The horn sounded, cutting through the bustling thrum of the orc camp as the gates swung open. Boars young and old gathered to watch as the human entourage rode through, high above the orcish men on their mounts with their forms completely covered by their heavy armor. Ten soldiers in all, leading a bound, gagged, and chained prisoner on a horse of his own. Murmurs surged through the crowd as they recognized the human, even without his usual regalia. That blond, short-cropped hair and beard, slightly graying at the temples. Those icy blue eyes that darted over the gathered orcs as the expression on his face twisted into revulsion and rage. That was the human lord who ‘owned’ the lands on which the tribe had built their camp, and who had sent sorties of his own soldiers to drive the orcs off of it. But who were the others?

The group of humans finally made their way to the center square of the camp, and their apparent leader dismounted and pulled his helmet off. His exotic features caused even more of a stir among the watching orcs as he turned and called out, “I request an audience with the chief of the Crawden River Tribe!”

“Ain’t never heard a’ him.” The crowd grew silent as a massively-built, grey-haired orc stepped out of the large tent before the human entourage. He, like the rest of the tribe, was completely naked and shameless as he strode toward the human. An observer would think he was completely unconcerned with the intrusion into the camp, scratching the base of his heavily-swinging shaft as he affected a wide, tusk-baring yawn; but his shrewd yellow eyes glanced over the armor the human was wearing, and then up to the battle standards carried by the two guards flanking the main line. “But if it’s Chief Ogruzz of the Lowland River yer lookin’ fer, then I’m yer man. And who the raunchy fuck’re you supposed ta be?”

The human leader smiled, seemingly ignoring Chief Ogruzz’s crudeness, and crossed an arm over his chest as he bowed low with a smile. “It is an honor to meet you, Chief Ogruzz. I am Silas Delante, general of the Cresian forces.”

Cresia; one of the countries to the East. Chief Ogruzz stroked his beard and grunted. “N’ what’s a Cresian general doin’ in me camp?”

“I won’t bore you with the details, but the Cresian forces have begun a righteous campaign of conquest against this kingdom. We have already taken this province—“Ogruzz raised an eyebrow at that, but otherwise kept his expression a stony mask; the last thing his tribe needed was to get caught between two human kingdoms fighting over the land like dogs with a scrap of meat—“and have come offering an alliance.”

“Have ya, now?”

Delante rose up from his bow, still smiling. “Our alliances with the orcish tribes in Cresia have been a valuable arrow in the quiver of our military might, and we wish only to extend offers of peace between your men and ours as we continue our campaign. If you will not fight beside us, then we ask only for your noninterference.”

“So keep our snouts outta yer business, aye?” Again, the chief’s thick fingers stroked his beard, and then moved down to scratch at his chest. “N’ I’m guessin’ in return ye won’t put all’ve our heads on yer pikes. Don’t sound like a very even alliance ta me.”

“Please be assured, that is far from our intentions. The Cresian orcs are valuable allies, and I sincerely wish that you and the other tribes of this country prove to be the same.” Delante gestured, and the horse carrying the captive was lead forward. “As proof of our sincerity, we offer our prisoner—the former Lord Robert Crawden—as a gift to you and your tribe.” Again he met Ogruzz’s gaze, nodding to the orc chieftain. “We’ve heard tales of the trouble he has caused to you.”

Ogruzz grunted, glaring hatefully at Crawden and receiving a fiery glower in return. “Me n’ me boars’ll sleep easier at night knowin’ he ain’t in charge no more, let’s say dat.” The orc chief felt the eyes of the tribe on him as he regarded the Cresian general once more. “But you, I ain’t sure about either.”

“What can I do to prove my intentions?”

“You could show me yer dick. Lemme see if yer even worth talkin’ to.”

Delante laughed, belly-deep and without a trace of mockery. “Ah, forgive me. T’is been a while since I’ve been able to appreciate how open you orcs are.” Without another word or any complaint, Delante immediately began removing his armor. The watching crowd murmured, but the human entourage remained silent and stone-faced—the only movement from them was one of Delante’s subordinates dismounting to collect his general’s armor and, as they were slipped off as well, his underclothes. Finally, Delante stood before the chief, just as naked as the orcs of the tribe.

The orc chieftain looked the Cresian general up and down, his gaze growing appreciative as he enjoyed what he saw. A good, strong build, well-supported by firm musculature. A nice coating of hair on the human’s chest and down his flat stomach. And a nice-sized cock sitting above a full-looking sack—the foreskin was missing, but that only made the plump, velvety head crowning the human’s shaft all the more apparent. Ogruzz grunted and stepped forward to cup Delante’s ballsack, rolling the orbs in their fleshy pouch, and grinned as Delante’s stance widened to allow the orc full access to his crotch. “…Fuckin’ nice. I think we can work somethin’ out.” The orc chief then glanced to Crawden, who had turned his head away from the sight of his captor and the barbarian chief fraternizing with each other. “Now, what ta do with ‘im.”

Delante’s hand moved to the orc chieftain’s chest, fingers stroking between Ogruzz’s firm pecs and regaining the orc’s attention. Their gazes met, held for a long moment, and then the human general’s hand began to make its way down over the taut flesh of the orc’s gut. Down to rub his fingertips into the sweaty creases at the base of his cock. Down to grasp the meaty shaft dangling between the orc’s strong thighs. Delante rolled the orc chieftain’s foreskin back, and his breath hitched as he took in the heady, fishy musk that wafted from the folds. “If I may make a suggestion, my dear new friend…?”


It didn’t take too long for the human soldiers to construct the strange device at the center of the camp; though they did have to ask for materials from the members of the tribe. A few of the watching orc boars—Chief Ogruzz included—murmured in recognition as it was completed. A pillory, which they had seen in the human towns; and which some had been subjected to themselves. They watched in satisfaction as the former Lord Crawden was roughly stripped nude by the soldiers, what remained of his finery being torn and slashed away from his body as he struggled and shouted muffled profanities through his gag, and finally bent over at the waist so his wrists and neck could be bound in place.

Delante lead Chief Ogruzz forward once the work was complete, letting the orc chief examine his soldiers’ work while gesturing to them to stay at ease. Ogruzz looked down at the hated enemy of his tribe, nude and bare and presented for them all to see; his body, soft and weak like most of the human nobility, jiggling slightly as he struggled in his bindings. He set a hand on Crawden’s arched back, tracing down towards the human’s ass and setting off another round of muffled curses. He gave the fatty mounds of the human captive’s rump a sharp slap to silence Crawden, noting the lack of muscle mass that would have given them the firm roundness he so enjoyed. At least the human was nice and hairy, with a thick blond forest showing in his cleft and running down his front side to Crawden’s—admittedly well-formed, at least—package. Just like he liked it.

“Aye, I thinks we c’n work wit dis.”

Delante bowed again, smile still on his face as he watched the orc give the former Lord Crawden’s ass a few more sharp, ringing slaps. “As I said, he is yours to do with as you please.” He could see angry red handprints began appearing on the captive’s pale asscheeks while Crawden bucked and cried out in the pillory, and could hear the rising guffawing and jeering from the watching orc tribe. “I’m sure that with some work, he will come to appreciate your men as much as we do in Cresia.”

“Prolly take a while.” Ogruzz grasped Crawden’s stinging rump to spread it wide open, exposing the tight pucker buried in between the soft cheeks. He moved down, pressing his face into the cleft, and took a deep sniff while Crawden yelped at the sensation of the orc’s broad snout pressing against the untouched flesh. “Smells like he ain’t never had a dick up this pretty l’il cunt a’ his.”

“I’m almost jealous of him,” Delante said as he sidled up next to Ogruzz. He reached down to grasp the orc chief’s heavy malehood once more, stroking and pumping it; the thick member had already begun pulsing to life as Ogruzz manhandled the captive, and it only took a few moments of Delante tending to it to bring it to full erection. “If this is the first malehood he feels within him.”

“Har, don’t worry, Delly. Ye’ll get’cher turn with it.” The orc chief rose and grinned to the Cresian general as if they were old friends. He reached over to cup Delante’s own firm ass and tug the human in close against his body, letting their cocks brush against each other and over the flesh of Crawden’s hind end. Both men couldn’t help giving each other matching grins at the bone-shaking shudder that ran through Crawden’s bound body, and joined in with the tribe’s laughter at the captive’s expense. “First, though, how’s about you n’ me give dis guy ‘is markin’ as the clan bitch together?”

“Together, Chief Ogruzz?”

“Aye. ‘S only proper fer the one ta bring in the captive ta get a piece a’ him, right?” A firm smack on Delante’s ass—more companionable than the rough spanking he’d given Crawden—made the human general’s cock jump to attention, and Ogruzz’s lips stretched around his tusks into a wide smirk. “We’s still got our alliance ta work out, n’ what better first step’n dis, ey?”

“I bow to your wisdom, my good friend. In the name of our alliance, of course.” Delante’s face flushed at a few murmurs from the crowd, and he even noticed his own men trying to hide their smirking.

“Aye, aye, sure.” Ogruzz said nothing more, but his grin only widened as he led Delante to Crawden’s front end. Again, the captive glared hatefully up at his captors, and began cursing fit to make the hardiest sailor blush as the two men pressed their crotches against either side of his burning face. Thick, rank, cloying orcish musk forced its way into the former lord’s lungs with every breath, mingling with the scent of sweaty Cresian dick. A rough hand fisted in Crawden’s hair, keeping his head in place as the two began humping. Grinding their cocks into his beard and over his shame-reddened cheeks. Letting their balls rub on his chin and his nose in turn. “Har, look at ‘im. Sniffin’ our dicks like a good breedin’ bitch.” Ogruzz pulled his foreskin back and pressed the smut-covered head of his cock right against Crawden’s nostrils; the captive’s eyes rolled in his head as the scent—strong and potent—nearly knocked him out.

“Make ‘im suck it!” The shout rose up from the watching crowd, and was echoed again and again in a growing, enthusiastic roar. “Fuck ‘is mouth, Chief! Blow a load in ‘is gullet!”

Ogruzz grinned to the crowd, stroking himself for them and smacking his pulsing erection against Crawden’s cheeks. “Now dat souns like an idear ta me! Ungag ‘im, Delly.”

The Cresian general nodded, stroking himself as well even as he untied the former Lord Crawden’s gag. The captive spat as the cloth was pulled out of his mouth, and he let out the indignant roar of a wounded, cornered beast at the crowd. “Damn you! Wretched barbarians and Cresian bastards!” His curses were met with more jeering from the tribe as Ogruzz yanked on his hair to silence him.

“Breedin’ bitches don’ get ta damn anyone. Dey takes their dicks n’ likes ‘em.” The orc chief fed his cock into Crawden’s mouth, glaring right into his eyes and pushing past the captive’s tongue as it tried to force the unwashed shaft back out. “I feel even a hint a’ teeth, n’ I’ll personally pull every single one outta yer skull.”

In the end, even though Ogruzz could feel Crawden’s jaw tensing a few times, the captive kept his mouth open and slack to let the orc do as he pleased. Ogruzz snorted—even in his captivity, the human coward cared more about his life than his dignity. Delante watched, stroking and squeezing his cock as he hummed in consideration—orcish musk was well-known for its potency and aphrodisiacal properties, and perhaps the smell and taste of a virile orc chieftain’s malehood was enough to affect even the former lord. The watching orcs murmured and laughed to each other as they pleasured themselves as well—for all his hoity-toity attitude, the former human lord was a dick-gargling slut. Perhaps the truth was somewhere in the middle.

Nevertheless, Chief Ogruzz took over the position at Crawden’s front end. He pumped and slammed his erection into the captive’s mouth and throat to the cheering of his tribe, and whispered into Delante’s ear. The Cresian general grinned, nodded, and moved around to Crawden’s backside to kneel behind the former human lord. As his men and the orc tribe watched, Delante reached between the captive’s legs to pump and squeeze Crawden’s cock and balls while burying his face in the ass before him. Another bout of jeering laughter rose from the crowd as they pressed in closer, watching Crawden buck and moan into the chief’s crotch while the Cresian lapped over and expertly tongued the captive’s hole. They noticed Crawden’s length growing hard from the stimulation—reached down to grope it and the rest of his bound body at a nod from Ogruzz—and masturbated to the sight of the two leaders using their new bitch. Ogruzz, meanwhile, looked down to Crawden’s reluctantly-pleasured face, and wondered just how experienced Delante was with his tongue—how many of the general’s men, how many of his orcish allies back in Cresia, had felt that eager tongue gliding over their rims and pushing inside to caress their inner walls.

Fuck, he wanted to find out for himself.

He groaned, grasping Crawden’s head and bucking against the captive’s face. It only took a few more moments of working into the tight, wet mouth and throat, listening to the former lord gag and groan around his cock, before he finally blew his load with a grunt and a triumphant yell. The captive squirmed as thick ropes of orcish seed were pumped down his gullet to settle heavily in his roiling stomach, while the watching orcs echoed their chief’s orgasmic cries with a raucous cheer. However, the orc chief didn’t seem to be done with his new bitch; he held his softening cock in Crawden’s mouth, panting harshly, and then let out a long, relieved sigh as the former lord began to choke and sputter once more.

“He’s pissin’! The Chief’s pissin’ right down Crawden’ gullet!” The shout drew the attention of the watching orcs and even Delante and his men, who all pressed in to watch the strong-smelling liquid trickle out from between the captive’s lips to soak his short-cropped beard. Ogruzz grinned to the watching men—he loved it when he could show the tribe his strength and virility, and now seeing even the Cresian soldiers pulling their foreskin-less cocks out to stroke off to him was sending pulses to the orc chief’s rejuvenating member—and pulled his length free from the former lord’s mouth. The raunchy, acrid smell of piss filled the air as the dark yellow liquid splashed and splattered on Crawden’s face, stinging his eyes and making him whimper and groan at this new humiliation.

“Dat’s right. Lord Crawden—naw, Cumdump—‘ere loves it. Don’tcha?” Ogruzz cupped the captive’s chin to wrench his face upward. As the last dribbles of his liquid waste flowed over Crawden’s forehead, soaking into his hair, the captive glowered up into the orc chief’s eyes. “Ye love suckling the cum n’ piss right outta a big, strong boar’s dick, eh?”

“Damn… you…”

“Har! Looks like Cumdump needs a bit more coaxin’, mates!” Rumbles of laughter rose from the crowd as the chief smacked Crawden across the face with his revived erection. “Use his cunty l’il face as ye like. Make ‘im yer breedin’ ‘ole n’ toilet. When I’m done wit ‘is arse, ye can do the same back there!” The watching men cheered, surging forward as Chief Ogruzz moved to make his way around to the captive’s prone backside. Crawden—Cumdump—cried out as more musky orc cocks ground against his stained, burning cheeks, rubbed over his lips, and were shoved into his mouth to breed his throat like an onahole. Ogruzz, meanwhile, found Delante in the crowd and dragged the Cresian general along by the arm as they took their place behind the captive. “N’ as fer you, Delly, I want yer tongue up me cunt. Need ta get’cha acquainted with it ‘fore ya breed it, right?”

Delante nodded as he met the chief’s gaze, his dribbling erection pulsing and throbbing. “Yes, I suppose so. For the alliance between our two forces, of course.”

“’Course.” Ogruzz grinned, grasping and kneading and spreading Cumdump’s ass with one hand to push his erection into the hairy cleft while giving Delante’s own backside a squeeze with the other. As the orc chief ground his length over the captive’s tight, winking hole and between the soft, hairy asscheeks, the Cresian general moved to squat down—and tapped Ogruzz’s thigh, gesturing underneath the captive with a grin. Ogruzz looked. He guffawed. He reached down to grasp the former human lord’s own throbbing, pulsing, freely-leaking erection and give it a few rough pumps. “Keep it up, lads! Cumdump likes it!”

Another raucous cheer rose up as the orcs pushing their crotches into Cumdump’s face began to hump and grunt more eagerly. One, who finished with a long, deep sigh, aimed his softening malehood at the splatters of seed on the captive’s cheek and began to wash them away with his own steaming stream of piss; the crowd roared and jeered with delight at the sight, and the pissing orc moved away once he’d finished relieving himself to make room for one of his brethren.

Meanwhile, Ogruzz pressed the wet tip of his length against the captive’s pucker. Pushed against it. Teased around the rim before rocking forward and forcing his thick member deep into the former human lord’s unprepared hole. Cumdump screamed—gagged and choked around the cock in his throat—as the orc chief stretched his inner walls with his intrusion. Ogruzz was merciless, sinking in deep until his full balls settled against Cumdump’s taint. And then the orc chief felt Delante spreading his ass, the Cresian general exploring Ogruzz’s dank, musky cleft with his nose and tongue. Inhaling rank orcish musk and tasting the sweat that had gathered on Ogruzz’s pucker. Delving into the orc’s own loose hole to swirl around within his cunt. Ogruzz threw his head back to let out a moan for the benefit of the watching tribe, and then began to rock himself between the two humans.

Again, and again, and again. Deeper and faster and harder. Sighing and groaning with every vice-like clench of the tight heat engulfing his cock. Listening to the whimpering of the captive beneath him as he stroked and smacked the fatty cheeks of Cumdump’s ass with his hips and hands. Feeling the Cresian behind him eating his ass like a man starved for a fortnight. His balls churned, pulling up and readying themselves to dump their load into the passage clenching around his cock even as Delante fondled and squeezed and tugged at them.

When Chief Ogruzz roared out his orgasm, slamming himself home inside of Cumdump’s hole, his blissful roar was accompanied by yet another cheer from the crowd. And that cheering turned to jeering, mocking laughter at the sight of the former human lord’s cock pulsing and wilting beneath him, spent from spurting its own load into the dust.

With one final, firm, ear-ringing slap on Cumdump’s ass, the orc chief pulled his cock free of the captive’s clinging hole. “Right! He’s all yours, boys!” As Chief Ogruzz retired to his tent with Delante, ready to resume their ‘negotiations’, the rest of the tribe fell onto Cumdump’s shaking, trembling body. Orc after orc—and even the Cresian soldiers—using both ends to pleasure themselves. Grinding their cocks and balls and even their asses on his face, making him take in their mixed scents and taste every part of their sweaty bodies. Using his throat as both onahole and toilet, and filling his belly with their cum and their piss. Fucking and breeding his ass—his cunt—with wild abandon long into the evening.

Finally, when the moon was high in the sky and the men of the orcish tribe were settling into their tents, spent and satiated, the Cresian soldiers freed Cumdump from the pillory. They bound his hands and gagged the sloppy, smut-filled hole of his mouth once more, and dragged him like a sack of provisions to the tent afforded them by the orc tribe. There they continued playing with the captive as they took their watches, grinding their sore, stinking feet into his face and chest and crotch and smacking his abused ass just to hear him whimper and groan. Cumdump finally fell into an exhausted sleep as the Cresians continued to fondle and grope his prone, bound body.

Morning after morning, Cumdump was trotted out to the pillory and left for the tribe’s public use. Day after day, his mouth and ass were filled with orcish cock and cum and piss, the stench of the virile orc men staining every inch of his body. When the Cresians left to rejoin their company, ready to report the success of their negotiations with the Lowland River Tribe, Chief Ogruzz took over the captive’s care personally. Night after night, the chief and his mates took Cumdump into their tent, alternating tender affections with rough smacks and tortuous teasing.

After a fortnight, they stopped having to bind and gag him at night. After two, he would take himself out to the pillory and wait eagerly to be put in place. The next fortnight, when Delante returned with his commanders for a delegation with Chief Ogruzz, Cumdump was there on his hands and knees to greet them at the entrance to the chief’s tent. An order from the orc chief was all it took for him to rise up and help the Cresians out of their armor and clothing, and then sink back down to lap the sweat off their soles and suckle on their toes. He took their cocks into his mouth in turn, bobbing and lapping and swirling his tongue with practiced ease. He swallowed their loads, and when they tapped the top of his head he laid his cheek on their thighs and eagerly drank from their bladders. Not a single man present spoke the name of Crawden, the former lord of the province.

Cumdump was content, happy, and eager to serve and service when he was called.

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Pub: 29 Dec 2020 21:50 UTC
Views: 242