Orc Sorceress

Orc Sorceress

 

A Reverse Harem Fantasy Erotic Novel

Elliot Silvestri

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

 

Orc Sorceress

Book I

 

Copyright © 2023 Green Bush Publishing

 

Second Edition

 

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

 

 

A Green Bush Publishing Book

 

The characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.

 

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

 

Chapter 1

 

Sandraste watched the young woman riding atop Ganmilton. The woman—almost a girl but Ganmilton wasn’t that vile—was rather attractive and Sandraste couldn’t decide if she was a hired whore, an apprentice Ganmilton was interviewing, or just a random girl from the village that served the Wizard Conclave. It wouldn’t be the first time a member of the conclave had seduced a villager. 

The girl’s breasts were small, topped by faint pink nipples. Her skin was fair and unblemished and she had light brown hair that framed her face that was currently twisted by the throes of ecstasy. Was the girl so easily pleased by the lazy lovemaking of the wizard or was she just a very good actress? Sandraste suspected the latter for she had shared Ganmilton’s bed and had never been impressed by his lovemaking skills.

His magical skills however…

She didn’t know if she should have been upset or relieved to find her occasional lover was fucking a meaningless girl. Gan had promised Sandraste all sorts of things—power, influence, riches, secrets of the magical world—but she had never fully believed him. Every member of the conclave used one another in every manner possible: stealing magical secrets, bids to increase their own power, for sexual pleasure and release, for their amusement to use and abuse. Sandraste was no stranger to this game.

That was why she was spying on her mentor-cum-lover. She was reasonably sure that Ganmilton wouldn’t catch her spying for she was using a simple crystal ball set only to observe not interact. Gan was distracted and didn’t have time or opportunity to protect himself. That was a foolish choice on his part; spies ran rampant in the conclave’s tower fortress.

Sandraste didn’t know exactly why she was spying on Gan. She had done so before, of course. She wasn’t in love with the older wizard and frankly didn’t care if he fucked village girls, boys, or sheep. Sandraste was more interested in acquiring the spells Ganmilton had hidden away in his spell book that no one was allowed to view. She had hoped to catch him studying the book and using the crystal ball she would peer over his shoulder and steal a spell or two. No such luck.

Still, watching him fuck the girl was amusing. As she watched, Gan reached up and cupped the girl’s small breasts to eventually pinch the nipples. The girl shivered; her regular motions up and down on Gan’s cock faltered. Sandraste couldn’t resist and, carefully setting her crystal ball in its stand, she reached up under her skirts to finger her quim.

Sandraste focused on the girl’s body, more interested in the novelty of a pretty girl having sex than in Gan’s cock with which she was overly familiar. Watching the two of them fuck was amusing and would be a nice distraction for the evening. 

Then things took a sinister turn.

Before, the girl’s pretty face was twisted by passion. Now it changed from passion to pain…and then to something else.

Many of the magic-users in the conclave weren’t above having depraved sex—Sandraste knew that all too well and wasn’t bothered by it—but as she watched the two fornicate, something was wrong. The girl started gasping for breath, but not in a way that indicated her moment of crisis was upon her. 

Much to her shame Sandraste rubbed her throbbing clit as the girl suffered.

Ganmilton twisted the girl’s nipples in a painful move but she didn’t react to that. Her already pale skin went sallow and then turned perfectly pallid. Her closed eyes snapped open but were unfocused and lacked the gleam of passion. Her body jerked unnaturally and as much as Sandraste wanted to stop masturbating, she couldn’t. 

“Let it happen,” Ganmilton said mildly, “it’s already too late for you, girl.”

Sandraste wondered if the wizard even knew her name.

The girl’s eyes turned solid black, showing no white or color at all. She arched her back, displaying her pretty tits, and then her entire body went rigid, her arms perpendicular to her sides. She lasted a moment or two longer.

Ganmilton grunted and thrust his hips upward several more times, announcing his lame orgasm. That was the end of it for the girl. Her entire body went slack. The wizard pushed her off to the side, so the girl collapsed bonelessly to the bed. His cock continued to spew forth thick white cum that splashed on his belly.

He rested for a minute, breathing heavily, and then wiped away the spilled seed from his cock and belly. From her magical vantage point Sandraste was able to see the girl’s body dissolving, not into its physical components but into mist and powder. 

Ganmilton had planned ahead. When the girl collapsed he had tossed her onto a tarpaulin placed there in advance. While he watched the mist wafted away but the parts of the girl left behind, the powders and other bits, were held by the tarp. 

“Your contribution to magical research will not go unappreciated,” the wizard muttered mostly to himself. 

Sandraste had doubts about that. She watched for another moment while Ganmilton started to gather up the powder into glass vials. Not wanting to get caught, she cut the connection between Ganmilton’s chambers and her crystal. She thought that perhaps at the last moment the wizard peered into the spy space, but she wasn’t sure.

The awfulness of the act that Ganmilton had committed disturbed Sandraste but not enough to make her stop masturbating. She finished herself off to the memory of the girl’s body shaking in ecstasy and pain.

At least she had the good manners to hate herself for her minor participation in the girl’s murder.

 

It wasn’t unusual for unimportant visitors to the conclave’s tower to go missing. Usually they were delivery people or recent hires from the village or peasants drawn in with the promise of quick money. Everyone in the tower knew these visitors were being killed in some fashion or another. Drained for their blood. Sent to a different dimension. Butchered for their internal organs. It was one of the many dirty secrets of the conclave. 

This also wasn’t the first time Sandraste had participated in some manner in a person’s murder. She wasn’t proud of it, but nor was she ashamed. Power, especially magical power, demanded sacrifices, both willing and unwilling.

Sandraste didn’t comment on the killing of the girl to anyone. In fact, she slept once more with Ganmilton though she couldn’t say for sure if she did so because her lust demanded it or if she was trying to throw him off any possible suspicion of her spying.

Nothing came of the girl’s killing until a week later.

It wasn’t unusual for members of the king’s court to visit the wizard’s conclave. The king’s palace and center of power was many days of travel and when they were visited it was usually some low-level functionary keeping up the appearance of political relations between the wizards and the ruling class. In truth the wizards did much as they pleased and as long as they didn’t operate in opposition to the king, he didn’t care what they did as long as taxes were paid. 

An unannounced visit by the king’s First Agent was unusual. Sandraste had never heard of it. The mere fact that the First Agent brought along his personal bodyguard of a half dozen knights plus a score of men-at-arms in addition to his traveling retinue was remarkable.

Sandraste was glad she didn’t have to deal with the politics in the matter and wisely retreated to her chambers while the ruling council parlayed with the king’s men.

She was meditating and focusing on refining her latest original spell when a general alarm went off in the tower. The repeated ringing of the bell called all to make ready and prepare to battle.

This had never happened in the years that Sandraste had lived in the tower.

By the time she made it to the main hall of assembly the battle was well underway. In the center of magical power on this continent, not just this kingdom, the wizards should have made easy work of any invader.

The king’s First Agent had come prepared. There were always magic-users willing to undertake service to the king either for money or influence or other secret goals. A handful of these turncoats to the conclave had been snuck into the tower under guise of being simple soldiers or the First Agent’s sycophants. Spells, spears, and arrows were flying through the air of the assembly hall. 

The men-at-arms were all wearing magic resistant armor. Bodies of many dead wizards were already on the floor. Sandraste took cover and observed before just rushing into battle. What she saw was not good.

Not only was the king’s Agent doing well in the battle, but the conclave, always on the verge of falling into civil war because of internal factionalism, was battling itself. She quickly identified two groups that were fighting each other along with the soldiers.

Just as she decided to take the better path of valor, Simban, a wizard she barely knew and who focused on fire magic, snuck up beside her.

“We need your support,” he barked at her as he slowly built up a spell between his hands. 

“Why? Let the king’s men win and side with victors.”

“Your lover murdered the queen’s niece,” he hissed as he threw a globe of green-yellow light at a soldier. The man screamed but the spell largely splashed off his armor.

Things clicked into place. Maybe Ganmilton’s dalliance was a spy sent by the king or queen or First Agent. She hadn’t been a simple villager looking for an extra meal. Ganmilton had chosen poorly. 

Sandraste wasn’t going to pay for his mistake.

It was easy to create a light blade in her hand and slip it between Simban’s ribs. He grunted at the sneak attack. She forced the light blade to grow all the way up through his body, slicing through his lungs and heart.

“That’s for staring at my tits when I told you to stop,” she said as his life’s blood stained his robes. She extinguished the blade and slipped away.

This was not her battle.

She had other plans.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

The journey north was more difficult than she anticipated. Posing as a pilgrim traveling to the eight Circles of Wonder was a good ploy, but it would hardly hold up to close inspection because pilgrims tended to travel in groups, not alone, and when they did travel alone, it was never a single woman. 

At every turn she was accosted by men who wanted to fuck her, men who wanted to rob her, men who wanted to murder her, and women who wanted to save her. Eventually she found her way to Northport. Autumn was rapidly approaching and most merchant ships were headed south to safer harbors or were laying in for the winter for repairs.

It wasn’t easy to find a captain willing to sail so late in the season and to sail north, but Sandraste managed. He was an old man with a gray scraggly beard, a crew of two men nearly as old, all three of them creaking around a small ship that was nearly as ancient as them all put together.

“A one-way trip ta th’ Frozen Shores?” he asked her, his words semi-intelligible due to tooth loss.

“Yes,” she answered primly, wrapped in her pilgrim’s robe. “I’ll happily pay handsomely.” She jingled the coins in her purse.

“Ya’ travelin’ alone?”

“Yes.”

“Foolish.”

“I can protect myself,” she said firmly. They were talking on the deck of the small, decrepit sloop. The wind was biting cold but it didn’t bother Sandraste nor did it seem to affect Captain Maz or his deckhands. 

“Tis a day out an’ a day back.”

“Ten gold,” she offered. 

Maz wasn’t able to hold his surprise but managed to squash it in a split second. “Twenty,” he insisted.

“Five is more than generous,” she told him, “but I’ll pay ten if we leave today.”

She wove the influence spell into her words. The simple sailor didn’t notice.

“Ten,” he agreed, nodding his head.

“Where is my cabin?” she asked after handing over payment. 

Calling it a cabin was a gross overstatement. It was little more than a storage compartment, but it featured a door that locked from the inside. Sandraste was happy to lock herself inside and settle onto the squalid bed. 

They left the harbor as the sun was setting. She was happy to travel at night. Sandraste was unable, however, to stay awake. 

It wasn’t the sound of the door opening that woke her; of course the captain had rigged the door to defeat the interior lock. It wasn’t even the captain’s stench or bad breath. He moved silently across the deck boards. It was just his presence that alerted her to him.

As soon as she opened her eyes he was on her. He was smart enough to brandish a knife. He wasn’t smart enough to know what he was up against.

“Jus’ lif’ your skirts, missy, an’ this’ll go easy fer ya.” He had grabbed one of her hands and pressed the knife to her throat. His ship might have been old and broken-down, but the knife was bright and shiny and sharp.

“Aren’t there whores on shore for the likes of you?” she spat in his face.

“We aren’ on shore, are we?” He pinned her down with his weight and scrabbled at his trousers to get his cock out. “An’ the whores on shore ain’t as pretty as you.”

Sandraste calmed herself and focused. She already knew the captain was weak-willed. “You don’t want to rape me,” she said, her voice filled with power. “You want to shove that knife into your throat.”

He looked at her uncomprehending for a moment, and then he did exactly as she asked.

The knife plunged into his soft flesh. Hot blood shot out staining her clothes and face. 

Captain Maz breathed his last and collapsed on her.

Hauling his body out of the cabin was the most difficult part of the process. She dragged it in front of Maz’s sailors. “Your captain tried to rape me. I killed him. Do you two wish to follow him or do you want to inherit this floating pile of junk?”

The former deckhands were more than happy to bring Sandraste the rest of the way to her destination.

They were even happier to drop her on the shore of the northern wastelands and sail away. They were certain they had left her to her doom.

Sandraste had only her pack, her robe, her book, and a walking stick. She felt over-prepared. She walked up the rocky shore into the lightly wooded area. There, concealed from any possible prying eyes, she cast a simple finding spell and then started hiking toward her destination.

 

Finding the Circle of Wonder was easy. An animal trail led directly to it. That made sense. Most humanoids and sentient creatures avoided the circles; animals somehow knew the circle would protect them.

The stones forming the circle weren’t all that impressive. The tallest was ten feet. All the stones were intact, something she hadn’t seen in Circles of Wonder before. Always someone had gotten to them and knocked down some of the uprights or crossbars. Because of their locations the Circles tended to be in places of extreme weather. Here, in the north, the weather was always cold and this seemed to have preserved this Circle though the ice and frost on the surfaces made the inscriptions difficult to read.

That didn’t bother Sandraste. She set to work. First, at the foot of the Circle’s center altar, she built a fire using a spell. The fire was mostly for warmth, but she knew she would need it for magic eventually. Getting out her spell book, research notes, and other tools, she shed her robes and began the laborious process of unlocking the Circle’s secrets.

She was mildly surprised that it took the locals three days to approach her. She had made no attempt to hide the smoke from the fire. In fact, she had made no attempt to conceal her presence at all. It was on the second day that she was aware she was being observed. It spoke to the caution and wisdom of the tribe that they took the time to spy on the interloper. 

Sandraste knew that this moment would occur eventually and she was prepared for it. They approached from two locations at the same time while from a third location more orcs observed her.

Undoubtedly they had planned on catching her unawares when she was most vulnerable. They failed miserably in their attempt. She had woven spells to warn of intruders and was well-aware of them all. The group was small. A hunting party, perhaps a war party, of only six. All armed. All male. Her lips twisted as two groups of two stepped into the clearing of the Circle of Wonder at the same time. She was naked for it was easier to cast the spells she needed for her research while unrestricted. They thought she was helpless, but knew she was a magic-user and approached with caution.

The orcs had green skin and all had prominent tusks protruding from their mouths. Their tribe was one that favored compactness over size intimidation. They were all muscular but were roughly her height, and Sandraste was not a tall woman. She had been making notes in her research papers when she abruptly paused and looked up at the closest orc. He was carrying a war club and a hide shield, wearing leather armor. They were all similarly armed and protected.

“Leave me now. I will not bother you.” She spoke in the common human language. She didn’t care if they understood her.

The lead orc spoke in his native tongue. “You are our prisoner.”

She chuckled and replied in the more refined orc language of the south. “You haven’t captured me. If you leave and don’t bother me further I promise not to harm any of you.”

“Take her,” the leader grunted.

The two behind her rushed forward. 

With a simple gesture and single word both of them went sprawling and found they were unable to move. The leader’s eyes narrowed. He was no fool and knew wizards and sorcerers were dangerous.

“Ha!” he grunted while rushing forward. His companion threw a spear at her. 

The spear bounced off the invisible shield she had built when the orcs had first approached. The lead orc passed through the shield and tackled Sandraste, much to his satisfaction.

A second later he was leaping back off her, screaming in pain. His entire body seemed like it was on fire. Sandraste scrambled to her feet. She was no warrior ready for hand-to-hand combat. 

The leader was temporarily incapacitated so she focused her eyes into the woods where the last two were hiding. She repeated the gesture and word that had stopped the first two orcs. 

The last one pulled his war club from his belt and rushed her. He should have been smarter and that displeased Sandraste. A show of force and power was needed.

Allowing him to get close she pointed a single finger at the orc and uttered two arcane words. Bright yellow light shot from her finger and through the orc’s chest. 

He fell at her feet, dead. Acrid smoke rose unsteadily from his corpse.

Turning to the leader who was struggling to his feet, she walked up to him and, much to his surprise, helped him stand. 

“Let me help you. Come over to the altar. Sit down. Rest.” His limbs were trembling and he was barely able to stumble over to where she pulled him. He was much stronger than her, but at this moment he had little control over his limbs.

“Let me help you take off your armor so I can treat you,” she said. 

He had no objections. He couldn't object. He was surprised that she was so gentle and yet knew how to remove a warrior’s armor. 

Naked, she should have been helpless. Instead it seemed to make her stronger.

“Lay down,” she instructed him when she had him down to his boots and loincloth. “The treatment won’t hurt, but you won’t be able to stay upright.”

He couldn’t disobey. He wondered if she was using some persuasive spell on him or if the attack she had used was simply that powerful. 

For a human she was attractive. Her black hair was long and thick, bound in a braid that fell down her back. Her white skin was flawless. There was a simple necklace and charm around her neck but she wore no other jewelry. Her breasts were large; larger than any orc female would ever have. The nipples were light brown instead of greenish-black like on the members of his tribe. He noted the small triangle of black hair at the apex of her legs, but couldn’t see her sex.

“Bindings,” she muttered and circled her fingers. Three bands of light winked into existence and constricted around his body: chest, waist, and thighs. He found he couldn’t move off the flat surface of the altar.

Sandraste was fascinated by the black tattoo on his chest. She ran her fingers over the complex design. 

“Is this a tribal mark or something just for you?” she asked.

He groaned in response. She hadn’t really expected an answer.

“You’ll have to take me to your tribe so I can find out,” she said but made no motion to free him. Her eyes were drawn to the impressive bulge in his loincloth. “We have time,” she muttered and pulled down the soft woolen material to reveal his cock.

He was large, which was notable because of the cold weather and his vulnerable situation.

“Your companions won’t be able to move for an hour. That’s more than enough time. It’s been so long for me.”

Sandraste’s definition of a long time in this instance was two weeks. She had only had her hand and the curious fumbling of a drunk adventurer in a tavern during her journey to slake her sexual appetite.

The orc was confused when Sandraste lowered her mouth to his cock. He was confused but his body still responded. 

Either the orc thrived on fear for sex or the situation appealed to him in some perverted manner. His cock grew in her mouth. In short order he was fully hard. Sandraste was impressed. She hadn’t seen a cock so large before in her life. She had used stone and metal dildos of equal size and so she was well-prepared for the next step.

“Don’t be offended,” she said to him as she climbed on top of the altar and straddled his body. “I need this and very few males have ever turned me down.”

The orc could have protested or questioned her actions. But his cock was in her hand and she was pressing it against the opening to her cunt.

This was not how he was accustomed to having sex. Normally he took his partners by pinning them down, thrusting his cock brutally into them. Sex with Sandraste was different. She was in charge. She controlled everything. He could barely move.

Oddly, it was still enjoyable.

Her wet cunt easily slid down the length of his cock. She was able to take all of it into her body. He watched as she pumped her hips back and forth. The elated expression on her face confused the orc. He was used to the female he fucked protesting loudly as he filled them and took his pleasure. Assuredly some of the females enjoyed his big cock, but not all of them, and certainly not all wanted to be fucked.

This human was different. She was aggressive in her need to have his cock inside her. Somehow that felt wrong, and it made the sex better.

He wanted to reach up and grab her tits but that was impossible. The yellow light bands pinned him effectively to the stone altar. He couldn’t even raise his hips to thrust into her.

As tortures went, this one he was easily able to survive.

Even watching her was a pleasure. Her body was rounded in all the right places. Many orc males preferred their mates strong and muscular, but he preferred them softer. Watching Sandraste move, watching her play with her tits as her cunt repeatedly swallowed his cock was a reward itself.

She had endurance. She kept going. It was unusual to see a female orc orgasm, but the sorceress did so at least three times while she fucked him. He felt her cunt contract on his thick cock as it flashed with heat and he watched as she shivered in delight each time.

He couldn’t hold out forever. After her third orgasm it occurred to him that he didn’t need to hold out at all. Watching his masculinity joined with her cunt he let himself go and when he came, his spunk flooded her pussy. 

The orc fully expected her to be disgusted. Instead her reaction was delight punctuated with laughter. Then the woman leaned forward, pressing her bare tits into his chest, and lightly kissed him on the lips.

“I’ve never indulged in fucking an orc before. I’ve been missing out. I think I shall have you take me to your tribe, your leaders. There is much I have to discuss with them.” She crawled off his body and the altar. From a bundle at the foot of the altar she took her robes and pulled them on along with a pair of boots. 

In that instant the orc realized just how exposed he was, how he had so easily fallen under her control when she was a weak human.

He wasn’t going to make that mistake a second time.

Looking around Sandraste took stock of her temporary encampment. “How far is it to your tribe’s…home? Cave. Camp. Fortress. Whatever.”

At first he refused to answer. She recognized the frown on his lips and the taciturn expression.

Snapping her fingers she gave a single order. “Speak.”

“One day’s hike,” he answered and hated himself.

“Good. You’ll lead me. We’ll leave your compatriots. The spell should wear off in an hour or so. They’ll catch up. Now get dressed unless you want to march naked.”

She snapped her fingers and the yellow light bands disappeared. He found he could move and did so carefully, judging the distance between him and her. 

Sandraste was no fool. She circled her fingers together. “Enthrall.” A ring of light appeared and encircled his neck. It settled firmly around his throat, he could feel it and see the light, but it didn’t hurt. “Don’t attempt anything stupid. If I’m killed, the band will tighten and either break your neck or strangle you. Rest assured that I can order it to do so as well.”

He grunted and nodded. This was not how the raid was supposed to go. He dressed. She picked up her pack and allowed him to gather his weapons. His companions, including the dead one, were left behind.

“They’ll kill you as soon as you enter our camp,” he warned her after they had been marching for a quarter of an hour.

“We’ll see. My name is…well, you may call me Sande. What shall I call you?”

“Durz.”

“A nice name,” she declared.

“You killed my clan mate. His name was Vigg.”

“He shouldn’t have tried to kill me. And if you get hung up on who killed whom, we’re going to have a very difficult relationship.”

It might have been his imagination, but Durz thought the band around his neck tightened slightly.

He marched on in silence wondering what type of evil woman, evil sorceress could kill an orc and then fuck his friend just feet away from the dead body.

Truly she was much more dangerous than she appeared, though beauty often concealed what was deadly.

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

She sensed the four survivors of the raid shadowing them for most of their hike to the orc’s camp. They were smart enough to know not to attack a second time. Durz remained silent. Sandraste appreciated that.

When the mismatched pair approached the wooden stockade that protected the tiny village, a score of warriors rushed out to surround them.

Durz called to them in their own language. Sandraste, while not fluent, caught enough of what was being said.

“Don’t attack! She’ll kill me! She’s no danger!”

The guards were suspicious, but apparently Durz was trusted or respected enough for them to be escorted inside.

Once the gates were closed behind them, the village was a flurry of activity. All the orcs wanted to see the human woman being escorted to the largest building within the walls. Sandraste didn’t see any females, other than a few children, both male and female, playing and running between the legs of their elders. The bolder males crowded around her and Durz. One was bold enough to lift a hand to touch Sandraste but a single barked word and a growl from Durz stopped him.

The building was made of roughly cut logs and inside was dim and smoky. In many ways it was similar to the hovel Sandraste was raised in until she was taken by the conclave once her magical abilities were revealed.

She was both at ease in this semi-familiar place and disturbed by it.

“Wait here,” Durz grunted at her, leaving her alone in the middle of the large room. There had been guards outside the entrance and a pair stepped inside to observe her. It took no great observational skills to quickly size them up. They were nothing more than low-level warriors pressed into this duty. They were unimportant.

Sandraste sat down in cross-legged fashion. She calmed herself with a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her other senses, especially her extraordinary senses, inform her of everything going on around her.

She hadn’t hoped to gather much information about the village or the tribe or any of the leaders, but she did get lucky. Her third eye allowed her to follow Durz who was brought to the private chambers of the tribe’s leader. 

He was an older male, completely bald as was common among older orcs, but he was no weakling or revered leader because of his age and history. He moved easily and had a powerful build. Like every other orc in the village he had green skin and prominent lower tusks.

The leader and Durz had a quick heated exchange. Because she was only using a third eye to spy on them she couldn’t hear the argument, but there didn’t seem to be any real animosity between the two. Sandraste got the impression the leader trusted and valued Durz but bringing an interloper into their village was a danger.

Sandraste smiled. That was true, but they both were underestimating the danger.

She ended the spell as the two left the room and headed to where Sandraste was waiting.

She smoothly stood and adopted a casual pose. Both orcs, accompanied by more guards, entered the hall. Even more orcs pressed in behind Durz and his leader. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Sandraste said politely in the orc dialect she was most familiar with.

That immediately flustered the leader who curled back his lip. “Who are you to say such things,” he growled at her in the northern orc dialect. “You are an invader and now a prisoner. You killed one of my tribe. You come here thinking you can parlay with us? Why should we not kill you right now?”

“You can certainly try,” she said calmly. “But I mean your tribe no harm. I came to the north for magical research. Your scouts, this one here, Durz, can tell you he found me in the Circle of Wonder not far from here. They accosted me. They attacked me. I defended myself.”

Her words didn’t placate him at all. “We don’t go to that place. It is forbidden. We saw your smoke and investigated.” He wasn’t nearly as bellicose as he could have been. He obviously knew she was a powerful magic-user and wanted more information before doing something rash. He was an intelligent orc; he wouldn’t have risen to his position if he wasn’t smart and cunning.

Sandraste gave him a second look. He wasn’t ugly for an orc. He had an old scar along one cheek that extended down to his neck. A near-deadly wound he had somehow survived. 

“The human kingdom to the south, across the sea is in turmoil,” she said, getting to the point of her journey. “The king has disrupted the Wizard Conclave. War is coming. You need to ready yourselves.”

“Human wars don’t concern us.”

“Human wars have a way of spilling over to other regions.”

“We are not weak.”

Sandraste gave a small sniff, knowing he wouldn’t miss the meaning. “When human wars break out, they always go looking for more powerful weapons. There is a powerful weapon less than a day’s walk from here. The Circle of Wonder.”

The orc leader folded his arms and remained silent. 

“I have a proposition for you,” she said. “Allow me to use the Circle of Wonder and I will protect this village from invaders, human and non-human alike.”

He snorted. “You? Protect us?”

Sandraste spread her arms. Her hands glowed. The orc leader’s brow furrowed and he gestured for the guards to move forward, but when they did so each guard, and every orc in the building except for the leader, suddenly found it difficult to breathe. They started choking and fell to their knees, scrabbling at their throats trying to pry away invisible, insubstantial fingers.

“Yes. Protect you,” she said calmly. “An alliance. If you prefer, you can just allow me to use the Circle and ignore me, though that will win you nothing. Or I can kill every last orc in this village and be done with you.”

“Release my warriors,” he threatened her, his fists balling up. There were plenty of weapons within reach but he restrained himself.

“Choose now,” she ordered. “Or watch them die. Watch your entire village die. And then you will die yourself.”

His lips curled back in anger. “Alliance,” he grunted. He was no fool.

The sorceress dropped her hands. The warriors all took in deep gasps of air.

“Excellent,” she said. “Send out your warriors and we shall discuss the details of our alliance.”

He nodded and gave the order. Soon they were alone, but only after Durz had given them both a distrustful glare before leaving.

“I have my shamans and lieutenants discuss treaties,” said the leader.

Sandraste merely nodded. “You may call me Sande. What is your name?”

“Mugdul.”

“Wonderful. The only thing to discuss is that I will do everything I can to protect your tribe and village. You promise not to disturb my magical research and allow me to come and go in the village as I please.”

Mugdul grunted. “A simple treaty. Do we seal this in words or in blood?”

Sandraste looked the orc up and down. “I prefer another way to seal the bargain.”

“What?”

“The only way a woman and an orc can truly trust each other.” It was an easy thing to open up her robes and drop them to the compacted dirt floor. 

Mugdul’s eyes opened wide, viewing the naked body of the sorceress. As leader of his tribe he had his pick of mates and currently had three back in his private residence. Two were currently carrying his offspring and he was working actively on the third. It was not unusual for other females in the tribe to flirt with him, to curry his favor, to take a step up in status. 

He should not have been tempted by the weak body of a human female.

In truth, he was sorely tempted.

Her skin was pale with light brown nipples and a dark triangle of hair covering her cunt. There was a certain beauty to her though she couldn’t hold a candle to a strong orcress. 

“You expose yourself to your new ally?” asked Mugdul, not willing to play her game.

“No. I fuck him. Get your cock out and we’ll seal our bargain.”

He grunted but didn’t immediately move. Observing her he noted her eyes were directed at his crotch.

“You’re hard,” she said. “And sporting an impressive bulge. Let’s see if you measure up to the other orcs I’ve fucked.”

“You question my cock?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. But I’ll only play politics and power with an orc who can handle his cock.”

Mugdul didn’t know why her words angered him more than they should have. But they also made him excited and eager. As much as he wanted to fuck her just after seeing her naked, that urge was redoubled after her teasing.

He grunted once more and quickly stripped off his clothing, but left on his loincloth. Sandraste approached him with confidence, something he hadn’t seen in many, if any, orcresses. She saw scars all over his body, evidence of his prowess in battle and his ability to survive.

Kissing him was unusual because of his prominent tusks. Orcs weren’t partial to kissing but that wasn’t a problem because after tasting his mouth with her tongue she quickly slid down his body, covering the green skin with little kisses, pausing at his nipples which disturbed and aroused him, before sinking all the way to her knees.

Tugging off his loincloth was only made difficult because of his erection. It was impressive but not intimidating. Her mouth was warm and wet around him, but was unlike an orcress’s oral attention because of Sandraste’s lack of tusks. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it. 

Mugdul groaned as Sandraste managed to swallow all of his thick length, pausing to look up at him when he was completely within her mouth and throat. He said nothing; she wasn’t capable of speaking. 

He never would have admitted it to his warriors, his bodyguard, his most trusted advisors, even his three mates, but he shivered with delight as she cupped his balls with one hand and stroked behind them with the finger of her other hand. She was getting dangerously close to his back entrance and that he didn’t want to contemplate…even though he wanted it.

Abruptly she backed off. “Is there no bed in here?”

He grunted. “We feast and confer in here. It is not a place to fuck.”

“Where is your throne?” she asked.

Mugdul shook his head. “That is a human device.”

“I don’t want to fuck in the dirt.”

Once more Mugdul grunted. He went to a line of chests along one wall and pulled out several large rugs. The room had five low tables to accommodate orcs eating while seated on the floor. He spread the rugs creating an ersatz but acceptable bed.

“Very good,” she said and lay down on her back, spreading her legs, and raising her knees.

Mugdul looked at her. “You want to fuck like an orc, not a human?”

“I have exotic tastes.” She ran a hand down her body, cupping a breast and pinching the nipple, before it landed between her legs. He saw a pair of fingers disappear into her cunt.

Fascinated, he kept staring. Sandraste fondled herself as he watched and then she brought her fingers up to her mouth and tasted her amrita. No orcress would ever do that. Or at least he had never seen one do it.

“Are you going to fuck me, or not? Do you want this alliance, or not?”

While never having fucked a sorceress before, he wanted her in a way he couldn’t verbalize. He grunted and knelt down between her legs, supporting his weight on his forearms. Sandraste grabbed his cock and guided it to her entrance. 

“Hard and throbbing,” she said softly as she inserted it between her nether lips.

Once he was aligned, Mugdul did as he had with all his mates and lovers. He shoved his cock in as deep and hard as he could.

Sandraste gasped at the sudden intrusion and then laughed at the thrill of pain it had given her. “Orcs are a different breed, aren’t they? Fuck me,” she all but begged him. “Fuck me hard.”

She wanted to be humiliated by an orc; Mugdul could rise to that occasion. He pulled back and slammed his cock into her as hard as he could. She grunted at the impact and grinned up at him. “That’s it. You know how to fuck like a man.”

He started slamming in and out of her. She met each impact of his body against her but tilting up her hips to better receive him. She moaned and sighed at his enthusiasm.

“You like that, human slut?”

“Fuck yes! Is this how you fuck your orcress slatterns?”

“Yes. I fuck them like worthless sluts. They love it.”

“Do you like fucking them in the ass?”

He hadn’t expected her to say that. Such an act was anathema to orc ethos. Naturally many of them did it but never admitted to doing it. 

When he didn’t answer her and just kept fucking, she reached down between the bodies and somehow managed to grab his ball sack. “Can you cum in me like a real orc?” she half asked and half demanded as she twisted the sack.

He came hard in her.

Mugdul would never admit to how pleasurable it was cumming in the human sorceress’s pussy, but it was novel and different and maybe that’s what made it better.

Sandraste was lightly laughing as he finished his orgasm, his body slightly trembling with aftershocks as she patted his back in appreciation of how well he had fucked her.

“You are a beast and an artist with that cock,” she complimented him.

The orc just grunted and heaved himself off her body. They lay next to each other a minute, him panting heavily and her breathing deeply enjoying the sparkles of pleasure that tingled her body. 

“I know how to fuck,” he grunted. “All my mates say so.”

She ignored his comment. “Tomorrow I will continue my research at the Circle of Wonder. You’ll provide a bodyguard for me. Tonight, you’ll have given me a safe place to sleep.”

“I should fuck you all night,” he grunted. 

“You don’t have the energy,” she told him.

He found that was true. He didn’t realize how she was controlling and influencing him.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

“I had the most pleasant rest last night,” said Sandraste. 

Durz was walking three paces behind her and said nothing. He didn’t even have the pleasure of staring at her ass as they walked because she wore shapeless robe instead of proper leggings like an orcress.

“It was very nice of your king Mugdul to give me a safe place to stay during my studies.”

“He’s not the king.”

“Emperor? Prince? Baron? Overlord? What do you call him?”

“Just leader. Warlord or war chief if we’re fighting another tribe.”

“How boring. You should have better titles.”

“Orcs have no need of titles. We know who we are.”

“You sound angry.” Somehow the walk back to the Circle of Wonder was easier than going to the orc village.

“I’m not.”

To Sandraste’s ears, he was.

“Are you jealous that I fucked Mugdul?”

Durz growled. “No.”

“I’ve noted that orc culture is male-centric and the more powerful male members of your tribe tend to gather several females and keep them as possessions.”

“As is only right.”

Sandraste laughed. “How backwards of you and your tribe.”

“You’re the one looking for help from us.”

“Hmm…” she ducked under a branch and turned back to look at Durz. He glared at her but couldn’t help himself and glanced at her cleavage. If nothing else, the human had impressive tits, not huge, but perfectly proportioned for her body. “True. It must have been so emasculating for Mugdul to be forced to have sex with me.”

Durz frowned. “You shouldn’t have fucked him.”

“Why not?”

“His mates will become jealous. It will cause problems for him and the families of his mates.”

“That’s not my problem. But your tribe better get used to disruption. I’m going to need them. I need an army. I need warriors. I’m starting with your tribe. They will be very easy to control.”

He laughed at her. “You think so?”

She rolled her shoulders which did wonderful things to her tits. “I’ve already done so. Orcs, as far as I know, always kill interlopers and invaders. Not only did you and your scouts and your entire tribe fail to kill me, but I walked into the middle of your village and fucked your leader and put him under my control.”

“No you didn’t,” Durz contradicted her but his words held no power. They both knew it was just bluster coming out of his mouth.

“What part of that wasn’t true?”

“You didn’t put Mugdul under your control.”

“Didn’t I?”

He waved his hand. “Bah! You’re a fool. Why would you tell me all this anyway? You are a fool.”

“You can be my ally or you can be just another orc in my army who will throw his life away in a war that doesn’t concern him.”

He snorted at her.

“A body for the war machine then,” she decided for him.

“You think you can control us so easily!” he raged at her while she blithely walked on. 

“Yes. I already control Mugdul. He was easy. I’ll admit that you have much more mental fortitude, but you’ll fall under my spell soon enough.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Or you won’t,” she agreed and continued on, “and maybe you’ll die in some battle Mugdul orders the warriors into. Maybe you won’t. You certainly won’t get to use my cunt again.”

“As if that’s an enticement.”

“Where is your mate?” she challenged him.

Durz frowned and then bared his tusks at her. “Dead.”

She paused. “My condolences. Did you love her?”

He didn’t answer and just walked around the sorceress as she paused on the game trail they had been following.

She pursued him. “I fully intend on forming a harem. Males are easy to control when they are competing against each other.”

“Orcs are not men.”

“I didn’t say they were. You can be inside my harem or outside it, the choice is yours. If you choose to be inside it,” she paused and licked her lips before saying, “you can be prime above all other males.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Is it better to rule or to be ruled?” she asked him.

“What if I tell Mugdul what you have planned?”

“He won’t believe you. He is a forceful warrior, but his fortitude is nothing compared to yours. He came from a powerful family, yes? He didn’t have everything handed to him, but he had an easy time rising to the top, aided by cousins and brothers, am I right? And you, you Durz, probably came from a family of little note and when you rose up to lead that little squadron to capture me, that was the height of your power. You know you’re not rising any higher. You know Mugdul trusts you but he favors his own family. You can rule at my side or you can be just another body sacrificed to the war gods.”

He glared at her and said nothing. She pushed by and he watched her walk along the path. They were close now to the Circle of Wonder. It would be easy enough to bash her over the head with his war club and be done with it. 

Or maybe he wanted to see her blood flow. Slipping his dagger between her ribs and slicing her heart would be just as easy. 

Or maybe he would cut her throat, not giving her the chance to call out as she was killed.

He was lost in his thoughts for a minute and realized she had gone along the curve of the path, disappearing from his view.

Durz hurried to catch up. He knew she was just ahead but he had to run to find her. It seemed she was always just out of reach, just beyond his hearing. His pursuit suddenly turned into a headlong rush in a desperate attempt to catch her. It was one thing to murder the sorceress, but it was another entirely to lose her in the woods, to find her dead from some animal attack. That would only bring shame to him and his family.

He ran. He was certain he would be punished for his failure. It seemed he ran forever but just when he was reaching the point of exhaustion, he rounded the last curve and suddenly burst into the clearing of the Circle of Wonder.

Sandraste was already there, studying her large book, unconcerned with his abrupt appearance as he crashed through the limbs of a tree. She barely glanced his way as she studied the carvings of one of the stones.

His lips curled back and he growled again. 

After looking around the clearing to make sure there was no threat, he wandered to the forest edge and sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She didn’t even turn her head this time.

Durz had planned ahead. He brought food and tools. The food to eat. The tools to maintain his weapons. He spent the next hour sharpening his dagger. There were worse ways to pass the afternoon. He just wished it wasn’t so cold.

When Sandraste created a small fire he wandered the edge of the stones to see what she was doing. He couldn’t tell if the fire was for a ritual or for warmth or for something else. 

He went back to his log.

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much. He might have drifted off to a short nap. 

All he knew was that when he woke, Sandraste was calling for him.

“Durz! Durz! I have need of your help.”

He grunted and pushed off the log, wiping his face in an effort to wake up quickly. “Can’t even take a godsdamned nap without her being a pain in the ass.”

Rounding one of the larger upright stones that had been blocking his direct view of the sorceress, he stopped in his tracks. 

The sorceress had once again removed her robes. He knew he should have expected something like this, but for some reason he hadn’t prepared himself. As much as he hated it, he found her attractive. Attractive enough to fuck. Without wanting it to happen, his cock got hard. His leather armor wasn’t exactly skin tight but there wasn’t much room for him to grow. 

She was crouched on the stone table that was commonly identified as the altar the ancients used when holding their religious ceremonies in the Circle of Wonder. There were no obvious enemies around. She didn’t seem in distress. Nothing was amiss.

“What do you need?” he demanded as he approached her. 

Her eyes locked onto his. “Blood,” she hissed. “Your blood.”

He dropped one hand to his dagger and the other to his war club. 

“I’m no sacrifice,” he growled.

She laughed. “I would use my own, but this spell calls for orc blood. I don’t need much. Just a drop or two.”

He didn’t trust her. But he couldn’t simply refuse her request. 

Or could he?

He wanted to refuse.

But he wanted to curry favor from Mugdul as well.

Fuck.

He drew his dagger. “You need my blood?”

She moved so fast he couldn’t follow her motions. She had a small silver knife in her hand and she slashed it over the top of his hand, letting a rivulet of blood break free of his skin. Moving just as quickly she grabbed a silver bowl, turned his hand over and let the blood drip into it. The bowl contained some herbs. 

Too late he yanked his hand back. She upended the bowl’s contents into the fire. It exploded in a burst of bright yellow light. Sandraste reached into the fire and pulled out a handful of ashes. Durz was certain her hand was going to burn.

It didn’t.

She smeared the ashes across her chest and then her forehead.

Her eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light. “I can see everything,” she announced. Her voice was unworldly. 

Durz shrank back. 

The sorceress jumped back up on the altar and crouched once more, looking all around. She then changed her stance, getting down on all fours. 

Durz couldn’t look away. 

Her ass was pointed directly at him. He could see her exposed sex.

His cock throbbed and he wanted her.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked in that disturbing voice. “I need your cock and you want to use it.”

“Fuck,” he cursed. “She’s not normal,” he said under his breath.

She laughed.

“No. I am not human. I am not orc. I am something more.” She peered over her shoulder at him. He was unsettled by her glowing eyes. “You can fuck me or I’ll take the rest of your blood, but I will have you.”

He was convinced that his life was already forfeit. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

Clenching his dagger in the wounded hand, he advanced on her. Sandraste lowered her face and chest to the stone altar, raising up her ass. She was his for the taking.

Durz pulled at the laces to his breeches, climbed up on the altar behind her, and lowered them enough to get out his cock. He laid his dagger down next to her, grabbed her hips, and shoved his cock deep into her cunt.

“Yes!” Sandraste screamed as she was fucked. Her voice reverberated off the stones. It was what she wanted and needed.

The orc kept one hand on her hip and the other he moved to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her long black hair. He couldn’t help himself. He fucked her in that position, fucking her as a human would, the wrong way.

He could kill her anytime, but he was fucking her now. Her cunt was a marvel to fill. It was better than any cunt he had ever fucked. Better even than—

He screamed aloud as he fucked her harder.

Sandraste accepted his violent use of her sex. It was passionate and angry. It was what she needed. It was what they both wanted.

Durz thought of himself as a lover any orcress would happily bed. He didn’t just fuck and leave; he made sure his partners were satisfied as well. He wanted this to last. 

He couldn’t make it go longer.

He came. He came hard and shot his seed deep into her cunt. She cried out in triumph at her insemination. He grunted loudly as his climax forced itself out of his body. Durz abruptly found himself at the end of his strength and collapsed on Sandraste. 

Somehow she managed to stay on hands and knees, supporting all of Durz’s weight.

It was a long time before his cock shrank enough to withdraw from her. When that happened he collapsed back onto his heels, still holding her hips, panting heavily.

“That’s how an orc properly fucks,” he told her.

“It was adequate,” she replied, not looking at him. Her voice was back to normal. The yellow light had mostly faded from her eyes but was still lingering. She then reached between her legs and wiped away his leavings. He watched her in curiosity. 

Sandraste then picked up the dagger and sliced into the back of her left hand. She dripped this blood into the bowl of ashes and added Durz’s semen, creating a thick mixture she then smeared on top of the two stripes already on her body.

“What are you doing?” he asked her. He knew it was a terrible idea to get involved in the affairs of wizards and witches, but he had already been dragged into this situation.

“Just a binding spell,” she muttered as she climbed off the stone altar.

“Binding what?” he demanded.

She turned around and gave him a malevolent smile. “Binding your tribe to me.” He noted the light had faded from her eyes. Mostly.

Durz snorted and shook his head. “You can’t do that. It’s not possible.”

“You are an expert on magic?” she asked him.

“I know enough.” He took in a breath. “I can feel that I don’t have any feelings or obligations to you.”

She scoffed at him. “Don’t you?”

“No.”

“You just fucked me. Did you want to do that?” she questioned him.

“You don’t control me. You can’t force me to do what you want. I live fierce and free.”

She nodded. “Very good. It’s time to return to the village.”

Despite the situation, Durz found himself more disturbed than he wanted to let on. He put his clothes back in order, lacing up his breeches and tightening the chest piece of his leather armor. She calmly put her robes back on.

They marched through the woods in silence. Durz was starting to hate this duty more than he had before.

It was with great satisfaction that upon their return to the village, nothing seemed to have changed. They were admitted through the gates, the guards acknowledging him while all but ignoring Sandraste. 

It was his intention to abandon her and return to his tent, but before he could break off, she said, “Walk with me to Mugdul’s tent.”

He paused, considering the request. It would be correct to report to Mugdul after guarding Sandraste for the day. 

The only thing to do was to follow behind the slightly built sorceress to Mugdul’s tent. Much to Durz’s surprise the guards outside the hide tent stretched over wooden poles simply let her pass. He followed.

Inside the tent was poorly illuminated and was smoky from the warming fire, but Durz could see all three of Mugdul’s mates, two fat with babies in their wombs and the third feeding the tribe’s leader. The orcresses were all topless, showing off their large breasts.

Durz expected Mugdul to be offended and angered at the sorceress’s appearance. He further expected the leader’s mates to cover their nudity. Neither of those things came to pass. 

“Sorceress,” Mugdul greeted her. He ignored Durz.

“Mugdul,” she replied. “Have you tried to impregnate this one yet today?” Sandraste gestured to the youngest of the three orcresses, the one who was feeding Mugdul.

“I was going to take her after my evening meal.” He wiped his face. “I’m almost done.”

Durz was surprised at his leader’s lack of anger. Surely the war chief had some greater plan.

Sandraste once more threw off her robes. Durz reflected that he had more often seen the woman naked than dressed. “I have need of your cock,” she said getting down on all fours and offering herself to him.

Durz was surprised that the sorceress would do such a thing, not because he had fucked her just an hour earlier, but because she was offering herself to Mugdul in the submissive position humans used.

The orcresses were clearly unhappy with the human female’s ploy to copulate with their mate. The eldest and most heavily pregnant of them started to rise from her couch but Mugdul waved her off. She felt silent and didn’t move; she knew the risk of Mugdul’s wrath.

He got off his couch and pushed off his tunic and loincloth, showing off an already erect cock. “Watch, mates,” he said to the females. “This is how an orc warrior proves his dominance on the battlefield.”

This was no battlefield. The abuse of captives after a battle hadn’t been tolerated in the tribe ever since Mugdul had become war chief. 

He knelt behind the supplicating Sandraste and shoved his cock into her cunt. She grunted once as he began to fuck her hard and fast with no foreplay, something a female orc would never abide.

Durz watched as the two rutted. Sandraste seemed to enjoy the leader’s cock. Mugdul certainly wasn’t complaining. The three orcresses were clearly uncomfortable in being forced to observe the two’s fornication. 

As the intensity of their fucking increased Durz wasn’t sure if his leader was fucking the sorceress’s cunt or ass. Maybe it didn’t matter.

 Sandraste gave every indication of enjoying her hard fucking Mugdul abruptly withdrew his cock and pumped the organ with his fist before exploding his orgasm all over Sandraste’s ass and back.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment’s respite. She stood and wiped the thick semen from her skin and pulled her robes back on. “You and I will need to discuss strategy and tribal plans tonight.”

Durz was taken aback. It was not her right to speak to Mugdul that way; she was essentially taking control of the tribe.

“Your time in the Circle of Wonder was fruitful?” asked the big orc as he moved back to his couch and gestured for a horn of ale.

“Very much so.”

Sandraste gave Durz a look and exited the tent.

 

Chapter 5

 

The vast majority of female orcs were happy to stay in the village, attend to the needs of the people, and raise babies. A very few were the adventurous sort and joined the warriors. These orcresses were feared for their ferocity. There were only two orcress warriors in Durz’s village. He avoided them.

He didn’t like it when Mugdul made it his assigned duty to be Sandraste’s bodyguard on their raid of the scarlet tribe. Orcs were highly tribal, separated primarily by the color of their skin. Mugdul’s tribe had deep green skin and were known as the moss tribe. Other tribes had yellow, black, blue, and even mottled hues. War was not unknown among the tribes but lately they had been content to live in relative harmony.

Durz didn’t question how Sandraste had convinced Mugdul to raid their neighbors. He knew how. She had some sort of sexual control over him. Mugdul was happy to comply because he wanted to be a powerful leader of as many orcs as possible.

Durz had his doubts. 

The raid was conducted perfectly. The scarlets were taken unawares just before sunrise. Their warriors were unprepared. The females were easily subdued. The children ran away. In previous wars children would usually be murdered, but Mugdul gave orders for them to be allowed to run away. They would either return to their parents or starve in the forest. 

Ordered to stay with Sandraste, Durz was expecting to do little to nothing. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

As soon as the warriors attacked, Sandraste rushed into the fray, using her magic to immobilize as many enemy warriors as possible. Mugdul, in contrast to traditional orc warfare, told his warriors to capture as many enemies as possible, not to kill when it wasn’t necessary, and allow surrender.

The battle wasn’t bloodless, but deaths were limited. It was Sandraste who paralyzed the scarlet war chief and forced his surrender by ordering Durz to intimidate the defeated tribe. 

Only one warrior among the scarlet refused to lay down his arms and surrender. Four mosses had him cornered and were reluctant to rush in and kill him. He wore the ornamentation and armor of a champion. He was a sport among orcs, standing a head taller than the largest of the mosses. 

Summoned to the altercation, Sandraste approached with Durz and Mugdul.

“Shoot the damned thing with arrows,” Mugdul ordered two of his warriors. 

The moment they started to draw back their bows, Sandraste stepped forward, blocking their shots. “No. I have need of this one. I need him alive.”

“Shoot him in the leg,” Mugdul ordered and his archers stepped to the side to take their shots

“No!” Sandraste swept her hands in the air, forcing the archers’ bows aside, making their arrows fly well off target. They looked to their war chief. 

“Then you capture him,” he growled at the one human in the battle.

“Gladly.” She approached the four hard-pressed warriors barely containing the scarlet champion. “Back off.”

The big champion was puzzled at the approach of the slightly built sorceress. He brandished his battle axe and prepared to cleave her in half. Sandraste spoke several words and circled her arms just as the champion charged forward to attack. From nowhere appeared several bands of yellow light that clamped tightly around the champion’s big body. He was forced to drop his axe as he stumbled forward before sprawling in the mud. 

His bellow of anger filled the ravine where the scarlet tribe had built their village. None of the invaders reacted. He rolled around in the mud trying to force off the magical bands. His efforts were useless.

“Bind him with rope before the spell ends.” She turned around and marched away. The warriors obeyed. Durz was unsettled that his tribe was now being controlled by a human, a magic-user, a sorceress. 

 

The moss village had only a few permanent structures. The main hall was one of them. The champion was imprisoned in a ruined stone building not used by the villagers. It had existed at the edge of the village for as long as anyone could remember. It didn’t seem to have a purpose, but the stone walls and thick door made a perfect prison. It was small, only twenty feet on a side with a few broken walls inside, but it didn’t need to be huge. Orcs didn’t keep prisoners. 

Durz escorted Sandraste to the entrance. “You shouldn’t go in.”

“I’m perfectly safe.” She tilted her head to the side. “Are you worried about me?”

He frowned. “No. But Mugdul wants you kept safe.”

She touched his jaw with her fingertips and smiled. “You’re sweet to worry.” Faster than he could follow, she went up on the toes of her boots, kissed him lightly on the lips, and then slipped inside the ersatz jail. He grunted but didn’t follow.

The past week before the raid had been a sort of bliss for him. He knew she was doing something, using her magic, to influence him and the tribe. Every day they would go to the Circle of Wonder and they would fuck on the stone altar in the middle of the circle. It had been a long time since Durz had a regular partner for sex. He liked fucking Sandre but he couldn’t let her know that.

He still missed his mate.

Inside the crumbling prison Sandraste regarded the bound champion. He was huge. Orcs were the same size as humans and she was an average sized woman. He was more than a head and half taller than her and seemed to be more muscle than anything else. 

Chains and iron bars had been sunk into the stonework and he still strained against his bindings. He was standing up against the wall. His legs and arms, wrists and ankles, were bound to the stone by iron bands. A chain was attached to an iron collar around his neck. Several bands pinned his torso to the wall. He had been stripped of everything except his loincloth. 

He growled at her when she rounded the wall that separated him from the rest of the building’s space. There was a rough latticework of iron bars between the champion and Sandraste but it was a largely meaningless barrier. 

She studied him for a minute. Naturally he was muscular and there were scars all over his body. Somehow that made him more attractive to Sandraste’s eyes. As she studied him he flexed his muscles, testing his strength against his iron bindings.

“Impressive,” she said, “but I’ve already hardened the iron and stone with magic. You aren’t escaping.”

“What do you want?” he barked at her. His accent was thick; she was unfamiliar with the dialect but understood him well enough.

“What is your name?” she asked mildly, perching herself on a stable pile of stone. 

“Omokk,” he spat at her.

She smiled. His name was remarkably similar to an archaic word in orcish that translated to “bitch”.

“What do I want, Omokk? I simply want your submission.”

“Never.”

“The rest of your tribe has already capitulated to Mugdul. I’ll allow you the honor of submitting to me.”

“No.” He grunted and refused to look at her.

Her smile welcomed the challenge he invited. “I think you will,” she said as she loosened the ties on her robes. 

Seeing the motion out of the corner of his eye, he turned back to study the shapely sorceress as she dropped her robes to the ground. Underneath she was naked which Omokk found a terrible choice in clothing because any breeze under her robes would invariably chill her. He found it interesting that she wore soft brown leather boots that reached up to her knees. 

Still he looked and studied her. By any impartial judge she was an attractive woman with an equally alluring body. She had all the right curves and full breasts. The only thing an orc would possibly find off-putting was her pale skin. Orcs preferred their mates to have skin with color, not just pallidness. Sandraste’s was ghostly white which contrasted highly with her black hair. 

Omokk didn’t find her attractive, but not only because of her pale skin.

She approached him and using a small knife quickly cut away his loincloth, taking away the last of his dignity.

Sandraste had high hopes for the captive. She was…unimpressed. His cock was soft and while not tiny, it was much less than she had hoped for. It took her a moment, and taking his masculinity into her hand, to realize he was no bigger or smaller than most cocks she had encountered in her life, but it looked smaller on his body because he was so large.

It was nice that it was dark red compared to the rest of his reddish body.

“Shy?” she asked him.

“No.”

“You’re soft,” she commented unnecessarily. 

“So?”

“”Are you scared or shy?” she asked but didn’t expect an answer. There was only one thing to do in this sort of situation. She went down on her knees and took his organ into her mouth.

Sandraste sucked him eagerly. She was always open to new partners regardless of how she encountered them. The sorceress had no qualms against taking advantage of a prisoner, especially one as exotic as this one. She had certainly done worse in her time.

After several minutes the sorceress was angry at herself and the orc for his lack of response. Never before had any of her partners failed to respond to her oral attentions.

Spitting out his cock, she asked, “Are you impotent? Can’t get hard? All muscles and no fucking?”

“You aren’t my type,” he snapped at her.

Her smile was twisted. “A traditional man. Can only get it up for a pretty orcress. I can make that happen.”

Jumping up from her knees, Sandraste wrapped her robes around her body and quickly exited the prison, leaving Omokk alone and naked.

He wasn’t alone for all that long. It couldn’t have been much more than a quarter of an hour later when the sorceress reappeared, this time with two others in tow.

Both were orcs, one male and one female. The orcress was young and the orc had discerning eyes, Omokk could easily see that. Both were green-skins, moss tribe, but that was to be expected.

“Do you want us to watch while you torture the prisoner?” asked Durz.

“Of course not. Torture is an ineffective technique at gathering information and convincing former enemies to become allies. Kavni, if you will see to the needs of our guest?”

Kavni, the youngest of the war chief’s mates, and the only one not currently with child, smiled and fell to her knees in front of the powerfully built red orc. She told herself she wasn’t betraying Mugdul, but merely fulfilling a request from the sorceress. Sandraste was always persuasive and it was just easier to do as she asked.

Sucking the red orc’s cock—and whatever else the sorceress or the prisoner wanted—was more a treat than a chore. 

Sandraste rubbed Durz’s arm as Kavni got to work. “I love watching others fuck, don’t you?” she all but purred to the warrior.

Durz was no fool. He knew that he was the one to share Sandre’s bed more than any other orc in the tribe. More than Mugdul, more than anyone. He wasn’t ashamed of copulating with the human, but he knew she was exerting more influence over him than he liked. But, strangely, she seemed to manipulate him less than everyone else in the tribe. 

“It’s fine,” he grunted as he watched. Durz wasn’t averse to watching others fuck, but this was strange. Then again, everything with Sandraste was strange.

Kavni was a desirable young orcress. She had strong limbs, deep green skin, full tits and a large ass. Mugdul had assured Sandraste that his youngest mate was a talented cocksucker and had even speculated that she wasn’t pregnant because he preferred to use her mouth over her cunt because of her cocksucking skills. 

The sorceress was putting the tools she had at hand to good use. She was patient and split her attention between watching Kavni with Omokk and caressing Durz, feeling his cock through his breeches. As much as he didn’t want to respond to Sandraste, Durz found himself under her spell. His body always responded to her touch. He couldn’t help his cock getting hard when she showed him the least bit of attention. He hated himself for that. 

He would still fuck her when she asked, however. 

“Enjoying the show?” Sandraste asked Durz as Kavni focused on sucking the red orc’s cock.

Durz just grunted. The sorceress was used to that sort of answer. She was fine with it because the bulge in his pants was growing larger. One thing Sandraste appreciated about the orcs was their willingness to fuck in front of others. They didn’t have nearly the same sort of hangups about fucking as most humans.