"Time for meal, Elf," she purred as her feet hit the floor. She drew her sack-cloth tunic about herself and pulled a pair of shorts on that bore the manufacture mark of a Man's company located in the city-on-an-island-in-the-river named Vikkers. Turning her head to look back at him, she noticed that his eyes seemed fixed to the way the tight leather clung to her backside. The swells of her buttocks mesmerized him and she slapped her large hands onto them to break his concentration.

"Time for that later, my Elf. You need keeping your strength up."

As the Orc unchained him, all Minhane could think of was to escape, but his body refused to accept this idea. Instead, he lay still until all the chains were undone and he was allowed to stand. Luthiv fixed a light manacle about his neck and sealed it with a small key on a strand, which she placed about her neck. She eyed him up and down again, and Minhane suddenly felt like an animal about to be devoured by a larger predator. The Orc wrapped a small kilt about his waist and secured it with a chunk of rough hemp rope, all the while groping and kneading him with her wide palms and short-clawed fingers. It made him feel both aroused and alarmed at the same time.

The two left the tent and became part of a larger crowd making their way towards the mess area. Males and females in all manner of scavenged or stolen clothing conversed, flirted, and traded insults as they went and Minhane was unsure what to make of this great civil mass of Orcs. The only Orcs he'd really seen were the soldiers, and they hadn't been much for conversation. It was then he noticed that he wasn't the only Elf in chains.

To his right, a pudgy female had his friend Saloven in tow, and they exchanged words

"Minhane! I wasn't sure I'd see anyone I know again!"

"Keep it down, Sal," Minhane replied, placing a finger over his lips. "If these greenskins find out we know each other, they may worry we'll try to flee."

"Fleeing's been on my mind since I we were captured, but I can't do it! Some shaman has made me a slave to this fat bitch!"

Minhane took a moment to examine Saloven's captor and found her thoroughly unappealing. The Orc was somewhat rotund and wore clothing insufficient to her frame.

"My mind isn't my own either, but at least my luck continues to be better than yours," Minhane smirked and gestured at Luthiv's much sleeker form. Saloven faked a sorrowful sigh and the two snickered to themselves.

"What about Famikel and Calorodea? Have you seen them, Minhane? I worry that my sisters have had some tragedy befall them!"

"I suggest you grieve, Saloven," Minhane's voice became sullen and a pained look came over his face. "I have seen what happens to our females when the Orcs capture them. It is a horrible fate."

Saloven's face blanched at the thought and brought his hands up to cover his tears. Luthiv jerked the chain lightly and led him in a different direction than Saloven's master. 'Poor Saloven,' the Elf thought to himself, 'I fear this may be one tragedy too many...'

The meal was rather unappetizing, a thick mess of barley and ground meat, something Luthiv called ‘blood-gruel’, followed by light bread and berry-wine looted from Minhane's village. Normally, a slice of bread would be a meal for an Elf, but the Orcs ingested them in handfuls leaving crumbs everywhere.

Minhane picked at a bowl of gruel, but gladly wolfed down the slice of bread Luthiv dangled before him. The other Orcs at the table laughed loudly at a remark she made, and she smiled at him trying to contain her own guffaws. The berry wine had been finished a few days before the battle and was destined for a grand festival in the Elven capitol of Tangossaliun deep within the forest. Normally ten thousand elves would have enjoyed a couple glasses each over the course of the night, but a quarter of that number of Orcs obliterated the entire supply in under an hour. Minhane remembered the night he'd had four glasses and the hangover it gave him, and felt no pity for the way it would leave the Orcs feeling in the morning.

The meal ended, and Luthiv threw Minhane over her shoulder, spanked him soundly on his rear and said something he didn't understand while the rest of the tent broke out in near-hysterics. The Orc seemed a little disoriented and wove her way back to their tent.

In the twilight, he could make out a tangle of arms and legs in a heap near the trees and it dawned on him what they had to be.

There, piled as though discarded, were a dozen Elven females, their bodies broken and bloody, and their unseeing eyes staring in every direction and their mouths agape, the camp’s refuse had begun to accumulate around them. They all looked as though they died painfully, and the Elf knew what from.

The Orcs had gang-raped them to death. They would have died in pain from broken bones or internal bleeding or violent shaking from frenzied penetrations, or from being choked when a thick Orc tube was jammed into their mouths. It was not a way Minhane would wish anyone to die.

Minhane recognized Saloven's younger sister Famikel and felt the coal of rage he held inside him glow even hotter.

Luthiv almost threw him down on the bed and nearly tumbled over on top of him in the process. The berry wine was working its magic on the greenskin and Minhane allowed himself a laugh as his captor fell on her shapely rump trying to pull a boot off.

"Your wine being potent, Elf,' she stammered out as she pulled herself to her knees and crossed her arms on the edge of the bed. "You helping me un-clothe. Wine being too strong."

She rose and steadied herself with one hand on the rack her sword laid against, giggling about her inebriation. Minhane could not help but to obey and pulled off the remaining boot in a slow, subtle gesture. She climbed onto the bed and tried to pull off her tunic but needed help there too. Because of her size, Minhane had to stand to pull the sack-cloth garment from her, and once it was free, Luthiv drew away the rope that held his kilt on. That same musky scent of the Orc's arousal came to his slender nose and he felt contempt at the greenskin's lust, and a strange sense of control over her, seeing as it was his talents she craved.

Minhane's newfound masculinity dangled there heavily. Luthiv lightly stroked it and felt it harden. She drew her hands around his waist and squeezed his member between her breasts. Minhane felt a surge of lust come over him and took in a deep breath as those great green globes surrounded his sensitive meat. She began to heave up and down slowly and Minhane felt himself come to full attention.

Luthiv took him in both hands and ran a rough tongue over the purple head of her slave's engorged penis. Her tongue felt like sandpaper on his skin, and he felt pain from it while feeling pleasure from the false sense of power he had over her as her head traveled back and forth over his length.

Luthiv rolled over onto her hands and knees, and lowered her head and shoulders onto the burlap pillows of the wrought iron bed.

"Ride me, Elf, I wanting to feel you inside me," she said, her words slurring as she parted herself before him. The jade lips of her sex were soaked and dollops of her liquid ran through the copper muff that adorned them.

Minhane needed no further encouragement and guided himself to the folds of her sex. She gasped as he pushed the head into her and was surprised that she was tight against him. The Orc pushed back against him and Minhane seemed overtaken by the moment, he jammed every inch of himself into her and took perverse pride in every gasp or light squeal she gave back. With all of himself inside her, his fine hands grabbed at her thick hips and filled with Orc-flesh as he found places he could hang on to.

He drew back his entire length and she took a slow, deep breath, only to take a sharp gasp as he thrust it all back in with one solid thrust. Minhane's thoughts filled with anger and lust as he drew back and drove himself back in. A red haze seemed to fill his vision as he put all his feelings of hate and frustration into fucking the hot, tight hole of the now sweating Orc.

Had he been with another Elf, his lifemate who probably lay dead somewhere, fucked until her body could take no more and discarded, he would have made the experience one of tender love and affection lasting hours. But with the Orc that grunted and gasped while he pounded her pussy, he felt only an urge to make her feel as violated.

But that would not be, even though Minhane took no time, no light touch, or no tender emotions, the Orc loved every thrust, loved the way her fleshy buttocks slammed into his tight abdomen, loved the way she'd made an Elf fuck her like an Orc would.

The wrought iron bed complained with every move and Luthiv was moaning and grunting as she felt him drive himself deep into her. The Elf had abandoned his civilized trappings and rode her like an animal, grunting and swearing at her while ramming his enhanced rod into her willing cunt. She grabbed the headboard felt an orgasm build inside her, and prepared to ready herself against it.

Minhane hardly noticed when Luthiv threw her head back and let loose a great cry of pleasure. Her pussy tried to clamp down on him but he refused to be trapped and continued to fuck her as hard and fast as he could. Her body shook and she jerked this way and that while her juices squirted out around his invading member. She screamed again and again and again until Minhane could hold out no longer and felt his climax building. His arm seemed to move of its own accord and take a handful of coppery curls. His thin, sinewy arm pulled back on her hair and she barked and screamed, climaxing against his wild thrusts.

He clenched his teeth, dug his nails into her flesh and drove himself as deep as he could. Waves of pleasure washed over him as her tight hole tried to crush his penis, tried to keep his seed from escaping. But escape it did, Minhane had to strain all he could to fire himself off deep inside her but it only heightened the experience. Two loads, three, four, and his mind reeled as he tried to fill her belly with his sperm.

Finally, the adrenaline wore off and he collapsed onto her back. His breath game in gulps and his eyes glazed over. Luthiv almost passed out from the combination of berry wine and orgasm, but managed to stay aware enough to feel his breathing slow and his body go limp. Her hair escaped from his grasp and her head fell onto the pillow. The Elf had fallen unconscious from his exertion, and lay still atop her, snoring lightly.

- - - - -

The next morning, Minhane awoke hungry and his body stiff. Keeping his eyes closed he took stock of his situation. He was lying atop Luthiv's sleeping form, his head cradled between her breasts and his member buried inside her pussy. Had she put them in this position, or had he screwed her while she slept?

The events of the night before flooded back to him. He had lost his Elven composure and succumbed to the wild beast of instinct that lay within all sentient beings. He felt shame at losing control, cursed himself for giving into the carnal urges of the base animal that lived within the soul of every being. But it had been so satisfying. Had the Shaman's spell removed the shackles of decency from him? Had it stripped away a hundred and forty-three years of culture and denial and laid his soul bare to the animal inside? Could he indeed still call himself an Elf?

The Orc shifted slightly beneath and he felt himself harden again. Her legs seemed to spread of their own volition and his fine-boned fingers fondled her thick nipples until they hardened.

If he was to be a slave, he might as well enjoy himself while he could.

-

Published: Year 152 of the New Calendar

"Rhouzanthoun, " he started, pronouncing each syllable with a slow and even tone, "thou art called before me and I am to assign you a difficult task. Thine mission this time is not to slay, not to frame. Not the slightest harm shalt thou bring to him." Such words were only used within the Assassin’s Guild, as a show of respect to the ancient ways.

She raised her head, and cocked it to one side, a confused look crossed her finely angled face, and her deep red eyes looked squarely into her superior’s.

"My.. My lord..." she stumbled. Never before in all the winters she had preformed for the guild had she been told to spare her target.

"Yes, I know this doth confuse thou, " he nodded as he spoke, "but this task doth come from the highest of commands."

The single name did come to her: ‘Thas-ko-Rask’

"The Cold One bids, and I shalt obey," she said in a quiet voice. Regardless what action she was ordered, she must complete it, and she knew this task would not be simple.

"Thou art familiar with the orc general, Semthak the Bloody-Handed, art thou not?"

Rhouzanthoun was stunned. Semthak had been a target of hers many winters ago when he was but a captain, and it was one of very few tasks she had not completed.

"Aye, my lord. I do know of this orc. I failed to slay him ten winters past."

"Yes, thou didst fail then. But it doth seem thine folly hath been for the best. The Cold One doth require thou to seek this orc out, and parley him into our service."

She thought back and remembered Semthak, recalling how he earned his title. He had lead a company of perhaps a hundred orcs into the tunnels one night to raid the subterranean village she had lived in. While his soldiers had perished in the battle, Semthak had slain over twenty dark elf soldiers before finally withdrawing to the surface with a handful of treasures. His axe had cloven many a dark elven skull and he held it high above him before he retreated. Elven blood ran down it over his hand and forearm and he called out: "Let any who pursue me be prepared to have their blood on my hand as well!"

He made it out alive that night, and Rhouzanthoun had been sent after him. She was waylaid by Wood Elves, and when she finally made her attempt, Semthak caught her. Long was the night he toyed with her, and longer still were the ten years she spent waiting for revenge. Now, her chance at hand, she fumed inside that she must stay the killing blow.

"Take this missive and deliver it unto the orc. Thou art to accommodate him however required. Bring back his answer, in whatever form he doth choose to send it. Now go as the Cold One doth command."

Rhouzanthoun left, and prepared herself for a foray to the surface world.

- - - - -

The trek to Semthak’s stronghold took a single night, and Rhouzanthoun was careful to pass beyond the guards at the gate without their notice. The moon was showing a mere sliver of itself against the stars, it’s feeble light was not enough to allow even the most eagle-eyed orc to spy her in the stygian darkness. She stole over the rough-hewn bricks of the hold’s walls easily, and slunk across the courtyard silently. Grauz-Il-Iuren had informed her of the layout of the fortification, and where she could expect to find the orc at this hour. Quickly, she scaled the walls of the central bailey and gained entrance through a window on its north face. With naught a sound to betray her intrusion, she entered and allowed her dark-sight to adjust to the unlit chamber. A voice in the corner startled her when it reached her ears.

"Come ta git me, eh Elf? Well, ye’ll not take Semthak unawares in ‘is own ‘ome."

Her dark-sight let her see the warm bulk of the )rc draw itself up from its bed and reach for a cold axe at it’s head. He knew she was there, but by his movements, could not pinpoint exactly where her position was in the room.

"I come not to slay you this time, orc," she whispered, then sidestepped to make sure he could not hit her by simply swinging at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, ye don’ say… ‘old still an’ let ol’ Semthak take a swipe at ye!"

She noiselessly dodged the wild swipe of the axe and tried again to reason with him.

"I come with a message from the Cold One, the darkest of dark lords…" here she dodged again, "he would have you read his words.

"Yeh, roit… Oi remembah yew, black elf. I remembah yew sneakin’ inta me tent inna noit. I remembah ye ‘oldin’ a stilleto to me throwt. I also remembah how Oi punished ye…" He chuckled as he made a few more swipes with the axe, each time coming closer and closer. Without knowing it, he was inadvertently backing her into a corner.

"Cease this, orc," she became angry with him, for both not listening to her pleas, and for dredging up his violation of her a decade before.

"Heh.. come out, elf.. bring that tight black ass o’ yers into the loit. Oi swears I’ll kill ya in one shot!"

He was now too close to her. One more arc with the axe and he would strike her down. Her dark-sight had fully adjusted, and she saw that Semthak was naked, and she figured out how to make him listen to reason. She dropped to one knee and waited.

As he drew back to make his last attack, Semthak felt two small hands grab at his testicles. Two small hands, and ten sharp-nailed fingers held him tightly. Too tightly. He gasped as he realized she had him quite literally by the balls.

"Drop the axe, orc, or I’ll neuter you where you stand." Her voice was forceful, she detested touching his great, hairy sac, and wished so dearly to squeeze with all her might those large two lumps that filled each of her small, slender hands. His member hung warmly against her wrists, and seemed to lengthen slightly with her touch. She cursed that meat, recalling how he had drove it into her as she lay bound to a table, helpless.

"Uh.. well.. Oi suppose I could listen to ye.." said the orc, fearing this Elf would render him a eunuch if he tried to kill her right there.

"Fine, you great lout. I have a message from the Cold One, and it has your cursed name upon it. Would that I were allowed to kill you, orc, you’d be dead already, but my orders do not allow me such pleasures."

Semthak tossed his axe to the corner of the room. "Can Oi loit a lamp, so Oi ken read this ‘ere ‘message’?" He pointed at the oil lamp above her head, knowing she could see his every move with a sense of sight that surpassed his.

She released him, and he struck iron and flint to light the battered bronze lamp. A low light it admitted, but it was enough for his eyes to find her. He smirked at her, kneeling in the corner, and made his penis jump. It’s ten-inch length bobbed before her, and she frowned.

"’E remembahs yew too…" he said with a toothy grin, placing his hands on his hips. "Now, whot’s dis message Oi’m supposed ta read?"

She held the rolled up parchment to him, and he took it in a large palm, grazing her fingers with his own. She recoiled in disgust and wished she had a weapon with which to make her revenge.

The orc unfurled the scroll, and read it to himself, his lips moving as each word moved through his mind. As he finished, he took a moment to scratch his balls and think to himself. Rhouzanthoun felt insulted witnessing this, wondering if he did it solely because she was there to watch.

"So.." he began, scratching his stubble-ridden chin with the same hand, "this ‘Cold One’ wonts an alloiance between Black Elfs and Orcs? Whoi evah would ‘e wont dat?"

Semthak sat down on his bed and re-read the message. Struggling with his thoughts, he weighted the benefits and the liabilities in his head. On one hand, he could have an age-old enemy off his back; on the other, he could wind up drawn into a war he may not want to fight. Semthak was nearing thirty winters, middle age for an Orc, and the bloodlust of his youth had been tempered with caution. Could the dark Elves be trusted? Would this ‘Cold One’ demand his army be used as battle fodder against a superior enemy? How could he make sure this wasn’t just a trap…

The Orc rose, and stretched himself out with a yawn. With the message in one hand he strode across the room to Rhouzanthoun and eyed her carefully.

"Yew came to deliver this, eh? Not ta kill me, not ta deceive me, but to make sure Oi got it?"

"Aye, Orc. Such are my orders," she replied, still crouched in the corner.

"Prove it, den," he demanded, standing very near her. His member jumped and caught her in the jaw. Its seemed possessed of enough momentum to nudge her entire head.

"You’re not seriously asking what I think, are you, Orc?" she said through bared teeth.

"Yew bet, Elf. This message says yew ‘ave to, and Oi quote," he took the message in his hands and read directly from it: "A-kom-mee-date de Orc gen’rul Semthak in who‘ver way nes-see-sary to gain ‘is trust an’ ‘is allegance."

She glared at him.

"And before yew start, git that robe off," he said, with another toothy grin.

Rhouzanthoun burned inside. This Orc who had taken her against her will so many years ago would now have her again, this time by order of her own lord. She rose slowly, turned her back to him, and allowed the robe to fall to the floor.

She was perhaps half his size, and he towered above her. As she let her hands fall to her sides, he drew himself against her back. As his hands found her small breasts, she felt his cock against her back. It was hard, warm, and she hated every inch of it.

"Do as you please, Orc," she reluctantly spoke aloud, "but do not expect me to be much of a participant."

Semthak gave a low laugh, and brought his hands down to her hips. He pawed at her buttocks, remembering how she had been so tight and warm so long ago. With a quick, forceful move, he lifted her to the window and set her upon the ledge, her legs dangling towards the floor.

"Oh, trust me, Elf, Oi’ll get you to act."

With her upper body outside the window, he knelt to bring his face to her rear. He held the cheeks of her buttocks apart and worked the puckered nut of her ass with a large, rough tongue. It grated over her skin like sandpaper, and she gave a light squeal when he pushed it inside her.

He rose, spit into his wide palm, and smeared a glob of saliva over the head of his cock. With one hand he held her hip, with the other he guided himself to her.

Rhouzanthoun tried to relax herself, knowing how it hurt when she fought against him and how he enjoyed her screams and protestations. She felt the head of his penis press against her tiny hole, and winced as it pushed itself inside.

Semthak gave her every inch he had in one long, slow push. Her fingers gripped the window ledge so tightly her knuckles showed white, and every muscle in her small, black body seemed to tense. Then he withdrew and pushed in again. He heard the dark Elf grunt as he filled her rectum with his penis, pushing against it’s upper end. After a few slow strokes to ream her out enough, he sped up his assault on her buttocks with fast, hard thrusts.

Rhouzanthoun’s eyes bugged out as he filled her with every stroke. He held her hips so tightly she worried he would break her pelvis in his reckless abandon. She felt his large balls slap against her lips, his hips collided with the cheeks of her ass with every thrust. He sped up faster and faster, and she felt herself squeal lightly as the pain continued.

Stroke after stroke, thrust after thrust, he fucked her ass for half an hour while she dangled half-out the window. The sun slowly rose and she screwed her eyes shut as the first rays fell hot and searing upon her flesh. The sun seemed to burn her from in front, and the Orc made her rear feel as though a thick, hot poker was being rapidly moved about inside her.

The Orc laughed and called her ‘whore’ and ‘bitch’ in his coarse language. He slapped her ass with a thick, broad hand and she shrieked and began to struggle against him. Semthak knew the Black Elves hated the sun, and that it made their flesh feel aflame, and so he kept her in the light as he ruthlessly pumped his long, thick, green cock in and out of her tight Elven asshole. Her squirming made the whole thing so much more enjoyable.
Finally, when Rhouzanthoun felt she would burst into flames from the sun’s rays, she felt the Orc’s member spasm and unleash a torrent of his seed into her abused interior. He held her tight against her, filling her so much she thought his gushing sperm had squirted it’s way though the sphincter at the upper end of her rectum. He spent a long few moments climaxing, and she felt ill as the thick, white fluid seeped out between them and down her legs.

The Orc released her, and sat back on his bed breathing deeply. Rhouzanthoun set herself back down on the floor, her hands cradling her tender buttocks. Semthak felt himself rise again watching his seed ooze out of her abused anus while she took to the safety of the shadows, and considered his next move.

"Now.. " she said, short of breath herself, "now do you have an answer."

"Not yet," he replied, grinning an evil grin. "Bring yerself ovah here.. and crawl as ye do it."

Muttering to herself as she knelt on the rough timbers of the floor, she got on all fours and made her way slowly to him. Dollops his seed fell out of her onto her calves and the floor as she crossed. When she got there, he took her small head in his hands.
"Open yer mouth, Elf. Yew said yew wouldn’t act, well, now Oi’ll make ye act. Open up!"

She swore under her breath, and as her teeth parted, he shoved himself inside. She tasted his seed, sour, salty and thick, and she tasted her ass as well, the dull, sickening taste of her own feces.

He pushed himself deep, and she gagged lightly as he reached her tonsils.

"Now, now, Elf. I know ye can do better than that. Show me whut that guild o’ Black Elven killers has taught ye."
She had been schooled in the ways of pleasure, but she loathed to use her skills on him. But the command had been given, and so she must act. Swallowing her pride (and the last of his spent orgasm), she guided him past her tonsils and into her throat.

She bobbed her head slowly, taking his length as she could. But Semthak wanted no slow pleasure. True to Orc nature, he was impatient and demanded things move at his speed.
He took her head in his thick hands and began to fuck her throat. She gagged a couple times as he pushed his penis down her throat and put her hands on his groin, trying to steady herself.

Rhouzanthoun found it hard to get a good breath with him forcing himself into her so, and her head felt dizzy as he jerked it back and forth over himself. She felt on the verge of fainting when a thick, salty glob of sperm acquainted itself with the back of her throat. She backed off a bit, and he gave her some room as he shot load after load of hot semen into her mouth. It began to run out of the corners of her mouth when he took her chin in hand and told her to swallow. The taste was horrible and she refused. Her mouth was full of his seed when he slapped his palm on her back, hard. A great blob of cum was sent searing down into her gullet as she involuntarily swallowed it. While she gagged at the sour, salty ejaculate, the orc grasped her nose between two knobby fingers and forced her to drink of him or drown in him. The revenge she swore to have upon him was made worse with every subsequent mouthful.

She got his cock out of her mouth and looked to his face. Semthak seemed strained, the thick veins of his neck stood out and he opened his eyes and looked into hers.

And shot a final load onto the bridge of her nose.
The cum was hot against her face, and it splattered across her cheeks. She went to wipe it off but he waved his finger at her, a sign to stop.

"Now, now. You leave that roit where I put it.."

She was about to demand why she should let his sperm remain on her face, when he stood himself up and glared down at her.

"There. That is me message to yer ‘Cold One’. Tell yer superiors that general Semthak follows no Black Elf, not now, not evah!"

He turned and yelled at the door. Two burly guards came in and saw the dark Elf kneeling on the floor, a large deposit of white sperm upon her black skin, oozing down her face and dripping onto her chest. The guards grinned broadly as she tried to cover herself before them, perhaps retaining a small bit of her dignity.

"These are Harg and Grosh, me most trusted guards. They’re gonna take you back ta yer little warren with me message…"

He turned and ordered the two to escort Rhouzanthoun back underground, and not to disturb the seed on her face. Even if it meant shielding her from the rain.

- - - - -

As the day wore on, Rhouzanthoun walked under the hot, searing rays of the sun. The two guards walked just behind her, admiring how the cheeks of her buttocks slid against each other with a film of orc seed keeping them lubricated. Harg nudged Grosh in the ribs and said to him, "Hey, Semthak said we couldn’t touch her face, roit? Well, he never said nothin’ about her arse!"

Here, Rhouzanthoun stopped. She knew what was about to happen and did not even bother to resist as Harg bent her over and pushed himself into her. She faced this trial with the stern resolve that someday, somehow, Semthak would pay. As Harg loosed his seed into her bowels and Grosh took his place, she began to plan just how cruel his end would be. Oh, how the Orc would pay...

-