with Val’s expert finger teasing her virginal slit, thinking about much of anything beyond more was proving rather difficult. She took a sucking breath all the same, “I—I figured if I were to wed one of elfish blood, I should-ahaaa I should look the---the part.”

Another shiver took the princess as Val’s finger, the tip callused from so much use of the bow, dipped lower still. She felt him gently caressing not merely her mons, but her sex directly. That touch feathered along her lips, drawing against her wetness in ways that Bryony had never felt before. It sent little jolts of pleasure up inside her, shocking against her core. The sheer touch made her legs quiver, and she found her hands digging a little more into her lover’s shoulders.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t look more attractive,” he purred, his voice low, sensuous. He used his free hand to tilt her head, and the bold warrior princess found herself nearly melting into another kiss. His hand kept stroking her sex, teasing along the folds. It pressed as his lips matched, wet seeming to seep from both ends of Bryony’s body. She shifted, spreading herself a little more, feeling her insides opening before him.

The kiss shifted, the half-elf again working his way down his lover’s neck. He drew his hand up, threading it into her intricate styling. Bryony reached, grabbing for his wrist, fearing mostly that he’d fall her curls, betraying their actions. As if her panting chest, her flush, or her aching loins weren’t indication enough of their doing. He threaded his fingers into hers, giving it a squeeze as he nipped at her flesh. Bryony yelped, hips jerking toward him, pressing her heat against his hardness once more.

“Relax,” he breathed. “even should someone find us, they’ll simply laugh it off. Two young, attractive lovers? Everyone already thinks we do this and more.”

The thought of more made Bryony moan. Her head lolled back, framing curls drifting downward. Hips arched toward him, begging for more. She felt him responding, his digit pressing against her opening. Val paused, pulling back to look into Bryony’s eyes, which almost blazed with green lust. Painted lip twisted beneath teeth, and she quickly nodded, not quite certain what she granted him permission to do.

His finger answered that unasked question. She felt it pressing, parting her folds with gentle insistence. The princess let out another gasp, body rolling, clinging to him. Her inner walls clamped down upon the invading digit, as if to wrench his finger further inside. She felt muscles she’d barely worked already tightening in preparation, ready to milk any welcome guests.

“Fuck, Bryony,” breathed her lover, sending another jolt into her sex, “I think you’re the tightest woman I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a shit compliment,” she retorted, smiling almost daringly at him, hips rolling again.

He laughed in response, finger rotating to draw another moan from her. “Makes me want you all the more,’ he breathed.

Bryony gasped as he pressed a free hand toward her chest. This was no mere glancing, teasing touch. He pressed hard, almost squeezing her breast. She felt the nipple drawing against the supportive fabric, threatening to poke free of the finery. It grazed it deliciously, sending another quivering shock to her system. Lightning danced from the touch to her core, melting her further. She felt her lips quivering, parting against his questing digit, more of her want seeping forth. Doubtless those fine panties would be rather soaked by now, a thought that had her flushing. Yet she didn’t demand that he remove them.

Val must have noticed her response, for his finger shifted. Instead of merely teasing or exploring, he’d begun thrusting. Bryony felt him stretching her tight insides. Her body kept clamping, but he seemed to flutter away, moving about her sex with the dexterity she’d come to respect on the battlefield. Barely had she begun to adjust to his attack on one spot when he’d dart to another. That roughened digit pressed against her sensitive wall, increasing her want to near madness. The princess let out another sharp cry, pulling against her lover. He sealed further words with another kiss, dipping into her eager mouth. Lips parted above as below, and she felt him teasing her tongue into him, dueling her as an equal.

A burst of sharp pleasure shook Bryony, and she belatedly realized that she’d hardly reciprocated. Her hand drifted low, threading toward his breeches. She felt his hardness immediately, his member straining the fabric to a near tearing point. The sensation had her smiling even as she gasped her pleasure: clearly the feelings were more than reciprocated. She gave him a squeeze that drew a groan from her lover, before her deft digits moved to his laces.

“You don’t have to,” breathed the prince, parting his lips from her to pant. His hand stilled its work upon her breast to land upon her wrist, stalling their activity for a few panting moments.

“Oh, shut up and quit being a gentleman,” she hissed, moving to yank his laces free. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said so, for his finger began working against her sex with renewed purpose. Her actions ceased for several seconds as the sheer intensity of pleasure seized her. She quickly recovered, drawing on that battlefield prowess, that urge to power through. Her fingers delved into his pants, quickly sought the sword she wanted, and pulled free.

Bryony gasped as she felt him bursting forth. His trousers had hid a good deal of his length. Still, as she ran her hands along his hardness, she had to marvel. He felt almost too perfect: smooth and unadorned. A glance down confirmed that his member had the same almost perfect white as his flesh. The domed head had swollen with need, a little drop of arousal already forming at the slit. Freed, the maleness pulsed in her hand, and she could feel it filling, more than filling her grip as she palmed it. It, he, pulsed in her touch, making her let out another little squeal of appreciation.

His finger pressed deep into hers while she eagerly palmed his sex. She felt him pushing more and more, grinding, and so she attempted to match. Bryony didn’t exactly have practice, but she knew to rub, to draw her hands over him, to stroke his maleness. She pulled fingers along him, continually rubbing and rubbing. Her fingers teased the top, pulled, almost milking, jerking at times, her arousal making her motions erratic. They must have worked, for Val groaned in appreciation.

But a strange pressure had begun to build within her lower belly. Bryony whimpered, dancing in place. “Val—I—I think I’m---” she breathed, lips parting in pant.

“You think?” he breathed, his voice tight, but still controlled, even as his member surged into her grip.

“I—I’ve never---not before,” she breathed, flushing again.

“Someone like you?” he asked, brows raising in surprise. “I’d thought for sure, with how physical you are…”

She shook her head, feeling a flush of embarrassment that almost matched her mounting heat. Her gut had twisted into a tight knot, the raw tension rising dangerously quick within. Her hips could no longer hold still, not that they’d been all that immobile before. Now she danced upon his fingers, only sporadically jerking his member in kind.

“Are---are you close?” she asked, breath hitching as she felt her insides almost kick.

“Almost, but I’m not quite…” admitted Val, eyes flicking away.

Bryony groaned, but shook her head, hitting his chest with a free hand. “I’m not going until you do,” she insisted.

“Bryony, we started with you first, this is ridi—”

She shook her head, letting out a noise of protest. Again as on the field of battle, she powered through, pushing aside her own incredible lust. Bryony focused on her hand, willing it to stroke Val faster and faster. She squeezed, jerking with a near frenzy. To her delight, within moments she felt him tensing, heard him gasping. The princess nearly let out a cry of triumph: she’d always heard that men were quicker to arouse, and that a woman could do it with a touch like this.

But she felt Val’s fingers twist, teasing against her, and found herself erupting. All her suppression couldn’t stop it. The sheer power of it swam over her, flooded veins, pounded into her blood. Pleasure became her world, a world centered on her spasming sex. Muscles contorted, seizing against him, pulling deep and attempting to milk his digit. They convulsed with raw delight, dancing in celebration of their coupling. She could feel her abdomen flexing with the effort, as if her years of training had brought her to this glorious peaking moment. The sheer delight of it exploded throughout her vision.

Bryony’s head fell back, a few more strands of hair falling with the intensity of the movement. Her lips parted, only to be seized by Val as her lover swallowed her exclamations of joy. Still they came, shot up from her convulsing torso to resound along their joined lips. That sharp wave rose and crashed with devastating effect, and she groaned low, eyes rolling, as she felt her sex finally releasing, coming down.

Her hands had jerked, and she suddenly realized that they were warm, too warm. Confused, she pulled a hand up, seeing a sticky white substance clinging to the digits. Bryony spread them, brow furrowed. Was that… snot? It almost looked like it, but too white, too—

“Oh my goddess, you came!” she breathed, looking up at Val with utter delight on her face. “Wh—when did that happen?”

“About halfway through yours, my love,” he breathed, cupping her face with a clean hand and kissing her lips. “Hard not to with your beautiful face writhing in ecstasy.”

Bryony knew she should flush or flinch in embarrassment, but instead she laughed, pulling him down for another kiss. Raw delight in succeeding, in pulling him into her pleasure, filled her from her core, spreading its warmth throughout. Though as she pulled slightly back, she realized that it did leave them with a small problem. Moisture dripped tellingly from her palm, and a splatter showed against the bottom of his shirt and the breeches. To say nothing of her no doubt thoroughly soaked undergarments. Goddess, if it showed upon her dress, she was doomed!

“Um,’ she said, licking her lips, “how are we supposed to—”

“There you are!”

The sudden exclamation made both Bryony and Val jump. The lovers turned, Bryony’s dress falling into place, while her hands remained behind her, as if to cover up Val. The voice belonged to a servant, a rather plump middle aged woman who approached the royal couple.

“It’s time for his majesty’s toast,” she said, nodding, “so straighten up and come along,” she walked a few steps away, giving the two time to straighten as best they could. The princess flushed, knowing that there could be little doubt for the servant as to what they’d been doing. She supposed there was a chance that the older woman wouldn’t realize.

That chance evaporated as the two tried to walk past her. For the woman tutted and quickly adjusted Bryony’s hair, before handing a handkerchief to Val, telling him archly that he had a spot on his trousers. When the two nearly gaped, the woman simply harrumphed. “Honestly, do you think you’re the first two I’ve caught in the hedges?”

Bryony fought a slightly nervous laugh as she nearly floated after the servant. A relaxed pleasure had settled in, brushing aside her earlier worries about the orc and the fight and even about Val and her together. That had been marvelous, and they’d only touched one another. Bryony already imagined what it would be like to take Val’s impressive member inside her, a thought that now made her insides clench in anticipation. Flushed with that excitement, she entered the main hall, Val close behind.

Her father saw her, beckoning her over for a toast. Bryony bowed her head, dashing toward him, pausing only a moment to nod to a few other nobles. A few of the younger ones, and the more knowing ladies, seemed to know, or at least guess, as to where the princess and her paramour had been, though most seemed to just give a smile. After all, she was the Sunrise Blade, and Val’norous was one of the most popular elfish heirs in centuries.

Soon their shining princess stood alongside her father, both beaming. The king began his toast immediately, launching into a fine telling of the epic battles they’d had against the orc hordes. The words eventually came to Bryony’s own battles, fought with the royal blade that had served the royal line for so very many years.

“Now, at last, our kingdoms may know peace,” her father concluded, nodding, “and so, it is with great joy that I can announce a finer event! Our princess, Bryony the Sunrise Blade,” he grinned, clearly thrilled that his daughter had earned such a valiant moniker, “will wed Prince Val’norous of the Elves, and be crowned queen of—”

Before her father could finish the words that Bryony so longed to hear, an explosive noise cut him off. The doors to the main room had exploded outward, a bedraggled and bloodied elf woman stumbling her way in. The crowd gasped, parting to give her room and allow a guard to prevent the poor woman from falling. Even still, her golden hair threatening to spill onto her face.

“What is this?” demanded the king, surging forward, Bryony hot on his heels. She saw Val nearby, giving him a nod as she stood alongside her father.

“I—I forgive me, your majesty,” breathed the woman, her voice as light as any of her kind, “but I—I bear terrible news. The orc horde has renewed its attack upon our people,” her gaze went to Val, “He took my entire village. I barely escaped with my life, but not--- not my—” she sobbed, and the crowd fell silent. Likely the poor thing had managed to escape after an orc had satiated himself with her. Having experienced the orcish musk firsthand, Bryony couldn’t help but be impressed. She hadn’t heard tale of a woman actively resisting.

“I must go,” said Val. The king nodded, and the prince turned to Bryony. “I’ll go on ahead to rally my people.”

Bryony’s gut twisted, her earlier delight fading. But she simply nodded, giving her lover’s hands a squeeze. “I shall meet you on the front with all due haste,” she said. As Val turned to leave, she knelt before the woman, “and fear not, milady. Your bravery shall not go unrewarded. On this day, I ask that you join my service as my first handmaiden, and, should you feel up to it, you may serve by my side as we approach the front.”

The woman pulled her head up, blue eyes locking with Bryony’s green. The princess thought for a moment those blues shifted toward a violet, but the woman nodded sternly, bowing toward the princess. “My name is Raff’lasia, and it shall be an honor to serve.”

Nodding, Bryony grabbed the elf’s hand, rising up and raising it as she did. “We shall push back the horde and finish Garrosh once and for all!” she exclaimed, the cheers of her people erupting around her.

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

Bryony groaned in frustration as she ran her hands through her hair. A week after that fateful celebration, and she still hadn’t reunited with Val. She now stood in her admittedly elaborate tent near the front lines, her armor recently stripped from her aching body. Bryony had just chased down a loose band of goblins, likely an offshoot of the horde. They’d proved almost ridiculously easy to end, her sword scything through them like wheat.

“At least it won’t be long until we’re reunited,” she mumbled, looking toward the mirror. She’d stripped down to what she wore under her armor: a simple white tunic that sweat had plastered against her lean frame, and an equally plastered set of white trousers. She could see Raff moving behind her, the elf moving with that graceful proficiency that Bryony had already come to envy.

“Indeed, your highness, soon the fronts will join and you’ll be with your love once more,” said the elf, giving Bryony a knowing smile.

The princess fought a flush, instead meeting the smile with one of her own. “I’m sure it’ll be quite a reunion.”

“Perhaps as good as the celebration, hmm?” teased Raff, the smile lighting those blue eyes.

“I’m regretting telling you of that,” replied Bryony, though her lips twisted into a smile. She’d found Raff almost too easy to speak with, such information pouring forth at a regular basis. Already the elf knew of Bryony’s virginity, and of her various grooming habits.

Speaking of, Bryony groaned, almost lowering her head to the desk before her. As she was still a princess, she was forced to have the small concession to femininity. This meant the small desk had a mirror attached, and within lay a handful of powders and rouges that would serve as a woman’s weapon. Within also lay Bryony’s trimming equipment.

“Is something amiss, your highness?” asked Raff, coming alongside her princess.

“I told you to call me Bryony,” replied the princess, not lifting her head. “And---and I’m just realizing that I’m going to have to—to shave again,” she bit her lip, looking over her shoulder, “down there.”

“Ah.”

“It’s just… Val was so pleased to find it, and I just know he’d be utterly thrilled if I were bare as a babe down there,” explained Bryony, letting out another sigh of frustration as she looked at her bedraggled and battle weary self in the mirror. “But last time I did it I nicked my loins, and that had been when I wasn’t exhausted.”

“You know…” said Raff, swinging her hips, “while we elves don’t really need to do anything down there, we do, well, we have this crème…”

Bryony turned to look fully at her handmaiden, gesturing for her to go on.

“Well, you see, it removes unwanted hairs around the area. We developed it for the poor elves with human blood who wanted to fit in, or for those that perhaps have some sort of condition. It’s said to remove the hair for quite some time. In fact, it may even be permanent. I had to use it myself once, and I still have some if—”

Bryony hesitated for a moment, shifting.

“I could apply it, of course, if that’s your concern…” offered Raff, giving Bryony a pleading look.

The thought actually sounded almost too good. Not only wouldn’t she have to worry about shaving, but Bryony knew all too well how gentle an elf’s touch could be. She’d allowed Raff to massage her aching muscles after a fight a time or two already. “I don’t know about having another woman near…. There,” she said, flushing slightly.

The elf laughed. “I never will understand humans. We’ve both the parts, have we not? Don’t fret so much,” she reached down and took Bryony’s hands. “Just think about how pleased Val will be to see your sex in all its glory,” Raff squeezed the hands, “and I promise to be gentle.”

Again Bryony hesitated, though she could see the almost pleading look in her new friend. Finally, she relented: “Fine, we’ll try it.”

“Excellent! Just take off your bottoms, and I’ll get things ready,” said Raff, moving over to where Bryony’s too large bed, complete with silk sheets stood. For a few seconds the princess merely watched as her handmaiden withdrew a drying cloth from among their supplies, laying it out upon the edge of the bed. The elf then bent over to where her own small stash of supplies lay, rummaging through them. Raff had managed to squirrel away a few possessions, which Bryony had helped her retrieve after she’d taken her into her service. There were bits there which hinted that the elf might not be just a simple peasant girl; Bryony suspected Raff of being the town witch or priestess.

The elf looked over her shoulders, smiling and raising her brows. “Did you require me to remove your bottoms, your highness?” she asked, no doubt using the title to irritate Bryony.

The princess sighed, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her sweaty pants. She wriggled her hips, forcing the things down the slightly wider portion of her hips, then peeling it from her legs as she went. Underneath she wore another of the human designed panties, this one in a simple white but just as modest as before. The princess didn’t even think of removing this as she came over to the bed, sitting on the covering.

Raff pulled up, holding a small jar of what was likely the crème. She looked down to Bryony’s waist and giggled. “Well, those certainly don’t look like the pantaloons of a princess.”

Bryony rolled her eyes. “I like the elfish style garments better.”

‘Please,’ said Raff, reaching down to snap the waistband, “ours are much more appealing than this,” she wrinkled her nose, then giggled, “they don’t cover nearly as much either,” she ran her finger along the band, making Bryony squirm slightly. “Well, they’re going to have to come off. I can’t exactly apply the crème through fabric, after all.”

“Oh, right,” said Bryony, reaching down to remove the garment. But Raff waved her off, instead motioning for the princess to raise her hips. Flushing slightly, Bryony did so, watching as the elf hooked the garment in her fingers. For some reason, Raff drew them off slowly, almost teasingly, less clinical and more… erotic? Bryony’s mind must just be on such things after a week of hard fighting after her electric encounter with Val. She forced herself to lean back on the bed, red-gold hair fanning out around her. Another frown creased her brow as she looked to it. Perhaps she should consider trimming that as well.

Raff unscrewed the lid, humming a pretty elf tune to herself. “You truly are remarkably beautiful, Bryony,” she said, smiling up at the princess. “I can see why Val is so taken with you,” she dipped her fingers into the jar, coming up with a strange, pinkish sort of crème. The odd coloring had Bryony’s brow furrowing, and she levered herself onto her shoulders.

“Should it look like that?”

“What? Oh, of course!” said Raff, giggling again. She rubbed a bit between her fingers while she used a cloth to pat down Bryony’s groin. “They use certain flowers that give it that coloring. Funny enough, the one the boys use turns out blue,” she gave the princess a wink, which had Bryony laughing slightly as well. “now just lean back,” said the elf, giving Bryony a slight push on her abdomen. “Oh, I will never get over your muscles! I think you’re better built than most elf warriors.”

The compliment had Bryony laughing herself, but she laid back down, trying to force herself to relax. Her eyes fixated on the roof of her tent, seeing where the fabric connected at the peak. Soon she felt something cool touching along her loins. Bryony knew that what was once a moderately trimmed area had nearly become a forest, even with just that week’s worth of growth. Now she felt the coolness seeping into her flesh. It spread slowly, Raff’s gentle fingers rubbing it into her flesh.

“That feeling alright?” the elf asked.

Bryony nodded, finding herself relaxing further. Her eyes closed for a moment as relaxation sank into her exhaustion, and swore for a moment she heard Raff’s little tune dip in pitch, and heard something like a crackle. When she looked, she just saw those delicate fingers scooping up more crème. “how much do we need?”
“Enough to get the job done. You’ve got quite a lot,” said Raff, giggling. She slathered another layer of the stuff upon Bryony’s mound. As this layer added, Bryony felt something… different. The crème had been cooling, but now it felt… tingly? She swore she could feel it starting to seep, but not simply into her skin. It felt as if it were going further. She let out a slight gasp, then saw Raff swipe with her hand, holding up a red-gold hair.

“See?” she said. “It’s killing the hairs at their root,” explained the elf. The tingling intensified, seeming to seep deeper. Bryony swore it wasn’t just stopping at her skin and hair, but working further into her flesh. She wriggled her hips slightly, biting her lips. For the tingling so near her sex, after over a week of neglect, felt… arousing. She could feel that slight heat building in her lower belly.

Then something cool touched her heated lips directly. Bryony gasped, jerking upright, only to find Raff’s steadying hand. The elf gave her an almost concerned look. “There’s hair down there too,” explained the elf, her fingers working as she spoke.

“There---there is?”

Raff nodded. “Well, there won’t be for long,” she explained, massaging the crème into Bryony. The tingling there started almost immediately. It latched onto her own aroused tingling, seeming to latch onto the sensation and amplify. The princess supposed she had hairs down there, and Raff soon held up a hand with little spikes upon it for proof. But it still felt almost unnecessary.

The tingling grew into an outright itch as Raff began massaging all about the area. Those digits dug into Bryony’s lips, even slipping slightly between the folds. They quested upward, teasing around the flesh, before coming upward to focus upon the mound. This the elf massaged with something like vigor, fingers digging into the flesh. More and more of Bryony’s hairs fell about, parting beneath the almost erotic massage. And as each one fell, she felt her arousal growing.

It had to be the delicate fingers, or a side effect of the crème. It just felt so similar to what Val had done. Raff’s delicate touch feathering about her sex. Teasing areas, rubbing them gently. But the handmaiden clearly wasn’t moving to arouse, simply targeting Bryony’s body with surgical precision. The teasing touches felt almost worse then, as Bryony knew there wouldn’t be any release any time soon.

Raff worked even more against her mound, digging deep. “There’s a lot here to make sure we clear,’ the elf explained, as her tips dug into Bryony. The princess couldn’t quite suppress a shudder and a groan, leaning back. Her hips arched slightly as the elf’s fingers spread downward, covering the area just around her slip. The tingling seemed to spike for a moment. Tension knotted in Bryony’s lower belly. She felt the knot growing, forcing her muscles to convulse. Her hips canted.

Then Raff stopped, leaving Bryony laying there, almost flush. “All done!” chirped the elf, nodding. She gestured for Bryony to look, and the princess did so, levering herself up on her elbows. Sure enough, her sex was as bare as it had been before her flowering. Without the hairs to obscure, she could see her puffed lips, the arousal swelling her flower all the more evidently. A slight flush seemed to hover about the area as well. Amazed, Bryony ran a finger along her mound, surprised to not even feel the stubble she’d felt when she’d shaved.

She was also shocked at just how much she felt the finger.

“Oh, right,” said Raff, smiling, “you’re starting to see why we favor such light undergarments.”

“I can feel nearly everything…” breathed the princess. Indeed, even the light shifts of air felt teasing against her sex.

Raff giggled. “Yes, that certainly happens. You probably won’t be able to wear even these,” she picked up the panties, “for a while.”

Flushed, Bryony levered herself up to a sitting position. “Well, I’m not going bare underneath,” she insisted.

“Well, I happen to have some panties of the elfish kind you could wear,” offered Raff. Her gaze flicked to Bryony’s chest, “and since you’re not exactly bulging up top, you could probably fit the matching brassiere as well.”

Bryony paused again, licking her lips. Elfish panties? She could almost picture Val’s eagerness in seeing his beautiful lover dressed in such. She found herself nodding almost too quickly, and watched as the handmaiden squealed. She ducked into her supplies again, and Bryony found herself almost too relieved at having to share with her handmaiden. She didn’t think she could weather the embarrassment if a soldier interrupted Raff while she carried a pair of delicate elfish panties to her princess.

Indeed, when Bryony saw the scraps of silky fabric in Raff’s hands, she blanched. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“This is it, Bryony,” said the elf, giggling. She shifted the pantie, which seemed to Bryony to mostly be a string of gold with a small triangle of silken golden fabric attached. There didn’t seem to be much on the back to cover much of anything. But the princess still raised her hips as the elf wriggled them up. The pantie dug slightly into Bryony’s flesh: it was made for the elf, and as lean as Bryony may be, she was still human, but it felt bearable.

Raff motioned for Bryony to remove her top, and, with a sigh, the princess did so, tossing it aside. The brassiere at least had more cover. The golden silk covered her chest for the most part, though parts of each side of her breast threatened to spill out. This had a black lace lining along the edges and for a strap in the back, and it did wonders to push and support even Bryony’s modest cleavage. Like below, it clung slightly, but in an almost flattering way.

“There you go!” chirped Raff. She nodded, smiling as she stepped back. “Now, with that settled, I think I’ll go fetch us some dinner!”

Bryony nodded, watching as her handmaiden parted. Rising to her feet, she walked back to the mirror, beholding herself within. She saw her lean frame, barely covered in the daring elfish garments. The tiny little pantie seemed to tease more than cover, and it would hardly take more than a look to realize that she had to be bare beneath. The appearance seemed to make Bryony’s sex tingle again, and she let her hand drift.

She gasped at the touch, shuddering, green eyes staring at herself in the mirror. That felt… felt intense! She giggled as she let her fingers play for a moment. What a pleasant side effect indeed…










Raff walked through the camp, adding a little more sway to her step. She wasn’t exactly dressed to draw eyes, not in the simple dress of the handmaiden, even if it did cling enticingly to her slender curves. But every man there could no doubt imagine what sort of lacy, silkey underthings the pretty elf wore.

Just think if they knew their darling princess now wore the same.

The elf walked toward the dining tent, at least at first, but she veered off for a moment, careful not to move too quickly or with too much suspicion. She knew a few watched her leave, but they likely figured she went out to commune with nature, something that she did regularly. These foolish humans didn’t think twice about an elf wanting to be alone, and the handful of elves here didn’t look twice at Raff.

She barely got into the woods, just some ways away from the patrols proper, when she almost bumped directly into the orc. She took a step back, looking into that impressive chest, with its almost equally impressive gut. The raw musk rolled over her, threatening to cloud her senses. But instead of quivering in fear, Raff’s lips twisted into a smile as she looked up, seeing Garrosh, mighty orc chief.

“Well, witch?” he demanded in a grunt.

“Raff” laughed, rolling her eyes. “The princess is in the larger tent on the far side of the camp,” she said pointing, “next to the command tent, which looks identical. Hers is closer to us,’ she folded her arms over her modest breasts, almost smirking up at him. “And she’s more than prepped and ready. Poor thing misses her lover so that she didn’t even hesitate when I mentioned the crème. She’ll be at least five times as sensitive than before, and positively aching for it.”

Garrosh’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, his loincloth twitching upward in anticipation.






The sounds of alarm drew Bryony from the contemplation of her own body. Her hands had just started to drift, teasing her newly shorn mound. The princess knew little of masturbation, of pleasuring herself, but having experienced two skilled hands she knew enough to at least attempt. Her fumblings had mostly just increased her own want, and she’d been near to giving up in frustration, perhaps grinding herself upon a pillow or something, when the alarm sounded.

The princess almost ran out as she was, pausing at the entrance to remember her skimpy garb. She ran back, finding a leather tunic that she often used for practice. It draped nearly to her thighs, and had just enough thickness to ward of glancing blows. Hardly her elfish mail, but she hardly had the time to don that.

As if reading that thought, the backside of her tent suddenly ripped. The princess threw on the covering, spinning to draw the royal blade, holding it up as an axe finished working its way through the thick cloth of the tent. She beheld just a flash of night behind her, lit by fires not only from the tent. Then she beheld the massive wall of flesh that stepped through, towering over her, looking all the mightier for her lack of armor.

“Garrosh?” she breathed, almost not believing her eyes. But it had to be he: a puckered scar showed along his side, and the cut along his flesh. His lips twisted in a cruel mockery of a smile as he stepped toward her, sheathing the impressive axe to draw a wicked sword of black stone, jagged and easily large enough to be two handed for a human.

“Ah, the Sunrise Blade,” he breathed, chuckling as he stepped closer, “I’ve looked forward to a rematch.”

“Men!” yelled Bryony, twisting toward the entrance, “to me!”

But she felt the orc lunging, spinning just in time to deflect his mighty blade. This time, however, her movements felt more sluggish than before. Even with the lighter garb, her sword almost felt heavy. Worse, Bryony still tingled from Raff’s earlier teasing and her own innocent fumblings. Panting, she rolled out of the way of an incoming attack, knowing that she just had to hold him off for a little while.

“Expecting aid?” asked the orc, stomping toward her. “I’m afraid you’ll be out of luck. My brutes have orders to keep yours distracted while we have our fun,” he took another swipe, and Bryony just barely managed to deflect again.

He’d put her on the defensive already, which suited him far more than her. She twisted, trying to get under his guard. Except as she did, she inhaled sharply, inhaled a burst of his musk. The raw, thick stench filled Bryony’s nose and mouth almost immediately. It slid down again, its earthy flavor all too familiar. She felt her foot stumble, and soon felt something solid connect with her gut.

Garrosh grinned as his fist pulled back, having delivered the mighty blow directly to the princess’s barely protected torso. To her credit, she held her ground for a second, before falling to her knees. His hand lashed out with impressive speed, latching onto her loose hair. Bryony hissed as she felt him bundling it into a fist, yanking her back. Green eyes flared with deadly fire as she looked up to him, reaching for her sword.

But instead of reaching for his own weapon, Garrosh tugged at his side. Bryony watched in horror as the loincloth loosened about the orc’s waist. With a shudder, it fell, baring the orc’s lower half, and baring his true weapon.

Val’s had been impressive, to be sure. This was… monstrous. It extended at least as long as Bryony’s forearm, and kept bobbing as if to grow all the more fully erect. Blood had pumped it to a dark green, looking almost sickly. Bryony could see patches of some strange substance clinging to various curves and veins on it, looking almost like some sort of cheese. The thick cock had to be as big around as her wrist, possible bigger. Stranger still, there seemed to be ridges scattered every few inches or so, bulging the cock out and giving it an almost ridged appearance. The top itself bloomed out like a plum, purpling with increased arousal.

And oh goddess, the smell. The orc’s musk had been dominating before. Now it made Bryony’s head spin. The raw pheromones wafted straight from the source. That was the smell of a creature made for breeding, a beast that lived only to fuck and fight. It made Bryony’s head swim, and she felt her still tender sex throb for a moment as if in recognition.

“You can smell it, can’t you?” hissed the orc. He drew the princess’s face in, nearly rubbing her against his massive tool. Bryony tried holding her breath as she felt the thing rubbing along her face. “Smells better than your little knife-eared boy, doesn’t it?” he said. “Were you thinking of it when his fingers touched you?”

Hissing, Bryony tried twisting, pulling against him. He responded by ramming her face forward, burying her against his crotch. His cock slapped along her face, and she felt almost smothered against him. Bryony again tried to hold her breath, to pull back, but the orc’s grip remained tight. He pressed her face tight against his flesh, his groin, shifting so that he was nearly rubbing her against his crotch.

“Yes, take it all in, princess,” he breathed. “That’s gonna be your new master. Notice the bumps? Those are the bones of my fallen rivals. Most orcs get three, maybe four. See how many I have?”

Bryony found her eyes opening, nearly crossing to go to the cock near her face. She counted at least seven, maybe more. Oh goddess, what would those feel like inside her? She shivered at the thought, and suddenly felt her held breath release. The princess inhaled a full blast of orc, right from the source. Not just his normal musk, but the pheromones that drifted directly from his hard, thick cock. That quick inhale slid them directly into her, poured the primal odor into her senses. It overwhelmed even the warrior princess, Bryony going slack, eyes rolling.

She felt that raw desire washing over her. It melted her mind for those moments. Raw desire, enflamed by touches and her newly shorn sex, pulsed into her being. It kicked her womb at least as hard as it had when Val had touched her before.

“There you go, you’re starting to feel it,” cooed the orc, rubbing the beautiful princess along his cock. “I think it’s time for you to start tasting too, don’t you?”

Tasting? Bryony looked at the cock, the bulbous head so dangerously close to her face. Another dribble of thick, yellowy seed leaked from the tip, and she had to fight the urge to openly wretch. The raw odor coming off it continued to be overpowering, and she found her mouth going slack, opening. Soon the domed head lined up with those pretty lips. Bryony could feel the tip sliding into her mouth. A sharp tang filled her taste, matching that odor only too well. The princess found herself swallowing, taking in that droplet of precum. She could feel it sliding down her body, the salty, earthy flavor filling her mouth.

“Open wide,” growled the orc, pulling at Bryony’s lustrous mane of hair. The princess tried to work her jaw, to close her mouth. But that scent assailed her, the tug of her scalp sending an accompanying jolt of pain. Bryony felt her lips parting, opening wide. The thick cock slid forward. Her teeth grazed it, but she felt it pushing past her. Bryony tried to close her mouth, to reject, only to suddenly feel his hand grasping her cheeks. Garrosh hooked the princess’s mouth, holding her open for a moment while he dove, before shifting the grip upward. Bryony could soon only breath through her mouth, forcing her to gulp greedy mouthfuls of that thick stench.

Her body shivered, jaw slackening. The cock slid forward further still. It pushed past her teeth. Slid over her tongue. The princess could feel that first ghoulishly ribbed portion, the bone jutting leathery orc flesh out. It bumped along her tongue, before gliding steadily inward. Another few inches, another bump, still more orc cock.

Bryony felt her muscles convulse. She gagged, a blast of spittle erupting from around her sealed throat. Surely this would drive the orc back, as her mouth and throat convulsed around him, muscles relaxing even as her desperate brain tried to fight off his heady scent. But instead he held, hand firm, forcing her to adjust. She swallowed, even as her spittle oozed forth, bubbles of drool seeping about the sides. His thick taste filled her so completely. She could taste each and every bit of that strange, heady stuff upon his cock. It slid into her throat, an accompanying side dish to the meaty main course.

“Such a gorgeous princess,” purred the orc, sawing his hips slightly. Bryony could feel him gliding along her tongue, then felt his thick head pressing hard. Muscles again resisted, convulsing as he pressed against the back of her mouth, entering her throat. They drew tight, trying to resist. Spots swam in Bryony’s vision as the orc held her there. Eyes watered, moisture meeting the still seeping bits of drool. The princess’s hands dared raise, beating against his thighs.

“Don’t worry, you’ll adjust,” pronounced the orc chief, his lips still twisted in a greedy smile. He rolled his hips again, pushing. Bryony felt the head battering, pressing hard against her convulsing muscles. Another press, and she felt it almost popping past the ring. She gagged more fiercely than ever, her throat convulsing, only to feel that first ridge passing. Her eyes nearly crossed as she looked down, then widened as she saw the truth of it:

He was less than halfway inside her.

Panic sliced through Bryony’s lusty haze. She squealed, flailing her arms for a moment. Garrosh shook her head, then violently thrust forward. The princess expected him to just jar, or to come to something of a stop. She hadn’t counted on just how strong this brute happened to be, how fierce his desire for her. How could she have known that while she’d attended that party, been pleasured by her lover, warred for over a week, then been teased by her attendant that Garrosh had been preparing. His thick orcish balls swam for her, and he would not let a paltry thing like this stop him.

No, he didn’t stop until he’d sheathed himself within her. Bryony could feel her throat expanding, knew without looking that she’d bulged around him, somehow adapting. She could feel her lips sealing around the base of his thick cock, could feel every last little bump, all eight of them. Goddess, they had to be spaced at least an inch or so apart… how large was he?
“Now there’s what I want to see,” the orc said. He caressed Bryony’s cheek in a cruel parody of Val’s loving caresses. “You look so lovely like this, princess,” he rolled his hips back, and Bryony whimpered as she felt him withdrawing. “I’m going to enjoy regularly feeding you my seed, just like this,” he sawed forward, and she felt him jostling. “But we don’t exactly have the time to be gentle or slow, do we?”

Bryony yelped against him, eyes widening once more. She flailed, beating her fist against his hips. Yet she still felt his hands shifting, both grabbing onto her skull. The princess let out a moan of protest, a near scream, before she felt his muscles tensing. Then, with little warning, he began thrusting.

This wasn’t some gentle caress or an adjusting to his length. He plowed into her mouth as if she’d been designed to suck orc cock. The thick ram battered against her throat, drawing out spit and drool with each pull and thrust. Bryony felt her muscles convulsing at the rawness, convulse and then go almost slack. Each blow hammered against the back of her skull, as if battering the arousal into her. For she did feel it. With each thrust, her sex spasmed. A cock like this could fill her, could skewer her flesh and reshape her to fit him. It would reach so very deep within her body, goddess, how very deep. It plunged the depths of her throat now.

Eyes watered, and Bryony tried squeezing them shut. As she did, she felt him shake her head, forcing her to look up at him, even as he continued brutally fucking her skull. Her trembling hands at first braced, but she soon found one questing downward. For that heat had flared, turned into an almost molten desire between her legs, a desire needing answered.

The orc chuckled, no doubt noticing the movement, but he kept his almost frantic thrusts. Soon they picked up, his hips plowing against her, nearly a blur. Spittle flew out with each pull back, and Bryony found herself almost swallowing it right back as he thrust forward.

“yes, yes!” growled the orc. “Eat that cock, you royal slut! Taste the seed of your true master.”

Bryony groaned, eyelids fluttering. Spots swam in her vision, and she thought for certain she’d pass out, would consider it a near relief. For darkness and nothing would surely surpass this primal taking. But Garrosh slapped against her cheek, jarring her even as he thrust.

“Almost there,” he hissed, “eat… it… all…” he then threw his head back, howling. Thick muscles yanked Bryony forward, fully skewering her, sinking that thick cock deep within her. She felt the plumed head parting, nearly entirely down her gullet. Felt that first blast of chunky seed erupting inside. Bryony felt her body again growing slack, eyes rolling. She didn’t even need to swallow, not when his first ejaculations shot directly into her belly. Having experienced Val, she knew it wouldn’t be too long, that he’d grow limp after dumping his load soon.

But it kept going. Garrosh dumped another full load into her, before pulling back. Surprised and desperate, the princess tried swallowing, aching muscles reacting, but she couldn’t quite keep up. Soon thick, yellowy cum began to ooze out from around her mouth, caught by her spittle and running down. It soaked the top of her leather covering, drawing trails along her face. The princess desperately swallowed, even as she gagged. Each gag released a burst of the seed, splattering against him.

Then he pulled back further, the bumps running along her mouth. That domed head lay almost directly against her tongue. “Don’t you dare swallow this one,” hissed the orc, shaking her head as his cock erupted against her. For some reason, Bryony found herself obeying. Her body stilled while he filled her mouth, cheeks nearly puffing with the seed. The cock pulled back further, sending a short, sharp blast of cum, nearly the burst of a normal man, against the princess as the orc sank back.

The sharp, earthy taste of him filled Bryony. She could feel it along her tongue, knew it had slithered into her belly, which felt as if it much surely be bulging, like she’d eaten a full meal. Her eyes looked up to him, her lips still remaining closed, despite a near desperate urge to swallow. A thick palm closed about her lips, the orc leaning down.

“Play with it,” he commanded, and the princess followed suit. Her tongue swirled his seed about her mouth as if it were a treat. It twirled and pushed, introducing every one of Bryony’s refined tastebuds to the musky flavor of orc chief seed. It filled her mouth, swallowed her senses, overtook her. The meaty fist pulled back.

“Show me,” came the next command.

The princess opened her mouth, feeling a little of the stirred cum oozing about.

“Open your tongue.”

The tongue slid, more cum oozing as it did, pooling against her. Bryony shivered, wondering why she did this, why she obeyed. Her body retched, and she leaned forward, only to find him stopping her.

“Now, swallow.”

And, eyes locked with his, Bryony did, feeling the thick load sliding slowly down her throat. He held her for some time, before again demanding she open. She did, and realized that one of his little hairs had caught in her mouth. She flinched as he reached in, pulled it out to show her, and tossed it away.

Dazed, Bryony could hardly fight as the orc picked her up, casually tossing her onto the bed. The short leather garb rose, showing the bottom of her sexy elfish panties. Thighs were utterly stained with her juices, the crotch of the pantie soaked through.

“I think it’s time I prepare you for the main event,” said Garrosh, moving forward, still erect cock bobbing with each step.

Bryony, exhausted and panting, the taste of orc still fresh on her mouth, bits of seed even still dribbling, could barely raise her head up to look. Her eyes widened as she saw the towering figure approach. His thick hands moved to her waist, and the princess writhed for a moment. But his head odor again overwhelmed, and her already exhausted body could hardly put up a fight. The leather tunic rolled up, baring her barely clad and thoroughly soaked sex to the orc’s view.

“Well, well,’ he said, and Bryony tensed as she felt a thick finger caressing her. She released a shuddering breath as the digit pressed the silken garment against her. “You’re dressed like a sexy little elf. This for the lover?” he chuckled, rolling his finger while Bryony squirmed. “And you’re already so very wet.”

“I—I—” the princess managed to stammer, head thrashing. Bits of red gold stuck to her lips, to her face. Her body undulated, trying to move away, but he pushed. She felt his thick hand pressing her against the bed. The other digits swirled against her pantie, as if sopping up the juices. Then she felt him curling the digit up, saw the thick green hand glistening.

“Still going to deny it?” asked Garrosh, rubbing his finger against Bryony’s lips. She tried pursing them, but again he pushed past resistance, popping the soiled digit into her mouth. Bryony tasted the sweet and salty taste of her own honey, and she shuddered, knowing that he’d just gathered that from the source.

Chuckling, the orc reached down again. She felt him pulling, and her hips instinctively rose. The pantie parted from her sex with a wet squelching noise. Soon the monstrous orc held the tiny scrap of soaked fabric in one hand. Smiling, he pushed it forward. “Don’t want to draw attention just yet,” he said, shoving it against her lips. Bryony didn’t bother to resist, letting her lips pout. Soon she found her mouth stuffed with her soaked fabric, her juices filling her, mixing with his own. The orc chuckled, and she glared at him, body tensing. Now, she should strike now, before he exhausted her further or… or did something worse.

But a finger pressed against her sex, making Bryony jerk, gasping into her gag. The orc trailed in a manner not unlike Val, swirling the princess’s tight little slit. “You’re fucking tight, aren’t you?” he asked, pressing against her. “Guess your knife eared lover hasn’t gotten his chance yet. Too prudish to spread the legs?” he pressed his finger inside. Bryony squealed against her gag, hips bucking. Interior muscles clamped hard against him, trying to expel the invading digit. “Or maybe he’s already been inside and we just can’t tell.”

Chuckling, the orc wrenched apart Bryony’s legs. She saw his tusked maw hovering over her. Bryony’s eyes widened in fear, again writhing, trying to get away. She didn’t know why she didn’t wrench the panties from her mouth, save perhaps for some inborn reaction to the brutish strength. Her thighs remained open, and quivering, even as she felt hot breath touching her recently denuded sex.

“All bare too,” whispered the orc. He smiled up at her. “Just like I like them,” and his thick tongue lolled out. It was a brackish red, and nearly as long as Val’s member. Bryony’s eyes widened as he drew it close, lathering against her mound. She squealed at the intense stab of pleasure that knifed into her. It felt as if it stabbed not just into her mound, but straight into her desire, cutting through everything else.

“Got to make sure you’re all nice and wet,” spoke Garrosh, flattening his tongue and pressing it against her, making the princess yelp and jerk once more. “Loosen up these tight muscles some. Get you… lubed,” and his mouth descended. Bryony squealed into the gag as she felt his tusks grazing her sensitive flesh. She fought the urge to jerk hips, not wanting to thrust against him, nor to have those sharp tusks goring her most sensitive flesh.

Thick orc lips closed about her flower. Bryony shivered at the impressive touch. She again tried closing her eyes, picturing Val betwixt her thighs. But no sooner had she then a thick tongue punched against her slit. Too thick to be an elf’s. Bryony’s eyes shot open, hips jerking. Strong hands kept her pinned to the bed, as Garrosh began… began eating her.

He didn’t take harsh bites, though there were certainly nips. Instead his tongue lathered against her. It lashed and spread, delving between her snug lips, greedily gathering juices. It flailed about, slapping against flesh. Thick lips pressed hard along hers. They sucked, the tension and suction unbearable. Bryony’s hips jerked toward the orc as he did, as if to offer up more of herself. She dared glance down, seeing his cheeks nearly cave as he inhaled, sucking up her arousal.

The tongue continued, lips chewing along her own. Thick fingers began to prod, parting her delicate petals to let him get further within. He’d barely started, and already she could feel the mounting tension. That twisting knot formed in her lower belly. Bryony bit down, tried to fight it, even as a low, rumbling moan left her body. The thick hand pressed against her quivering abdomen, adding yet more pressure. It felt as if he worked to contain all her mounting arousal, to push it forward into one spot.

Fingers parted flesh, the tongue delving deep inside. It curled deliciously within, flailing. Bryony fought against the rising tide. She reminded herself that this was an orc, her enemy, a hated being. Toes curled with raw effort, her body bucking mightily. Muscles rippled, sweat beaded along her. She nearly clenched, even around her soaked gag.

Rough digits parted some fold within her. She heard him let out a satisfied, wet smack, before flicking against what felt like a little bean of flesh. The shock of pleasure made her hips jump. For a moment, Bryony lost herself, nearly climaxing then and there. But Garrosh wouldn’t relent. His tongue battered that button, until the princess could no longer hold. Bryony’s body exploded, thrashing against him. She screamed her delight into her gag, frustration twisting the noise to make it more primal, more raw. Molten fire poured through her, exiting near her burning loins. It burned, scorching away within. Thick hands and an eager mouth drove it ever deeper, as if to soak into her core.

He wouldn’t stop. Not even as she bucked, as the internal waves blew apart her senses. Bryony climaxed even harder than she had for Val, yet the orc continued eating her sex. He attacked it as if he’d been starving and offered his favorite dish. Little nips added bursts of pain, spiking into the intense cocktail of pleasure. Bryony’s hips jerked more and more, body arching as it overwhelmed her.

Yet he kept going. Even as her body relaxed, the orgasmic delight washing back into that almost sleepy desire. Bryony could taste nothing but the orc and her own arousal, the thick mix filling her. The air stunk of their combined sexual odors, that powerful scent seeping into her. She could hear his wet tongue still slathering against her sex, then heard an almost sucking pop as he pulled free.

“That’s one, princess,” he said, before descending again.

The second came quickly. His tongue had delved between her still sensitive, still quivering lips. It shot deep, likely would’ve met her hymen had the little barrier not been destroyed by an active lifestyle. She felt it searching out her sex, the drool sliding against her. And she came, bucking, arching against him and shoving her sex into his face, practically begging for more, and more.

The third came quicker still. His lips wrenched it out of her as she writhed. His pressure increased, the hands traveling upward. They pressed against her breast, pinning her by a little sensitive nub. Her head swam, all thought beyond her pleasure and this bestial fiend inflicting it gone.

By the fourth, he pulled back. The little burst seemed almost pathetic compared to the rest, her body quivering. Bryony’s sex puffed lewdly, spittle and arousal making it shiver in the flickering light of the fires around them. Garrosh smiled down at his prize, Bryony barely comprehending the world around her. A hand brushed aside some hair, and she soon found herself breathing.

“Time for the main event,” he breathed.

Something thick smacked against Bryony. The weight made her eyes widen, punched through her lusty haze. She dared look down, seeing the massive tool in line with her body. It pulsed with all its need, stretching up beyond her navel, nearly nestling between her breasts. Her eyes locked onto the bulbous head, swelling an angry purple with the orc’s own lust. She watched it glide down, leaving a slimy trail against her leather covering.

Something thick and huge pressed against her opening. “No,” she breathed, realizing what the orc intended. She tried to move, but she’d been weak before. Multiple orgasms had turned her limbs to jelly.

“oh yes,” breathed the orc. He slid his cock forward, pressing hard. Bryony felt the sudden tension as his bulbous head punched against her aching lips. Felt it growing tighter and tighter. Then the cock slid, pushed upward. The princess had proven too snug for Garrosh’s first attempt. Bump upon bump glided across her quivering flesh, till he nearly thrust back against her. The sensations made Bryony shiver, as thick orc meat pressed along her body.

“Dammit, you’re small even for a fucking human,” hissed Garrosh, shifting his body. She felt his cock rubbing against her sex, the bumps again teasing. That primal urge kicked within, as if her womb were answering his sex. Some distant urge simply knew this orc could fuck her till she exploded, that he’d breed the little teenage beauty. Bryony whimpered, writhing, thighs closing.

“Hold still,” barked the orc, spreading her legs. His cock angled again. Pushed. The tension rose, mounted. Bryony felt her lips parting, a sharp cry leaving her as she arched. But once more, he popped free. “SON OF A WHORE!” the orc shouted.

The beast hurriedly reoriented. The head pressed once more. Again it pushed. This time, Garrosh kept it angled. Thick hands held Bryony’s hips. He steadied. She felt her walls parting. Felt the head starting to sink within her body.

And an arrow fletched against Garrosh’s shoulder.

“Fuck!” the chief shouted, growling. A human stepped through the entrance, several soldiers soon following, Raff close by. The chief snarled, but darted through the rip he’d made, pausing only to scoop up his weapon.

Exhausted, panting, Bryony simply lay there as Raff approached. She’d been close. So very, very close.

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

Garrosh tore through the underbrush, still hearing the sounds of desperate men and elves behind him. He knew his path of retreat; they’d scouted it some time ago, and made short work of it. A soldier dared get in the raging orc’s path, perhaps thinking that a naked chief would be easier to dispatch. That soldier was now missing a head, and the orc had raged his way to a small clearing. A handful of his brutes lay in wait, and Garrosh gestured for them to spread out, holding a guard.

As he’d expected, the witch came soon enough. He turned to look down at her, his member still pulsing with the vestiges of arousal, bits of Bryony’s dew still clinging to him. Close, he’d been so dangerously close to wrecking the princess proper.

“She’s down for now,” Tah’lora said, smirking. “In more ways than one. Poor thing has a full belly and went right to sleep.”

Garrosh chuckled, a handful of his closer orcs joining. Still, he folded his arms. “The princess isn’t filled with my pups yet.”

“No, she’s not,” agreed the witch, quirking a brow. “But this will be all the sweeter. The poor thing’s mind is already muddled. Sweet dreams of your thick orc cock will fill her pretty little head for some time now. Naturally her loyal handmaid Raff’lesia will be present to support her. Buy her some new elfish clothing, coax her along…”

The orc grunted. He knew that this meant Bryony was as good as doomed; they all did. “Patience is not a virtue among my people.”

“Well, learn it,” replied Tah’lora, shrugging. “It’s quite simple. Keep her little lover away for, oh, say a few weeks. Don’t mate with another female as you do,” her gaze swept down to Garrosh’s swollen sack, “you’ll fill up. The lust will drive our poor innocent little princess quite mad, but I think her handmaiden may have a solution to her problem.”

The orc raised his brows. “I certainly won’t object to taking the fight to the elves. My men will thoroughly enjoy the knife ears,” his grin turned almost feral, “even their pretty males are worth at least one coupling.”

Again his cohort chuckled around him.

“Yes,’ said the witch, tapping her chin, “they are…’ she licked her lips, considering. “Do you have a second you trust? Ideally one with, say, four or five bones at most,” she gestured casually, as if she weren’t talking about the primal orcish practice of lacing their members with the bones of their defeated. She knew full well that Garrosh had more than any in history, mostly mates of his conquests.

The orc chief grunted, and gestured toward his brutes.

“Preferably one passingly handsome by human standards,” muttered the witch.

Garrosh chuckled, but directed one of his best to stand forward. Karresh stood a little over seven feet tall, broad at the shoulders, but more narrow than most orcs. He had the same slightly porcine face, but with more chiseled features, his tusks seemingly trimmed. Dark hair looked almost well tended, falling behind his back in one long single tail. Like his leader, he wore little beyond a furred loin cloth, covering him just enough.

Tah’lora looked him up and down, her gaze appraising. She took a step forward, lifting the orc’s cloth to get a better look. As she finished, she nodded, lowering it. “He’ll do. Now, listen closely. You’ll need to…”






Princess Bryony the Sunrise Blade ground her aching pussy against a bunched pillow. Her well formed hips bucked with the effort, tight ass clenching. The snug globes were mostly on display, her current, perfectly tailored, elfish pantie serving as little more than a string of lace bisecting them completely. The front, a deep green color, had already been soaked through by Bryony’s juices in her desperate attempt at masturbation. She held clutched in one quivering hand a rather ribald letter that Val had sent, detailing all the various positions he intended to put her in once they’d been reunited.

Three weeks. It had been nearly a month since she’d seen him last, felt his touch. Bryony shivered at the thought, grinding again, but, as ever, feeling little satisfaction. She hadn’t been able to climax once in the last two weeks, not since… since Garrosh.

The thought made Bryony’s hips slow slightly. The massive orc dwarfed her in every way. His thick member had been utterly bewildering, with its eight bones signifying his prowess. She swallowed, remembering the sensation of those bumps pressing along her throat. Hips arched, pressing hard as the princess recalled that tongue. How it delved into her. Fuck, she’d cum four times that day. How much more would she cum if she simply took his cock? If she let this orcish maleness into her slender body to plunder the treasures within. Would that really be so bad?

Bryony barely realized that she’d started grinding with a purpose, hips swirling. She panted, leaning forward, arms bracing against the body. Red-gold curls fell about her face, hiding the frustrated lust that shone in those sharp green eyes. Her chest, covered in a light cotton covering with a green lace bra almost showing through underneath, heaved. Sweat beaded her body; it felt as if she were always leaking these days. Hours on the training ground didn’t drive the need from her, didn’t exhaust her to the point of collapse. They simply ignited the flames. Made her think of her last real fight.

For after they’d found her, they’d decided that Bryony needed time to recover. The princess had experienced the most harrowing thing a woman could endure. To think that they’d let the disgusting chief put his meaty hands over their prized virgin princess! She shivered at the thought, tasting him even now as she recalled it. His thick, disgusting musk filling her mouth. Goddess, she hadn’t been hungry for the next few days after that. He’d spewn so much within her.

Bryony trembled, feeling that knot developing. Goddess, would she actually cum? But, wait, she was thinking of the orc! Groaning, she raised the letter, pouring into the contents. She thought of Val. Of his teasing touches. Of how his properly sized elfish member had sprung to life at her touch. How his tongue had delved so deep within her that it ignited every desire within her---

A soft cough made Bryony jump, falling off her pillow. She quickly shifted, trying to cover her wetness with the rounded plush, already levering a hard glare up at whoever had dared entered. But, of course, it was Raff, an expression of worried delight twisting her lips already.

“Still feeling the urges?” her handmaiden asked.

“How long were you there?” demanded the princess, folding her legs and sitting back, hugging the pillow to her chest and torso to hide her shame.

“Oh, from about the time you started really grinding down,” teased the elf, coming to sit along the pillow. She took up the letter, which Bryony had dropped in her surprise. Raff quirked a brow. ‘I can see why. This is rather erotic, isn’t—“

Bryony yanked the letter from her handmaiden and friend, frowning. “I---I want to, yes, but---“ she shifted, looking away. Frowning, she sliced back some loose red-gold hair. Two weeks. She hadn’t cum in two weeks, just… just this. This continued frustration building up in her lower belly. It practically ached, and it just grew worse and worse. Raff could massage her, which alleviated it some, but Bryony knew what she really needed.

“You know, I hear this happens sometimes,” said the elf. She drew a brush out, running it through Bryony’s ruffled hair. The princess shifted to let her handmaiden do her task, blowing out a sigh as she did.

“What happens?”

“Oh, survivors of orc attacks have these… intense experiences after. Happens to some of the strongest, really,” said Raff, shrugging.

The princess paused, chewing her lip, before looking over her shoulder. Raff had come up with the suggestion to deal with her shaving problem, even if Bryony’s sex still felt as tender as it had that first day, if not worse now. Perhaps--- “And what do these ladies do, exactly?”

“Well, they often fuck their lovers into exhaustion, if they have them,” replied Raff, giggling. She tugged at the hair, before gently fluffing it. Her hands moved to smooth Bryony’s clothes, gently moving the pillow out of the way.

“That’s not really an option,” the princess admitted, leaning slightly back into her friend. “I desperately need release. Battle or—or—“

“Or another orgasm?” suggested Raff.

The princess barked a laugh, but nodded, lip bit.

“I suppose there is another tactic. It’s rather risky though,” said Raff, pausing herself. When the elf didn’t immediately continue, Bryony turned.

“What? What’s this tactic?”

The elf shifted, looking askance. “It’s… it’s something I had to use after---“

Bryony’s eyes widened, recalling what Raff had experienced. She grasped her friend at the shoulders. “You’re past that. Stronger now, better,” she squeezed.

“I.. I suppose,” admitted Raff. “And I got that way by…’ she paused, licking her lips and looking away, “by---by letting a tamed orc lay with me.”

Bryony’s eyes went wide.

“I mean, I’d already lost my innocence to my lover,” Raff sighed, obviously recalling the sweet memory, “but he’d died in the attack. So, you see… I’d heard about this orc nearby. He’s been tamed by man, lives alone. And, well,” she flushed, shrugging, “I let him take me.”

“That---that’s not an option,” said Bryony, flushing.

“Oh?”

“I’m… I’m still… untouched.”

Raff’s eyes widened. “Even the orc!?”

Bryony smirked. “he tried, but, well, things didn’t fit, and help arrived.”

“Hmm,” Raff said, brushing her chin. “I suppose you know there are things besides penetration…”

“I don’t think letting an orc put his fingers in me will suffice.”

“No, well, you essentially rub yourself along him. Maidens do it quite frequently to preserve their innocence and pleasure their men.”

Bryony frowned. This… this sounded insane. Rubbing herself along an orc? Even a a tamed one? It sounded like asking for trouble. Plus, they were foul, disgusting creatures.

But… but what if Garrosh had been a fluke? She only need do this with another to rid herself of this pulsing need. Bryony chewed her lip, glancing at her friend. It would rid her of it, one way or another. She really didn’t see another option.

“Alright, arrange it,” she said, flushing.

“Oh, I even know the perfect outfit!” cooed the elf, clapping her hands. “It’ll take a bit, but it’ll be great!”

Bryony just hoped it would all be over.






“Raff” nearly skipped as she led the princess away. A long robe currently draped the beauty, hiding the downright scandalous attire Raff had talked her into. Of course, the elf had waited a few more days until she’d gotten everything “arranged,” wanting to get Bryony all but desperate for it. It was only as the princess practically begged, and Raff in turn insisted on the current outfit, that she’d finally set things out.

The elf paused every few feet, turning to escort the princess around rough terrain. Normally Bryony wouldn’t need such aid, but normally Bryony wasn’t wearing sandals that wrapped up nearly to her thigh, nor would she normally be so aroused that even Raff could smell it. Garrosh must have truly done a number on the poor girl for her to be this hard up. For a moment, Raff almost felt sorry for her “friend.”

Hell, she almost thought about jumping the princess.

Particularly since, for once, Bryony had agreed to let her handmaiden apply makeups and powders. The princess’s already nearly perfect complex looked utterly stunning. Her lips had been painted in almost shimmering gold, to further emphasize her whole status as the “Sunrise Blade” and all. The hair had been expertly quaffed and lightly curled, flowing past the princess’s shoulders. Those killer deep green eyes were accented with golden mascara with a light liner. She’d even talked Bryony into wearing a gold lace collar, which clung to her neck like a second skin. Little bits of near glitter seemed to add to the whole ethereal look they were going for.

All to fuck an orc.

Well, not really fuck, since Bryony wasn’t about to give up her precious innocence, and Garrosh would likely kill any orc who dared take what was “rightfully his,” but they would all but.

“You know, I almost made a comment about how far out we are, until I remembered who we’re going to see,” said Bryony, letting out a nervous laugh. She sliced back an errant curl as she came alongside her friend. The robes parted just enough for the elf to catch a glimpse at the absolutely sumptuous display within. Yes, the princess had to be well and truly desperate to adorn her virginal body like that and casually stroll out. The thought made Raff smile, amplified by Bryony’s comment.

“We’re almost there,” she said, nodding and gesturing ahead. They’d gone deeper into the forest, very near to elf lands. Of course, Raff knew that Garrosh and his horde had already cleared much of the area, making it perfectly safe for Karresh. They’d found an excellent cave and the orc had settled in, making sure to actually take a female or two to further saturate the cave in his musk.

It had been quite a temptation not to be one of those. Raff would have to put on some protective spells and try an orc herself soon. She knew them to be exquisite lovers, if you were looking for something primal and rough. Hardly a perfect choice for a first.

Again that slight pang, which Raff ignored as she came to the cave. Already she could smell the wafting musk. According to agreement, Karresh was to refrain from touching a female for a week prior. Nothing near what Raff established with Gurrosh, but more than sufficient. The poor thing must have blue-balls nearly to match Bryony’s own.

“Right,” she said, nodding. “You just go into that cave, and Karresh will be there.”

The princess paused, chewing her lip. “You’re---you’re quite certain this is safe?” she asked in the deliciously naïve voice of hers.

Raff reached up, grasping her “friend” on the shoulder. “I promise. He’s tamed, though, well, he does still enjoy a woman, particularly a sexily dressed one.”

Bryony flushed adorably, but nodded and entered. Raff watched, knowing she’d done her part to lead the sacrifice to the monster.








With each step she took closer to that cave, Bryony’s sex pulsed. She knew she had to keep it under control. The lacy pantie Raff had insisted Bryony wear didn’t even truly obscure her bared sex even without moisture sapping the fabric. The golden fabric could practically be seen through. The bronze lines that stretched to the stockings covering her legs had more coverage. She didn’t want to think about how lace cups barely hid her breasts, or how transparent interlocking fabric of the lightest elf weave mostly accented her well toned body.

But each breath filled her with memories. Reminded her of thick cock, of hungry mouth, of devious fingers. She felt herself trembling, knowing that excitement had begun to eat away fear. It was just the memory though. She’d just purge it here and now and be perfectly fine from here. Not a freak. Not someone who lusted for the orcs who brutally took her at every turn.

Except… she was here, offering herself, wasn’t she? She didn’t truly want to be here, she told herself. She wanted to be with Val. But this twisting hunger in her belly wouldn’t abate. Her sex throbbed daily, and she hadn’t climaxed in so very, very long. Amazing how she’d gone so many cycles without the sensation only to nearly crave it in her full womanhood.

The cool air of the cave kissed her hot skin as she stepped further. Flickering orange lights drew her inward, as if she needed the visual guidance. That ever increasing, constantly intoxicating musk grew thicker and thicker. Within a few steps Bryony realized that it matched the haze that had hovered in her tent when Gurrosh had been done with her. Only this had a slightly different odor. Not quite as powerful, though certainly stronger than a man’s.

After only a few minutes of walking, she heard him: “You’d best stop there. I’m armed, but I’ve no wish to fight.”

“Nor I,” she said, stepping forth. Bryony had placed a dagger in her cloak of course, just in case. “I’m---” she swallowed, before deciding she may as well, “Bryony and—”

“The fucking Sunrise Blade?” asked the voice. It sounded rough, deep, but with a slight accent, almost like a dock worker. “As in Princess Bryony?”

He stepped forward, and Bryony almost gasped. He looked… nearly handsome. Still orcish, still with the bold features and the green skin. But he almost looked like he had elfish blood. Her heart quickened as her sex pounded. Green eyes fell upon his waist, the princess slightly pleased to see a stirring.

“Yes,” she said, flicking her gaze back up to him, “that Bryony,” she licked her lips. “My, ah, handmaiden said she’d arranged things?”

“Yeah, but I figured she was fucking joking,” said the orc, stepping forward. His gaze swept hers appraisingly. His lips twisted into an almost crude smile. “You telling me that you want to ride orc cock?”

Bryony flushed, licking her lips. “Ah, see, Raff said that---that you would, ah, be fine with,” she shifted nervously. Goddess, this felt almost as bad as when Gurrosh had just appeared. Her sex burned, and she knew she wanted this orc. Wanted him to take her. But here she had to… to ask. “With just—without penetrating.”

The orc raised his brows.

“With---with me riding your member, but you—”

“Wait, my member?” the orc said, stepping forward.

“Yes, your—your maleness your—”

“Cock.”

“Yes, that. You’d keep it outside of me, and we’d both… rub against each other.”

“You want to rub your royal pussy all over my orc cock until we both cream?” he raised his brows.

Now Bryony paused. Put like that it just sounded so—so dirty. She shifted her feet, mouth working.

“Well?” the orc demanded. “Say it.”

“I—I don’t even know your name,” she mumbled, slicing back some hair. Goddess, was this what it was like to solicitate? How did men do it?”

“Karresh,” he replied, jerking his head, “and I’m not fucking around. If I’m not going to get to penetrate your royal fucking cove,” she winced, “then I want to hear those pretty proper lips say it. Say ‘Karresh, I want to rub my royal pussy over your orc cock.”

He stepped closer, looming over Bryony. She felt his musk waft over her, not nearly as powerful as Gurrosh, but enough to make her knees quake. She swallowed, the motion almost audible. She just had to—to do this, to purge herself. She looked up, green eyes meeting his.

“K—Karresh,” she said, voice quivering, “I want to rub my royal---royal pussy over your---your orc cock.”

Silence hung in the air, with Bryony wanting to melt into a puddle, something that she felt capable of, given her molten temperature.

Chuckling, the orc reached up. Fingers tore at the fastenings of her cloak, letting it drop to show her elfish adornments. The orc took a step back, taking her in. “Fuck, you dressed the part, didn’t you?”

Bryony licked her lips, fighting the urge to squirm. His yellowish eyes bore into her, and she could only think about what had to lay beneath his loincloth. He stepped forward, and she gasped as she felt his hand grasp her sex, a motion more possessive even than Gurrosh had felt.

“Fuck, you’re wet and—” his fingers moved, “are you fucking bare? You’re not an elf, are you?”

“N—no,” she gasped, legs trembling, “my lover is---”

That had the orc laughing. He wrenched his hands into Bryony’s curls, twisting her lips up. Soon she found his rough lips smashing into her own. Tusks prodded against her flesh, biting, likely drawing blood. His tongue immediately insisted upon hers, and she could immediately taste the almost musky flavor of his spit and drool. In fact, he pinched her cheeks, puffing her lips, and loomed over. Spit fell from his mouth, her eyes widening as it touched hers.

“Drink,” he commanded, and Bryony found herself following suit, again not believing as her body pulsed.

“Fuck, you are serious,” he breathed. “We’d better get started then.”

The orc walked deeper into the cave, Bryony following, desperate, but not wanting to be too close. The cave warmed, several torches bathing them in the flickering light. Dancing flames amplified the gold throughout Bryony’s armor, and caught the light dusting of upon her skin, making her look all the more radiant. The princess knew that she contrasted heavily with the green-skinned beast that led her further inside.

Soon, they came upon a set of several furs of great beasts, piled together. Karresh turned, dropping his loincloth, his member immediately springing forth. Bryony gasped, eyes locking upon the tool. It stood proud and tall, jutting up toward the ceiling. The princess tried to hold her disappointment in seeing only four bones jutting along the cock, set at various positions, though she knew this orc still possessed a far greater cock than most men. Bryony’s insides twisted as she watched the tool bob. It looked cleaner than Garrosh, inviting. The domed head swelled as she stared, and she saw its thickness pulsing. The lighter skin green looked so enticing, the raw aroma of orc musk filling the room.

Bryony felt her loins kick. The flames flared to life, pouring heat through her veins. She walked forward without thinking, remaining locked upon her goal. As she drew near, Karresh reached forward, grasping her and thrusting her body against his own. That thick cock jutted against her barely clad flesh, hitting her near the sternum. The princess moaned, legs giving out before him, nearly collapsing into his arms.

“Almost forgot how desperate you are,” he drawled, teasing. “Guess you’d have to be to come find an orc, huh?” He chuckled, arms running along her, making her shiver. “Why don’t we hear it? And remember, if you don’t speak, then you don’t get what you came for,” his cock surged as if to remind her, the vicious tool prodding against the teenage princess.

“I want your cock,” she breathed, shivering. “I’m---I’m so hungry for it,” she rolled her body against his, nearly whimpering. “I haven’t cum in weeks, and I need it, I—I need orc cock,” the words made Bryony shiver. She knew it was just to purge the sensation within her, but she could almost taste the truth upon them. It tasted of orcish musk, making her legs quiver.

This time, she felt his fingers digging into her ass. He lifted her from her feet, pulling her tight. Her blazing sex drew against him, only her delicate pantie separating flesh from flesh. The princess groaned, head lolling back. Arms tightened, and she felt him lifting her. He drew her heated core all the way up. Each bump, each bone, drew along Bryony’s sex. She felt her lips kissing him through the fabric, felt the fabric drawing against sensitive flesh. The friction stirred the heat further. Her lips parted, releasing a moan of agonized arousal.

“Mmm, fuck, you are a hot one,” breathed Karresh. His hand moved up, grabbing her breast. The sudden motion made her arch along him, body moving within his arms. He shifted to match, rolling her against him, letting her roll her aching frame against his pulsing cock. It grew with its own arousal, and already Bryony could feel his seeping want gliding against her own. Wet spread from her core, spreading from within.

‘Goddess, this feels amazing,” she breathed, eyes closing. Something wet closed about a breast, drawing tight. Bryony gasped, again arching. Thick hands held tight to her ass, pressing her against even as she rolled her hips, grinding against him. But something hotter adorned her breast. Tight lips drew about her nipple, teeth piercing through the dainty cloth to tease the flesh within. Bryony let out a yelp, jerking.

The orc chuckled. He shifted his grip, and began eagerly stroking, almost using the princess as a masturbatory tool. “I’ve seen so many like you,” he breathed into her chest, before kissing and nibbling his way toward her neck, near the collar. “You act all prim and fucking proper, denying your fucking self. But you want it. You want it so bad.”

Bryony whimpered, rolling her body even as he dragged her against him. The friction felt amazing, finally fueling that smoldering fire within her. Her head lolled, flame-gold curls shifting as her eyes bore into his yellowed ones. “I do, I want it,” she whimpered.

“You want thick orc cock,” he whispered, pushing her against him.

“Mhm,” she moaned, head bobbing, not caring as she admitted this blistering need.

“You’re picturing it now, aren’t you,” he tugged her tight, grinding her down against him. The rigidity pressed so tight against her. It ground the pantie against her sex, made her lips part. She could almost feel her nether lips pressing against him. “You, bouncing atop a boned cock. Feeling the nubs and knowing those were males who couldn’t measure up,” he ground her sex against them, forcing her to feel. A little ridge brushed against her clit, making Bryony cry out. “Letting the thick cock just so deep inside you. It hits parts of you you didn’t fucking know existed,” he ground, fingers digging into her ass, surely hard enough to bruise. “Your legs are spreading,” he moved, helping her to do so now, hooking them around her back, “you’re a whore for orc cock and you know it.”

“I am, I’m a whore for green cock,” she whimpered, rolling her body. Her hands reached up, lacing around him while she ground her needy flesh against. Her insides twisted into knots, the knots twisting further.

“Your tight little cunt will be filled with it. The thick seed jutting up into you,” he growled, pulling her down. She felt every inch as he descended her to the root, the bones dragging. “Filling you, breeding you.”

Bryony groaned, the dark fantasy filling her mind with visions. Her legs hooked, hips rolling. This felt amazing. How could she have put this off? Why had she? The sheer delight eclipsed everything else. Yes, she could just feel this now.

“You want to cum for me, don’t you?” the orc demanded. When Bryony moaned in response, his hands yanked her head back. The princess stared up at the face, twisted in lust. “You want to cum all over my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes—” Bryony breathed, shivering. “I—I want to cum all over your---” she felt him begin sliding her, bouncing her. Her body rode against him, the member continuing to glide. The friction ignited within, became unbearable. Bryony cried out, jerking. The orc grabbed her tight at the hips, even as she bowed incredibly within. Muscles tightened, legs digging deep. She felt her nether lips spasming into her pantie, arousal spraying within, coating his cock with her want. “Oh Goddess, oh Goddess…” she breathed as her body continued to satiate its wants, wrenching her body.

Karresh twisted, and Bryony yelped, feeling her still climaxing body flying through the air. She landed, the blow softened only a little by the piles of furs. Locks of hair fell about her face, even as her twitching sex lolled back.

“I’m going to take you like a fucking orc,” hissed Karresh. Bryony twisted to look back, only to find the thick hand grabbing her head. He shoved downward, Bryony soon finding herself utterly buried into the furs. The softness surrounded her, and the position made her tight ass rise into the air. A crack sounded, and a sharp pain hit her ass. Never before had anyone dared touch the princess in such a way. The raw heat of it seeped into her. It mixed with her arousal.

“Such a naughty little thing. Running away to tease an orc,” breathed Karresh. He loomed over her, his frame pressing her against the furs. Bryony groaned, her mouth falling open, burying into the furs. His hand almost threatened to grind her down into it. A finger delved between her lips, and she sucked instinctively. Her hips rose. A hand pulled, and she felt her pantie yanking down, falling to trap her between her legs. She’d thought Karrosh had been rough, demanding, but this had a primality all its own.

“This is how orcs rut,” spoke Karrosh. He angled his thick cock. “They take their mates,” his cock teased Bryony’s weeping sex. She felt the domed head pressing against hers, the memory of Garrosh suddenly sharp. Bryony jerked, unable to rise with his hand pinning her.

“No—no—penetr—”

“Don’t fucking worry,” the orc growled, slapping her ass, “I’ll leave you your fucking cunt,” but his fingers immediately belied his words. They dug into her sex, making Bryony cry out into the fur. She felt her tight walls parting before his insistent digits, gliding along him. Hot velvet clung to them, milking. “Though you fucking feel like you need it. Damn, how fucking tight are you?”

Bryony let out a sharp cry as she felt his fingers prying against her. Her body shivered, and she buried her face further into the furs. Bryony could feel him prizing open her sex, examining her like some sort of piece of meat. Raw pink could only stretch so far, the princess destined from genetics and working out to be a snug fit.

“You’re a tight little piece of meat, aren’t you?” teased Karresh. Something wet slid against her sex, then within. “Just look at this virginal little tunnel, just begging to have an orc wreck it,” he pushed a finger inside, making Bryony groan. “Hate that I can’t.”

The comment made Bryony’s brow furrow for a moment, but she soon felt his head teasing her. It rubbed along her lips, gathering moisture. Then, it pressed forward with agonizing slowness. Bryony felt inch upon inch sliding against her body. Her soft thighs cushioned it, felt each bump. He pushed further, gliding against her body. The orc pressed her down, lifted her rear up, and then seemed to almost lift her body by sliding his cock underneath. Inch upon inch pushed forth, Bryony’s heat growing with each pass.

The cock began sawing, thrusting. More and more it slid against her. Bryony could feel her wet gathering. Soon her sex wept upon him, arousal drizzling down her thighs, soaking the golden stockings near her legs. She whimpered, feeling her internal head growing. A hand snatched hair, yanking. The princess gasped, the shock of the sudden pull jolting through her, making her sex quiver. She felt her tight lips kissing the orc’s cock below, moving along it.

Still he pulled, arching her back. A hand remained hard pressed, nearly shoving her torso into the furs, while another wrenched into those red gold curls. She felt him twisting, pulling. A scream wrenched from her, pain exploding, blasting into the pleasure. The sensations mixed as he descended, hammering along her, thrusting harder and harder. They twisted, pulling against her. Bryony let out a sharp shriek, body jolting.

Another slap, this time, his hand grasping her tight ass. Bryony felt the meaty paw seizing hold, molding her flesh. It shifted, pressing, and she twisted to look back. Fingers prodded against her puckered star, and she felt her body clenching. “That’s---that’s not—”

But he hardly cared. Leaning forward, Karresh pushed his digit into her. She felt her ass clench, trying to hold him off, to resist. But the flesh could hardly stand before the frenzy. It parted, gaping as fingers pushed within. Within moments, he was thrusting his fingers against her ass, working. Gathered juices from her seeping sex served as their lubricant, scooped and worked, gliding along her snug channel. Bryony’s groans turned guttural, her body spasming. She felt him using her ass as leverage, pulling her up.

She howled once more, and he slid forward, thrust hard. His hand released her hair, and she fell forward, only to find him looming. He began driving against her. The cock still slid, the fingers still delved, but his whole body forced Bryony more and more to the ground. This wasn’t some gentle lovemaking but a total display of dominance. The toned princess could only gasp and writhe. She felt her arousal clamping, another strong burst, an orgasm scorching through her. She yelped, jerking up, only to have him slamming her down into the furs. Her breasts mashed against the soft furs, spilling forth from their cups. They pressed hard as he hammered her more and more into the ground.

Then he shifted. The hand again jerked hair, but this time, he rocked back. Fingers popped free from behind as gravity shifted. Panting, still twitching, Bryony fell, her breasts bounding. Arms cradled her, snaking possessively around her body. Thick cock jutted, her sex now pressing directly upon him. “Oh—oh Goddess,’ the princess breathed. The hand in her hair twisted, and rough lips again seized hers. Bryony groaned into the contact, pleasure once more flowering. Hands seized her breast, yanked them completely free. Tight pleasure met pain as thick digits dug into her soft pink nipples. The princess again shrieked, body arching. But as she did, she rubbed herself all along the length of him, drawing upward till her lips nearly kissed his tip.

Strong arms slammed her back down, forcing her along every inch as she went. Bryony gasped, jolting. This felt like nothing before, like being taken. Her body flamed, singing with pleasure as he continued to bounce her along his cock. Each pull of her hair drew the princess upward, her needy sex rolling against him. Then a strong thrust brought her down. Time and time again her sex slid, the lips kissing the head. She felt him prodding, his thick dome threatening to penetrate. The princess whimpered as he worked her. Pleasure knotted once more, sprang forth, made her scream raw. Her body arched, and he pulled her tight, forcing everything inward, much as Garrosh did. It spring within, rebounded in something akin to pain, before exploding all the fiercer.

Thick lips pressed against her neck, teeth threatening to brush flesh. Then the orc pulled her tight. Bryony found herself falling back, falling to the ground, her snug bottom still pressed against her “tamed” lover. The cock sawed upward, her body grinding down. Once more the dome teased, threatened, and then she felt something. He spasmed, and she gasped. For his thick orcish cock sputtered. A great glob of yellowish white heat sprang against her. It splattered along her abdomen, nearly reaching her breasts. A jolt, and he spurted again. White hot heat splattered her belly. More and more burst, pooling now, almost streaming against her. Her taut stomach painted white, her sex quivering. He lowered, and she felt him spraying her bared mound, anointing her mons with orcish seed. Thighs came next, before the orc pulled. His load was indeed massive, though… not as much as Garrosh.

Panting, Bryony lay there, certain they were done. Her body still sang with the pleasures, and the raw heat melted limbs. She felt fingers dipping below, seeming to work the seed into the flesh of her belly. Then she saw them rising, cupped with it. Her lips parted as they drew near, letting him feed her the seed. Eyes rolled, desire pulsing within her. Another load came, and another, before he pulled her free.

“Clean me,” came the command, Bryony falling before she realized it. Her lips tightened around his cock, and her head began bobbing, swept in the frenzy. That thick taste of orc seed filled her mouth once more. Her hand shot between her legs, frenzied digits digging into her still sopped sex. She desperately fingered herself while gobbling the cock, hungrily slurping the seed.

“Fuck, you really are a whore,” said the orc, chuckling. He reached down to slap Bryony’s ass again. “I think I’m ready for round two.” With that, he fisted her hair. Bryony had expected it, but expectation didn’t result in preparedness. She gagged as orc cock filled her mouth, pushed passed. The sudden thrust filled her, overfilled her. Spittle and drool oozed about, but like his brethren, Karresh hardly seemed to care. He took two great fists of Bryony’s beautiful, well quaffed hair. Using it, using her as leverage, he bounced the princess’s beautiful face against him.

Within moments moisture flowed, dragging streaks of gold with it. Bryony groaned about the cock, the flavor filling her even as she continued to tremble in aftershocks. Her fingers remained locked against her sex, plowing into her. Moisture seeped about, soaked her thighs, soaked the stockings, seeped from mouth to fall about. He thundered into her skull, his massive cock plundering her depths in moments. Boned bumps jostled her teeth, spread her tongue flat, punched against her throat. Bryony gagged, even as she felt herself twitching. The princess, awash in orcish lust, quivered and came as the orc gagged her with his cock. She gasped as he pulled back, drool spilling from her painted lips to land about them. Her cry of orgasm launched into the air, but her orc partner took it for signal. Hands again threaded, pulled harsh. Once. Twice. Then Bryony felt his cock spasming. She instinctively swallowed, eyelids fluttering. Fuck, this felt so good, so very, very good.

As he pulled back, Bryony gasped. Seed and spittle oozed forth, pooling against his chest. He yanked her down, and the princess found herself lapping it up like a dog, while the orc stroked her. “And just think,” he purred, “You haven’t even been taken yet,” Bryony groaned as her tongue curled, taking in a load of the frothy mix. Her mind hardly recognized herself, the debauched female seemingly distant.

Just purge it from your system…

“You want me to take you, don’t you princess?” whispered the orc, his tone raspy, seductive. Bryony groaned, licking against his cock. He pulled her up, lashing his lips against hers. She felt him pulling further, his slick cock pressing against her slicker sex. “Say it,” he hissed.

“I—I can’t!” she whimpered, though her body bucked with lust, head swirling near his thick dome.

“Fucking tease,” hissed the orc, thrusting his cock, rubbing against her insides. She felt every bump slide along her sex. “Say it! Saw you want me to take you like the filthy orc slut you are!”

“I—I--I want you to take me,” Bryony gasped, barely aware of the words. “I need orc dick inside me nooooooww,” she nearly whined, body arching, aiming for him, barely aware of her world, ready to skewer her innocence on his mighty rod.







“How long does it take to dry hump a teenage princess?” muttered Raff, spiraling magics through the air. She sat on a stump outside the cave, just out of range of the thick musk. She knew Karresh would be eager, all orcs were, and denying them sex for any length of time turned them into beasts. Bryony herself was nearly there, despite all her training and education. So they should have finished in a frenzy.

Unless… “Fuck, he wouldn’t---” mumbled Raff, already rising. The elf witch delved into the cave, the raw stench of coupling hitting her like a fog. She raised an arm, tracing a ward against it as she drove deeper within. Frenzied sounds of flesh upon flesh echoed off the cave, making her smile. Bryony was quite the physical being, wasn’t she?

Easy enough to follow. Raff edged forward, eyes adjusting to flickering flames. Soon she saw two figures writhing upon a bed of furs. A step closer let her see the princess’s dawn colored head bobbing atop an orc cock, lewdly sucking him like a practiced whore. Orcs did that: turned a girl from a virgin to a practiced woman in seconds. It made Raff sigh with delight, pausing. This was what they wanted, though judging by the seed on the princess and orc, they’d been going at it for a while. She watched the orc force the princess to lap up seed and drool like a beast, the sight sparking arousal in the witch herself.

Nothing to worry about here. Just the orc doing as commanded, and Bryony fulfilling that orcish lust. She’d be desperate for Gurrosh to fill her now, and the orc would have his virgin---

“You want me to take you, don’t you princess?”

Wait, what? That definitely was not the plan. But surely even in this haze Bryony would deny, and sure enough ,the princess whimpered. Raff relaxed, turned once more, only to hear Karresh insist.

The fucker knew better. Raff spun her hands through the air, summoning arcane energy. She strode forward, watching as the orc adjusted the human princess in her lap. Bryony’s hair looked like dawn as she rose above him, angling her snug little sex against his mighty weapon, the virgin all too ready to sacrifice.

Shame that wasn’t the plan.

With a growl, Raff released the energy. It blasted against the orc, the intensity throwing Bryony back onto the furs, nearly tumbling. Raff dashed forward, grabbing the girl’s cloak, knowing she’d placed a dagger within. Acting quickly, she grabbed it, looking toward the brute as he rose.

“You—you betrayed us!” he hissed.

“You’re not supposed to actually fuck her you idiot!” she hissed. She truly meant to use the dagger, something she could likely explain to Bryony later. But, well, she intended to show her magical cards anyway soon enough. With a raised hand, Raff released a bolt of pure energy. Purple light born from her desires and lusts sprang forth. It shot into the orc, and he screamed, his member erupting in seed. The poor soul spewed his life force out through his member, before collapsing, leaving the two women alone in the cave, Raff panting, hoping that she’d managed to salvage the plan.

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

Bryony could feel it. Could feel the tremendous club of orc cock stabbing into her. Her walls stretched massively about it, velvet clinging like that second sheath. Tightness wrapped so snug that surely it couldn’t travel another inch. Yet it did, plowing further and further. A ridged bump, a bone of triumph, grazed her insides, making the princess yelp. More and more passed… three…four…seven… till she felt that eight slide into her body, nearly locking her onto the cock. Panting, she looked up into the face of Garrosh, orc chief, the male who took her innocence.

And jerked. Bryony tossed sheets from her sweaty frame, feeling them sticking to her. Sweat beaded along every inch of her fine skin, clinging like a sheen. Yet it paled in comparison to the utter swamp between her legs. Again and again the dreams plagued her. Never of Val. Never of her love. But always an orc, usually Garrosh. Orc cock stabbing into her. Orc cock feeding her a load of cum. Orc cock stretching her tight ass. Orc cock, orc cock, orc cock. It felt like a near nightly ritual, only for Bryony to awaken in a pool of her own arousal.

Another week had passed since her ill-fated encountered in the cave. Were it not for Raff, then surely Bryony would still be there, happily fucking Karresh, belly swelling with his progeny. The princess had fully retreated, insisting on illness as she withdrew into the court. All stayed away from her, save for Raff who continued to tend to her. Bryony hoped that time away from the front, from the stress, would restore her.

Instead, she felt like an addict who’d been denied her source. She knew of addiction, of how people fell to the substances. She’d never thought herself weak enough to be one of those. This had been forced upon her, but it had still been etched into her. That encounter with Karresh hadn’t purged her system, but instead gave her such a massive dose as to be unbelievable.

“There must be a way,” she said, running hands through loose hair. She turned, seeing a letter in the sputtering light of a dying candle. She lit another, drawing the script close. They were losing; Val was losing. Garrosh had seemingly increased in strength and drive, pushing further and further into elf territory. He was days from their capitol now.

Yet here sat Bryony, the Sunrise Blade, the hero princess of her land, the only being to have bested Garrosh in single combat, reduced to a sputtering girl. She screamed her frustration, throwing the letter away from her, as if to deny the news. Her head fell into her hands.

“There must be a way,” she repeated, racking her brain. She hadn’t told most of the court, wouldn’t dare try to explain. Their beloved princess, addicted to orc cock? They scandal would destroy the kingdom as surely as if Garrosh had invaded, which was likely his plan. So how to fight this? How to stand against the primal ferocity of the orc?

There was only one answer: magic.

But where would Bryony find magic? Who could she--- “Raff’lesia,’ she breathed, turning to look at the candle, its flickering flame reflected in her eyes. Bryony knew that her handmaiden had been more than she’d seemed. Then the daring maid had saved her from Karresh when the orc had gone mad with lust, his madness infecting her. There had to be some way.

Rising, Bryony padded over to her drawers. She tossed aside her newest collection of elfish pretties, as tiny as ever, before selecting a simple violet lace pantie with a delicate black trim. She wiggled it of her bared bottom, having long since opted to sleep nude below after creaming so many of her things. Soon the matching bra supported her heaving breasts, and she slid a quick light nightshirt over both. Even still, she could feel the light fabric teasing her sensitive sex with each step.

The princess hurried from her chambers to the adjourning one. A quick knock, and she let herself in, seeing Raff already rising. The elf’s hair was askew, one of the first times Bryony had ever seen it so, and she apparently slept in a light lacy negligee that would put most of Bryony’s updated clothing to shame. She blinked at the princess. “Your---your high---Bryony? It’s---” the confused elf looked to the window.

“The middle of the night,” Bryony finished, stepping forward. She locked eyes with her friend. “Are you a witch or a priestess?”

Blinking, Raff looked up at the woman who’d saved her. “What?”

“I know you do magic. I’ve suspected it for a while, and you confirmed it when you—when you blasted that beast off me. I know,” she held up a hand, “it’s more like you blasted me from him. But I need to know. Raff’lesia, are you a witch or are you a priestess?”

Raff blinked, fully awake now. “Which—which do you need?”

Bryony sat her candle down, and began pacing. ‘I need whichever can cast a spell to fix me,” she said, gesturing at her body. “every night I keep having these dreams. These---these nightmares! Of—of them,” she looked to Raff. “Please, Raff’lesia, for my saving you, for our positions, for our friendship,” she nearly fell to her knees, “tell me there’s a magical cure among your people for—for this! I can’t function as I am now! Val—Val could be killed at any moment, and I’m waking up soaked from dreams of the enemy!”

Raff sat for some time, looking abashed, worried. She turned to look away, toward the window, then back up at her friend. “I know a spell. It will seal up your desires until your one true mate takes you. But---but it requires—”

“What? What? It can’t be worse than---than this!”

“It requires that I mark you,” the elf said. She pointed toward Bryony’s lower belly, just above her loins. “And the marking must be positioned above your womb. It---it directly affects that, Bryony. This is potent magic, rarely done and only by those that have certain… proclivities among our peoples. I—”

“Do it,” said the princess.

“Last time you asked me for this you ended up with a permanently bald sex, which we both know is not helping,” Raff insisted, shaking her head. “It only adds to your torture!”

“It’s fine. Val will love it,” Bryony said, waving a hand dismissively. “Raff, I have to fight. If I don’t, we’re going to lose. We have to do this.”

The elf licked her lips, and Bryony swore she could see the edges curving. “It’ll take some time to set up.”

“As soon as possible.”

“Give me three days.”

Bryony nodded, turning away from her friend. She paused, before moving forward. Her arms wrapped about the elf, pulling her tight. “I couldn’t get through this without you,” she breathed, shivering, “and soon this will all be over.”

“Yes,” replied Raff, “yes it will.”






Three days later, as the moon drew full, Princess Bryony the Sunrise Blade lay atop a table in the magical laboratory. She’d chased away the old men who used it, saying that Raff needed to do some elfish ritual, which wasn’t far from the truth. Violet candles flickered all about the princess, arranged in a rather unique position. It almost looked like a triangle, inverted so that the point was between Bryony’s legs.

“It’s to match the womb,” explained the elf. “And the symbol we etch into your flesh will be much the same. It’ll have three points of power,” she pressed against her friend’s torso, “one over each sac of eggs, and one near the entrance itself. The idea is to hold your sexual energies fully at bay, suppress them completely. It---it might render you infertile.”

“I already made up my mind,” hissed the princess, and then she’d gotten into position. Gone were any and all of her garments, pooled on the floor. The tight trousers, matching elfish panties, and loose blouse had hardly covered her anyway. Raff had dressed purely in a deep violet robe, with nothing beneath. Her pale body had been etched in several arcane symbols, many looking a good deal… darker than Bryony had hoped.

But she had suspected that anything that might spell infertility for the life respecting elves would be considered “dark.”

Her friend stepped toward her, standing nearby. “Last chance to say no,” Raff said. She held a goblet in her hands, violet liquid sloshing near the rim.

“We covered this,” Bryony said, fierce eyes flicking up, “I need to do this.”

“Agreed, but I had to ask,” the elf said. She tipped the cup, and Bryony drank. The elf had explained each step: this would help dull the pain of the spell as it sank into her flesh, creating a trance- state for the princess. Then, Raff would chant the spell, gathering life and reproductive energies into the sigil which would then appear etched on Bryony’s lower belly, just above her denuded sex. The sigil would be a deep violet, almost black, and would be… difficult to explain to Val.

But necessary.

Already her head spun, the potion doing its work. She barely heard Raff’s chanting, the noises sounding like they came from a distance. Shapes swam, swirling about her. Flickering sigils carved into the air, leaving thrumming trials of energy. Bryony nearly lost herself in their swirls, eyes and head spinning.

Raff stepped close. Her hand extended out, violet energies pulsing about with an almost dark fire. She brought her hand down, quickly sketching out the sigil. As promised, it appeared along the princess’s taut lower belly. Deep violet thrummed with energy, magic gathering more and more, only to be pulled downward. Violet flame erupted from between Raff’s fingers, only to sear into Bryony’s flesh. Even through her potion she felt it burning.

It delved, delved deep. Punched skin to seep ever inward. She felt energies stirring her womb, plunging into the very core of her womanhood. It latched onto her most precious area, the fount of life. She felt it pulsing, throbbing, the intensity surpassing even what the orcs had wrought upon her body. Bryony let out a sharp gasp, her drugged body barely processing, even as she jerked upward toward it. Lights flickered in three points. They flared, and Bryony felt them seeping in, burning all the way to her core. They nestled deep, so deep within.

And the magics faded, leaving the deep violet marking. Intricate entwining swirls in the language of ancient magic etched upon the warrior princess’s skin. They drew directly above her womb, protecting her. She felt it sealing, felt that constant arousal finally abating, felt her body cooling. Panting, the potion still dazed, Bryony stared up at the ceiling. After weeks, months, of throbbing, aching arousal, she felt… relief. A soothing in her innermost area, a calm. Tears of joy poured down her face, eyes shuttering closed.

“Thank you, Raff,” she breathed, as unconsciousness from the strain of the spell took over.








“The hell did you do to the Sunrise Blade?” snarled Garrosh, flinging a table at Tah’lora. The fallen elf didn’t even flinch: the orc wasn’t close. He didn’t want to harm his witch, particularly not when they both knew they were so dangerously close. “You’re supposed to be helping me break her! Instead she’s back on the field and stronger than ever!”

“Of course she is,” said Tah’lora, almost rolling her eyes. She strolled across the chief’s admittedly impressive tent, her heels dimmed by the near carpet of lush furs. It was an ostentatious display of wealth for an orc: the furs of nearly every animal in the world lining the floor several inches thick. She stopped by a container of fine elfish alcohol, left there more as a symbol of status than as something Garrosh or his men partook in. She held up a glass of fine crystal, shrugging before pouring one of the finest vintages within.

“Is this where you’re going to explain how making her stronger plays into our plan?” asked Garrosh. “I did as you asked, taking the field, killing knife-ears,” he gestured outside, where heads of elves stood on spears. “We’d have had that prince if he hadn’t scurried away.”

Tah’lora rolled her eyes. “You orcs, so ruled by your passions. And that’s ironic, coming from a pleasure witch,” she took a sip, turning to look at Garrosh’s throne. “it’s quite simple: I gave Bryony the symbol of true submission,” smiling, she ran her fingers along the arm of the throne, turning to look back to the orc. “It’s an ancient rite that suppresses sexual desire before all,” she tapped the chair, “but the one for whom the spell is designed. Basically,” she gave him a wry smile, “she literally can’t feel pleasure unless you give it to her. And when you do, all that compounded desire, all that well trained lust for orc flesh, will compound.

“In fact,’ the elf continued, drawing a lazy circle around the throne, “it goes deeper. For the spell can be sealed by claiming the bearer of the symbol three times. On the first, her womb becomes yours. Internally she can bear no children that do not have your seed, and given your high fertility and the spell’s triggers, she should be instantly and insanely fertile,” she tapped the throne, then nodded to the orc. “On the second, she’ll be yours in body fully. No spell will break her submission, and your will can enact bodily pleasures upon her at any time. It would be even best if you could perhaps make that one as pleasurable for our princess as possible.”

She smiled, taking a sip. “On the third? Her will is succumbed to yours, little more than a plaything. Though she’ll still be Bryony the Sunrise Blade, she’ll have to do as you will. Oh, and of course if you do it right, what she’ll want to do is nothing more than, how did you put it? Birth your pups and suck your cock,” she spat out the last word, smiling as she took another drink.

Garrosh snorted. “That’s all well and good, but right now, she’s still a threat on the---” he paused, chuckling darkly and looking to her. “That’s why you advised me to stay off the field of combat. It’s been nearly a month.”

Tah’lora nodded, “and both you, and our princess, have stored enough sexual arousal to become impossible to resist. Plus your raw musk should nearly render her incapable of fighting anyway. Honestly I don’t know how she powers through that now. Girl should have an instinctive reaction to the scent, one of submission and desire.” She finished her glass, staring at the fine crystal. “Her will and power are quite impressive.”

As Tah’lora lowered her glass, she saw Garrosh looming over her. “Not as impressive as mine.”

And the elf could only agree.

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

With a cry of triumph, Bryony drove her blade through another orc. The iron tinged smell of battle filled the air, something she inhaled with each and every breath. Their campaign had gone on for nearly a month, fighting through most of the captured elfish territory. Now Bryony’s forces lay aligned with Val’s, ready to crush the two together.

Even better, she hadn’t had a single orcish dream in all that time. Her desires had resorted to those she’d had before this affair: to battle, to love, to valor. She did have some.. hesitation as she approached particularly musky orcs, but even those she scythed down as if they were little more than grain.

They were saying she looked more beautiful than ever. Bryony supposed that came from her increased confidence as much as any. She’d mastered orcish desire, overcome that which threatened to debase her to her core. Plus she knew now that men lusted for her, that a mere look could cause them to quiver with anticipation. She had taken to braiding those fiery gold traces a little looser, to wearing just a hint of paint upon her face… and, of course, even under her armor, she still wore the elfish underwear.

Even now, as she strode confidently through the field, dressed in her personally wrought mail, she could feel the light elfish white silk pantie cupping her sex. A matching brassiere supported her perky breasts. Of course, only Bryony and Raff knew what she wore, but the confidence it gave her felt exhilarating.

And she’d selected it with good reason: today would be the day of her reunion with Val. After months of being apart, they would join their armies on this field, defeat their foe, and cement their union. Val would become King and she Queen of their united kingdoms. Victory sang through Bryony as she strode confidently through battle, no orc standing in her way.

It was then that she realized that her confidence had carried her perhaps too far. She’d cut her way through orc upon orc, until she’d driven a wedge far into the forces… and far away from her men. Whirling, she noticed the nearest human some distance away, a ring three to four orcs thick between. A turn the other direction saw nothing but orcs.

Well, Bryony could handle this. She readied her blade, smiling with fierce confidence as the sun glinted from its ancient steel. As she did, she saw the orcs before her part, and heard their chant:

“Garrosh, Garrosh, Garrosh.”

Bryony’s eyes widened, a momentary spike of icy fear driving through her confidence. After so many weeks, so long, she’d be facing the orc who’d driven this madness into her. Val was no where near, though she knew she only had to fight her way through this, through him. She could almost feel the spell pulsing at her loins, readying her.

The orc strode confidently forward, his body still a mass of scars. Bryony swore his gut had grown bigger, and she laughed, pointing her sword toward him. “It’s time to repeat your defeat, Garrosh,” she promised, “today I shall take your head.”

“I’m sure you will, Sunrise Blade,” he replied, hefting his massive onyx sword. Bryony lunged forward, blade raised. She charged into battle, a Valkyrie stepping from myth once more. An orc dared get in her way, only to fall before a flashing blade. Another as she twirled, again a dance of death. Her movements brought her to Garrosh at last, lunging forward.

Only to smell the most powerful orcish musk she’d ever encountered.

In an instant, all those weeks, months of orcish desire flooded into the princess. It collapsed upon her at once. She felt that familiar pounding in her loins. Felt her sex seizing, leaking. Felt her breasts tighten. Felt boned bumps gliding along her flesh. Tasted thick orc seed in her mouth. Heard the wet slap of flesh on flesh. Smelled the thick scent of her own arousal mixing with orcs, that perfect primal cocktail. And saw the impressive orc, that pillar of masculinity which could not be denied.

Bryony stumbled, and felt the solid blow from the blunt of that sword. It sent her sprawling into the ground, nearly to her knees. The warrior princess took a shuddering breath, inhaling more musk, feeling her loins flare. It felt worse. After so many weeks without it, after the suppression, to be right there and experience the most potent dose she’d had. It felt so very, very much worse.

“What’s the matter, princess?” taunted the orc. Bryony looked up in time to see a massive foot coming her way. It connected with her chest, sending her flying back, sprawling. She nearly lost her grip on her sword, fortunately all that training kicking in at just the right time. “Something seems to be throwing you off.”

The princess scrambled, working backward. Her blade lashed out, but it was a desperate blow, not a calculated attack. Garrosh parried it effortlessly, then stepped forward, kicking her down again. Bryony fell hard, sucking in a breath, a breath of him as she did so. Growling, she whirled, turning, springing to her feet. Bryony sucked in a quick breath, then darted forward. Her sword arched out, the move clearly surprising Garrosh.

However, Bryony’s haste meant her blow went awry. Instead of plunging into the monster’s chest, it skimmed along his side, her body nearly slamming into him. He took advantage, tackling her once more. Unlike before, he didn’t give her room or recover. Instead, as she sprawled to the ground, he stepped over.

And Bryony looked up, up under his loincloth to see below. There it was, already pulsing, sticking almost straight down at her, weight of so much fur keeping it in place. So many thick inches of orcish meat, boned and pulsing. Despite herself, Bryony’s mouth watered. Her eyes locked, her chest heaving as she simply stared, fighting to right herself.

“Like what you see?” taunted the orc. He started lowering himself. Bryony yelped, thrashing, again trying to scramble free, to cut him. He kicked her sword hand, scattering the blade across the field. His hand pinned her down. Soon his lower half descended. But instead of immediately shoving his cock into her throat, he simply hovered. His cock, his thick balls, and the hole behind, all hovered mere inches from her face. The thick smell spun Bryony’s head in an all too familiar way. She fought against panting, but needed air desperately.

“You should face it, princess: you’re addicted to it,” he said, rolling hips. She watched his cock sway, the balls seem to move. Her tongue nearly lolled out of her lips.

“N-never!” she spat, lunging forward, attempting to strike, to punch at him. His leg moved, kicking her aside. Then to her shock, he descended. Again not to thrust, but instead smothering her. Her face became eclipsed by his thick balls. The scent of musk and sweat filled her. Leather flesh fell into her mouth. A near perfect blast of orcish pheromones slid into her mouth as she gasped in shock. It rippled through her body, igniting all the old fires. Everything burned as she inhaled. Her mind slid from her, that raw musk unbearable.

The balls rolled, smearing along her open face. They pushed against her nose, patted her cheeks, encompassed everything. She felt them rise then drop upon her. Musk, so much earthy musk filled everything. Bryony’s legs kicked, she tried to struggle, and the orc chief only laughed. He bobbed further, his thick sac smothering everything, prevent breath. In desperate Bryony heaved, inhaling yet more. Her head spun fiercer.

A shock of relief shot through her as he shifted, certain he’d rise to taunt or to tease. Instead, to her horror, he shifted back. A hand reached down, locking her head in place, while he angled her gorgeous face to his thick ass. She could just see his puckered star, the musk different here, tinged with an almost acrid spell. Bryony knew she should resist, but the shock of it, the rawness, made her burn. She clamped her armored legs together, the noise quite audible, making Garrosh laugh.

That star descended, and Bryony tasted orcish ass. It punched against her, that raw primal taste hitting her hard. Eyes rolled as it overwhelmed. She felt her tongue lolling, perhaps frantically seeking something new, only to connect with the star. Garrosh rolled his hips, pressing his ass along her tongue, making her bathe it.

“You’re nothing more than an orc cock addict, Sunrise Blade,” he breathed, before descending. It was then that Bryony realized that despite smothering her, he’d left air, let her suck greedy breaths of him. Now he outright choked her. She gagged, mouth filled with the foul taste of orc, of his most debauched and debasing orifice. Her body undulated, flailing against him. Mailed fists rose to drive against. But she felt consciousness sliding away. Felt blackness edging her vision, narrowing it until she just saw, just felt Garrosh’s lower half. Hefty, thick balls, likely churning with seed for her, filled her vision. The pungent flavor filled her mouth.

Worst of all, as Princess Bryony the Sunrise Blade faded into black, she felt a burning arousal flaring sharp.






Bryony awoke with a start, jerking upright. First, she was surprised to even wake. She remembered that battle all too vividly, Garrosh descending upon her, filling her with everything that was him. She had lost, definitively and wholly. She should be dead right now.

But… but she wasn’t. Bryony scrambled up, finding the movement all too easy. She looked down, seeing that she’d been stripped, wearing only her lacy elfish underthings. The delicate little triangle of fabric between her legs had, of course, been soaked through. Her nipples jutted against the top, two lewd targets. She reached back, realizing that her hair had been dropped free. He’d stripped her. Prepared her.

“Oh Goddess,” the princess whirled. She appeared to be in a tent, almost a mockery of her own. The width and breath matched a sprawling room, and it was filled with the paraphernalia of an orcish chief. Thick furs lined the floor. Various stolen artifacts lay strewn around the room, jewelry from taken noblewoman. No bed, though there did appear to be a chair before a strangely normal looking desk. Her eyes fell upon what appeared to be a throne… made out of skin and bone?

“Garrosh’s tent,” she breathed. His musk hovered everywhere. That explained her state: a sort of simmering arousal. She looked down, still seeing the deep violet marking above her loins. Had Raff’s spell failed? Did the orc have some way around it? Or… or was Bryony simply too addicted to Garrosh? No, no, the spell had to have held… somehow. He’d rendered her unconscious by his stench, and her body had merely reacted.

She needed to find a way out of here. He’d foolishly left her alone, which gave her time. Bryony dashed about the room, trying to ignore how very naked and vulnerable she felt. She plowed her hands into the treasures, coming up with enough gold and jewels to buy a small landed property. There was an elfish artifact she dimly remembered from a visit. Some kind of magical wand, though Bryony had no skill in those arts.

Frantic, Bryony’s gaze landed upon his throne. Given the orc’s proclivities, it would make sense for him to stash something near there. She hurried forth, quickly bending down to start searching.

And the raw musk of an orc in rut washed over her.

The princess groaned, eyes rolling. She immediately dropped to her knees, which only brought her closer. Garrosh’s musk had been nigh on irresistible on the field of battle. Here, with that raw stench of arousal wrapped about it, the smell of claiming, Bryony almost nearly couldn’t resist. She lowered her face, inhaling the front of the throne, right where Garrosh’s mighty member must stand. He must take his mates here, seated, possibly before an audience. Goddess, he would take her like that. Would bounce her up and down his orcish cock, her body arching against his. Those boned ridges grinding against her, his thickness filling her entirely, overfilling her. She’d cry out in raw ecstasy, trembling and bucking like the wild thing she was.

Bryony shifted, inhaled once more. Her hand drifted between her legs, fingers plowing her sex. The digits sank into wet softness, folds parting like butter. She felt them glide in as if oiled. Desire thick and heavy coated her, as she nearly smothered herself against him.

No, no, she pulled back, panting. She had to resist, could resist. Prying a hand from her legs, she reached beneath the throne, pawing. There! She felt something sharp, a dagger. Bryony leaned forward, sucking another breath. The blast of orcish musk made her weak, and her free hand shot between her legs. Gritting her teeth, Bryony simultaneously stroked herself and worked the dagger free, lunging back and nearly sitting on her own hand, weapon clutched tight in her grip.

“Ah, I see the princess is adjusting to her new throne.”

The rumbling voice made Bryony shiver. She spun, thrusting the dagger behind her back while she stared up at him. Garrosh had bared his chest, but still wore his loincloth as he stepped forward. Evidently he’d at least cleaned himself off slightly, as she didn’t see any blood or other signs of battle. His bulging chest remained bare and unmarked, save for the few puckered scars. His braided hair swung as he stepped forward.

“Although, I suppose that isn’t actually your true throne,” he said, a hand falling down. Bryony fought a gasp as his loincloth dropped. His erection sprung full, already jutting, swelling with arousal. The head had darkened to a near black, moisture gathering at the tip. The swell of thick yellish white oozed forth, the sight kicking Bryony in her lower belly. Her eyes locked on it, watching as it bobbed, coming forward. “This will be. Because starting from today, you’re my personal cock-sheath, Bryony of the Sunrise—”

Bryony yelled, lunging forward. She thrust the dagger toward him with all her might, aiming for just above his gut. The blade should strike deep enough to at least stun him, giving her the time to dash around and head for the door. Her aim was true, and she’d already learned to suck air in before daring to come close. She felt the dagger sink with satisfaction, only to look up.

And realize he’d blocked it with one meaty arm.

“Shame you don’t have the strength to properly use that,” he said, smiling. The orc lunged forward, Bryony bracing for a hit. Her body spun almost before he connected, using momentum to carry the blow, stopping it from ringing her head. She still sprawled across furs. Fortunately, Bryony moved quickly, already turning to rise.

Another blow came, but not from his fist. The thick truncheon of his cock smacked into the side of Bryony’s face. The blow stunned her, making her stop. Another came, hitting her other side with a meaty thwack. “This is the only sword you’ll be handling now,” promised the orc. His hips swiveled, and again Bryony felt weighty meat connect with her.

Finally she had to breath, gasping. She directly inhaled his pungent musk, the foulness washing into her. Before she could stop herself, Bryony inhaled several deep breaths. Gurrosh had stopped smacking, held still while the princess breathed. Her green eyes locked onto his throbbing member. She beheld that pulsing head, the arousal already oozing. Just a taste. She just had to stick her tongue out just enough to get a taste. But… but no, that hadn’t worked with Karresh, it wouldn’t work now.

“Yes, smell that orc cock,” purred Gurrosh. He grabbed the top of Bryony’s head, pulling her close. The orc rubbed the princess up and down his length, smearing his precum across her face. “it’s what you crave, what you’ve always wanted. You knew it from the start, that my threat was a promise: you’ll bear my pups gladly.”

Bryony whimpered, trying to push against his iron grip, remembering from before. To her shock, she saw the flap of the tent behind them open. Stepping in, hands bound, body stripped to delicate elfish panties, was Raff.

“Ah yes,” said the orc, looking over his shoulder, “your beloved friend,” he looked back to her, “I discovered that she’d been the one to help you fight me. Naughty little thing. Not quite the prize you are, but if I’ve no choice…”

Bryony understood the threat. If she didn’t obey, then Raff would be taken instead. The princess leaned forward, tongue extending. Dutifully, she ran it along the shaft. The disgusting, thick taste filled her mouth once more. Her body retched, but also celebrated. She’d craved this. Denied herself, but now she took it. She bobbed, tongue lashing, lathering. She’d save her friend, yes, but also feed that gnawing hunger. Lips greedily parted, circling his tip. Bryony sucked, trembling with the effort. Instant reward came as the orc spurt a little burst of seed. The princess swallowed, shivering with utter delight, before remembering. No, she was the Sunrise Blade, she had to fight this, did it only because they---they forced her and—

Gurrosh stroked her head. “You want it,” he breathed. Her head bobbed, sliding across. A boned ridge popped into her mouth while the orc trembled. “You were just looking for an excuse to get orc dick inside you again, weren’t you?”

Bryony pulled back, gasping, staring up at him. “Lies. I’m—”

“An orc cocksleeve,” he replied, nudging her forward. Bryony’s lips parted, sliding along the cock. She found herself swallowing as it bobbed within, head lolling against him. Eyelids fluttered, sensations flaring. That burning began in her lower belly, though Bryony couldn’t quite know that the magics flared within, ignited her womb. The kick felt… different, but oh so very, very right.

“Yes, suck that cock,” he said, watching her as she fed herself his thick flesh. Bryony’s lips pursed, drawing tight as she worked. “Your eagerness almost makes up for the lack of skill. Unfortunately,” he stroked her cheek, and Bryony paused, “I’m not looking for your mouth this time.”

With a hard push, he knocked her back. Bryony sprawled, feeling her hair fanning out. Legs instinctively spread, trying to brace. The thick orc bent before her, kneeling between her spread legs. He shifted, his thick cock hitting against her belly. It lay, hard and heavy, atop her shorn mound, stretched well past her navel again. She could practically see it between her barely covered breasts. Bryony sucked breath. There would be no last minute saving this time. They weren’t in her camp, but his. Her only salvation might have been Raff, and she turned to her friend.

Only to see a curvaceous, dark-skinned elf standing in her place.

Confused, Bryony stared, brow furrowing. Gurrosh chuckled, looking behind. “Oh yes, your dear friend Raff’lesia, poor elfish maid,” he looked back at her, his toothsome grin all the more fierce. “Wasn’t the sex magic a clue?”

Bryony felt her heart sink, watching as the elf wiggled a few fingers. “Sorry,” she said, in a voice velvety and deep, but still eerily similar, “for what it’s worth, I do think you’re rather impressive.”

“No,” Bryony breathed. She felt something heavy hit her chest. Her attention jerked back, looking down her body, seeing the hefty orc cock laying there, right across her innocence. Thick hands reached down, pulled, twisted, and her elfish pantie ripped with a terrifying noise. Wet puckered lips, smooth and bare, kissed the air. Dewy drops of arousal already glistened in the folds.

“Oh yes, you were mine from the start,” growled the orc. He rolled his hips. The thick head arched down. It prodded against her sex, a ram at gates. Bryony felt her body tremble. She rolled, trying to buck. Hands reached down, pinning hers to either side of her face. His body spread hers, putting her into the position so many husbands took so many wives, the one in which she’d dreamed Val would take her.

Again his cock slid along her, stopped by her snug opening, skittering across the top. A little burst of orcish cum drizzled on her belly.

“I’m taking your fucking cunt,” the orc growled. He shifted, gripping both of Bryony’s hands in one. She curled fingers, tried to arch up, but found his thick hand pressing her hard against furs. Muscled thighs arched her legs apart. His other hand took his thick cock, pointed it directly at her. Angled it perfectly. Smiling, he reached up, fingering her sex, spreading her lips. A nudge, a push. As he slid, he adjusted with fingers.

“No!” Bryony gasped, jerking her hips one more time. But he held, held her still. The thick cock pressed, pressure intensifying. Bryony thrashed, feeling her rising heat, feeling that want. She closed her eyes, head flailing. Body arched. But the pressure increased, went tight. She felt the intense tightness screaming from her loins. It ached, stretched. She dared look down, seeing her snug folds starting to part, to wrap about his thickly domed head.

“No, no, you can’t fit!’ she cried, trying to move, feeling her mounting lust melting her limbs.

“I can. I will,” he intoned, and pushed. Her body gave, flesh parting. Thick head jutted into flesh. More and more of her gave way before more and more of him, until he rolled his hips, and with a roar, thrust forward with more might than a man could possess.

Bryony felt her flesh splitting, parting. The cock plowed into her in that blow, instantly stuffing her snug virgin hole with thick orc meat. Sharp, lancing pain shot from her thighs, coursed up into her heated core. It boiled with the arousal, mixing into an intoxicating, undeniable sensation. Muscles twisted in pain, melted in fire. Everything clenched and grasped. Tight walls convulsed in instinct, seizing the invader with as much tightness as she could imagine. Flesh rippled, and Bryony could feel each and every boned ridge.

“Fuck!” spat the orc, forcing the gulping, quivering Bryony to look down. “Couldn’t get even half…”

Sure enough, more than half of the orc dick stuck out from Bryony’s firm body. She could practically see her belly swelling, the spelled symbol stretching lewdly. Several trembling breaths shook her. Muscles again clamped, hips rolling, trying to expel. Not needing to hold her still below, Gurrosh lifted his hands up, again taking hers. He squeezed tight as his hips thrust, grounding down against her.

The princess cried out as she felt him punching into her. Muscles stretched, tearing before him. Tight walls tried to seize, only working, massaging, gripping the thickness. Thick fullness filled her. Pressure built more and more as he leaned forward, hips insisting, thrusting. Her lips stretched over a boned ridge, making her yelp, before the thing popped inside her. It scraped against her insides, pushed along, and suddenly Bryony felt it dragging. The friction made her whimper, legs attempting to draw close. A hand swatted, spreading her out, almost spread-eagled.

“It’s all going in,” Gurrosh insisted, jerking his hips again. The intense grind forced more orc cock into her too-tight hole, making her scream out. Bryony arched, body rippling, seizing. She felt more slide in, another bump nudging against her. That domed head struck somewhere deep inside, where she clenched and held.

“Fuck it,’ snarled the orc. He gripped her shoulders, and his hips began to thrust. Shorter, shallower blows, each one hammering that thick head against her insides. The cock slurped along her sex, continually pressing. Constant friction drew heat, those ridges hitting inside her, scraping insides. Pain of stretching began to fade, fullness growing into pressure, blossoming toward pleasure. Bryony’s chest heaved as her body warmed more and more. Moisture leaked as she melted, her body readying itself. “That’s it, my little orc cocksleeve,” he purred, reaching down to stroke her belly, hammering against her. “Take,” a heavy thrust, “my fucking,” another, “cock!”

And Garrosh pounded against her with a vengeance. Bryony felt the force of every blow, rocking her body. She screamed, body rippling against him, hips throwing up only to be slammed down. The orgasm that hit her tore through her, seemingly coming from nowhere. It lit pleasure and fires all along her body, pouring that raw desire straight into her system. Her addled mind seized hard, let it wrench control. Her tongue lolled for a moment as she panted, nearly drooling with the simple raw sensation.

“Dammit!” howled the orc, shifting Bryony while she quaked. She gathered enough of herself to see that he still hadn’t fully sheathed himself, despite hammering so hard, so fast, making her body quiver. Her orgasm had laxed muscles enough for more, but not enough. “You’re too fucking tight!” he snarled, reaching up to grab a breast. Bryony groaned as he twisted it, moving aside the cup to pinch hard at her nipple. The burst of pain made her body ripple, legs parting further as if to aid. He gave another twist, making her yelp.

“Time to truly finish you,” he snarled, mouth nearly foaming, blazed eyes boring down into hers. Bryony watched as he leaned forward, body arching, rolling against her. Hands lowered, scooping up her legs, twisting. Soon she gasped, feeling her body curling. He stretched her legs up, putting them nearly alongside his shoulders. His rolling arched her, till her shoulders were nearly the only thing touching the furs.

Positioned thus, he slammed down. Bryony screamed as he plunged deep, so deep, her body opening before him in another burst of frenzied pleasure. Orgasm rippled against muscles, stretched walls. The domed head had punched so very, very deep, seeming to hit bottom. But his pounding continued, frenzied. His thick balls began to slap against her tight ass, encouraging the motion. As Bryony squeezed, she felt him going deeper and deeper with every thrust. With a roar, he leaned forward, shoved hard.

Bryony felt a pop inside, breath stopping, lurching. Green eyes flew wide, mouth flying open. “There it is,” he hissed, bending her body, reaching down to cup her shoulders, “I’m fucking you straight in the womb, little cocksleeve,” with that, he began hammering her, and she felt his hips connecting with hers, knowing that he’d sheathed every inch of his orcish cock into her body.

It drove her mad. The crude pleasure blasted her mind to pieces. Mouth fell open, tongue lolled completely free. Eyes took on a glaze that seemed to dull the green within. Her body simply quivered, a mass of flesh, a willing recipient of his continually hammering weapon.

An orcish cock sleeve.

Garrosh hammered her with a frenzy, blow upon blow landing upon her. Her body launched into a climax, wrenching pleasure from her in a scream. Waves of it cascaded throughout her, drowned all other senses. Again sex and coupling became Bryony’s world. Orc fucking, orc taking, orc breeding became all she processed. The princess’s head spun with it as she continued drowning in the pleasure.

Thick hands mashed her breasts, levering her. Thick cock hammered so deep into her womb, churned her sex. His ridges drew along sensitive areas, and a sudden new pressure rose, punching even through Bryony’s fucked haze. She screamed it out as she felt him dragging, and felt something warm and wet spraying across her curved belly, lathering her lower torso.

“Squirted like a true fucking slut,” the orc snarled in pleasure, twisting her breast as he did. He scooped up some of her arousal and shoved it into her open mouth, wrenching her as he did. She sucked, before he parted, drool falling upon her face. His cock plowed down, kept going, tearing through another orgasm, then another. The sheer joy of him twisted into a near unbearable pain. She wanted, needed him to finish, to cum inside her, but he just kept thrusting, hammering her body into the furs below. Her eyes began to darken, fluttering as he blasted even her stalwart body beyond the threshold.

“Oh no you don’t,” he hissed, twisting her nipple to jerk her awake with new pain. He pulled her to him, arching her, again making sure shoulders remained. Hair fanned as she twisted against him, humiliating noises tearing from her, her mind unable to form words, to do anything beyond pant arousal.

Then she felt him hiss, felt his cock surge. The ridges scraped as he suddenly slammed down with intense force, pounding his arousal into her very flesh. She felt his head swelling, then the hot spewed inside her. Warmth she’d never known filled her womb, made her belly seem to grow with its intensity. He held almost painfully still while he seeded her, her womb blazing with the heat of his sperm. The spell flared, a symbol upon its predictive triangle flaring to life, etching its desire, kicking Bryony’s cycle. The seed swam deep.

He slid back after moments, cock still twitching. The blasting hosed her insides, filled every inch of her channel to overflowing. It stoppered within, held by thick cock, ridges almost locking him in place like a canine’s knot. More and more, her belly swelling as if she already grew his pups. Then he pulled forward, spewing, hosing her sex till his cock popped free. Great globs of it slopped forth from her hole, soaking furs with the evidence of his arousal.

That great domed head thrust, showered her belly with seed, streaking her symbol of submission. It pooled along her belly, began to glaze her heaving breasts, while the orc leaned down, hissing. “You. Are. Mine,” was the last that Bryony heard before the raw pleasure blacked her senses entirely.

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

Consciousness returned slowly to the battered princess. She blinked those green eyes, trying to right herself. Bryony fought to suck in breath, to perhaps steady herself with cleaned air. But she should’ve expected them to deny her that. For when she inhaled, she took another overwhelming blast of orcish musk. It launched into her nostrils almost immediately, filling one sense and quickly dominating another, as orcish taste filled her mouth with the earthy pungency.

As more senses came to her, she realized that something had been all but clamped onto her face. Something hovered just about her like a mask, though her blinking eyes could see that she was still in some kind of tent. Not the same tent: the walls weren’t nearly as fine. But her mind barely put that together when she felt something else:

Something was teasing her sex. She twisted, ready to twirl, only to quickly discover that to be impossible. Something akin to stocks had clamped down her torso and head, though her arms were pulled slightly back, breasts outstretched. She looked down, seeing what appeared to be some kind of leather attached to her breasts. But as she watched, the leather moved, and what felt like dozens of little teeth pricked against her. While she bit back a gasp from that, trying to jerk back, she felt the pressure on her sex again.

“Ah, our cocksleeve has awoken,” said the familiar voice of Garrosh. Bryony fought back a hiss, jerking slightly. “Well, guess I don’t have to ask if you’re fully broken,” he patted her ass a few times with a possessive glare, before giving it a squeeze. Bryony tried to twist, but she could also feel her body flaring up. Those still snug lips seemed to seize, that instinctive arousal coming simply from his touch.

“You’ll never break me,” she told him, staring around. This had to be where they interrogated prisoners, some kind of torturing tent. She took another breath, inhaling yet more musk. Bryony hoped she’d pretty much adjusted to it, particularly since it just felt like she’d be smelling it constantly for a while… and her sex would smolder as she did.

“Not with pain, no,” admitted Garrosh, giving Bryony’s ass a quick slap. She let out a yelp as she felt the heat rising, jerking against her bounds. She tried again, pulling hard, actually hearing them quake. “Not bad, but these are made to hold orcs,” he pointed out, and she could actually hear some admission of admiration in there, not that she needed validation from a foul monster. “While you may be an orc breeder, you’re hardly one of us,” he gave her ass another few smacks.

Bryony’s heart dropped. That had happened. It wasn’t a dream. She was no longer a virginal princess, and it was entirely likely that she had Garrosh’s spawn growing in her belly. Given that he was an orc and as far as Bryony knew, there were no females of the species, that meant she had his son. “oh Goddess,” she whimpered, fighting the urge to start sobbing.

“She won’t help you now,” promised Garrosh. His thick fingers moved again, but instead of slapping her ass, they glided along her sex. Bryony bit back a series of shivering moans as her body trembled, the touch almost electric. Thick fingers pushed along her body, began stroking. She felt walls parting before them, the task so much easier than before. Insides still gripped: he’d never stretch her out fully, but she’d grown used to the strain. She could actually feel her flesh welcoming the touch. Felt warmth seeping forth. Felt her arousal oozing along his digits.

Still, she had to jerk, attempting to pull away, to pull free, hissing as the device locked her in place.

Garrosh reached around, tapping her breasts, and the leather began chewing with a frenzy. Bryony couldn’t help but scream, jerking, thrusting backward as if to get away. As she did, she felt Garrosh’s thickly domed head leveling at her sex. “Wha—what’s on my—”

“This?” asked Garrosh, tugging at the bra-like device attached to her chest, “this is from your dear friend the elf witch. It’s some kind of demon that feeds directly from you. It should… ah, there it is!”

As soon as he said that, Bryony felt a tug at her chest. To her surprise and shock, white liquid started to dribble out. “H-how?”

“Stimulates your breasts or something,” Garrosh said. He rubbed his cock against her sex, and Bryony fought back a groan. As her chest had that strange, sucking sensation, one that shot way more pleasure into her then it probably should, she felt him move. That tension mounted again, grew heavier and heavier, until with another seeming pop, his cock thrust inside. Inches glided along flesh, boned ridges gliding all over her as it went.

The princess shivered, dropping her head. She tried to block it, or to block the sensation at her chest, to block anything about this. Eyes closed meant higher smell, higher sound, so she inhaled more musk and heard her sex slurping against him. Opening let her see the milk dribbling from her, oozing down her front. There was no escaping this assault on her body and senses.

Garrosh wasn’t quite hammering like he had before though. His cock sawed within her, inches sliding in as he reworked her, but he almost went… slow. Bryony soon found her hips rolling, trying to move toward him. Walls clamped to squeeze, and she felt that tension rising. It almost felt like a relief, a drop of reward amid this hell, and she pushed back to gain more. Garrosh rocked in time, and Bryony wondered if he wasn’t trying to seduce her with what almost felt like lovemaking.

Her head dropped, hair drifting near her leaking chest. She groaned, shivered, felt her hips buck back. Garrosh picked up pace, not quite hammering, but still actively thrusting. Bryony knew from the sensations within that he wasn’t filling her, that inches of cock had to remain. Her sex squeezed, feeling five bones, so at least a few inches. She thrust back, feeling a little more seeping.

“Barely into your second coupling and already participating,” cooed Garrosh.

“To shorten it, you beast,” hissed Bryony, trying to squeeze. She gasped, feeling the knot within rising, as always. He’d shifted, and his ridges pressed against that soft part within her. Bryony rolled, trying to raise on her toes. Her hips thrust back, sex starting to seize. Everything centered once more, lips parting.

And he pulled out.

And the leather stopped.

“Wh—what?” she gasped, her suddenly empty sex gasping as if it were short of breath. She looked over her shoulder, seeing a grinning orc.

‘Didn’t say you could cum,” he said, tapping her. “In fact, if you want to, I need you to beg for it. Need to hear the words ‘I need to cum, master, because I’m your little cock-sleeve,’” he dragged a nail along her bottom, making her groan, body rolling.

“I’ll never say that!” she spat. “I’m Princess—ahaaa,” he’d thrust inside her, bumps running along her body.

“You’re my cocksleeve,” he insisted, hips thrusting, again not quite hammering, not quite pushing.

“I’m—I’m Princess---” she gasped, body shivering. The leather had picked up, and her only barely suppressed orgasm started roaring forth. She felt it surging against her—

And he pulled out.

And the leather stopped.

“Princesses don’t cum on orc cock,” Garrosh informed her, and Bryony finally figured out his plan. He was going to withhold orgasm from her until she begged, until she snapped. All the while she inhaled more musk, received more pleasure, leaked more milk. If she held, he’d all but form her into exactly what he wanted. But if she admitted, then she’d be admitting to…

The cock slid inside, thrusting. Ridges rubbed against sex. Leather moved. Sensation rose, and she tampered it down. If she fought her orgasm, maybe it could release against her. Minutes passed as she bit her lip, held still. Then she felt something pressing against her bottom. It prodded her puckered star now, making her yelp, her tension releasing.

“Fuck!” she shouted, bucking, feeling everything spike.

Then everything stop.

Bryony gasped as she felt her mind continuing to spin. The pleasures kept rising up within her threatening to overtake her mind at any moment. Even though her Orcish lover had ceased moving the moment it had started to crest she could feel her own tension mounting more and more with each passing second. It felt as if her heart beats were thudding more and more arousal into her writhing body. Thick orc cock again plundered her depths, skewering her folds. She felt it stretching out her clenching sex. Felt her body rippling about him, insides begging him to plunder as deep as he could.

The leather moved in time, milking her chest. Pressure built along her nipples as it tweaked, pulled, outright pinched. She felt it twisting up, drawing more of her from within, the white dribbling from her chest, the pressure enormous. It rose, slid within, filled her chest, her blood, her sex, her very molten core. Everything twisted and sprang together, the release building and building.

Then stopped.

Bryony whimpered, tears spilling from her emerald eyes, her inner frustration increasing.

“Only cocksleeves cum on orc cock,” insisted Garrosh, running his possessive hands along Bryony’s clenched ass, “not warrior princesses.”

“Then… then I guess I’m not cumming,” panted Bryony, swallowing hard. They’d barely started, and already the pleasures within felt overwhelming. She thought she may go mad or drown in sensation should she not achieve that climax sooner rather than later. The thought made the princess shiver, but she swallowed, steeling her reserve.

Garrosh chuckled, giving her ass a few swats before hammering. This wasn’t some teasing thrust or shallow blow, but a sample of outright rutting. Thick orc cock slammed into Bryony’s wet sex. It hammered against her core, jutting aside as if it sink immediately into her womb. Boned ridge upon boned ridge teased her sex all along, igniting the already blazing veins. The sheer sensation wrenched her orgasm toward her, and she knew without a doubt that it would thunder despite---

--he stopped.

Panting, sex soaking, Bryony shivered. She could resist. The leather absently milked her breasts, fluids seeping down her chest. Had to resist. Fingers played at the puckered hole of her starred ass, teasing, pushing against the ring. A pop felt within as her body became fuller than ever. Groaning, the princess bucked, sure that this would do it.

It didn’t

Garrosh kept working, sliding her ever closer. His cock pounded her. The pattern kept repeating, pleasure mounting, but never cresting. Her chest soon became utterly soaked with her own milked lifeforce. Her sex drooled, making wet slopping noises. Even her ass twitched as he kept working more and more. Every part of her ached with that frenzy.

Just when she’d thought there could be nothing more or worse, he pulled back. Bryony could almost feel her sex gasping for him, the walls trembling with want. But instead of pointing his blunt weapon toward her, she felt it pressing against her other hole, the still virginal tight channel of her royal ass.

“No,” she gasped, trying to jerk. The leather twisted, making her groan, body quivering.

“Yes princess, I’m taking that royal ass and making it part of my new toy,” insisted Garrosh. The pressure increased as his thick weapon, slick with the princess’s want, pressed against her. Bryony tightened, hard body twisting to try and resist. But a sudden smack of pain erupted against her ass, making her yelp, making muscles relax. Then the head entered.

Sheer, nearly unendurable pressure hit her hard. It shot up into her aching form. She felt it only increase, body tearing as the new hole worked itself around the cock. Her tight ass swallowed his domed head. The weapon sank further, parted against her, stretched her. The pain of working her body against him shot up into her, blasted aside pleasure. Tears swam as the princess cried out, body wrenching to try and alleviate.

He sawed. The thick ridges pressed against her, pulled her flesh, yanked it out.

“That’s right, Bryony. I’m taking your precious ass too. You’re nothing but a sleeve for my thick cock,” intoned Garrosh, rolling his hips. Bryony groaned, but as she opened her mouth to protest, she found his hands about her face. It cupped her, twisting her back, so that she was pointed toward him. He spat down into her open mouth, before looming forward. Thick lips took her own in a cruel mockery of a kiss, seizing upon her softness. She squealed in protest, as much from the twisting of her body as the unwanted oral affection. Everything tightened, and she felt her ass clamping down just as he shoved two ridges of cock into her. She squealed again, and his tongue delved within, sank against her mouth possessively.

Hands worked her aching chest, teasing around the leather. Everything flared, the pain shifting to add to pleasure, sensations mixing. She found herself panting with the raw heat, sweat beading along her taut body. But he pulled his lips back to smile cruelly, rolling his hips. “Just think, you can cum and this will all be over. Just admit it: you’re a orc cocksleeve, not a princess,” said Garrosh, squeezing her cheeks again. “Say. The. Words,” his cock hammered each syllable into her, and Bryony whimpered.

“N—never!’ she spat back, eyes flashing. She could win this battle; it was all about will, and hers would be unbending.

Roaring, Garrosh reached down, latching onto her hips. Thick fingers dug into flesh, and he slammed forward. Bryony screamed, the noise harsh and loud, as thick cock skewered her. No stretching, no working, but a raw stab of utter fire deep into her guts. Clenching muscles resisted, but he plowed through her resistance. The continued hammer turned her tight ass into a fleshy sheath. With each blow, she felt thick balls slapping against her aching sex. Garrosh assaulted her, not ceasing, and again she felt the pleasure eclipsing.

And he stopped, cock still filling her ass. His hand went down, rubbing at her sex. “Gotta keep you ready,” he purred, but the bliss wouldn’t cum.

He thundered. Hammered her ass. Filled her with fire and fullness. Kept hammering. Life blurred between tears and kisses and continued work upon her ass. She could feel the channel reshaping, likely to never return to full tightness. She whimpered with realization as he kept working against her, training her ass to be his for pleasure, for her own pleasure as well. The sensations roiled, but never came.

After some time, Raff returned. She smiled and handed Garrosh a potion, which the orc greedily slurped down. Stamina. Had to be stamina. The dark elf twisted Bryony up to look into her eyes, smiling sadly.

“Just give in,” she purred, before leaning forward, “you’ll have a better chance of retaining some sense of self if you play along.”

That felt… off? Wasn’t the dark elf who put her in this? Wasn’t---fuck, Bryony could barely care. Her body shivered and shook.

“It’s been hours. Much more and your mind will be mush, and you truly will be his,” Raff continued.

Bryony groaned but tried shaking her head. The dark elf shrugged, rising, while the orc hammered again. But this time, Raff’s words spun in the princess’s mind. Why say that? Did… did the dark elf have some plan? Was she working both sides?

Bryony panted during her next break, as the orc’s cock throbbed within her loose ass. She swallowed. “I—I—”

“What is that, Bryony?” asked Garrosh, leaning down. He rolled his hips, and Bryony groaned, the pain of continued insertion, of denied orgasm, roaring up within her.

“I—I’m not a p----princess?” she gasped.

“Oh?” he asked, reaching down to twist her nipple.

“I---I’m an or—ahaa,’ she shivered as he started rolling hips, “I’m an orcish—ahaa, ca---cock sleeve!’ she almost shrieked as he began fucking her again. “I’m an orcish cock sleeve and I nee---neeeed to ca---cummm!”

And she did as she finished, hissing the word as her body wrenched back in raw, mindblowing pleasure. Everything tightened, twisted, eclipsed in those raw moments. Her body jerked against him while, he took her ass in raw fashion. Pain and pleasure and raw desire boiled forth. Her words, her cries, they all became a wordless praise of the masculine creature that thrust over and over into her oh so willing body. Bryony could feel the molten heat cascading through her veins, burning away reluctance, eagerness to please rising within.

“Such an eager little cock sleeve,” purred Garrosh, a hand moving down to slap the princess’s toned ass. “All that training and fighting has made you nice and tight,” he gave another slap. Bryony could feel her insides clenching as a result, wrenching about the cock. Everything tensed, the rippling sensations again shooting straight toward her sex, which felt as if it would start simply weeping for joy.

The princess tried to form words, but again found herself just making simple animal noises. The orc chuckled, leaning forward, pressing his heavy body against hers. Hardened muscle laid against her so perfectly, dominating her so fully. Thick arms wrapped about, steadying her even more as he hammered into her ass, stretching it, reshaping it as a pleasure hole for his usage. Bryony’s head jerked, lips parting as she let out another cry. A thick hand seized the red gold mane that had helped inspire her title, wrenching her face toward the thick lips. Soon she was sucking on his tongue, greedily slurping down yet more orcish fluids. More ran along the sides of her mouth, nearly drool.

“Fuck, this is just---fuck,” breathed the orc, pulling back. The princess groaned as she felt him nearly leaving her ass. “About damn time you finally learned your place,” his cock sawed into Bryony yet again. This time, she could feel it pulsing, a little jet of heat erupting deep within her bowels. It drew out another throaty groan, a tremble.

And wasn’t this her place? Wasn’t this right? It felt so… so perfect. Like she’d been designed exclusively for this, like all that training, both with Raff and the other orcs and with the blade, had been to prepare her for this, for taking the raw pleasure that cascaded throughout her body and letting it seize total control over her. Just as she felt the sensations starting to seize, the last bits of her mind and will rallied.

No. No. She was Princess Bryony, a warrior princess, engaged to a delightful man of elfish blood. They had trained her body with cock and magic, but they would not have her will. The princess tried telling herself this, even as she felt her insides twitch, a pang that likely came as the brood within her stirred. Tried reassuring herself that the being known as Bryony wasn’t completely gone, even as she twisted back, eyes widening, another trembling orgasm washing over her.

After so long… minutes? Hours? Longer? Something pulsed within the princess. She felt the cock throbbing, growing, heard the orc behind her growl, swore she could even hear a pleased noise from their dark elf supervisor. Then heat poured into her. It shot forth, erupted in a massive burst of liquid magma poured straight within her. The princess didn’t need to look down to know that the magicks worked. She could feel it burning between her legs, the eldritch tingling spreading throughout.

What Bryony couldn’t know was that her pupils shifted. The darker part of those flashing emeralds twisted into a heart shape, the spell showing itself and fully marking the princess as the orcish cock sleeve she’d proclaimed herself to be.

Panting, the princess hung in her stocks, feeling the monster upon her teats milking more, drawing the white from within. Even that felt sinfully delightful now: her body felt almost permanently altered, as if it would always have this lasting tingling, the memories of what he was doing. She felt the cock sliding from her ass, felt dribbles of his thick, hot seed flowing from her abused hole. It slid down her thighs, glazing them further.

“The second claiming has taken,” pronounced Raff, reaching down and cupping the princess’s chin. Bryony blinked her newly hearted eyes, as the elf twisted her to look up.

“So her body is mine to command?” questioned the orc.

What was he talking about? Bryony knew they’d been training her, but that still felt… insane. She took deep, trembling breaths, struggling to regain herself.

“Indeed, she no longer has the final say in any of her functions,” agreed the elf. There was a twinge in her voice, and Bryony swore she saw something in the eyes as they flicked to her.

“Better test that,” said the orc, considering. He backed away, studying her, looking into those newly formed pupils. “I like the eyes.” He said, chuckling.

What did he mean by that? Bryony wanted to ask, but yet again she could only find herself groaning.

“Let’s see…” Garrosh moved, and to the princess’s surprise, he undid the device holding her in place. Immediately she shot upright, hands flying to the leather upon her chest. “No, leave those,” he instructed.

The princess didn’t intend to follow, but found her hands snapping to her sides. Trembling, mind still foggy, she tried to move.

“Better,” said the orc, grinning, showing his tusks, “but you do need to clean up, don’t you? Reach behind you and gather the seed,” even as he continued speaking, Bryony felt her hand moving to her pert rear, fingers digging into her sensitive ass, “get a good handful of it,” she did, pulling it up, “and lick it clean.”
The idea made her stomach wretch, but even as she thought of doing so, Bryony found her hands rising. Her tongue extended, lapping at the puddle, wincing at the pungent taste that filled her mouth.

“Now now, no wincing,” said the orc. “You know my seed is the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted.”

Just like that, the taste flowed through her. Bryony shivered, feeling her belly twist. It was just… just amazing. The thick, earthy taste. The slight bits of salt. Utterly scrumptious, and soon she was eagerly lapping at her hands, licking them almost noisily, eventually sticking a finger into her mouth and sucking as lewdly as possible.

“In fact, orc cum is now your new favorite thing to eat,” he purred, moving toward her and swiping at her cheek with his thumb. He had a little glistening bit, and Bryony couldn’t help herself, her lips closing about it, eyes fluttering, looking up to him. She was just so lucky he let her do this! It tasted---no, it should taste… disgusting, but she wanted more, so badly. She let out a little groan of delight, eyes falling down, seeing some left on his dick.

“Oh, you want more?” he said. “I did just stick it in your dirty hole, but I guess it’s still covered in your favorite… so go ahead.”

Bryony lunged forward, lips circling the cock, sucking like it was a sweet treat. She trembled, greedily inhaling more and more of the stuff, tongue lolling out about each bone, scooping up the bits and leftovers. Goddess, it tasted utterly amazing. She knew it was wrong, that she should stop, but she just… just couldn’t.

“Yes,” purred Garrosh, “you truly are a stupendous cock sleeve. Open your mouth, show me how you took all of it.”

And the princess did, smiling happily, nearly shaking her recently fucked butt like an eager pet.


Tah’lora sighed and gestured, her magicks easily knocking aside the aimed weapons of the elfish vanguards. Thanks to her proximity to a certain princess, the elf sex witch had more than her share of power these days. Enough that she’d been able to merely disguise herself as “Raff’lesia” and pant her way through most of the people. She’d been tempted to do it to the honor guard surrounding Prince Val’norous, but this was more dramatic.

“Fallen elf!” spat the elf prince, stepping forward, drawing his own weapon, “we know you to serve that foul orc that has the Sunrise Blade captive!”

“More than captive at this point,” murmured Tah’lora, lifting a finger to move aside the blade. At the prince’s look, she smiled. “Let’s just say you won’t have be Bryony’s first.”

Anger made the prince tremble, and it utterly delighted the sex witch. Yes, feel that torment, know that she had more than her share in creating it. Her eyes lit with magic, even as the elf’s blade twitched. A gesture, and he’d be feeling enough arousal that he’d forget his delightful princess. But no, not quite yet.

“Why are you here?” he demanded. “To torment us?”

“That is part of the fun,” Tah’lora agreed, shrugging. “But I’d thought you’d want to know: your princess will be bound to Garrosh soon. If he takes her again…” she gestured.

Val stomped forward, seizing onto Tah’lora’s dress and nearly lifting her off her feet. “Careful,” purred the sex witch, “I like it rough and you may… excite me.”

“I’ll kill you if you---”

“Yes, yes,” said the witch, rolling her eyes, “kill me. But I’m here because I want to help your precious princess. Are you interested? Or did you want to see her as the brood mate to an orcish brute?”

Val’s eyes shimmered with anger, but he fell silent.

“Thought so. First, you’ll need to summon the Five. They’re a group of adventurers with an ability seemingly made for this. But you’ll want to come with me on the night of---”

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

The cocksleeve whimpered as she fought the urge to stroke herself. Garrosh had left her alone, likely to continue his campaign. The thinking part of Bryony, the last bits of the Sunrise Blade, knew this was an opportunity. Hence why she wasn’t masturbating herself into a senseless oblivion, despite the pounding in her lower half. It had been weeks, yet somehow he’d refrained from her “final taking.” The cocksleeve wagered that meant that the spell her elf ‘friend” had put on her would go into effect the next time her orcish “master” spewed himself in her.

It certainly didn’t apply to her mouth. Sometimes the orcs didn’t grant Bryony any other sustenance beyond their seed. Truly it tasted delicious, thanks again to the spell, to the extent where she found herself craving it after too long. She knew that monster cum was fairly addictive in and of itself, and wagered it would take magic or a good deal of time for her longing of the stuff to leave her completely.

Yet another reason why she must take this opportunity now. The cocksleeve sneaked her way through the camp as best she could. Truly Bryony was one of if not outright the most attractive cocksleeves in the camp. Garrosh adorned her with impressive jewelry to draw attention to her lovely features: loose bangles around her wrists and ankles, a collar about her throat. A skimpy outfit of orcish design barely covered her breasts, which had grown in the past few days (and Bryony knew why, a realization that brought equal parts horror and delight). Bits of string slung about her hips, but there was at least fur to cover her still shaven loins and ass. The markings of the spell, her claiming, still showed on her lower belly, indicating to whom she belonged.

Which is why no other orc would dare take her. Oh, they’d feed her their cum. Bryony literally couldn’t resist if they asked. By her accounts, she’d taken nearly every orc in the camp in her mouth by now, or so it often felt. Even now, she found her hearted green eyes flicking, the temptation to stop her activities and spring upon some of the more virile rising within her. She tampered down the sensations for now.

She did wish she had a weapon. The fucking and handling hadn’t completely diminished her muscles and skills. But naturally her blade had been taken as a trophy by Garrosh, likely used to intimidate her people and inspire her own. Besides, a cocksleeve had no use for a weapon, so carrying one might diminish her current situation. But the cocksleeve knew that if she walked with purpose, she could all but exit the camp of her own free will.

Assuming she didn’t give into her gnawing hunger. Or the burning between her legs. Constant fucking around her distracted. The few orcs left to guard, some wounded or veterans, had various cocksleeves of their own bouncing. Bryony paused to watch one orc with a mere three bones taking a quite happy and quite busty blonde woman, who almost drooled with delight as she was taken. Bryony couldn’t quite stop herself from rubbing her lower belly at this, tempted to go forward and service the inches of cock that sometimes stretched from the hole. Or to lick the heavy balls beneath. Even to shove herself into the pungent ass.

Truly she had been corrupted on some level. Bryony understood this. But still her mind and will remained her own, even if her body would instinctively respond to the stimuli and Garrosh. She strode forward, impressive hips swaying, moving past that coupling and several more. It would only be a matter of moments until she reached the edge of the camp, that last barrier.

By then, the heady aroma of sex nearly made the newly forged cocksleeve dizzy. She could feel moisture gathering in her mouth, the desire to drop to her knees and service any orc that asked roaring within her. Goddess, she felt so hot. Her body ached with raw need, nipples erect, possibly soon to start leaking since the demon had manipulated her body there as well. Just a little further.

Except Bryony couldn’t have anticipated who would be at the gates.

It wasn’t Garrosh, but instead one of the fattest orcs that the cocksleeve had ever seen. His green skin looked about ready to burst, as if it couldn’t hold in the sheer amount of girth and raw orcish masculinity. Various sigils marked him as possibly some kind of magic user or the like. His piggish face didn’t seem all that intelligent, and his greasy black hair hardly looked appealing. He turned beady eyes toward the cocksleeve, and she fought the kick in her lower belly.

“Why you headin’ out?” he grunted.

“I need---” she said, eyes flicking. She’d nearly automatically finished by asking for his cock. Bryony wet her lips, forcing her hearted eyes to meet his. “I was told to exit to look for herbs. It’s a private female matter,” because even orcs weren’t likely to pry.

The fat guard looked her over, smiling slightly. “Me wondering if you not here for other private female matters.”

The cocksleeve’s eyes fell to his waist, seeing a bulge forming. The hunger kicked, and she nearly drooled. “Ah, I… I serve Chief Garrosh…” she breathed, “and he would---”

The orc shifted. “He want you to serve all orc. Minnosk not get his turn yet,” his hand moved to undo the loincloth hiding his masculinity, “Minnosk also thinking that Sunrise Blade thinking she maybe leave .Not give a shit, but want to feel pretty mouth first.”

Bryony’s hearted eyes nearly shimmered. “You’ll… you’ll let me go if…?”

“If you service me,’ agreed the orc, chuckling. His cloth fell, and the cocksleeve gasped. The absolutely most massive cock she had ever seen sprang forward. It was nearly as long as Garrosh, but almost half again as thick. There were even five bones marking it, not nearly as many as her usual master, but an impressive amount. But most telling was the smell: he had the thickest, most pungent aroma she’d ever inhaled. It made her head spin, eyes nearly rolling. Were she not trained, she likely would’ve vomited on the spot. Indeed, she could see bits of something clinging to the darker green skin, confirming what she already knew: it had been some time since this male had washed himself.

The hunger within her grew unbearable. The cocksleeve had fallen to her knees before he’d said anything further. She felt his thick fingers working through her red-gold hair, and her hearted eyes looked up at him. “Gurrosh has trained you well,” Minnosk grunted, “but you woman, made for this. Sunrise Blade, ha!” he cupped the back of Bryony’s head. “You just walking pussy with tits,” he yanked her forward, placing her face alongside his impressive dick.

The cocksleeve shuddered, groaning as the thick, raw odor washed over her. It filled her mouth and nose with each breath, sinking deep within her skull. She could feel her eyes rolling. Mouth opened wide, tongue lolling out, bits of saliva and drool starting to form from her. Goddess, she wanted that cock. Wanted it more than escape or freedom or anything. Her head shifted, eyes fluttering closed as she took a deep breath, inhaling the thick, masculine scent.

“Yeah, smell that, greedy little sow,” growled the orc. He rubbed Bryony’s face in it. “It everything you ever wanted. What you need, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” breathed Bryony, body writhing. Her hearted eyes looked up at him, the lustful glaze coming over the emerald. “I need orc cock,” her tongue extended, brushing against the side. Goddess, he tasted amazing. The cocksleeve groaned, body shivering, head moving to almost nuzzle it. It was everything she’d ever wanted, needed.

Minnosk chuckled, rubbing at her head. “You ain’t no Sunrise Blade anymore, are ya?”

“No,” breathed Bryony, whimpering as she kissed the side of the impressive cock. What would that feel like inside her? Her sex burned, and her hand moved to massage her lower belly, fingers extending downward along her shaved, sensitive mound.

“You ain’t no pretty princess no more,” he purred. “Less you the princess of orc cock.” Bryony groaned, and he chuckled. “That what Minnosk thought. Crazy little cock sucker. Piggy female,” he rubbed Bryony’s face in his member, rolling the scent all over her. “Ain’t no royal pretty no more,” he purred. He shoved her hard, holding her, letting each trembling breath inhale his scent, dazing her, before he pulled off, watching as she panted. “Nope, no princesses here,” he said, chuckling. He tapped the side of her face with his cock. “Why don’t you renounce it?” he suggested.

This puzzled the dazed cocksleeve, her brow furrowing, head tilting. “Wha--?” was all she could manage. His odor filled her, dazed her head. The hunger was unbearable now. She needed a cock, an orc cock, his orc cock. Her hand raised to flutter about the thing, only to feel him jerking her away.

“Renounce it,” he growled, “Minnosk wanna hear it. Or no orc cock.”

But… but she needed orc cock! Bryony whimpered. She knew she shouldn’t, that there was something here, but she desperately hungered for it, and he kept it just out of reach. “I’m… I’m not a princess!” she whimpered, like she hadn’t said that before.

“That just what you been saying!” the piggish orc insisted. “Minnosk wanna hear renounce!” He shook Bryony hard, then tilted, slapping her against the mouth with his cock. Before she could respond, he came at her from the other side, slapping her face a few times with the thick trudgen between his legs.

“I…I renounce it,” she breathed, desperation rising, bringing words from some fogged over part of her mind, “I renounce my claim on the throne, my position as a princess, I renounce my royal blood… pleeeease,” she writhed, “I need your cock!” Tears had started to flow. The thinking part of Bryony recognized what he’d just made her do. If any official found out about this, or many others, she was done. She could never take the throne, would have to be ostracized even more than she had been. Worse, she could feel some of her magical connection to her blade diminishing, the denial of self seeping into her core.

But that wasn’t why Bryony wept.

She wept because he kept the cock from her.

“Aww, you need cock, don’t you, little slut?’ purred Minnosk. He raised a thick finger, and Bryony’s lips closed about it almost by reflex. “Weren’t you planning on escapin’? Headin’ back ta yer people?” he chuckled. “Nothing but a hungry little orc cocksleeve now,” he tilted her head back, looking down into hearted eyes. “You ain’t never goin’ back to no human now, cocksleeve,” Bryony trembled, knowing it to be true, “their puny cocks ain’t gonna do it for you. Now,” he removed his fingers from her mouth and all but drove her face back in, “suck. Worship. Try an’ make up for all the orc lives you took.”

Bryony groaned, her tongue lolling out. Immediately she bathed the thick, deliciously disgusting orc cock. Drool slid from her as her nimble tongue ran along the thick ridges and bone. She scooped up the bits of him, her mouth dancing in delight at its flavor. Eyes fluttered as the sheer want cascaded through her. How could she resist flavors and sensations like this? It was just utterly amazing.

Her previously royal lips parted, sucking along the side of his length. A lewd slurp left her, covered by a groan. Minnosk undercut it all with praises for her skills, as he directed her head up. She followed obediently, sucking at his cock, leaving shimmering trail of drool. Her lips opened wide, took in his head, sucked even harder. As his flavoring, the various bits and his precum sliding into her mouth, as it hit, Bryony shivered. She nearly came from the sheer release of having that hunger fed.

Eagerly her head bobbed, taking several inches of cock. Tongue lolled out, finding the slit, teasing him as she ran along it. The scrumptious thick taste of orcish precum filled the cocksleeve’s mouth. She groaned, hearted eyes fluttering as the taste she so desperately craved filled her mouth. Her lips pursed tighter, sucking hard, as if she could pull more from the orc’s heavy churning balls. Delicate hands, the callouses of swords just starting to fade, teased the hefty sack, fluttering. Head bobbed, almost as if she could literally pump. Maybe some part of the thinking bits of Bryony still believed she could simply blow the orc and escape, as if she didn’t know how virile the brutes were, or how strong her addiction had become.

Minnosk chuckled. “Yeah, you want that cum, don’t you? Gonna have to work harder than that,” as if staring down at the achingly beautiful, recently “ex”-princess wasn’t enough to make even the most cold of orcs hard.

Still the cocksleeve groaned in frustration. Another shiver took her, a hand moving up to grab onto the thick shaft like it was her bladed namesake. Bryony shifted, swallowing as Gurrosh had by now taught her oh so well. Her head descended, taking inch upon inch, soon feeling a bone passing by. Her tongue flicked it as she moved, letting her teeth nudge just a moment. There was almost a smile on her face as Minnosk groaned, a near purr of satisfaction following. She’d been trained oh so well, was such a good little cock sucker. She let her head bob along the length, feeling the girth stretching her lips. That rich taste filled her with each bob, her tongue gathering more and more bits of stuff, sliding it into her throat. So much of it was laced with orcish precum that the cocksleeve utterly delighted, even as her mind screeched at such action.

Hands worked what wasn’t in her mouth, moving steadily, pumping him. Bryony leaned forward, swallowing more and more, knowing her throat would be teasing his sensitive head. A groan told her that she’d done well, and she nearly quivered yet again, taking a few more inches of orc cock into her. The bulge would likely be all but showing in her throat now: she could certainly feel him pressing against her. Not so long ago a pretty princess would’ve gagged at the sensation. Now a dedicated cocksleeve groaned, eyes fluttering almost flirtatiously with him.

“Fuck, Gurrosh trained you well, slut,” groaned Minnosk. His cock surged in her throat, rewarding Bryony with more of his seed. She greedily sucked it down, the slurping loud and lewd. Thick hands worked through the fiery gold locks of her hair. “But it’s time to treat you like the cocksleeve you are.”

Bryony knew to go limp, remembering that time when Gurrosh had broken her in like this. She’d had several orcs since then, many eager to fuck her pretty face. Minnosk seemed determined to be the next, his grip tightening. With a thrust, Bryony felt him sheathing a few more inches of cock, her lips nearly circled around his base. Her throat convulsed, reflexively gagging, almost spitting up more upon him. To her slight shock, he moved down and pinched her nose. Her head spun for several seconds, and she felt him grinding down against her, before opening. Panting around the cock, the cocksleeve inhaled a good deal of orcish pheromones. The lusty gaze descended once more upon her hearted eyes.

The massive orc’s belly shook with each thrust. It jiggled obscenely, dancing in a way that twisted even the dazed Bryony’s guts. Yet his cock stretched her oh so well. She could still feel the thick bones gliding against her throat. Something hammered against her teeth though, and her pretty green heart eyes nearly crossed to look. They soon widened, realizing it.

“Just now seein’ it?” teased the fat orc. His piggy face contorted in a smile, reaching down to snag one of her hands and run it along his base. The bone sticking through there was one of the most impressive she’d seen. It was filled with strange ridges and stuck out obscenely, fattening an already fat cock all the more. “From a dragon that was one of my first rivals. Locks even the loosest cocksleeves in place, an’ we both know you ain’t that.”

Bryony felt a stab of panic even though her lust. Her mouth closed, not quite biting him, but sealing lips. A little noise of utter distress left, her head trying to shake. But she felt his grip tighten. His muscles flexed, driving her .Teeth parted as the cocksleeve groaned. Eyes fluttered as she felt her mouth stretching, parting before him.

“You thought you’d go back?’ the orc said, chuckling as he thrust, “you’ll be lucky if Gurrosh even excites you by the time I’m done,” he gave a solid thrust and Bryony gagged, a blast of saliva spraying his thighs. The cock slid within, the bone parting her mouth wide, sealing her air entirely. Her head spun as he hammered into her throat, pounding down. Wet noises left her, gluks and groans accompanied by spit and who knew what else.

Minnosk groaned, thrust down hard. He ground against her, rubbing Bryony’s face in his musky crotch. Little hairs teased her nose, nearly making her eyes water. He pulled out, yanking against her, giving air, only to seal again. A few more quick, hammering blows, and she felt him erupting. He seized her tight, blasting into her throat. It jetted down, splashing delightfully into her stomach. The cocksleeve groaned at the sensation, eyelids all aflutter.

More and more came, his cock thrust so deep. He pulled back just enough to let her taste it, Bryony’s appreciative groans coming even as she felt a little seed drizzling out of her lips. His cock slid further back, blasting her face. She felt it landing in her splendid hair, splattering heat across her. Soon she was painted in his seed, but greedily panting. A hand rose to gather some of the seed, and he let her take some in, playing with it, groaning as her favorite flavor exploded in her mouth.

“Leave the rest,” ordered the orc. He reached down, grabbing her by the hair, “But we ain’t done yet. I’m gonna use you like you deserve to be used,” with a great heave, he tossed Bryony. She fell onto the ground, arms splayed out before her. Instinct took over as she gathered herself up some, reaching up to move her hair back and look over her shoulder. Her firm ass raised up prettily in the air, and she felt her thighs parting.

“Yes,” she cooed, “I—I need your orc cock. Fill me with that monster dick!” she shivered, bowing her head down, taking the truly submissive position. Why had she tried to escape this? The taste still lingered on her tongue, reminding her of just how much she utterly craved this, loved it.

She felt his cock sliding along the soaked slit. Even now, Gurrosh had been the only one to take her sex. Thanks to her fit build, Bryony would likely always remain fairly tight, even though enough sex with monsters like Minnosk would likely leave her perfectly shaped. Her sex seemed to drool arousal at the thought, a trail of wet running down a trim thigh. The ex-princess groaned, hearted eyes fluttering, some part of her still not quite believing what she’d become.

“Please! I---I need your thick cock inside me!” she panted, rolling her hips, arching toward him. “I want to be filled with green cock! Pleeeease,” she whined, whimpering. She could feel him teasing her with that head some more, before lining up. Just as Bryony started to plead some more, she felt her lips parting. Her hearted eyes nearly shone as the sinful sensation of fullness entered her lower half. Insides twitched, gripping the thick head of the impressive cock, the bone around there teasing her insides.

“Fucking tight for a cocksleeve,” groaned Minnosk, slapping her ass. “Must be that warrior body, huh?”

“Fuck me,” whimpered Bryony in response. The orc needed no encouragement. This wasn’t to be some gentle lovemaking session, or even the practiced, dedicated taking Gurrosh had wielded against her before. The hefty orc leaned forward, his impressive bulk pushing the ex-royal into the dirt. With one thrust, he shoved nearly half of his dick inside her. Bryony shrieked in delight, hands spreading, grabbing fistfuls of dirt and grass. An explosion happened at the forefront of her brain, rocketing through her. So much thick orc dick filled her needy hole. She could feel every inch of it, at least two or three of the bones jutting against her.

The pain of the sudden insertion burned like a steady fire. But it only melted her further, adding to the overwhelming pleasures that washed over Bryony. She let out another groan as she felt him grinding down, leaning into her. His thick head delved so deep within her, nearly as far as Gurrosh. But she felt him stretching her walls even more. Her body flexed, milking, squeezing, eager for that thick orc seed.

“You’re fucking made for this,” grunted Minnosk, arching back, slamming against the cocksleeve again. “Dirty little cocksleeve, taking that orc dick in the dirt,” another thrust, the sheer weight slamming Bryony’s face down into it. Thick hands kept her lower half upraised, ready for him as his cock slid within her, reshaping her to his needs.

“Yesss,” she groaned as he began rocking into her. She could feel so much cock sliding into her. Pushing against her walls. Delving deeper and deeper, as if to hollow her out. It filled her, delivered that aching need within. Her body clenched about him, rippling, another little burst of pleasure shooting though her, an orgasm pounded out. Minnosk took advantage, shoving hard, leaning forward. Bryony swore she could almost feel a popping inside, as if some forbidden barrier gave way before him.

“Just gotta get that last bone,” he growled, pushing down. Bryony could feel it, pressing against her lips. The ridges teased her, threatened to scrape her insides. The cocksleeve groaned, eyes rolling, trying to roll back. To spread her leg. To do whatever it took to let the orc push that last bit inside. Bryony knew it would wreck her, that she’d never want to get off orc dick again. But the craving drove her stronger than her last crumbling thoughts.

The pudgy orc pulled back. Bryony whimpered as she nearly felt the cock exiting her, leaving so much hollow. Before she could beg for him to replace himself, he roared. With one great thrust, he plunged the entire length of him into her needy sex.

The. Entire. Length.

Stars exploded in Bryony’s vision as she felt the bone jutting inside. It popped over her lips, and her sex closed tight, locking them in place so long as his arousal held. As if her quivering, milking sex wasn’t doing that on its own. The ex-royal knew she was utterly ruined then, that there would be no returning. Magic might heal her body, but this sinful delight, the sheer bodily pleasure, would never fade from her memory.

She let her gaze slide, her body becoming little more than the cocksleeve for orcs she’d always been destined to become. Her sex continued to quiver and milk, pulling at the thick cock even as it hollowed her out more and more with each heavy thrust. The disgusting, obese orc hammered the stunning beauty more and more into the dirt. Her treacherous quim leaked fluid about, her arousal seeping forth. Her tongue lolled out as her hearted eyes rolled, the pleasure melting her brain.

Again and again he pounded, heavy, thick thrusts. Again and again she came, her body quivering upon him, a wet melting mass of flesh. Soon she felt him pulsing, his cock seeming to grow. Bones scraped her insides, drawing another explosive orgasm from the minted cocksleeve. She cried out, spots swimming, vision dimming.

Then a burst. Raw heat poured into her as the pleasure shot through her veins like the sweetest of drugs. She could feel it jutting so deep inside her, his grinding thrusts pushing it more and more up into her innermost recesses. Orc seed flooded her, expanded her belly and pushed into her womb. She could feel the magicks pulsing, the spell Raff had placed on her arching more delight through her system. The ex-royal screeched as she felt it wringing her, the delight more than her mind could take, her brain shutting down for several long seconds, utter bliss taking everything from her.








Tah’lora tilted her head as she studied the panting princess. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” she asked, looking to Gurrosh.

The orc chief grunted. “Apparently Minnosk fucked her stupid,” he said, folding his thick arms. “Took her two or three times.”

The dark elf cursed, bending down. This would interfere with her binding spell; she knew it. It’s why she’d been quite clear about the orcs simply cumming in the “princess’s” mouth. Taking her in the sex would interfere with the magicks, muddy things. Whose will, precisely, would the princess be bound to? Ugh, if she was even a princess anymore. They were lucky Minnosk didn’t have all the magic he wanted, or he’d have seized Bryony’s royal status for his own. That could’ve caused problems.

“At least she looks happy,” teased the dark elf, smirking up at the chief, who scowled in return. Tah’lora rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry: you knocked her up during that first glorious session. Advantage of all the magicks,” and of his being an orc. All monsters were ridiculously fertile, and orcs were leaders even in that. The princess had been carrying at least one half-orc child for weeks now. Likely contributed to her arousal.

“I’m more concerned about her escape attempt,” said the orc. “I thought that the fucking would’ve tamed her.”

“Well, it technically did,” the elf pointed out, gesturing, “but you knew her will was impressive from the start,” Tah’lora frowned. Would this interfere with her plans? It shouldn’t, but it was something to take note of. Maybe in the future she’d have to alter the spell, get it to work a little more widely. There should be a way…

“Witch!’

The bark made Tah’lora jump. She looked up at the fuming orc. “I asked if she would be ready for her tribal bonding ceremony.”

Tah’lora looked to Bryony, then up at Gurrosh, smiling. “More than.”

 

[the.amorous.bunny]

Val didn’t trust the dark elf. Apparently “Raff’lesia” was, in fact, some sort of dark elf. Likely corrupted and twisted by dark magic. At least hers seemed to be rooted in sex, which didn’t strike the prince as being all that bad. Except it likely meant that his passionate love was… well, more than screwed. The prince winced at the thought.

He and a select team had followed the witch through secret paths. Their goal was to interrupt a ceremony and seize Bryony at the perfect moments. Supposedly the Five would be nearby to help, and the adventurers should be enough to handle even Gurrosh’s orc band. They weren’t there to fight anyway: the goal was to rescue the princess. Hell, Val was hoping Bryony would have enough left to help.

The rank odor of foul orc had been hanging for some time, but it had grown thicker in the past few minutes. Eventually the elf held up a hand, stopping the little band. She gestured to Val. They’d already agreed that he would go first, alone with her. It was dangerous, but it had been deemed necessary. The hope was that they could rescue Bryony before she was put into too compromising a position. Hopefully they’d been waiting until this ceremony, though Val doubted it.

Monsters were supposed to be nearly irresistible to females after they’d been fucked. He’d heard tales of women turning on their rescuers. At least they didn’t have the same problems as the Curse of Ashes, which supposedly magically locked them into breeding.

Val crept next to Tah’lora, both moving as silently as their elfish blood would indicate. The witch held up a hand, pointing. Sure enough, there were several orcs, male and female alike, gathered, with even more slaves. Nearly every orc had at least one humanoid dangling nearby: elves and humans foremost among them, though some of the females had dwarves and there were one or two that looked almost Fae.

At the center stood Gurrosh himself, looking impressive. He gestured toward a nearby spike, upon which a piggish face lay staked out, saying something about stepping out of bounds. There was more prattle, and a grand gesture.

Then she stepped out.

Bryony looked like some primal sexual goddess. Her gorgeous hair hung loose, dangling near her waist. Most of her toned body was on display, covered only by what appeared to be tribal and magical sigils. Black smeared paint covered her breasts, which looked decidedly bigger than before, as if swollen. It didn’t take much to realize that they perfectly matched the orc chief’s hands. Similar markings showed along her thighs. A strand of sinew slung about her hips, which Val swore looked more flared. It didn’t so much as cover her bared sex as accented it, drawing a line right to her lips. Even as this distance, he could see glistening bits of arousal. He looked to her breasts, and sure enough, Bryony’s nipples stood peaked and perky.

Most telling of all were her eyes. Hearts formed her pupils, looking strangely whitish pink, swimming among the green. They seemed to almost shimmer as she looked toward Gurrosh, and Val recognized the affection in her gaze. He moved forward to attack, but felt the witch’s hand upon his shoulder.

“Wait,” she hissed, low, silent.

Val wasn’t about to let the love of his life just… just be taken in some cruel ceremony. Did he trust the witch’s timing? He watched as the orcs chanted, smoke rising, curling about the Sunrise Blade. The lines painted upon her glowed, particularly the one over her loins. The princess looked even more dazed, her gaze kept swinging toward the orc.

Finally, Gurrosh spoke clearly: “It is time for the renunciation!” he declared, gesturing. Bryony’s magical blade was carried out on a sling, presented between them. Gurrosh looked toward the princess with greed in his eyes. “Speak the words, Princess!”

“I, Bryony, Princess of Loster, called the Sunrise Blade, do renounce my claims upon the throne,” the princess nearly moaned, as if the words excited her. “I am no longer heir apparent to the throne of Luster, no longer a princess or a royal. I cede all claims and powers henceforth to my unborn child,” her hand fluttered to her belly, and Val nearly wept, tears starting to form as she looked toward Gurrosh, “and his father, who I serve willingly as his concubine and cocksleeve.”

The orcs cheered as Gurrosh reached into his pocket, producing an impressive gold ring. “And I, Gurrosh, leader of the Gurrosh Tribe ,take you as mine,” he said, moving to lift Bryony’s hand. He slid the ring upon her finger. The princess shivered, and outright cooed as the orc tilted her head toward his for an obscene parody of a sweet lover’s kiss. Even from Val’s position, he could hear the slurping, and practically see the tongue.

Again he felt Tah’lora’s touch holding him in place. He longed to surge forward, to end this farce. They could use magic to restore Bryony’s claim, though this would be damaging. Yet he watched as Gurrosh seized her blade, raising it toward the sky to the cheers of his men. He grabbed his new bride, carrying her to a throne of bone. A gesture put his impressive orc cock on display. With an obviously practiced moved, Bryony swung over him. Within moments, she’d sank her sex down upon him, trembling with delight.

Something pulsed in Val. He looked down, shocked to see not only a bulge, but delicate dark hands pulling at him. “You’re rather impressive yourself,” cooed Tal’nora, nipping at his ear. “Enjoying the show?”

Val could barely speak. His arousal had spiked, the witch likely spelling it. He’d dropped his guard, and could only moan as her skillful hand drew him out. Within moments he’d surged to hardness, a little of his precum drizzling out. He watched his beloved bouncing upon orc dick, screaming in pleasure and delight, hearted eyes flashing. Had he.. lost her? And why did this feel so amazing?

He groaned, eyes shutting, as he felt his cock surging. Something wet circled him, and he looked down, seeing the beautiful elf’s lips locked about him. She bobbed, working furiously, fingers moving as magicks leaked about him. Val could only groan as he felt her drawing it out, not just his arousal, but something deeper. Soon his cock was surging forth, dumping a load into her waiting mouth.

“Mm,’ she cooed, ‘royal elf sperm,” her eyes flashed, “just what I need, you’ll…”

A burst of purple tinged magic drew his attention from the sex witch. Val scrambled up and away, only to gape as the orcs scattered. A silhouette darted across the flickering flames, looking nearly feline. Soon a catgirl dressed in skintight leather and carrying daggers appeared, ending a shaman’s life.

A pale beauty with dark hair and purple lips stepped forward. A shock of her hair covered one eye, but the other gleamed with violent energies. She looked as entrancing as the first, directing her energies. Some of her targets merely glowed instead of dying. And those that did, found arrows fletching them.

Another beauty stepped up beside him. At first he thought her an islander, as her cocoa colored skin came from those reaches. But he found himself gaping at her pointed ears. “Half-elf, half-hung black man,” she explained, nodding, “you’ll want to tuck that away,” she pointed to his dick. Flushing, he stuffed it away, looking for Tah’lora.

A crashing figure in glorious armor descended. Her platinum hair trailed behind her in a solid braid, and she stood as tall as an Amazon. In fact, Val realized that she was one, only clad in the holy armors and wielding a weapon. That must be…

“Nearly unstoppable,” chirped another voice. He looked, expecting another impressive warrior, only to see what at first appeared to be a child. The dusky half-elf had moved to another position, leaving him with this petite creature. Brilliant blue hair curled around her feet, with flowers dotting it. She flashed a smile up at him. “Poppy,” she offered in greeting, extending a hand. He took it. “And don’t worry. The witch only took a little of your life’s energy through your sperm! You’ll probably be okay?” her hands waved, and he felt tingling energies spreading throughout.

“You’re all… the… Five?” he asked, blinking.

“Yep!” chirped Poppy. “We kinda specialize in this sort of thing? Monsters that fuck women and all that. Don’t worry,” she smiled, “Xanathe,” she pointed to the dark magic user, “has this spell, you see? It’ll take everyone who targets it, usually us and a few others, back to a moment in the past. She’ll use it on… I’m guessing her?” she pointed to Bryony, who lay whimpering as she watched the orc chief and the paladin fight. “To take her back before all this happened.”

Val’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” said the fairy, nodding. “Only, ah, it leaves the memories? So, um,” she looked to Bryony, “she’ll probably have, like… certain lusts and be super horny all the time. You’ll need to commission a sex toy shaped like, well, him,” she pointed to Gurrosh, “and fuck her all the time. If you’re not cool with it, she’ll relapse.”

“Are… are you serious?”

“Deadly,” the fairy frowned at him. “Sex with monsters is psychologically addicting, but, like,” she gestured, “we do it all the time, only the magic undoes the permanent bits. But it leaves the longing. If you don’t support her, and let her feel some monster dick inside her, she will seek it out elsewhere and you will lose her forever. No spell can bring back that kinda betrayal.”

This was all quite a bit to process, particularly as Val could still feel his cock softening from exploding. He looked to his whimpering love as the blood of the father of her child splattered her face. She wailed in utter agony. He looked to the fairy, who sternly looked back.

“I love her,” he said simply.

“Hopefully that’ll be enough,” she said, shrugging. “Xanathe!” she called, gesturing. “Do the thing!”

Dark magicks circled them all.






Bryony gasped, shooting up in her bed. She blinked, looking around in a panic. But… she was in her room. Back at her castle. Puzzled, she looked down, seeing the chaste nightgown draped over her body. She ran her hands along, pleasantly surprised to find herself as toned as ever. Curious, she raised her hem, seeing a delicate pair of underthings puffing around her lower half. She peeled those off, noting the red-gold fur about her sex.

“Was it… a dream?” she frowned. “No, it… it lasted too long and…” she felt a burning inside her. Her hand trailed down, moving to ruffle the hairs. She could feel that inner twinge, the longing, the desire. “Monster cock,” she breathed, shivering. She’d been taken by Gurrosh… and more. But she didn’t remember and… she rose, moving to grab a dressing gown, throwing it over her shoulders.

“This is all… insane and…” she turned, looking, seeing a strange package. It was marked as being from Val, which made her smile. As she opened it, however, her mouth parted. Inside lay what appeared to be an exact replica of Gurrosh’s cock, complete with bones. A note was tied around it, and she grabbed it.

It all happened, Bryony.

You were taken. And they say you’ll always have these cravings. This should help, and I’ll be there for you. I love you with all my heart, and that doesn’t change even with this. It didn’t change then. I swear to be at your side and to try my best to understand your new urges.

If you’re willing to accept this, and yourself, then please let me know. We’ll move up the ceremony.

For now, enjoy this toy. It should fill that need within.

Bryony sent for instructions, telling the messenger to go to Val with a simple message:

I agree.

And I love you.

Before she took the new toy and put it in one her bed, riding it to a screaming orgasm.








Tah’lora frowned as she watched the wedding. The spell had gone awry. It should’ve lasted through the demon fucker’s time reversal. Left the prince of the elves with a monster fucking bride. Well, Bryony would always have that addiction, but she looked at the prince with love in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to harm her that much anyway,” the elf told herself. But she smiled as she pulled out a scroll. It was from a Duke of Ashes, and it spoke of a way of spreading her magic to not just one monster, but all. Soon they would all fall to ecstasy…