Fill for >>14030

The orc camp is just as martial and imposing as I thought it would be and it seems that most of them have come out to see me, the rows of identical faces staring down at the unprecedented arrival of an elven princess and her pair of faithful companions. About half of them have their green chests bare and while it might not be very lady like of me to think this way their strong firm muscles and hairless pecks are quite mouthwatering.

Granted I'm sure that I look just as exotic and alluring to them as they do to me. While the orcs are massive, strong, and tough skinned I am as gentle as the wind, my delicate figure draped in a gossamer thin shift of the rarest spider's silk that pools over my soft breasts and flutters in the breeze. Nalaea and Ilyrana have been chosen to accompany me on this journey, their loyalty to my royal person sworn by both themselves and their families when they were accepted as my handmaidens. We reach the largest tent in the encampment and a guard in jagged metal armor looks us over with a grunt.

"You bride? Chief waiting."

This was the bargain. As a daughter of the elf king I would marry their chief and in exchange they would protect our forest from the other savage orc tribes that threatened us. Their own prowess in battle was easily attested to by the rows of orc heads I could see lining the shelves inside the chief's private sanctum. Having entered my second decade of life I knew that a political marriage was inevitable and was proud to serve my people by securing them such a mighty, if blood thirsty, protector.

"Take off clothes. All you no clothes."

The chief and his lieutenants are eyeing us but it's the timeworn looking shaman who speaks. Of course it seems obvious that marriage to an orc would not involve the intricate and days long celebration of an elf ceremony; marriage is about babies and orcs are nothing if not straight to the point. Without allowing myself a second thought I pull off shift and cast it aside gracefully. To my right Nalaea stands tall if stone-faced under the orc's appraising gaze but Ilyrana is less confident. At 15 she was just barely of age to become a handmaiden and her fingers shake as she removes her dress and forces her arms to the side so that she may be looked upon like the rest of us.

Fortunately we are not cold as a raging fire burns in the hearth and the light from the flame dances over our beautiful pale bodies. The old one comes forward and dips his finger into a jar of colored powder before tracing glowing runes on our faces and bellies. The symbols are unsurprisingly foreign but I can still sense the basic purpose of the magic as each one melts into my body and instills its essence. Protection. Life. Sustainment.

"Need for baby. Orc strong, elf weak. Live long now."

As I'd guessed the chief is now ready to seal our alliance by bedding me and points toward the pelt of a great beast covering the floor. His two lieutenants also beckon Nalaea and Ilyrana toward their own spots and while it is highly unusual for the maidens to be taken as well this deal is too important for our people and so I nod and they reluctantly follow their princess's command.

Even with all of the lessons from my matron's book I'm still shocked when the chief drops his kilt to reveal the huge member that hangs between his legs. It's thicker than the arm of any elf and my mind scrambles for how it will fit inside me for surely such an imposing masculine weapon would split me in two. This doesn't seem to concern him as he wastes no time before kneeling between my legs and pressing the bulbous head against my unprepared entrance.

I can only cry out as my maiden's head is torn aside and I'm filled with almost two hand lengths of cock in a single instant. The magic is surely working for otherwise I would be dead and not merely shocked by the massive intrusion. Never have I felt something like this and while it hurts dearly there is also a primal part of me that is overjoyed to be on the receiving end of such unbelievable virility. It is that part that begins sending pleasure to my brain as his dick scrapes my insides, my mouth screaming for mercy even though my pussy wants more.

"You all small, but scream good"

I can see Nalaea grunting and biting her lip hard as she is taken from behind, her hands clutching the animal rug as she struggles not to be shoved flat on her face with each powerful thrust the orc drives into her. Little Ilyrana can do nothing but frantically cry out as her body is bounced upon the mighty member of her suiter, the shape of which can be seen clearly through the bulge in her belly as though she were one of the reproductive diagrams I'd studied.

They will get used to it eventually I think, perhaps they should even feel lucky to have been picked rather than be alone during their years of service to me. I can see the chief appraising my throat just as his hand closes around it, the pressure cutting off my cries by the simple means of denying air to my lungs. My head begins to feel light but this only enhances the sensation of his dick, the pain gone completely as my body surrenders to sensual pleasure.

In this blissful haze I begin to imagine the life before me. My husband will spend his days in battle, returning at sunset wearing the blood of his enemies and finding his wanton elf wife ready to be conquered again by his glorious orc cock. And while I have been with no other man I have known the pleasures of the female flesh and I wonder if in the future the chief and his men would enjoy watching my handmaidens and I frolic in erotic intimacy before they grab each of us and fuck us senseless.

My musings are interrupted by a loud thunk and as I turn to look I'm shocked to see Nalaea's head rolling away from her body, a body which is still being fucked by the orc now holding onto a bloody axe. Ilyrana has seen it too and she cries for mercy, her eyes filled with fear as she swings her arms uselessly against the orc who is holding her hair at the base with one hand while raising a steel cleaver with the other. Tears are pouring down her face but her terrified screams do nothing to stop him from decapitating her with a single stroke.

"Make good wife"

The chief's words do nothing to prevent my panic as he raises his own sword, the blade not possessing anything like the razor thin edge of an elven one and instead like all things orc being made for brute strength alone. I do not understand why he is doing this when we already had a deal, when I had given him what he wanted freely and would have continued to do so as long as he liked. I can feel his seed pumping into me and can only wonder how this could happen when the heavy steel comes down.

It seems that I was wrong about the orcs in many ways. For one they are not all the same: almost half of those who I saw on the way into the camp were female. The same holds true for the heads in the tent: they were not slain enemies as I thought but rather the chief's wives. My body, as promised, lived long enough to deliver a healthy baby girl who was soft and small like an elf but with the green skin of an orc. Once my belly had served its purpose it was used as meat to feed other orc babies.

As for me the chief still takes my head down from the shelf when he desires my company. The magic which preserves my life and allows me to see does not extend to giving me lungs with which speak to him but that does not matter. I still have a mouth and with it he can pleasure his cock until he is satisfied and for that the forest is given his protection. Occasionally I even get to see Nalaea and Ilyrana, their living heads forever serving as sex toys for the chief's favored men.