Darma was forced to watch as Garba, the red-haired, well-built Orc-woman, clad in the finest, figure-hugging armor, reveled in her position of power, sprawled on the throne. Brought before the Elder of the Krush Clan, the huntress now stood in the middle of a spacious tent, built for the absent chieftain and his horses. The stables were deserted, cleaned to a shine. The interior was filled with looted items, among which comfortable furniture, kitchen utensils, stacks of chests and maps, sculptures, and even a prepared dinosaur skeleton stood out. Several feet in front of her was a stepped platform, raised from hardened earth, on which rested a large wooden throne, adorned not only with silk padding but also with sharpened and ready-to-use spears and axes. As she scanned the weapons, she thought with pain of her whip and club, which had been taken from her. Her fitted leather shorts and armor, pauldrons, and other coverings had also been removed. All she was given to wear was ill-fitting, white underwear, which she resignedly pulled onto her sore, green body. The briefs bit into her buttocks, and she was forced to adjust them constantly with her hands shackled behind her back. Her nipples were barely covered by a strip of elastic material, tightly binding her breasts.

  "What a meeting!" Garba said loudly. "What wonderful goods have come our way. Tell me, my dear, for I am very curious – has the Uurb clan fallen so low that you must now wander the bushes with humans? Have you forgotten how to fight, letting yourselves be captured by a few kobolds?" Darma chewed on a curse, then took a stick to her back. She looked calmly over her shoulder. "Speak," the guardswoman who hit her glared, "or we'll keep hitting until you do." "Indeed," Darma began, turning back to the throne, "this is an interesting meeting." "Don't tell me the meeting is interesting, little sister," Garba grumbled, fidgeting on the throne. Her polished, purple, buckled vest reflected the light from the cheerfully burning torches on stands surrounding the throne. "Just tell me what's going on in your clan. How many sisters in total, how many Strong, how many slaves do you have." Darma looked around the hall. She was alone among a dozen hostile, armed Orc-women. She pressed her lips together, then hissed: "More than you. And as I look, our Workers are stronger than your Strong. And we have plenty of slaves." Garba whistled, laughed, and slapped her knees, giving the excited clan members a quick hand signal that she temporarily forbade beating the talkative huntress. Her gaze was hard and not at all amused. "You shouldn't bark, little one. We'll break you." To illustrate her words, the powerful Orc-woman reached for a chicken drumstick from a platter and crushed it with a crunch in her hand. "And then we'll go after the rest of the pathetic bitches from your weak clan." "You've lost your mind, Garba. You know well that the Queen forbids going to war without reporting it to the Council of Clans, and the Council will never agree to whole tribes fighting, especially during wartime. Out of greed, out of boredom, you condemn yourself and all your and my clan members to severe punishment!" Darma said emphatically. "Your Queen will never know about our little transgression. Have you heard the news from the peasants' battlefield? It won't be a few moons before my mighty Borba Glau takes the crown. And I with him. Do you understand now?" Garba replied with relish.

  Darma looked around the hall once more. Krush was a large, proud clan, breeding horses and often embarking on plundering raids into the lands of other peoples. It was slowly becoming a tribe shrouded in ill repute since the powerful and ruthless Borba Glau became its Chieftain. She did not expect, however, that their insane ambitions reached so high. Would madmen, betraying ancient principles, become the new royal couple? She could not comprehend what made them cooperate with the hostile kobold people and openly ignore the wisdom of the Council of Clans. True, everyone had minor skirmishes over hunting grounds or slaves, but enslaving other Orc-women was unprecedented audacity and almost a crime in the spirit of general law. She decided she had to do everything to ensure this news reached the Counselor, who would surely find a way to convey it to Queen Zharya. "I won't tell you anything, except that this will not end well," she said curtly, looking at the ground. "May the Gods protect you." Garba gave her a few seconds to change her mind, then laughed and snapped her fingers as a sign to begin the beating. After a dozen blows, Darma lost consciousness and slumped to the ground.

  A bucket of cold water poured over his head and the cackling of the guards unpleasantly jolted Dorky from his shallow sleep. He shook himself like a dog and began to wipe his face and hair, looking hatefully at the rising grate. It was too far for him to jump and grab it. And even if he could, then what? Try to lift something that even Orc-women lift with a hook on a chain? Slip unnoticed through a hole, like a weasel? Earlier, he had been forced to jump into the pit, but on the way back, he was offered a ladder. "Get out!"

  Encouraged by the shout, he climbed the rungs and, tightly surrounded by an escort, was led along a causeway to another tent. Experience told him he would visit the punishment chamber, where probably the entire group of local Strong would collectively spank his butt. The greater was his surprise when he saw that on the carpet knelt two bound beings with smeared faces, long ears, and the pleading expression of large, beautiful eyes. The only visible oppressor was Garba herself, who hastily dismissed the guards and untied the rope holding the tent flap. The thick material unrolled with a rustle, covering the entrance. The atmosphere became more intimate. There were four of them, in the glow of two torches, in silence interrupted by the frightened sighs of the timidly looking girls. "Poor, entrapped, for my pleasure, Elves," the Clan Elder said, savoring each syllable like a ripe cherry. "Exceptional, unheard-of goods, for which I paid a handsome sum. Tell me," she continued, "gentleman, have you ever seen such bitches?" Dorky shifted his gaze between the face of Garba, pleased with herself and the performance, and the delicate beings, clad only in flimsy, torn shifts, lifted by the Orc-woman's strong fingers. From beneath the fabric emerged perfectly smooth, naked, light, pear-shaped buttocks. He had never seen such... bitches. Terrified, they clung to each other, and the muscular tormentor circled them with slow steps, stopping every now and then to fondle them, spread their buttocks, show the boy their narrow, completely hairless slits. Her gaze sought his, greedily assessing his reaction. It was sick and perverse. It was exciting. It was hard for him to decide. He refrained from staring too obtrusively at the slave girls. He felt sorry for them and thought this situation was very strange. Nevertheless, the girls were painfully beautiful. One of them, with long, blue hair, let out a longer, differently intoned sigh than before, when the Orc-woman ran a small, feathered object, taken from a large casket by the wall, over her femininity. The other, with white, straight, shoulder-length hair, fixed her gaze on the wall, and a blush began to creep onto her cheeks.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "The nature of a submissive whore is that she just waits for someone to grab her by the hair and do whatever they want with her!" explaining her philosophy, Garba laughed and unbuckled her long, thin skirt. The silky material flowed onto the carpet, and Dorky caught himself staring at her amazing outfit underneath. The purple, shiny, leather armor full of buckles transitioned into a bodysuit at the bottom, covering her femininity in the front. At the back, however, it was shaped so that it passed only with a thin strip between her strong, brown buttocks, which were now quite exposed. The Orc-woman had erotic tattoos on her thighs and butt. With a light movement, she kicked off her slip-on leather clogs and briefly presented her foot to his face. It had a strong, slightly irritating smell and not the cleanest nails. "Put your fingers in your mouth and suck. You're acting like a fucking virgin, brat," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Tell me, what do you have to lose? These two bitches are probably eighty or more years old; they're a magical people, they'll outlive all of us. Their age doesn't show; they still look as if they've just entered adulthood! They've probably fucked dozens like you already. And you, stupid! You don't want to take them? Are you afraid?" Dorky didn't answer. He shifted his gaze from Garba to the Elves, from the Elf to Garba, his eyes sliding down a bit, enough to see certain... things. He looked from the blue-haired Elf's cunt, which was starting to secrete a little juice, back to the tormentor's fingers, slowly pulling back the leather strip of her panties and leaning towards the other's face. The boy's whole body shifted restlessly, even trembled. He had lost his virginity recently; he had no experience. He was not prepared for such a scene, for the sticky orgy hanging in the air with a dominant, hostile, stern Orc-woman and slaves.

  "If you don't want to take, you'll just stare until you want to," she cut him short, then dragged him to the other wall, where a wooden scaffolding with several cleverly placed rings allowed her to instantly immobilize the prisoner with his hands shackled above his head. His legs were slightly spread by wooden half-clamps. She tore off his clothes and examined his penis closely, which until now couldn't decide whether it was more aroused or terrified. Now it began to harden quickly. Garba ignored this fact and continued to tease the boy: "Or maybe you want to pee? Come on, pee on my feet." Saying this, she curled her toes and rubbed one against the other. Her breath was already very raspy. Dorky understood that the mighty Orc-woman was terribly aroused. She must have been experiencing immense pleasure at that moment and fulfilling her fantasies of power, domination, and shame. "You don't know how?" she whispered in his ear, brushing against him with her armor, unnecessarily protecting him from her enormous breasts. "I'll show you. I'll show all of you." She positioned both Elves on all fours so they looked at the boy. Unexpectedly, a small clip holding the bodysuit's panties in place was undone, and the Orc-woman's hairy, heavily lubricated cunt was revealed again to the slaves. Garba pressed her hand to it and lifted it slightly, pushing against her visible, soft, yet muscular belly. A golden earring gleamed between her fingers. She took a position slightly to the side, nodding her head and breathing heavily. Her strong thighs tensed as she leaned back slightly, then sprayed a stream of clear urine directly onto the lower back, just above the white-haired Elf's shapely butt. The girl shivered involuntarily as the hot liquid touched her cool skin, and a strong scent filled the room. After a moment, Garba, with a sigh, stopped urinating on the slave's bare back and, after massaging the puddle over the white-haired Elf's back and buttocks, turned to the other. She firmly grabbed and directed her face, holding her mouth with her thumb and forefinger. The Elf pretended for a moment not to understand, but pinched on the butt, she squealed and began to lick the exposed reverse of her companion, licking up large drops of urine. Dorky watched as if in a trance the dominant Orc-woman's face, insane with pleasure, who, after briefly massaging her clitoris, reached into a small trunk and took out a small, smooth dildo and Darma's club. The feathered toy was already too little for her taste. Now she was playing with larger, phallic objects. She put the dildo in her mouth, then with a circular motion applied it to the blue-haired Elf's cunt, who sighed and moaned, surprisingly eagerly accepting the caress with undulating movements of her butt. Now the Orc-woman weighed the weapon taken from Darma in her hand and licked her lips. She spat on it and rubbed the saliva over the smooth surface, and then squatted over the girls and began to push the club directly into her wet vagina. From the very sounds accompanying this extraordinary show, the boy's member stood erect like some ancient monument, and the delicate, stretched to the limit skin of his penis longed for only one thing – for someone to finally touch it. In the open pupils of the young man was reflected the image of the white-haired Elf, enslaved by pleasure, who looked at him and silently moved her lips, her head pressed to the carpet and her butt raised high, into which the blue-haired Elf's fingers plunged at lightning speed, pulled out again and again and replaced by thirsty lips and tongue. The pale butt of the one giving pleasure rode quickly on the smooth dildo pushed into her by the Orc-woman and fixed in a handy stand on the carpet. This torture chamber or rather pleasure room was perfectly equipped. Through the symphony of moans, Garba's all-consuming pleasure broke through and set the tempo, her contractions so strong that her cunt spat out the large object and flooded the blue-haired Elf's delicate face with endless ejaculations. The Orc-woman could barely stand, but she fought bravely and pushed the club back into herself again, not wanting to be overcome by pleasure. Dorky lost his dignity and became an animal in heat. Internally he howled, and externally he thrashed, desiring with every fiber of his consciousness to participate in the orgy. The shackles chafed his wrists, and the wooden clamps irritated his ankles. Finally, and it lasted a very long time, the red-haired Orc-woman, swaying on her feet, approached him and fell to her knees, taking his member into her mouth. He wanted to ram her straight in the throat, but he wasn't controlling the show. She made perhaps two or three movements, then, looking with refined cruelty, released him, stood up, and said: "I have a better idea. Fuck us." Then, with impatient movements, she unchained him.