The Dark Elf Trilogy, Part 3: Dark Elf's Downfall

A large Orc barked orders to a subordinate, the prisoners recognized him as the captain of the invaders, and had come to know that his name was Ordak.
Ordak had been personable for an Orc, surprising them by even offering terms of surrender they had foolishly ignored. They could have just walked away, but these families had been here for generations, their roots prevented them from abandoning their lives, and so they simply threw them away by resisting.
He was a large specimen of Orcdom. He stood half a head taller than any other greenskin under his command, and even the Ogres flinched when he was angry. The excesses of command had not yet begun to show about his belly, and he was determined to keep it that way. He rallied his troops early the day after the battle, and had them muster for prayer at dawn. The Men had never even considered that Orcs had any gods, but here they watched from a crude prison as an aged Orc chanted in their rough language, but it seemed even more broken and jagged than the normal conversations the greenskins had.
A cloaked figure emerged from the house Ordak had chosen, and walked, no, slithered, to the side of the large Orc once the mass had concluded. The two made a very mismatched pair; he was nearly twice her height and breadth, towering over her like a giant carved of dull jade, covered in layers of chain mail and armour plating. A conversation began in the Common tongue, the language of the Empire.
"Touching, Ordak," the female began, a note of sarcasm in her voice, "watching you worship your crude gods makes me wonder how you even found them."
The Orc scowled at her, baring his pointed teeth and tusks.
"Watch yuir tongue, Black Elf, Oi nevah agreed ta havin' yuh along."
"You seemed pleased to have me around last night, while you drank yourself to sleep. Fortune favoured me in that you had not the ability to carry out your intentions," she spun on one heel to face away from him and the Orc's eyes widened with barely concealed emotions. He made to grab her arm, but she smoothly dodged the large hand with its black-clawed fingers and was quickly a large stride away from him.
"You'll kindly keep those paws away from me, Orc, or I'll castrate you where you stand." Her words came from clenched teeth and a dagger seemed to appear in her hand as if by magic.
Ordak sneered and turned, walking away in a huff and muttering to himself in his own language. The Men watching were agape at having just seen an Orcish captain stymied by an Elf half his size.

Later that day, more Orcs marched into the town. These ones were clad in chain mail with face concealing masks, but their bodies had the curves of women, and the Men were puzzled as to why Orcs would let their womenfolk charge into danger.

After a short while, Vursut strode into the building, and quickly noticed the cloaked elf in the corner. She removed her mask and let it slam onto the table, leaving marks on the once pristine surface. Her hair was cur short, a shock of bright red above an angular face and thick jaw that sported the typical markings of an Orc female. The red strips where eyebrows should be, the red 'V' on her forehead, and the band below her pouting lips were the same shade as her hair. She licked her lips as she eyed Rhouzanthoun, her mixed blood had given her flat Human teeth and denied her the tusks that marked a True Orc. Spegot made a face as though he were about to lose his meal, then rose and left, muttering to himself about things that were not natural.
"So, yuir the Black Elf Oi 'erd so much about, Vursut began, turning a chair around and straddling it, resting her arms on the back and setting her head on her forearms. "Too much loit out, ya can't lose the dress?" She cocked an eyebrow and moved her hips on the chair. Rhouzanthoun could see that the Orc wore nothing under her chain mail tunic. Nothing below the belt, at least.
"Yes, Orc," she replied, keeping her voice as mono-tone as possible, "Do you have my message?"
"Oh, Oi gots it alroigt," Vursut winked one eye at the Elf, "but Oi had ta hoid it so the uthas wouldn't see it."
"Spare me the stories, Orc, and deliver to me my master's orders."
"Sure, Elf, but you'll have ta come and get 'em yuirself." Vursut rose and strode towards the stairs, pausing at the base to turn and wink at the Elf, and to wiggle her ample behind.
'Well,' she thought to herself, 'it appears our astute friends may be correct on something after all.."

When Rhouzanthoun arrived at the room the Orc had chosen, she entered to find Vursut lying on a four-poster bed with her knees up and a large hand playing between her thighs. Her chain mail, boots, weapons, and other items were hastily thrown onto the desk by the window, and the room was filled with the smell of Orc juice.
Vursut arched her back and took a deep, sharp breath, every muscle in her body tensed and her tattoos danced upon the movements of her great sinews. Rhouzanthoun remained still, disgusted by how the lesser races treated such things as sex, and sighed at the thought of what ordeal lay ahead of her.
The Orc's chest heaved, her great breasts were almost as large as Rhouzanthoun's head, capped with thumb-sized nipples, and they jiggled with every move she made. Her abdomen was a huddle of well-defined muscles that flowed evenly into the thews of her thighs. Almost as if by mental cue, the Orc moved her hand up to her mouth to lick the liquid from them, and Rhouzanthoun's gaze traveled down across the wild thatch of red fur and to the Orc's damp sex.
And there, between those lips of olive framed by fiery red curls, damp with Vursut's climax, poked the end of an ivory cylinder, capped with the gold seal of the Assassin's Guild.
Anger rose inside the Elf, that a message of such importance would be treated in such a crude manner. In two strides she was reaching down to grab it when two titanic thighs closed on her small hand.
"You'll get it, Elf, don't you worry," Rhouzanthoun could see the lust in Vursut's eyes, it was almost palpable, "but you'll have ta wait. Tonight, after Oi've put me 'orse away, eaten an' bathed, you'll have yuir message. But Oi'm gonna make ye work fer it."

Protesting as much as she could given her lack of air, Rhouzanthoun was unable to put up much resistance as her captor ascended the stairs. She was not looking forward to what was about to happen, but it would not carry with it the same sense of violation that her experience with Semthak had. All she had to do was keep the Orc content, and she could retrieve her message and leave.

Resigned to her fate, she stopped fighting after Vursut tossed her onto the bed, and concentrated on catching enough wind to let her think. If all she had to do were to sate the appetite of one lustful Orc, it would be best to make it quick.
Vursut took her time taking off her chain mail, peeling it from her, being as showy as possible. The heavy suit of chain fell to the floor with a mighty clank and the Orc cupped her breasts with two large, meaty hands. She drew a thick nipple to her mouth and suckled it, keeping her eyes on the Elf the whole time. Rhouzanthoun looked thoroughly unimpressed at this feat, but the Orc continued her act just the same.
Sitting there, arms crossed, legs tight together, Rhouzanthoun did her best to look bored, which wasn't very difficult; she just wanted this to be over with. The Orc slithered onto the bed on her hands and knees, and was now uncomfortably close; even after bathing and perfume she still smelled like an Orc, the heady musk of her arousal was heavy in the room, and the odour of her meal washed out of her mouth in waves Rhouzanthoun could almost see.
Two large hands tried to be delicate as they brushed her shoulders and took hold of her face. The Orc's lips pressed themselves against Rhouzanthoun's, and a raspy tongue forced itself into her mouth, probing the Elf's tonsils. Rhouzanthoun almost gagged and tried to pry herself from the Orc's grasp. One hand loosed itself from her face and ran down Rhouzanthoun's back, it felt like sandpaper and her skin crawled at its touch.
"Oh, come now, Elf," Vursut whispered, "at least try to pretend…" She guided one of Rhouzanthoun's hands down to her damp crotch and the other to her left breast while placing kisses on the Elf's neck. Rhouzanthoun hated to admit it, but she was just slightly turned on by it all, so she blamed biology instead of herself. If it was the only way to get at the message, then so be it.
Her slender fingers found the Orc's damp sex and gently probed its interior. She was tight, and this surprised Rhouzanthoun, she had assumed that Orcs would spend as much time possible satisfying their sexual drive in any way possible; perhaps Vursut really did prefer females. While probing Vursut's canal, her fingers grazed something solid: the message.
Noticing the Elf's welcome intrusion and discovery of the tube, she squeezed the fingers lightly (as lightly as she could) and was welcomed with a light gasp of pain from her partner. She felt five small digits caress her nipple while five more manipulated her clitoris, and a pair of thin, soft lips and accompanying tongue tickled her ear. The Orc felt her loins come alive with the soft touch of another and her heart beat against her ribs.
Vursut's hands each cupped an ebon buttock and the Elf's lips left a trail of kisses from her neck to between her breasts. She squeezed her bosoms together with her biceps and Rhouzanthoun felt her head become surrounded by the Orc's massive mammories. 'So much female flesh,' she thought to herself, 'and she hasn't a clue how to use any of it…'
An Elven tongue trailed down her abdomen and Vursut shifted herself to make way for it. She leaned back, putting her weight on her arms so she could get her legs out from under herself. Fingers moved about her red muff and finally she felt the Elf's lips between her legs. She was breathing heavily as Rhouzanthoun made small circles on her thighs with a practiced tongue, one hand kneading her labia, the other working itself into her ass. Rhouzanthoun decided to really show Vursut what she could do, and knowing the Orc would never experience such a thing again made her finally decide to use all of her experience.
For a long hour Rhouzanthoun played the Orc's sex like a finely-tuned instrument, bringing Vursut close to orgasm but never letting her reach it. She would work every erogenous zone to its fullest then back off suddenly, letting the Orc catch her breath, then quickly dive back in and drive Vusrut into a barking, gasping frenzy.
When she was ready, she let her victim climax. Her reward was having two thick, muscular thighs clamp around her head and a gush of sour fluid. It took several minutes for Vursut to calm down, and in that time, Rhouzanthoun was shaken silly and almost drowned in the Orc's juices. She blacked out to the sound of Vursut calling her name in ecstasy.

Ozalaund