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I hadn’t expected the orc general to look like this. First of all, I had been expecting a man; I don’t know why. Second, while I knew orcs were tall, I hadn’t expected someone so… statuesque. Someone with legs like tree trunks and tusks like polished porcelain, one of which was ringed with gold. Someone with wine-red tattoos marking status and accomplishments in battle, yes, that I was prepared for--someone with muscles that rippled, who could pick me up and rip me limb from limb--but someone with a graceful neck and a head shaved bald as space for even more tattoos, someone with a sharp, perfect jawline under those tusks… I was not prepared.

I curtsied to her and said the Orcish phrases I had memorized. “My lady, I am Alanthe Goldbrook. I come as messenger and as tribute of my village’s surrender.”

The general smiled, her eyes narrow and hungry and creasing at the corners. “A lovely tribute,” she said in lightly accented Common. “Oknath, send word that we accept the surrender. Alanthe, do not move.”

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as she tied a rope around my wrists, neither tight enough to be uncomfortable nor loose enough for me to move. My pride and my self-preservation rattled in my head, and my body wanted to fight or run, but I had volunteered to be tribute, and tradition demanded I obey the general’s orders. If I tried to escape, the surrender could be considered false, or construed as a last-ditch attempt to assassinate the general. If I stayed, if I obeyed, the orcs’ honor would keep my village safe.

The general led me by my bound wrists into the largest, sturdiest tent. Inside, a short, round orc with long tusks was poring over a book. He bowed when we entered, and she bowed in return.

“Hello, Igurg!” said the general pleasantly. “Levitate the tribute, please.”

The other orc nodded, said something in Orcish, and swept his hands through the air in a circular motion, ending with an open-handed sweep upwards with his palms facing the roof of the tent. I scrambled, trying to gain traction, as my feet left the ground, but the reflex was futile; in a moment I was suspended helplessly a foot or two above ground, so that I was at eye level with the general.

Her tusks looked even bigger up close. “Thank you, Igurg,” she said, smiling at him. “Please give us a while alone now. Tell the camp only to disturb me if it’s urgent.”

“Of course, General Murzuth.” Igurg bowed again, picked up his book, and left. The general bowed back, and then turned to me.

“Alanthe,” she said, and smiled. It was the kind of smile one might give a trusted friend--no, a disobedient child--no, a pet. She took the end of the rope tied around my wrists and tied it to the beams of the tent.

“Just in case the spell wears off prematurely,” she said cheerfully. “It won’t, of course, but if it did I couldn’t have you falling on the floor. Now…” She placed a hand gently on my waist. It reminded me of the young elven gentlemen I danced with at balls, except that her hand was twice as large. Yet her touch was just as light.

“You know the circumstances under which you come here,” she said, rubbing her thumb against the side of my ribcage through my soft white dress. I held my breath. “You know that the messenger of surrender is also the offering.”

She paused, and I realized she was waiting for an answer. “Yes,” I said. My voice came out in a whisper.

The general smiled. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am?” My voice was so small I could hardly hear it, but the general nodded.

“Ma’am is good,” she said quietly, and smiled wide enough to show the teeth behind her tusks. “You may also call me General, or General Murzuth. Or…” She leaned in close, and I felt her other hand cup the side of my face as she stroked my cheek with her leathery thumb. “You may simply call me Murzuth,” she said, her voice low, her breath hot against my ear, “if you’re very,

very

good.”

“Yes, General Murzuth,” I whispered. I had stopped holding my breath, but now it was short and ragged. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself, and was taken aback; she smelled like smoke and leather and rich berry wine. I had the bizarre thought that, if I licked her skin, it might taste sweet.

“Perfect.” Her hand on my waist stroked lower, tracing the shape of me, until her thumb was rubbing gentle circles against my hipbone. “Are you ready now, Alanthe? Or should I wait to claim you?”

I blinked. “You’re… giving me a choice?”

“Of course!” The general drew back, her eyebrows knitting together and her full lips frowning around her tusks. “Your hands will have to stay bound longer, of course--can’t have an unclaimed tribute running around freely--but if you’d rather not be touched, you don’t have to be. Or you could choose another orc from this camp to claim you, if you wished.”

“No,” I said immediately, and then blushed. “I--I’d rather get it over with. Have my freedom.” I lifted my chin and looked her in the eye.

She chuckled. “We’ll see about that, little elf maiden.” She tickled me under the chin. “I suppose you won’t be offering any assistance, then.”

“Of course not. I have my pride.”

“That’s all right,” said the general. “I’ve always loved a good challenge. Now…” Without looking away from my eyes, she began to smooth her hands over my thighs, feeling the shape of them through my thin skirt. “So lovely. Let’s get you out of this, shall we?”

The sound of my skirt ripping filled the tent before I could respond. The general had taken it in two fists and pulled, tearing off nearly half of the thin fabric. The dress’s new hem was ragged and hung just above the middle of my thighs, barely covering my ass. My cheeks felt warm.

“Much better,” General Murzuth purred. She tossed the scraps of skirt away and rubbed her palms over my bare thighs, warm and gentle. I squirmed. “Such a beautiful tribute. And you’ll make such a beautiful consort.”

Her hands crept up under my skirt, and when her fingers brushed my bare hips, her mouth opened slightly. She looked at me and raised one pierced eyebrow, dimples forming in her cheeks. “No undergarments, little elf?”

I shook my head.

“Did you perhaps volunteer for this on purpose?” Murzuth cupped my ass in both hands, then brushed over my inner thighs with her fingertips. I shivered, whimpering involuntarily. “Sick of being courted by elves? Secretly desperate for a strong, powerful orc general to make you hers?”

“I--” Just as I opened my mouth to deny it, to say that my nakedness under my dress was meant as a sign of submission and understanding, she dragged a finger over my pussy. I cried out. Her fingertip slid over my clit, wet with my slick, and I moaned.

“Did you dress like the little slut you are?” Murzuth crooned in my ear, sliding her finger over my clit in teasing circles. “Did you want to be fucked as soon as possible?”

I bucked my hips forward, trying to get more friction, more pressure. But I had no leverage, and the general withdrew her finger as I moved, matching me millimeter for millimeter. I groaned.

“No, ma’am,” I insisted. “I--the lack of underclothes is--”

General Murzuth jerked her finger, and a strangled moan escaped me. “What was that, beautiful? Something about your lack of underclothes?”

“It’s--tradition,” I gasped. She pressed two fingers sideways against my clit, and my whole body twitched in pleasure. “It’s--to show I know and accept what I’m here for,” I said all in one breath, as fast as I could.

“Well, I think that’s been made clear, little treasure.” The general’s voice was low, husky, and syrupy sweet. “You’re such a delightful, needy little treat. It won’t be hard to make you cum at all.” As if for emphasis, she rubbed two fingers hard against the underside of my clit. My back arched, and I made a throaty, animal noise. I tried to press into her hand again, but again she pulled it away.

“Your village couldn’t have sent a better messenger,” Murzuth continued, her lips and tusks brushing against the shell of my ear. “You’re worth a caravan of jewels just for the pleasure of making you my whore.” She bit my earlobe, and I yelped. “And that’s not even counting all the pleasure I’ll get from you after.”

“Ma’am… General…” I thrust frantically against her hand, trying to get friction, but she just laughed and pulled away. I groaned, then gulped air and tried my best to glare at her. “Awfully bold talk for someone who hasn’t even gotten me close yet.”

“Oh, I haven’t?” she arched that same pierced eyebrow again and slid a finger into my pussy. I moaned. There was the stimulation I’d been yearning for. Her finger was as thick as two of mine, but I was so wet it slid in easily. I clenched down around it, savoring the feeling of something inside me.

General Murzuth watched me with a look of amusement. “Oh, clever, naughty girl. Trying to bait me into filling your cunt when you haven’t earned it. No, beautiful, if you want satisfaction, you’ll need to beg for it.” She pulled her finger out.

I felt bereft, almost betrayed. “Excuse me?” I sputtered. “Have you forgotten that you’re trying to earn me? Why would I beg you to keep me here?”

Murzuth shrugged. “I told you, lovely, I like a challenge. I could claim you right now.” She traced a gentle circle over my clit to prove her point. My breath hitched, and I felt a hot, tingling sensation under her finger. “But that would be too easy. I don’t want you to just belong to me by tradition or duty. I want all of you, little elf maiden.” Her finger continued to slide over my clit in little circles, agonizingly slow. The tingling, tickling feeling was so intense now I could hardly concentrate on her words, and it didn’t help when she slid another finger over my dripping pussy.

“I want you to know exactly what you’re so desperate for,” she whispered. “I want you to yearn for an orgasm you know the consequences of. I want to hear you plead for me to take your freedom away, hear you beg to be my little slut.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. There was warmth spreading slowly through my body from her finger’s slow circles on my clit, and if I could get just a little more pressure--

Murzuth pulled her hand away. “Beg for it, beautiful.”

I almost whined, but I bit it back and held my breath until the delicious tingling died down. I could have sobbed for the loss. “Never.”

Murzuth slid two fingers against the entrance to my pussy, covering them in the wetness that was starting to drip down my thighs, and lightly stroked my labia. My pussy clenched around nothing. “Are you sure, little treasure? Sure you don’t want something nice and thick to fill that poor, needy cunt of yours?”

I did, but I grit my teeth. I wasn’t about to admit it.

“I could fuck you juuuuust right,” Murzuth whispered. “Fill you up so deep you’d never be satisfied with any other cock again. Leave lovebites all over that soft, perfect skin. Leave you panting and exhausted in my bed, too blissed out to move. Make you mine.”

As she spoke, the thumb of the hand that wasn’t teasing my pussy brushed over one of my nipples, which was already stiff under the thin fabric of my dress. I twitched and yelped, and my cunt convulsed, desperate for contact. I couldn’t resist a small, quiet “Ma’am…”

Murzuth kissed my neck, her tusks surprisingly smooth against my skin. “Yes, lovely? You want something?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “General. I--” I stopped. I would not beg.

Murzuth let the pause hang there, punctuated by little gasps and whimpers as she continued to fondle my nipples and tease my dripping pussy. After a long, agonizing moment, she smirked. “Maybe you just need another taste of what’s to come."

She dragged her fingers from my labia back to my clit, spreading the wetness further over my skin, and began to rub it again. I closed my eyes and let my head tilt back. Her fingers were so much bigger than mine, but still so dextrous, so utterly capable of hitting all the right places with just the right pressure, and smoothed by how desperately wet I was. She rolled my nipple between her fingers and I felt the tingling start again, warm and heady and intoxicating, and I pressed my hips into her hand, so close--

Both her hands stilled. I hung there, frozen, as the hot, sweet feeling ebbed away. “You’re so

mean

,” I finally managed.

Murzuth smirked. “Would a mean woman do this?” She twitched the two fingers still resting on my clit, and my back arched as I almost came again. Then she stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment.

“Yes!” I let the frustration leak into my voice.

“Poor girl.” Murzuth stroked my hair. “A victim of her own pride…”

I whined. She kissed my cheek and began to explore my body one-handed, still keeping two fingers on my clit. She traced the shapes of my cheekbones, the pointed tips of my ears, my soft lips. She caressed her way down my neck, my collarbones, my shoulders, my back; she cupped each breast in turn and stroked my nipples with her thumb. She traced my waist again, then squeezed my buttocks; she even bent down to kiss her way down my thighs and calves. Finally, she knelt so that her mouth was level with my crotch. She pressed her face into the hair covering my pubic mound and inhaled.

“You smell delicious,” she said. “I would love to taste you.”

Her fingers on my clit were still, but my legs twitched. “Do it.”

Her tongue was thick, wet, and strong, and her tusks pressed against the crease of my thighs as she sealed her lips around my clit. I jerked where I hung suspended in the air, my fists clenching, moaning. She slipped two fingers into my cunt, and I made some broken exclamation. I was there again, I was so close, I felt like I could dissolve into light--

Murzuth withdrew and stood up. She grabbed my thighs with her hands, holding them apart, while I whined desperately. “Ask nicely,” she said against my mouth. I kissed her.

She kissed me back, her tongue brushing my upper lip, letting me pull her lower lip between mine. I could taste myself on her lips. Her enormous hands began to spread my ass-cheeks, and I squirmed and whimpered in her grip, trying to fuck myself on her fingers.

“Aww, little treasure,” Murzuth cooed, pulling away from the kiss. “Are you too far gone to even use your words?”

I was about to nod, but then one of her still-slick fingers brushed against my asshole. I threw my head back and moaned. “General… Murzuth…”

“Yes, my little slut?”

“M--ah!--ma’am…”

She had wrapped her other hand around the side of my waist again, and was pulling me down so that my clit rubbed against her erection. I couldn’t believe I’d been so absorbed in what she was doing to me that I hadn’t even noticed her taking her own skirt off. But now I could feel her cock against me, long and thick and warm and wet, and I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything.

“Please, ma’am,” I whimpered.

“Mmm.” She twitched her fingers against my asshole, rutting up to slide the length of her erection along my clit, and I nearly sobbed. “Please what, Alanthe?”

“Please fuck me,” I begged. “Fill me with your cock, put your fingers in my asshole, pinch my nipples, make me cum! Please!”

Murzuth grinned and stepped away once more. I felt a sudden rush of rage--she was going to make me debase myself like that and then not even give me what I’d begged for?--but then she reached up and untied the rope around my wrists from the ceiling beams. When she had done that, she said something in Orcish, and the levitation spell faded. I slipped down into her waiting arms.

She carried me bridal-style to a bed near the wall of the tent. There, she sat down, positioned me on her lap so I was straddling her, and began to gently lower me onto her dick. I could almost have come just from the feeling of her filling me, slick and warm and stretching me a little, even though I was so loose and wet. My pussy clenched hungrily as I ground down and she bucked up, and I groaned as we buried her to the hilt in me. She pressed one finger into my ass and I whined in pleasure; it felt so intense with my cunt already so full, and the sensation and the dirtiness of it made me even more desperate. My clit tingled like it itself was begging, and I half-sobbed, half-screamed into Murzuth’s shoulder as she slipped her hand between us and rubbed it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I babbled. She kissed my cheek and didn’t stop fucking me. “Gods, M--General--ma’am--please, please--” There was a particularly deep thrust, and I moaned, collapsing into her shoulder again. “Please, General, I’m so desperate, I want it, I want you--I’m all yours, ma’am, I’m--oh, gods--please, please, ma’am, use me, let me--”

“Come for me, Alanthe,” Murzuth gasped.

The tingling feeling shot through me like a bolt of lightning, from my clit, from my nipples, from my ass, and from deep in my cunt. I screamed and clung to Murzuth. She jerked under me, and we spasmed together; she growled deep and low and loud, a rumbling contralto accompaniment to my staccato cries. My muscles seized, and as her cum filled me, the feeling of new, wetter fullness and of being owned pushed me over the edge again. I keened helplessly into her shoulder, grinding down again on her softening cock.

When I regained some level of composure, Murzuth was rubbing my back, making low, soothing sounds into my ear. I did, in fact, feel soothed. I snuggled closer to her, rested my head on her shoulder, and kissed her neck.

“How are you doing?” she asked softly.

I gave her a squeeze. “Really good… Murzuth.”

She smiled.

“About everything?” she pressed. “What would your village think? You can still see them, by the way, if you want to.”

“That’d be nice,” I murmured. “I think they’d be happy for me.”

Murzuth’s hand on my back stilled, and I looked up to see her almost-smiling, brows furrowed, head tilted to the side. I shrugged. “They’d be happy that I’m happy,” I explained.

At that, Murzuth’s almost-smile broke into a full one. “Then they and I have something in common.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Murzuth untied my hands and checked my wrists for rope burns. The levitation spell had kept me high enough that the rope didn’t pull too much, and the knots had never been uncomfortable to begin with, so my wrists weren’t sore. Murzuth kissed them anyway.

“Such a good girl," she murmured, stroking my hair, and then gave me a conspiratorial smile. "Let’s get you cleaned up and into some new clothes. Could you hand me my skirt?”

“Of course, ma’am.” I slid off her lap and picked up her skirt from the floor where she had dropped it in her hurry to fuck me. Gods, that hadn’t gone the way I expected it to… Propriety said I should feel appalled or dirty or ashamed, but I didn’t, just a little self-conscious. I knew I had lost the bet that being a tribute entailed, but I couldn't find it in myself to be upset. In a sense Murzuth owned me now, but in another sense I was also a citizen of the camp, and… I thought about her hands on my waist, the low purr of her voice in my ear, the smoothness of her tusks, the softness of her lips. The gentle way she rubbed my back. The shaking, melting intensity of coming on her cock, and the boneless comfort of being held once I had. There were worse things than being consort to a woman who fucked me so well and touched me so tenderly.

As I bent over to pick up Murzuth’s skirt, my torn dress rode up, exposing my ass and my pussy, which still dripped with her cum. Murzuth, watching, hummed appreciatively. I blushed. The urge to press my legs together, to preserve my modesty and propriety, clashed against the thrill of her approval and the desire to please her.

“Good girl,” she said in a low voice as I turned back and handed her the skirt. She smoothed a hand over the small of my back and smiled. “All mine now.”

“Yes, Murzuth.” I bowed my head, too flustered to keep looking at her, but I smiled to myself. “All yours.”

She kissed my forehead and stood up from the bed. Gods, she was so tall. Now that I was standing on the floor again, the top of my head barely reached her shoulder; I had to crane my neck to look at her face. I shifted my weight, and a spurt of semen slid down the inside of my thigh. I tugged the hem of my skirt as far down as it would go. “Let’s go.”

Murzuth led me out of the tent with her hand still on the small of my back. Her tent was in the center of the camp, so exiting it led us straight into what looked like a town square. Two orcs sat near the entrance of another tent, chatting as they roasted meat over a fire; a third sat on a rock near the center of the open space, playing a lute, and a group of four or five were rolling dice on the dusty ground a few meters away. Igurg was there, too, sprawled out on a woven blanket, reading his book.

The lute player was the first to notice us. A slow smile spread across her face, and she stopped playing.  She looked me in the eyes, then raked her gaze slowly, deliberately, over my body--my sweaty face, my nipples probably still visible through my dress, my ripped skirt, and my unbound hands in front of me like a fig leaf, trying unsuccessfully to hide the overflow of semen that coated my inner thighs.

The lute player whistled. That got the attention of the rest of the orcs present, who looked up and began to cheer and applaud. Their smiles were broad and genuine, and I couldn't help but smile back, even though I was blushing to the tips of my ears. Murzuth seeing me like this was one thing; the whole camp was another--and I wasn't sure how I felt about it yet.

“Welcome!” Igurg called from his blanket.

The lute player stood up and strode over to me. She was shorter than Murzuth, but still much taller than me--at least six feet. She held out her hand for me to shake. I held my chin high and looked her in the eye as I took it, hoping to establish myself somehow. Her eyes were a bronzy red-gold, and her cheekbones were sharp as arrowheads.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. Her voice was high but hoarse, as if she’d spent too long breathing campfire smoke. “My name is Ragar.” She bowed.

I bowed back. “My name is Alanthe. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

She still hadn’t let go of my hand; when I straightened up and made eye contact with her again, she lifted it up and kissed it, lingering and deliberate. “A beautiful name for a beautiful consort,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps Murzuth will let me steal you away sometime.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. I wasn’t sure whether to rebuke her or agree. She was beautiful, but she was also physically imposing and a complete stranger, and I didn’t know what orcs expected of their consorts.

Luckily, Murzuth stepped forward and clapped Ragar on the shoulder. "She's hardly been here an hour and you're already propositioning her," she teased. "Gods' sake, Ragar, give her some time to adjust!"

"Of course, my mistake," said Ragar, putting her hand on Murzuth's shoulder in response. "Perhaps when she's been here two."

Murzuth laughed; Ragar smiled, winked at me, and walked away, plucking at her lute. Murzuth let go of my hand to wrap her arm around my waist, rubbing her thumb against my hip through my dress again.

As if she knew how on the spot I felt, Murzuth avoided talking to the other orcs for a while. She led me through the dirt pathways of the camp and gave friendly waves to anyone who made eye contact with her, but she steered me past all of them without leaving space for conversation. We stopped just past the edge of the forest nearby, near a small hot spring with a stream running through it. The foliage was thick enough around us to give some measure of privacy, and on some rocks near the edge of the water were a few oblong white shapes I assumed were soap.

“Lift your arms,” said Murzuth gently.

I obeyed. She lifted the ripped hem of my skirt and pulled my dress off over my head, then folded it and placed it on a flat rock.

It felt good to be naked and alone with her. It was an unfamiliar feeling. I turned it over in my head as I dipped a toe into the water; I felt vulnerable but not endangered, small, graceful, acutely aware of my body and of the fact that Murzuth could dress and undress me as she pleased. Pleasantly, furtively aware that she not only could but

had

. Everyone may have heard me beg her, but only I had gotten to see the way she looked at me afterwards. The knowledge of being wanted, liked,

enjoyed

, felt like an illicit letter held tight against my chest, and, naked in the forest with no protection but her presence, I realized I felt safe.

The water was warm as I waded in, feeling the stream lap against my calves. The pool was deeper than I had expected, far deeper than my bathtub back in my village--at its deepest, the water here came up to my ribs--and the bottom was a collection of smooth curves of various sizes. There were divots smaller than my fist and dips large enough for two of me to sit in. I wondered what patterns of erosion could have caused them.

The water rippled as Murzuth waded in behind me. “This one is for your hair,” she said, holding one of the soaps out beside me, “and this one is for your skin.” She held out another on the other side, encircling me with her arms. “If you’d like to wash yourself, you may, but I’d enjoy doing it for you.”

“Yes, please, ma'am," I said. "Thank you."

“My pleasure, lovely." She handed me the skin soap and wrapped her hand around my waist. It was gentle and soft, and I let her pull me in close, until I was leaning against her with my back against her stomach and my head between her breasts. She swept her other hand, the one holding the hair soap, under my knees so that she was holding me bridal-style, then sat down in one of the larger divots and pulled me onto her lap. She lathered some soap onto her hands.

“Rest your head here,” she said, and I did. The stone was smooth under my neck, not comfortable but not uncomfortable. Warm water lapped at my hairline.

I sighed as Murzuth began to massage my scalp. Her hands were slow and firm and warm, and I felt myself slump down in her lap as the tension in my muscles faded away. She worked her hands through my hair, thorough and deliberate.

“So tell me about your life,” Murzuth said. “A story, or someone you want to see again, or what you like to do with your spare time. Who are you, Alanthe Goldbrook?”

I tensed a little. It felt strange to hear my own last name; now that I thought about it, I hadn’t been sure Murzuth was going to remember it. But if she noticed anything different in my body language, she didn’t show it. She just kept teasing the tangles out of my hair, her fingertips pressing gently against the nape of my neck, and slowly I relaxed, letting my head fall back again.

“I play the flute,” I said. “I have for as long as I can remember. And, um… you know how archery is an elvish tradition? I never got good at it because I hated shooting things. Even target practice with mannequins made me sad. It still does.”

Murzuth stroked the side of my face with her knuckle. “Softhearted,” she said. “I should take special care to keep you away from battle. I don’t want you to be distressed.”

She cupped the nape of my neck in one hand, supporting my head, and began to rinse the soap from my hair. I thought about her other questions. My friends back home… I thought about Veris, with her loud laugh and mischievous smile, telling stories in my bedroom late at night. I remembered the gossip and wine on her back porch the night before Dozana and Herven’s wedding, and how she had suggested Feanor might have wanted to court me long before he had made any move.

Feanor. Something twisted in my chest. The day I volunteered, Veris asked me if I had done it just to avoid having to tell Feanor no. She’d looked at me with that too-penetrating gaze, and I looked straight back and told her I hadn’t, but the skepticism of an old friend didn’t leave her face. Feanor had been my friend for as long as I could remember, and there was no one else in the village I’d rather have married… and yet, when I thought he might be about to ask my father for my hand, I had felt resigned, not happy. I missed being children together, before any of it had had to mean anything. I wanted to weave grass baskets and play make-believe with Feanor, not raise children with him. I missed him, and yet…

But I couldn’t tell Murzuth about Feanor or Veris, or anyone else. I had heard of war captives’ loved ones being used against them as leverage. Being a tribute wasn’t the same thing as being a prisoner of war, but while I was willing to put my own safety in the hands of a stranger, I couldn't take that risk on behalf of my friends.

I continued, trying to cover my omission. "I'm good at handicrafts, though," I said. "Weaving, sewing, embroidery. I've done some painting and woodcarving, too--and gardening, of course. I like to think my carvings are good." This was better. This was nice, even. "What about you?"

Murzuth hummed and drew her fingers through my hair again. Then she turned me around so my back was to her chest, lathered her hands with the other bar of soap, and began to run them gently over my skin.

She started near my collarbone; her fingers curled over my shoulders. “Well, I was born in this camp about fifty years ago,” she began, smoothing her hands down my chest. I hadn't meant to hold my breath for her response, but I released it now. If she noticed, she didn't comment on it. “I was always interested in military strategy, especially when the goal was to take prisoners, induce surrender, or minimize our own casualties. So I became a general fairly quickly, and I have been for twenty of those years.” She cupped my breasts in her large hands, lifting them gently and rubbing soapy thumbs over my nipples. My breath hitched and, despite my nerves, I was disappointed when she moved her hands away.

“But I haven’t led as many conflicts as most generals do in that time, certainly not at a large scale,” Murzuth continued. “I find people tend to be willing to negotiate, especially once they know they can’t win. In my opinion, half the battle is showing them that.”

She lifted her leg under me, so the water covered less of my body, and spread suds down my stomach. “I also like to drum. Ragar and I often make music together for the camp on holidays, and to celebrate births, conquerings, and so on.” I thought about asking about Ragar, and how was I expected to respond, but decided against it as Murzuth started talking again.

“I tried magic a few times, but never had much talent for it,” Murzuth said. Having reached the water at the tops of my thighs, she took my knee gently in both hands and lifted it up. She moved my leg to the side, rested my heel on the rock beside us, and lathered her hands again, then massaged her way from my ankle up my calf and over my thigh. Her touch was firm but gentle, her hands soft on my skin. When she stopped at the top of my thigh, I found myself wishing she had kept going.

She lifted my heel again and guided my leg back down into the water. “Igurg is always so patient,” she said fondly. She lifted my other knee. “A brilliant mage and a brilliant teacher, that man.” Heel down. Lather. Long, gentle strokes up my calf.

“Even if I’ll never really master it, it’s interesting to know how it works on a basic level,” Murzuth mused. She ran her gentle, soapy hands up my thigh. “Igurg would probably teach you, too, if you wished him to. He gets excited when people take an interest, but you shouldn’t feel obligated.” Heel up; heel down. She turned me around again so that I was facing her with a knee on either side of her hips, lathered her hands again, and rubbed the soap across my back, holding me close. With her knee supporting me, my head was almost level with hers. I could feel the soft, heavy weight of her breasts on mine and the firm muscle of her abdomen.

I had a strange impulse to kiss her breasts. I wanted to mold my lips to those dark green nipples and pay her back for the delicious, torturous teasing of earlier, to pleasure her as she had me. But I resisted the urge. As tribute--consort, now--my body was hers to touch as she liked, not the other way around. If she wanted me to worship with my mouth, she would tell me to. A pleasant shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

Her hands made their way down my back, and she lowered her knee again, letting me sink back into the water. The flow of the spring began to wash away the suds.

“It feels nice to be clean again after all that traveling, doesn’t it?” Murzuth said. “Not to mention what we got up to a moment ago.” She grinned conspiratorially.

I found myself smiling back. “Yeah. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Of course, beautiful.” She kissed my forehead. “Speaking of which…”

She slipped a hand between our bodies, between my spread legs. Under the water, she ran her fingers along my pussy, rubbing my labia and making sure no more of her cum lingered on my skin. When she was done, she hummed contentedly, but didn't remove her hand.

“Good girl,” she murmured, rubbing my clit in gentle circles. "Sweet and brave, and so obedient."

The muscles in my thighs twitched. “Murzuth…"

"Alanthe." Murzuth kissed the spot beneath my ear. "My Alanthe, my treasure.”

I was about to agree, but she slipped a finger into me, making me whine softly instead. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Her finger moved slowly in and out of me, arousing, distracting, but also smooth and lazy, like we had all the time in the world.

She pursed her lips and looked at me thoughtfully. “You are… so obedient,” she said slowly, rubbing the small of my back with her other hand. “So willing to let me touch you, even when you have no incentive, even when I doubt you’re expecting it.”

“Is that a bad thing, ma’am?” I liked her touch, and I thought that was how I was supposed to behave. Why would she be upset that it came so easily?

“No, not at all,” she said. “I’m glad you’re comfortable. It’s just unusual, because most consorts take longer to acclimate. Are you just brave?" She withdrew her finger, brow furrowed. "Or are you an actor, pretending to be happy because you think I’ll demand it? I promise you, you can have time if you need it.”

The way she looked at me was so searching I had to break eye contact. “No, I’m…” I blushed.

“You’re a solicitous host.” I couldn’t help a small smile. “And you smell nice, and I…” I swallowed. “When you came inside me, I… it was new to me,” I whispered. “I felt like I had pleased you. I liked it.”

I looked up to see that her smile had widened into a smirk. “Did you, now?” she breathed, leaning in even closer to me, and her fingers slid over my clit. “Tell me more.”

“I…” My breath was shaky. “I like the way you touch me. And I want you to… give me orders, and… and make me kneel, and--”

Murzuth pulled her hand away. I whined in dismay, and she grinned.

“How do you feel?”

“Turned on,” I answered, immediately and a little petulantly. And… “Clean.” I paused. “Flustered? Excited."

“Perfect.” Murzuth kissed my forehead, took my hand, and began to lead me out of the pool. “Time to get you some new clothes.”

--

The tailor was a tall orc with short tusks, and he had a reedy voice. As he looked at me, assessing, I felt exposed in a different way than I had with Ragar earlier. I was completely naked this time, Murzuth having left my torn dress by the bath, but at least there wasn’t immediate evidence of sex all over me.

“A few dresses,” Murzuth was saying, “in the softest fabric, and close-fitting. I want her to be comfortable, but I also want to be able to see her nipples when she’s aroused. And panties--very thin. Again, comfortable, but if she’s wet, I want it to show.”

Perhaps this wasn't any less embarrassing after all. Heat spread from my cheeks to the tips of my ears, but the tailor didn't seem to notice. He just nodded. “Easily done, General. Anything else?”

“Silks, of course,” said Murzuth with a careless wave of her hand. "I'll choose in a moment. Measurements first."

The tailor nodded and wrapped a length of thin rope around my chest, just above my nipples. He made a thoughtful noise, dipped a finger in a pot of ink on a nearby end table, and marked the rope. Then he wrapped it around my ribs, just under my breasts, and marked it again.

He measured my waist, my hips, the circumference of my ass, and the length of my legs. He licked his lips when he drew the rope up to my inner thigh, and his eyes lingered on the shape of my hips, but he didn’t touch me except to adjust the rope, which he did gently and with no sudden movements. Then he moved back up and measured the length of my arms and the breadth of my shoulders. By the end of it, he probably could have reconstructed my body entirely from memory--which I suppose was the point.

“Congratulations on your lovely new consort,” he said when he was done, bowing to Murzuth. Then he bowed to me. “Welcome to the camp, Alanthe. I hope you will be happy and comfortable here.”

“So do I,” I said, and curtsied.

He showed us the silks--scarves, really, in dozens of colors. Murzuth glanced between me and the silks, assessing, and then selected a few in vibrant purple, clear blue-green, deep red, and stark white.

Murzuth took the blue scarf and wrapped it around my hips in a brief approximation of a skirt. It was thin to the point of transparency and so soft it felt like wearing a cloud. The knot Murzuth tied was simple, the kind that would come undone quickly if someone tugged on the right end, and the scarf was barely long enough to cover my ass. The tailor handed Murzuth another scarf in the same color. She tied it around my chest in a similar way, with a twist in the center. My nipples were covered, but only barely.

It would take two gentle pulls in the right places to undress me, and I was hardly a finger’s breadth away from flashing everyone even without being touched. But I was clothed, technically. Murzuth stepped back to look at me.

She smiled, slow and satisfied, and my cheeks felt warm in an entirely different way. She looked like she wanted to eat me--no, she looked like I was a dish she had cooked and seasoned to perfection, and she was savoring the plating as much as she would the meal.

"Beautiful," she said in a low voice. She didn't take her eyes off me. I met them, my heart pounding.

The tailor bowed and cleared his throat. "Excellent," he said. "I'll have those ready within a fortnight."

"Perfect," said Murzuth without looking at him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he said, bowing again, and left the room.

Now that we were alone, I expected--I

wanted

--for Murzuth to beckon me toward her, possibly on my knees. Instead, she stepped toward me and cupped her fingers under my chin, forcing me to look up at her.

My breath was quick and shallow as she leaned down. It felt like my heart was beating words instead of blood:

kiss me kiss me kiss me

. My lips parted--my eyelashes fluttered--but Murzuth only smiled, took me by the waist again, and led me into another tent.

This tent’s occupant seemed to have been expecting us, because she rose from her seat and dusted her hands on her apron as soon as we arrived. She was a heavyset orc with long, dark hair. “Welcome, General Murzuth, Consort Alanthe,” she said, bowing. “Just one moment, please.” Then she turned her back to us and unlocked a chest behind her.

I looked at Murzuth for an explanation, but she gave none. She just smiled a mysterious smile and inclined her head toward the woman.

I looked. The other orc had turned to face us again, and she was beaming. In her hands was a thin chain of flat gold links, each about the size of my pinky fingernail, with a ring attached in the center as if for a leash.

“Lift your hair, little treasure,” said Murzuth softly.

I obeyed. My mouth was dry as the blacksmith handed Murzuth the collar and a key, but when Murzuth laid it across the front of my neck, something about it felt… satisfying. She brought the ends together at the back, and there was a press of something cold at my nape. I bent my head forward without thinking about it. I heard a click and the clatter of spare chain, and then Murzuth was handing the blacksmith a key.

“Thank you, Bashuk,” she said.

I lifted my hand to my throat. The collar was fine but sturdy--excellent craftsmanship--and snug enough to stay in one place around my neck without being uncomfortable. I swallowed, just to see if it was difficult or uncomfortable now, and found myself a little disappointed that it wasn't. Something was thrumming in me, apprehension and excitement and a desire to… do what?

Murzuth laid a hand on my shoulder and turned me so she could see my front. “Beautiful,” she said, and smiled. Bashuk handed her another, even thinner, chain, which Murzuth folded neatly and dropped into a pocket in her skirt.

“One more thing, Alanthe,” she whispered into my ear, and then I felt her hands under my skirt. “Be a good girl and hold still for me.”

“Yes, ma’am?” It came out as a breathless question, and turned into a yelp of surprise when she lifted my skirt from my hips to my waist.

Bashuk, apparently unfazed, looped something around my hips and tied it in the back. Something else dangled from the front of it; Murzuth knelt beneath me and studied that for a moment, making thoughtful noises and moving it forward and backward.

Gods, she had to be able to see how wet I was. Would she notice? Would she touch me to check? I almost groaned at the thought; it was humiliating, the idea of the certainty she'd have, that she'd know exactly how much all her power and ownership turned me on--and right here in front of the blacksmith? My knees felt weak, and the tips of my ears were hot. While Murzuth fiddled with whatever it was, I thought about leaning my hips forward into her hands and fucking myself on her fingers again.

I looked down and saw another thin chain around my hips, below the skirt.

Murzuth nodded to herself and clasped the chain in the front; then she passed the dangling strand between my legs and back to Bashuk, who did something to fasten it in the back. It was now pressing against my clit and my labia, but instead of the thin metal, I felt pearls strung along it. Tiny pearls, centered at my clit, which rubbed and pressed against me when I shifted my weight. My face felt warm again.

“A little something to keep you occupied while I’m leading the company,” Murzuth said, pulling my skirt back down over the second chain. She was grinning. “Just in time for us to be off.”

“Be off?” I glanced between Murzuth and Bashuk. “Are we…?”

Bashuk nodded. “The camp started packing up as soon as you left the campfire. My and Shabroll’s tents are the last two left.”

“I’ll help you pack this one up once Alanthe is settled,” Murzuth said, and led me out of Bashuk’s tent with a hand on the small of my back.

The camp was indeed almost entirely packed up. There were several horses and a few wagons, covered with what had been the tops of the tents. Murzuth ushered me to one, opened the doors on its side, and held her hand out for me to lean on as I climbed in. The pearls shifted when I moved, and I bit my lip. They weren’t uncomfortable; quite the opposite, actually. They felt good. But they felt good in a way that made me feel hot and self-conscious, made me want to be alone as soon as possible.

“This is the wagon with the food, mead, and spare blankets,” Murzuth said when I was inside. “Feel free to unfold some of the blankets if it’ll make you more comfortable. Igurg will be driving this cart, so ask him if you need anything. And Alanthe”--she placed a hand on my thigh, her eyes twinkling--“you are not allowed to come without permission.”

Anticipation and dismay twisted around each other in my stomach, and the pearls felt tight against my clit. Murzuth must have seen it in my face, because she laughed, tickling me under the chin. “I’ll see you again when we make camp, little treasure.”

I lifted my chin and looked her in the eyes. “I look forward to it.”

“So do I.” She winked and closed the doors of the wagon behind me.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The wagon rolled out and the orc camp began to march. Perhaps the road was bumpy, or perhaps I was just more aware of it than usual, but the wagon’s weight shifted every time a wheel so much as rolled over a stone. The pearls between my legs moved with every bump and jostle.

They slid against my skin at random intervals, pressing gently, small and smooth and inescapable. There was never quite enough time between bumps for my arousal to die down, and never enough warning before one for me to brace myself, so I was at the mercy of the road--not unbearably aroused, but unable to ever completely come down. Just like Murzuth wanted.

The shifts in weight and pressure felt better every time, but I had no control. Hoping to get more pressure, I shifted my weight to stand with my feet farther apart.

Instead, the line of pearls slipped between my labia. I gasped.

I hadn’t realized how wet I was. The pearls were slick with it almost instantly, and that made them move even more. When we went over a particularly large bump, they slid easily over my clit, and I moaned.

I fought with the desire to push the pearls aside and finger myself. Murzuth had said I wasn’t allowed to come without permission, and she wasn’t going to be here to give it to me for another few hours at least. No heights of need I reached would end in satisfaction, and as soon as I took my hand away, the pearls would be there to prolong them. I would either disobey the general on my first day as her consort or writhe in desperation, maybe for hours, until she deigned to let me come.

Thinking about that was a bad idea. My cunt flexed involuntarily, and the desire to grind on my own hand only grew stronger. But now that the image had entered my head, it wouldn't leave. I imagined Murzuth opening the doors to the wagon and finding me on the wood floor, squirming, whimpering, pearls and hands wet with my own slick, denying myself an orgasm I desperately wanted, purely out of a desire to please her.

Would she be pleased? Would she be attracted? Would she want to reward me, and unlock the pearl chain, and sink her cock into me again right there in the wagon? Or would she be entertained, and coax me to my feet, and make me wait even longer? Would she lead me through the camp like that? Would the other orcs be able to tell, like they had before? Would I be able to hide how badly I needed their general to fuck me?

I was rutting against nothing. I needed to stop thinking about this. I needed something, some relief from the wet heat between my legs and the toy Murzuth had put there to make it worse. I didn’t know how many hours were left in this journey, let alone if I had the self-control necessary to spend them all almost-but-not-quite coming.

I tried sitting down. There were no chairs, so I leaned against a pile of blankets. That just pulled the pearls tighter against my pussy, and a sudden shudder of the wagon as we moved over a patch of gravel had me moaning with my head thrown back into the soft wool.

I tried lying down instead. Better, but not much; I could still feel everything, and now gravity wasn’t pulling the pearls away from me anymore. They rested between my labia, taunting me, and a few drops of wetness dripped onto the floor.

I lifted my hips and tried to pull the chain of pearls away from my clit and labia, but there was a lone pearl farther back, and that just pressed it against my asshole. That felt good too, and realizing that made my cheeks warm. I tried to put my whole hand between the chain and my skin, but there wasn’t enough room, and now my fingers were practically in my pussy, and I could feel under my fingertips that I was even wetter than before…

With a groan of frustration, I rolled over (would Murzuth bend me over when she got back? Hold my face to the ground and fuck me from behind?) and got up. Maybe I could distract myself.

But there was nothing in the wagon to distract myself with, and suddenly I admired the cleverness of putting me here. I could drink the mead if I liked, or dip into the rations, but I wasn’t actually hungry or thirsty, and that wouldn’t make this lovely, torturous feeling go away. I could spread the blankets out, make myself more comfortable (and probably imagine I was in Murzuth’s bed again), but again, that wouldn't really help. There was nothing truly useful here--no knives and wood to carve with, no yarn to knit, no scrolls to study or books to read, no materials for art. Nothing that would occupy my mind or help me ignore my body.

I considered my options. I could stand here in the wagon trying not to be turned on; I could fuck myself to my satisfaction, and deal with having disappointed Murzuth--not to mention reflecting poorly on my village--or I could keep myself on the brink of orgasm until I went mad. And while I was strangely curious about the last option…

Wait. Didn’t I have one more choice?

You are not allowed to come without permission,

Murzuth had said. She had also said,

Igurg will be driving the cart.

Ask him if you need anything.

Would Igurg’s permission do? Could I ask Igurg to let me come? Murzuth hadn’t said I couldn’t. And even if it wasn’t what she meant, she might be entertained by me thinking outside the box.

I remembered her laughter when Ragar had propositioned me, and her wide smiles when she greeted the other orcs. They were different from the smiles she had given me so far. She had smiled at me with fondness, with hunger, and with amusement, but not yet with the broad, apple-cheeked joy that Ragar had coaxed out of her.

I wanted to make her smile like that. I wanted to make her laugh. I wanted her to enjoy my company as well as my body. I wanted to surprise her, impress her.

But… to ask Igurg. To go to the little window between the front of the wagon and this small room, and to ask this short, friendly orc if I could have an orgasm, pretty please--he wasn’t Murzuth, with her tree-trunk thighs and her wine-leather smell. I wasn't

his

consort.

Igurg might smile pleasantly and say yes, or he might crease his brow in sympathy and say no, but either way the act of asking would subordinate me to him as well as Murzuth. I might as well hand him the leash that still sat coiled in Murzuth’s pocket.

So I paced around the little wagon for what must have been hours, shifting positions, pulling the pearls away from my clit when I got too close, moaning into the empty air, growing increasingly desperate and frustrated. Every roll of the wagon mocked me. Time stretched on, and I didn't know how long it would be before we would disembark. Before me was an agonizing eternity of being teased by bumps in the road.

By the time it occurred to me to ask Igurg something else, I was so wet it had dripped down the insides of my thighs. Holding the pearls away from my clit with one finger, trying to ignore the press of the last one against my asshole, I steeled my nerves and pulled aside the wooden slat that separated the driver's seat from the inside of the wagon.

"Igurg?" I said politely, hoping he wouldn't notice how flushed I was.

He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. "Alanthe! How're you doing back there?"

Did he even know about the pearls? Probably not. Who would have told him, and when? Gods, the thought of Murzuth telling him made me squirm with embarrassment, and that didn't help with the arousal.

"I'm all right," I said. "Do you…"

think you could give me permission to come, please?

"…know when we're going to stop? You know, make camp, or rest the horses, or…?"

"Oh, we'll take a quick rest and have something to eat in about half an hour," said Igurg cheerfully. "But you can eat sooner if you'd like. There's food back there."

"Oh, I know," I said. "I was just hoping to stretch my legs. Thanks, though."

We went over another bump in the road, and my finger slipped, letting one of the pearls bump against my clit. I gasped.

Before Igurg could ask me what was wrong, I shut the little window again and learned against the wall, pulling the chain as far away from me as I could. My breath came in pants. That was close--but close to coming or close to Igurg finding me out, I couldn't tell.

I could last half an hour, couldn't I? It had been hours of constant want already, so surely I could take a little more. I just had to hold out…

The wagon rattled, shaking the pearls, and I groaned loudly. There was no way Igurg hadn't heard that.

My face burned, but the rattling didn't stop. I hooked my finger behind the chain again and willed myself not to come. I wanted to be good for Murzuth, wanted to obey her, wanted her to be pleased with me…

I wasn't going to make it. I threw open the window and leaned forward, bracing myself against the wall.

"Igurg," I said, breathless. "Igurg!"

He turned to look at me again, and his smile became a look of surprise. I couldn't imagine how I must look--I shouldn't; it would only turn me on more. I should think about boring things, like--like--

"Igurg, can I come, please?" I blurted.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

So Murzuth hadn't told him. "Can I--" I took a deep breath. "The general put these pearls on me," I explained, my face getting hotter with every word. "I've been so desperate for an orgasm, and she told me I couldn't have one without permission--"

Igurg laughed. I couldn't look him in the eye.

"So that's why she put you in my wagon," Igurg said, without a hint of discomfort. "Oh, she's a lucky one. You're clever

and

obedient. She's going to have a field day with you."

Something in my stomach fluttered at that, and gods if that wasn't the last thing I needed right now.

"But… can I come?" I was begging now. "Please? I've been sitting in here wanting to for hours, Igurg, please, I--"

"I'm afraid not, Consort Alanthe," Igurg said. He sounded genuinely sympathetic. "I don't think I should let you when the general isn't here. She's the one who owns you, after all."

The word

owns

did something to me too, and I groaned helplessly, beyond argument or propriety, close again already. I needed it, I couldn't hold out, but I had to, but I couldn't…

A horn sounded from the front of the company, and Igurg pulled on the reins. "You're in luck, Alanthe," he said. "Looks like we're stopping now."
 
Murzuth held her hand out to me like I was a noble lady stepping out of a carriage. I started to smile at her, but as I stepped down there was another bolt of sensation, and I gasped softly. I had to pause for a moment and hold very still so as not to come.

I breathed carefully and stole a glance at Murzuth. She was watching me with an amused smile; flustered and surprised, I immediately looked back down at the steps of the wagon.

Once again I was struck by how tall she was, how strong, how self-assured. I could feel her presence and her gaze on me, even when I wasn't looking, as I made my slow, halting way down the steps. With those strong, gentle, perfectly shaped arms, she could pick me up like a feather. There would be nothing I could do to stop her.

I had to stop again. I was panting shallowly. There was no way she didn't notice. I looked briefly at her face, and sure enough, her grin was wide and predatory. It was all I could do not to whine at the sight of her looking at me like that.

"Can I, ma'am?" I whispered as my feet finally touched the ground.

"Can you what, little treasure?"

I knew she knew already. This was just a way to make me humiliate myself. And that was… exciting.

I craned my neck to look up into her golden eyes. "Can I come, please, ma'am?" I asked quietly.

Murzuth cupped my chin in her hand. Her eyes glinted with mischief. "Now? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"I--" I stuttered. "I… not in front of everyone, please, ma'am. I would like for you to take me somewhere private and… and fuck me there." My face felt so hot.

I would like for you to fuck me.

I would, but gods, it hadn't taken long for me to become this woman's slut, had it?

"Hmm…" Murzuth stroked my cheek with her thumb. Her smile was even wider now. "Unfortunately," she said, not sounding like she thought it was unfortunate at all, "there isn't much privacy at this stop. You can either show the whole troop how pretty you are when you come for me, or you can wait until we make camp for the evening."

As she spoke, she lifted my skirt and cupped my ass-cheeks in her hands. I was panting outright now, apprehensive but eager. "I'll be nice and make it a little easier on you," said Murzuth, and now her fingers touched my tailbone and there was a click. The chain of pearls fell away. I breathed a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment.

“If I kept this on, you wouldn’t be able to wait if you wanted to,” said Murzuth into my ear as she removed the chain from around my hips. “You were already so close, weren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered.

“Igurg told me you asked him to let you come.” Murzuth’s breath was warm, and it tickled. The chain was fully unclasped, dangling over one of her fingers, but she hadn’t taken her hands from under my skirt. Instead, she rested her hands on my ass, squeezing gently. “Sweet, creative little thing. I think you deserve a reward for being so entertaining.”

She reached between my legs and dragged her pointer finger over my labia. She didn't even have to go between them to cover her finger in my slick. I whimpered.

"Good girl," Murzuth whispered.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, breathless. My eyes closed. Maybe I did want her to fuck me right here in front of everyone. Maybe I wanted her to hold me down and keep talking to me in that low, smoky voice, or humiliate me while she made me come until it hurt…

“So what’ll it be, little treasure?” Murzuth asked. She drew back and pulled my skirt back down, then licked her finger clean. She didn’t break eye contact with me. “Now, or later?”

“I…” my eyes darted around the camp. I wanted Murzuth to fuck me until I couldn’t think, but seeing all the strange orcs made me nervous. “Later, please,” I said softly.

Murzuth nodded, smiling, and smoothed a hand over my hair. “I look forward to it. I’ll see you in the evening, beautiful.” She kissed my forehead and walked away, tucking the chain of pearls into a pocket of her skirt.

I slumped down onto the steps of the wagon and took a deep breath. My clit still felt dangerously sensitive, and I could feel how wet I was. I wasn’t sure I had made the right choice; Murzuth didn't seem disappointed, but I was, a little. With the pearls gone, I could obey her and avoid coming for the rest of the day, but I still ached for it. I was going to be distracted the entire time.

That was the point, I realized. Murzuth liked seeing me needy and desperate. She hadn’t been disappointed because she knew I would be squirming in the wagon all day, trying not to think about it, trying not to touch myself. And when we finally made camp…

Gods, that was… something. The realization put a hot shiver in my stomach. I thought about Murzuth unwrapping me like a present at the end of the day, finding me ready and willing to come at the drop of a hat, crooning and calling me a good girl.

I decided I had made the right choice. The rest of the wagon ride would be an ordeal, but when I finally, finally came, it would feel so good to know I had pleased her.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The next time Murzuth helped me out of the carriage, it was just as gentle, but my feet never reached the ground. The sun was setting now, and the air was beginning to get chilly; in my thin silks, I shivered as soon as the wagon door opened. Murzuth scooped me up in her arms and carried me to a campfire, where most of the rest of the camp was already seated on logs, pillows, blankets, or furs.

She set me down on a knitted blanket, which was spread over the ground on top of a large fur rug. I tucked my knees under me and watched as a few of the other orcs brought out a spit. What must have once been an entire deer was cut up and speared on it. Murzuth sat down behind me, crossed her ankles with her knees apart, and pulled me onto her lap.

"Warm enough, sweetheart?" she asked, pulling the blanket around us. Behind the blanket, she encircled my waist in her arms.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," I whispered. I had been driving myself to distraction all afternoon, and her wine-leather scent was maddening. Her muscular arms against my bare skin didn’t help.

The sun sank past the horizon as the few remaining members of camp filtered in. There was one with dark hair and rope tied around her wrists, but the rope didn't restrict her movement at all; there was so much slack between her hands that she could have played jump rope with it. I could tell she was human by her rounded ears and her stature. She was too tall to be a dwarf or halfling, but too stout to be an elf. Despite her loosely bound hands, she sat at the fire the same way the orcs did, on her own pillow, laughing and joking with those around her.

Before I could ask Murzuth who she was, Murzuth addressed the camp. She didn’t need to stand up; she simply raised a hand and spoke in a voice that carried. "Tonight we celebrate the surrender of Fenharice Village, and we welcome Alanthe Goldbrook!"

The assembled orcs cheered.

"Alanthe came to us as tribute and will stay with us as consort and friend," Murzuth continued. "She is Fenharice's token of submission and loyalty. As her village has given us its sovereignty, so she has given me her body. And as you all heard shortly after her arrival…"

There were chuckles and scattered applause from around the campfire. Someone whooped. Ragar whistled.

"… I have accepted that gift," Murzuth said with relish, "and claimed the reward of a conqueror. We will feast in honor of Fenharice's wisdom, and of Alanthe's bravery, honor, beauty, and…

lovely

voice for expressing herself."

She smirked as she said it, and tickled me under the chin. There was more laughter around the campfire. A few people clapped. Someone handed Murzuth a goblet. She held it to my lips; whatever was inside smelled good--spiced, warm, a little alcoholic.

"Take the first sip, beautiful," Murzuth said.

Slowly, she tilted the goblet back, and I lifted my chin and drank. Whatever was in it was hot and sweet, with a hint of cinnamon, and it settled in my stomach with a comforting warmth. Murzuth began to draw the cup away, but I leaned forward and kept my lips around the rim. She chuckled and let it stay.

I drank more than half the cup before she removed it again, drained what was left, and called for another.

"You like honey mead?" she asked. "Ever had it before?"

"No," I said. I wanted to ask about it, but another orc shouted from the other side of the circle.

"Alanthe! Choose the first song!"

"Do you know 'The Quickest Hare in the Foxglove Garden?'" I called back.

"Do I!"

Evidently the orc was a fiddler, because he pulled out his instrument and struck up a rendition of "The Quickest Hare" that rivaled the festival players back home. Ragar joined in with her lute, and soon there was stamping and clapping from around the campfire. Bashuk sang in a clear alto, and I filled in the soprano harmonies.

After that the ice was broken, and requests flowed faster than the fiddler could play them. Some were in Common, some in Orcish, a few even in Elvish and Goblin. Some were familiar to me, but most I had never heard. The deer came off the spit, and I got the finest cut.

The orcs laughed and joked, and when they smiled at me, it seemed genuine. I found myself smiling and joking back. We played games, just like I might have at one of Veris’ parties back home--Would You Rather, Never Have I Ever, anything that didn’t require me to leave the warmth of Murzuth’s lap. Murzuth's and my honey mead chalice was emptied and filled and emptied again.

At first the conversation flowed easily, like the honey mead; then it flowed too easily to hold onto, like water in the stream Murzuth had bathed me in. I felt dizzy and loose, and I found myself leaning bonelessly against Murzuth's shoulder. She brushed her fingertips across my collarbone and up my neck.

Her arms felt firm and warm around my waist, one hand splayed across my stomach, and I shifted in her lap. Now my knees were apart under the blanket, and I could feel her muscular thighs beneath me, and her skirt, far more substantial than mine, under my ass. She bent down and kissed the corner of my ear.

"How do you feel about pain, treasure?" Murzuth asked. Her breath was warm, her lips were soft, and her voice was low and smooth as a snake in the grass.

I wanted her to keep talking to me like that. I closed my eyes, and my head lolled back--and then I registered what she had said.

"I…" Turned on? Nervous? Turned on because I was nervous? "I don't know, ma'am."

"I," Murzuth whispered, her tusks scraping against my ear, "would like to find out."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, and my voice was so small it was barely a breath, and then Murzuth bit my earlobe.

It was a small, sharp pain, with a warm ache behind it when she removed her teeth. I gasped, but her slow caress on my neck soothed me, and once again I melted against her chest. That hadn't been bad. Surprising, perhaps, but also… good? Also… my head swam. I rubbed my cheek against the side of her neck.

She did it again, harder this time, and a soft, strangled cry escaped me.

"Shhhh," she crooned, kissing my cheek. "Shh, shhh. Good girl." One of her hands moved up to cup my breast.

In the warm haze of the mead, I wondered if she was training me. She was as within her rights to hurt me as she was to fuck me, and perhaps she was reminding me of that. Perhaps she was teaching me to be comfortable with pain if she was the one delivering it, to make my submission more total and my surrender more complete.

Or perhaps she just liked my stifled whimpers and involuntary twitches. She closed her thumb and forefinger around my nipple, and the thin silk between her skin and mine did nothing to dampen the sensation. Once again, with a flush of shame, I wished she would put her other hand under my so-called skirt. In the darkness and noise, no one noticed my blush. If they did, they attributed it to the mead.

Murzuth began, very slowly, to tighten her hold on my nipple.

It was a sharp, stinging pain with the inexorable certainty of escalation. It started small, even gentle, with just a touch of pressure--not uncomfortable yet, merely a firmer grip. It took several moments for me to notice it had become uncomfortable, and several more to realize that Murzuth had no intention of stopping. I knew it would hurt soon, and I couldn't separate my apprehension from my arousal. So I sat there in her lap, with my back against her chest and my legs spread behind the blanket, and breathed as the pressure shaded gradually into pain.

With every breath I adjusted, and with every breath it became slightly worse. I could feel my pulse under Murzuth's fingers, in my throat, and between my legs. I tilted my head back onto her shoulder, my breath coming faster now. No one around the campfire gave any indication of noticing.

"Murzuth," I whispered between my teeth.

"Yes, lovely?" She began to twist. I bit back a yelp, but I couldn't stop my hips from canting up, or wetness from sliding down my inner thigh.

"I--" Gods, talking made this so much harder. I wanted her to stop, or to keep going, or to throw the blanket off and humiliate me in front of all these orcs, like I had almost let her do earlier. The pain felt warm. My whole body felt warm. My eyes darted around the campfire, but still no one was looking--and then Murzuth twisted another degree, and my eyes were screwed shut before I could think about it.

I was breathing fast and heavy; my pulse pounded in my ears. There was no way the others couldn't hear it. Could they? Gods, I was so, so wet. I hurt and I

wanted

. I imagined Murzuth sinking her fingers into me like she had in her tent and could barely suppress a moan. Or if, instead, she pushed me flat on my stomach and fucked me into the dirt… she would never, I was a precious gift, but she

could

. I shivered. Did I want her to?

Another degree. I tried not to whimper, but it came out anyway, shaky and helpless.

“Alanthe!” someone called.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Would you rather fight a drider or a chimera?”

“Uh…” Murzuth hadn’t released her hold on my nipple, and it was hard to think. I would probably just immediately surrender to either one.

“A drider,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking, “because you can negotiate with it. The best you can hope for with a chimera is not to get eaten, but you might actually get something out of a fight with a drider.” There! Surprisingly lucid.

There were nods and laughter around the circle. It was my turn to pick someone now…

Murzuth chose that moment to twist my nipple a tiny bit further. “Murzuth!” Her name came out of me halfway between a yelp and a whimper. I took a deep breath, feeling my pulse under her fingers.

“Murzuth,” I said again, more steadily, hoping against hope that no one had guessed what was happening under the blanket. “Would you rather…” Fuck, I hadn’t thought of anything ahead of time. “Would you rather be two inches tall or two miles tall?”

“Two inches,” said Murzuth without hesitation. “I already have to duck to get through doorways.”

More laughter. “Ragar,” said Murzuth.

“Yes?”

“Would you rather…” Another degree, and I was panting, trying not to squirm in Murzuth’s lap. Thank gods I wasn’t expected to speak any more. My skirt had bunched up around my hips, and Murzuth’s skirt was wet under me. “…bring out the hookah or our pipes next?”

There were a couple of scattered cheers around the circle. “Hookah,” I heard Ragar say. “Let’s all get in on it.” She stood up from her pillow and winked at me. “Wouldn’t be fair to leave out the guest of honor.”

Luckily, she didn’t wait for a response. She just disappeared into her tent and came back out with an elaborate glass contraption that she set down in front of her. She took some coals from the fire and set them on top of the hookah, and before long the orcs were passing it around the circle, puffing smoke out of its odd, tapered tube.

It made its way to me and Murzuth shortly, and Murzuth still didn’t let go of my nipple. She took a deep breath of its smoke and then handed the tube to me.

“I think you’ll like this,” she said cheerfully. “It tastes like mint.”

I put my lips around the opening to the hookah and breathed in. It did taste like mint. It was light and airy, acrid but faintly sweet, and I kept my breath steady while I filled my lungs despite the pull of Murzuth’s fingers on my nipple. I held it in for a moment, savoring it, but it made my throat feel dry and tingly, and before long I coughed it out.

“That was a big one!” Ragar laughed. I nodded vaguely and handed the hookah off to the next orc, who took an even bigger puff than mine and then coughed loudly.

As the hookah finished its circle and began another, the light, airy feeling spread from my chest throughout my body. My head spun, and I leaned back to rest against Murzuth’s shoulder again. My skin tingled. Murzuth’s continued pinch hurt more, somehow, but also less, and also

better

, and the little slick patch on her skirt was pleasantly, alluringly cool. I wanted to rub myself against it. I wanted to rub myself against her.

There was another round of coughing and laughter from the other side of the circle, and Murzuth let go of my nipple. A hot, tingling feeling spread through it, and I heard a long, low, smooth sound before I realized it was coming from me. I was moaning, and the hot feeling was pain as blood rushed back to my nipple.

I didn’t know what to do. Everything was warm and hazy and painful and good. “Murzuth…”

"Tap my leg if it's too much, sweetheart," she whispered. I nodded, speechless, and she kissed the top of my head.

The hookah came around again, but I demurred this time. I was already floating in Murzuth’s hands. She scratched my ribs and the undersides of my breasts, pinched the insides of my thighs, bit my neck and ears, and tugged on my hair. My movements got less controlled until I was pushing my ass back against her and my breasts into her hands. My head lolled back and I saw stars, or perhaps they were the real stars in the night sky above me. I saw and felt glimpses of Murzuth’s tattooed skin, her tusks, her lips. I couldn’t focus on anything but the way she felt.

The talking died down, and the hookah didn’t come around again. I didn’t hear any more cheers, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was the fact that I could feel her cock now, hard through her skirt, and her hands and the need that had been building inside me since this morning.

“Murzuth,” I said, not bothering to keep my voice low anymore. “Murzuth, please, fuck me right now. I don’t care if everyone sees, I don’t care how you do it, you can fuck me right into the dirt if you want, just please--”

“Beautiful, no one will see,” said Murzuth, amused. “Look. Everyone’s already gone to bed.”

I looked around, paying attention to my surroundings for the first time in what must have been hours. Sure enough, the fire was dying, and we were the only two left.

“But I’d be happy to fuck you into the dirt,” Murzuth purred, and then I was flat on my stomach on the ground between us and the fire. She had bucked me off her lap and was holding me down, pinned beneath her with both of my wrists held under one hand.

“Again, tap me if you want me to stop,” she reminded me, and then, finally, her cock was rubbing against my labia. I nearly sobbed in relief, grinding back against her, but I was so thoroughly pinned I couldn’t do much. I could only squirm and moan as she teased me even more, sensation upon sensation but never quite enough.

“Please,” I begged. “Please, ma’am--General--I want to come so badly. Please, please, haven’t I been good?”

“Oh, you’ve been so good,” Murzuth said. “I just want to watch you

suffer

.”

I shuddered as she said it, and she thrust forward again, holding her cock against me with her free hand, sliding hard against my clit instead of penetrating. I tried to hold it back, but the tingling feeling and the wetness and her weight pressing my body into the dirt overwhelmed me, and I came with a cry that felt like it was being ripped from my body.

“That’s right,” Murzuth said. She sounded smug, like she was taunting me. “Come for me before I’ve even started fucking you, because you want my cock so badly, don’t you?”

She thrust against me again, and another, smaller orgasm shuddered through me, choking off my ability to speak. “Ye--

e

--es,” I managed. “Yes, Murzuth, please, you’re--ah…” My eyes rolled back in my head as she pulled back again. “Murzuth…”

“It’s okay, little treasure.” Murzuth thrust forward one more time, this time pressing on my labia instead of my clit. Gods, I wanted her inside me. “I know what you’re trying to say. I’m your master, and you’re my sweet little slut, aren’t you?”

I tried to answer, but it became a gasp and then a moan as she finally,

finally

pushed her cock inside me. It was easy, it was perfect, it was smooth and wet and I told her all I could--“Please yes, gods yes, thank you”--before my speech devolved into incoherent groans again.

“I know, little whore,” Murzuth said, and her tone was gentle, fond, and affectionate. “You’re the

perfect

slut. So obedient…” She moved her free hand from under us and gripped my hair with it, holding my head down. I couldn’t move, couldn’t look up, and it felt good. It felt right and safe. I wanted to thank her again, but the smooth wet motion of her cock erased all the words that weren’t hers from my head.

Murzuth bit my ear. I cried out, pushing my hips back into hers so hard I came again. My vision whited out, and I writhed under her, convulsing with sensation and the need for more. My cry became a howl of helpless pleasure.

“What a good girl,” Murzuth crooned. “My little pet. So eager to please. So eager to be fucked, so ready to spread your legs… but so willing to wait because your owner says so…” Her voice was getting low, throaty, close to a moan. “Gods, you’re so fun to play with. You’re fucking

perfect

”--another thrust, harder and deeper this time--“my gorgeous, precious, clever,

darling

little whore--”

She stilled, tensed, and came with a stuttering cry. Her cock pulsed inside me, and I ground up against her, moaning.

She stayed there for a moment and then pulled out, letting her cum spill out of me; she released my wrists, which were a little sore, and gently helped me up from the ground.

I swayed on my feet and leaned against her. “I’ll get you cleaned up,” she said, and picked me up again. “Don’t worry about anything, Alanthe. You can fall asleep if you want.”

“Yes, Murzuth,” I murmured. I rested my head against her chest. “That was good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” she said softly. “My pleasure.”

“Did you…” Now that I had come, I was pleasantly but overwhelmingly tired. “Did you”--I yawned--“mean… those things? Clever… perfect?”

“Yes,” Murzuth said softly. “Every word.”

It was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I woke up in Murzuth's bed, or rather, her bedroll. She was still asleep, snoring gently, with her chest against my back and one strong arm draped over my waist. She had changed my clothes after I fell asleep; instead of the blue silks, now I wore a short dress, like the one I had arrived in, but thinner and softer.Careful not to wake her, I ducked under her arm and slipped out of bed. Then I peeked out from behind the tent flap.The camp was empty, and the sky was still mostly dark; I could see where the sun would rise by the purple above the treetops, but there was no bright sliver of its shape. I took slow, cautious steps to where the campfire had been.Someone had lit a fire again. It was much smaller than the one from last night, but it gave enough light to see by. And crouched next to the fire, whittling an arrowhead, was the human I had seen last night.Her dark hair was pulled back from her face. She was frowning in concentration, and she jumped when I said, “Hello.”“Hello,” she said. And then, after a pause, “What are you doing up so early?”“I was thirsty,” I said. “Do you know where I can get water? And a cup?”“There are cups in Lumdum’s tent,” said the human. “He’s the cook. I can show you. And then there’s a stream nearby--we followed it from the last campsite. I can show you that, too.”“Thank you,” I said. “What’s your name?”“Chessail,” she said, and held out her hand. I shook it, trying not to stare at the rope around her wrist. Was there a polite way to ask about it?As she let go of my hand, Chessail looked at me thoughtfully. “And you’re Alanthe, right? The guest of honor from last night.”“Yes.”Chessail opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. She bit her lip. I wondered if I should remind her that she had said she would show me Lumdum’s tent.Finally, she said, “Can I ask you something?”Whatever her question was, she was already being far more considerate than Ragar yesterday. “Sure.”“Why did you let Murzuth claim you?”A surprised huff of air escaped me, almost a laugh, and I answered before I could think better of it. “Have you seen her?”“Well, yes, of course,” said Chessail, but her forehead was wrinkled with confusion. “But I mean…” she paused for a moment, seeming to consider her words, and then sighed. “I was a tribute too, a long time ago. I still am, technically. I never let any of the orcs claim me. Murzuth asked me if I wanted to choose someone else, back then, and I just… didn’t. So yes, I know she’s very tall and strong and intimidating and all that, but…” She stopped, bit her lip again, and finally said in a rush, “I mean, didn’t you know you didn’t have to? I’m sorry, this is very forward, I’ve only known you for--”“No, no, it’s not that,” I said. “I wasn’t scared of her--I mean, no more than you’d normally be with a new person in a strange place, you know? She gave me the option to pick somebody else, or to not do it at all. She was probably thinking of you when she said that, now that I think about it.”“So why…?”“Because she’s hot ,” I said.Chessail blinked at me. “Oh,” she said, as if I had told her I fucked Murzuth because it was sunny that day. “I guess she is.”“You didn’t notice?”Chessail shrugged. “I tend not to. Anyway, I’m glad you… had fun?” She said it like she was testing the idea, putting two puzzle pieces together and seeing if they fit. I nodded.“I’m glad you did it because you wanted to,” Chessail clarified. “I was… kind of worried. It’s not good to feel pressured into things.”“Yeah,” I said.There was a pause.“Would you mind showing me the kitchen?” I asked. Once everyone was up, we packed up camp and were on the road again. Murzuth didn’t give me the pearls back or ask me to wear them; instead, I asked Chessail to join my cart.She seemed to get over her nerves now that she had her big question out of the way. She was learning to whittle, she said, although her arrowheads weren’t coming out quite straight; Igurg’s wife back at the stronghold said the political situation was complicated, but wouldn’t or couldn’t elaborate; Bashuk had missed her nephew’s birthday, and his coming-of-age ceremony had been postponed until our band returned so she could attend.Chessail wanted to know about me, too. I appreciated her interest, but I remained as evasive with her as I had been with Murzuth. When she asked about my friends back home, I turned the conversation back to woodcarving. I demonstrated some techniques for her, and then watched and gave her tips until she was carving sharp, straight arrowheads despite the bumps in the road, which seemed smaller today than yesterday.While she whittled, I thought about sending letters home. Veris would appreciate them, I knew. She would want to know as many lascivious details as I could fit on the page. And Feanor would like to hear from me, of course, but compared to Veris I had nothing to say to him yet. Perhaps I would write to him later.When she tired of whittling, Chessail gave me a rundown of what I could expect in the near future: two weeks of travel to our stronghold, followed by a month or more of “downtime” there. Most of the orcs would spend time with their families, stock up on supplies that were hard to come by on the front, and check on the state of any land or shops they had a stake in. Murzuth, however, would be politicking--and therefore, so would I.“What?” I asked. “I don’t even speak Orcish.”Chessail grimaced. “I don’t think you’ll need to speak very much.”“What do you mean? I just… stand there and look pretty? Serve people food?”“Possibly,” Chessail said. “But for the most part, well… you’re a consort. You’ll be consorting.”“Oh,” I said.I thought about that for the rest of the trip. I think Chessail could tell I was distracted, although she didn’t ask about it or bring up the subject again.Eventually, the sun began to set, and we got out to make camp again. When the tents were set up, I tapped Murzuth’s elbow to get her attention and inclined my head in the direction of her tent.She put her hand on my waist again and followed me inside. She closed the flap behind us, and then she sat down on the bedroll and patted her lap. I sat, and I took a deep breath before speaking.“Ma’am,” I started.It was more of a way to get myself to start talking than it was a real address. Once one word was out, it would be strange to stop there.“I’ve really enjoyed being here so far,” I continued. “But when I volunteered, I was under the impression that it would be… kind of an exclusive arrangement–not to say mutually exclusive–I know we’re not married, and I have no expectation that you wouldn’t involve yourself with someone else–but that you would be the only person I would be… expected, or allowed, to… sleep with.”Murzuth didn’t say anything, but she rubbed my back gently with one hand. She looked at me attentively and nodded once.“Um… I had a conversation today that made me think that’s less the case than I thought,” I said. If I hadn’t been talking, I would have held my breath. “It was one thing with Ragar, I thought she was just being over-familiar because you know each other, but it seems different. And I just… um… in my village, and I think for elves in general, it’s generally considered… disloyal, dishonorable, to sleep with more than one person. It’s not something that was ever really talked about in detail, I mean, I know about consorts like everyone else, it just wasn’t particularly covered in the story–” I realized I was getting off track and paused. Murzuth kept rubbing my back, and I relaxed a little, leaning against her.“I guess… if I’m–well, first of all, is that true?” I looked up at her again.“Yes,” Murzuth said. “As my consort, you’re mine first and foremost, but we share our consorts more often than not. I thought you were just nervous; I would have mentioned it if I had realized you didn’t know.” She rubbed her thumb in circles against a knot in my back, and I realized I had tensed. Slowly, I relaxed again.“If you’d prefer not to, you don’t have to,” Murzuth added. “No one else even needs to know why. I’ll pretend to be possessive if that’s what you need.” She grinned.“No, I’m…” I bit my lip, thinking. “I’m not uncomfortable with it, exactly. Nervous is a better word. It’s just that I want to know what I’m supposed to do. I want to be a good consort, I want to do it right. Although… I’d prefer it if you were there, if there are other people.”“Of course.” Murzuth kissed my forehead.“And… if you could, um–don’t let them be too mean to me? I mean, I like–I can handle a little mean, but–” I paused. “One of the reasons I volunteered was that I thought I couldn’t come. I thought that… you trying would be different from the way it was. I like this, but I don’t want things to happen that will be like I thought that was going to be, you know? Now that, you know, I’m already here.”“I know,” Murzuth reassured me. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anyone do anything to you that I wouldn’t do.”“Good.” I sighed and leaned my head against her chest. “Thanks for talking to me about it.”“Of course.” There was a pause, and I noticed I could hear her heartbeat. It was slow and steady. “Would you like to ease into it? Even if you wouldn’t rather it were just me, you don’t seem very used to the idea. I could have you with just one other person at first, or two, so you’d be more comfortable when we get home.”I nodded quickly. “That’d be good. Thank you.”“Mm-hmm,” Murzuth hummed. “I even have–well, that’s better left for later, actually. After you’re more comfortable, I have a potion that I think would be quite a lot of fun.”“What is it?”She grinned again. “I’ll tell you later.” Her tusks suddenly looked very sharp. It was another two days of travel before either of us brought it up again. On that fourth day, we disembarked late. The sun had set a while ago, and most of the orcs went into their tents as soon as they were set up. Murzuth, however, took me by the hand and tugged me into the forest at the edge of camp, until we could barely see the lanterns and the moon was the main source of light.“Close your eyes and put your hands behind your back, sweetheart,” Murzuth whispered in my ear, and I did. She tied a rope around my wrists and then tugged them down, forcing me to bend my knees a little. I felt something smooth above the rope, against the top of my wrists. “Now you can open your eyes.”I was at the edge of a small clearing. I tried to stand up fully straight, but my wrists were stuck; if I wanted to straighten my knees, I would have to bend backwards from the waist.Murzuth put a hand on my shoulder and pressed down. The knot in the rope slid down the smooth thing behind me, and my knees bent further, until my head was just below her waist. She was wearing riding pants today, and I could already see the faint bulge of her cock through them.With her other hand, she stroked my cheek, cupping my chin in her palm. She tilted my head back so I was looking her in the eyes.“You remember Ragar wanted to fuck you, don’t you, little treasure?” Murzuth asked softly, rubbing her thumb over my lips.“Yes, ma’am.”She pushed the tip of her thumb into my mouth. “Well, tonight I’m going to let her.”She said it like she had already decided, but she held my gaze for a moment longer. Only chirping crickets broke the silence. I sealed my lips around her thumb and licked it, slowly and deliberately.Murzuth smiled. “She’s ready, Ragar,” she said at a normal volume. It was more than loud enough to be heard in the quiet forest.Leaves rustled underfoot as Ragar emerged from the brush behind me and to my left. She sat in front of me, put her hands on my hips, and tugged them forward. I stumbled a little, but managed to get my feet back under me. Above me, Murzuth was unbuttoning her riding pants.“I love these short skirts you keep her in, Murzuth,” Ragar said, pushing mine up past my hips. “They’re almost enough to pass for real clothes.”Murzuth laughed. With her half-hard cock in one hand, she stepped closer, so that she was standing over Ragar. She rubbed the tip against my lips.I opened my mouth and extended my tongue, licking as much of her dick as I could reach. “What a good girl,” she crooned, tangling her fingers in my hair.Murzuth pushed the rest of her hardening cock into my mouth, and Ragar’s hands roamed over my body. She pushed my thighs apart, squeezed my ass, and licked her way up my inner thigh. Her breath was hot against my clit, and then she licked, warm and wet, in a long, firm stripe over my pussy. When she reached my clit, she swirled her tongue against it. The softness and light pressure made my knees buckle.I slipped down another inch or so, but Ragar braced me with her hands on my ass. Above me, Murzuth chuckled. She was harder now, filling more of my mouth, and she rocked slowly against me.Ragar sucked on my clit, and I whimpered around Murzuth’s cock. Murzuth moaned and rocked faster, harder. I tried to do with my tongue what Ragar was doing with hers, but I couldn’t stay still enough, and when Ragar sucked and licked my clit at the same time, I gasped and forgot what I had been trying to do altogether.Murzuth, taking that as a cue, began to fuck my face. I relaxed my throat and let her, bucking against Ragar’s mouth. Holding me in place by my hair with one hand, Murzuth reached down with her other hand to pinch my nipple, and the pain jolted through my whole body, mixing with arousal into something sharp and heady that made me shiver.I squirmed, and Ragar grabbed both my hips to hold me in place. Another hard lick, and then a series of light, circular motions that almost tickled. I pressed eagerly against her. She pushed me back against the pole.Murzuth pinched my other nipple, then rubbed the tips of her fingers across it in quick, gentle strokes, making me whine around her cock.Ragar slid a finger inside me and curled it, and the tingling, feeling of it, the just-right pressure, washed through my body like a wave. She lifted her head to say, “Gods, can’t get enough, can she?”Murzuth laughed again, breathlessly now. “Absolutely not. Like she was made to be fucked.”“I think she was,” Ragar agreed. She added another finger. “Gods, look at that!” she exclaimed as I thrust against her hand, trying to get her fingers deeper. “Perfect fucking slut. Must have been gorgeous to see her beg, when you fucked her the first day. Even from the middle of camp she sounded heavenly.”I’d almost forgotten how loud I’d been. I was so embarrassed–had the orcs around the fire pit all thought about what it’d be like to fuck me? Had they exchanged looks with each other? Had they imagined fucking me together? I moaned, shaky and pleading, and Ragar pushed a third finger into me.“You little whore, you get so wet so easy,” she mocked me. Then she sealed her lips around my clit again and pressed all three fingers against my G-spot, and I came.It was sudden and hot with embarrassment, and Ragar didn’t let up. Pleasure pulsed through me, and when I was about to catch my breath, Ragar gave another series of quick, wet licks that had me twitching with aftershocks. I sagged, held up by Murzuth’s hand gripping my hair.Ragar licked again for good measure, making me jerk up again, whining. I liked that she could cause me such intense, fluttering pleasure-pain so easily.“I think her legs are getting tired,” Murzuth said. “Bring your dick out.”Ragar’s dick was a dildo, long, smooth, and cool as glass. She pushed it halfway into me and then stopped. My pussy tightened around it, not full enough. I whimpered loudly, unable to speak, and Ragar laughed.“So fucking desperate,” Murzuth said. I felt her cock pulse in my mouth. “I knew you’d make such a good little whore, Alanthe–close your eyes.”She pulled out of my mouth and, after a couple of fast strokes, came in warm spurts on my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw her standing there, radiant and slightly sweaty, with one hand still in my hair.“Gorgeous,” she said quietly, smearing the cum across my cheek with her thumb. She slid the thumb into my mouth, and I sucked obediently.Then she rolled my nipple between her thumb, and my knees went weak again. I dropped down another two or three inches onto the dildo, then caught myself, only for Ragar to push it in the remaining inch. Finally full enough, still sensitive, I made a sound that was half moan and half whimper.Ragar and Murzuth both laughed. “Go on, treasure, try again,” said Murzuth, tugging my hair up, and I straightened. The dildo slid most of the way out.Ragar rubbed my clit with her thumb, and reflexively, I ground down against her, chasing her fingers and the dildo. “Can’t even keep from fucking herself,” said Ragar smugly.“Well, then, why don’t we hold her in place?” said Murzuth, and she moved behind us and wrapped her arms around my waist. As Ragar fucked me shallowly with the dildo, making me squirm, Murzuth rolled my nipples between her fingers.“Please, more,” I said, breathless and quiet. “Please, Ragar, fuck me…”Ragar reached down into her own riding pants to finger herself with one hand, and pushed the dildo hard into me with the other. I moaned and tried to press down onto it, but Murzuth held me in place and then bit my shoulder.I gasped at the pain, and she did it again. I was close to coming again, and when she bit my earlobe, I made a strangled cry.“You sound so good when you’re in pain,” Murzuth growled. Below us, I heard Ragar’s breath getting ragged, and then she pushed the dildo in one last, long time and stood up.As Ragar pulled the dildo out and Murzuth began to untie my hands, I heard a crunch of dead leaves from the edge of the clearing. My head jerked toward it, and in the shadows between the trees, I met eyes with Feanor.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I had to do a double-take to be sure I’d really seen Feanor, and when I looked again he was gone. Either he’d disappeared between the trees or he’d never been there in the first place.

Murzuth was done untying my hands. She had fished a cloth out of her bag and poured some water on it, but she stopped with it halfway to my face. “What’s wrong, Alanthe?” she asked.

“I thought I saw someone I knew.” I peered around her, trying to see between the trees again, but it was no use.

“In the forest?” Murzuth raised her eyebrows. To my left, Ragar squinted, trying to look in the direction I had.

“Yeah,” I said, “but I’m not sure. I could have imagined it, I guess.” But why would I have? I certainly hadn’t been thinking about home while she and Ragar fucked me.

Murzuth cupped my cheek, the wet cloth over her hand, and started gently cleaning her cum off my face. “You seem worried. Are you concerned for a friend, or afraid of a foe?”

“Concerned for a friend, I guess,” I said. “I don’t think he’s injured or anything–assuming he was really here–but… I wasn’t expecting to see him, and things are complicated.”

“Mm,” said Murzuth, nodding. She rubbed her thumb against my lower lip.

When she was done, she scooped me up bridal-style and carried me back to camp. The night was a little colder now, but she was warm. I looked forward to falling asleep tonight, swathed in blankets with her arms around me and her chest against my back.

She set me down again when we reached the edge of camp, and Ragar ruffled my hair.

“Good night, both of you,” Ragar said, smiling, and turned to go back to her own tent. “I’d say I hope it was good for you too, but neither of you is exactly subtle.”

Murzuth laughed. She bent down to kiss me, and as she did, something behind her moved.

Feanor was crouching at the edge of the forest with his bow in his hands, aiming at Murzuth. When I saw him, three things happened: I shouted, Murzuth turned around, and he let the arrow go. With Feanor off balance and Murzuth not where he expected her to be, the arrow shot forward and hit Murzuth’s shoulder instead of her heart.

She cried out and dove at him. He was fast, but she was faster. Her hand closed around his ankle, and she dragged him across the ground toward her. When he was in reach, she grabbed him around the neck with her other hand and lifted him up by the throat.

“Why are you here?” she said. Her voice was low and surprisingly calm.

“Alanthe,” Feanor whispered. “Hurt her. Tainted her. Dishonest…”

Murzuth’s jaw was set. She didn’t break eye contact with Feanor. She just held him there, watching his face, until he went limp.

She set him down, but kept her hand around his throat for another few seconds. When she was sure he was out cold, she looked at the crowd of wide-eyed orcs who had gathered and said, “Rope, please.”

Someone passed her a length, and she tied Feanor’s hands and feet. He roused just as she finished.

“Tying me up won’t fix what you’ve done,” he spat. “You’re a liar and a fraud, taking Alanthe from me and our village. You have no right to debase her like this.”

I couldn’t see Murzuth’s face, but her voice was cold. “I’m sorry if you don’t understand how sending tributes works, but I have every right. I made her come, so she’s mine. It’s not complicated.”

“You didn’t make her come!” Feanor shouted. “She can’t come!”

A shocked laugh burst out of Murzuth. The crowd, previously silent, buzzed with whispers.

“The last few days would suggest otherwise,” Murzuth said.

Feanor spat on her.

The whispers turned to full-voiced displeasure, and a few orcs in the crowd shouted. Murzuth held up a hand, and they quieted again, but Feanor spoke before she could.

“You’re a liar,” he said. “You don’t want to look like you failed, so when you couldn’t make her come, you pretended you did, and your camp went along with it because they want people to think their leader can do anything. I don’t know why Alanthe is pretending–maybe to ensure Fenharice won’t rebel, to keep us safe. But I’m not going to let you claim her when you have no right. I know the truth.”

“You don’t know anything,” I said loudly, stepping forward.

“I know you, Alanthe!” Feanor shouted. His expression was wild. “We were going to be married! Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself, but I know. You’re chaste! And it’s okay, it’s good, it makes you more beautiful and pure–ever since–”

I stepped closer, until I was shoulder-to-elbow with Murzuth, and looked him in the eyes. He stopped.

“Feanor,” I said, keeping my voice even, “we were never going to be married. You think I didn’t like the sex because I couldn’t come, but the truth is I couldn’t come because I didn’t like it. I liked having you as a friend, but you kept trying to be something else.” He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to stop him. “I can come, Feanor, and I can enjoy sex. I just can’t do either one with you.”

He shook his head. "You're only saying that to protect us. I won't let you sacrifice yourself."

I turned my back on him and looked up. When I spoke again, my voice shook with anger as much as nerves.

“General Murzuth,” I said, “could you show him, please?”

Murzuth laughed.
 
My stomach felt fluttery and strange, the way it does when you look off the edge of a tall cliff, but I was determined. I watched Murzuth gag Feanor with rope. The camp’s medic had insisted on bandaging her shoulder before anything else went on, but couldn’t convince her to go to bed.

“I want to let the others touch you,” Murzuth said. I hesitated. Feanor made some undignified noise, and I glared at him, spite welling up in the back of my throat. I wanted to hiss or spit at him, but instead I met Murzuth’s eyes and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Someone pulled up a chair, and Murzuth wrapped her arm around my waist and sat down, pulling me into her lap so my back was to her chest. Feanor was to my left; I could avoid seeing him if I turned my head, but I didn’t. Murzuth’s hand moved down my stomach and over my hip to my inner thigh, where she flattened her palm against my skin and gently spread my legs. There were interested murmurs from the crowd.

“If I could,” said Murzuth, conversationally but in a voice that carried, “I’d hold you in place by your hair with one hand and finger you with the other. But unfortunately I only have one hand at the moment, so I’ll need a little help.” She lifted her voice. “Who wants the first taste?”

There were shouts from the orcs around us, and I squirmed in Murzuth’s lap, glad for her warm, solid presence. She must have nodded or made some other gesture I couldn’t see, because one of the assembled orcs stepped forward–the tailor.

He knelt down in front of me, grinning with anticipation, and winked. I felt my cheeks and ears heat up as he rested his hands on the insides of my knees and pushed them further apart. His fingers were long and delicate. He leaned down; there was a pause, a puff of warm breath against my labia. I couldn’t see his face anymore, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his head between my legs–and then there was his mouth, warm and wet and lascivious, and my eyes fell closed. He licked a wide, flat stripe up my pussy.

“Don’t let her come,” Murzuth said, as the tailor sucked on my clit. She rubbed her thumb over my nipple. “Only I get to hurt her, and only I get to make her come.”

He stopped and lifted his head to say, “Yes, General.” Then he said something else in Orcish and ran his hands up my thighs and over my waist.

He cupped my breasts, tweaked my nipples, and doubled back to circle my waist again, then molded his hands around the curves above my hips. His hands lingered on my body in the same ways and places his eyes had while he’d been fitting me for the clothes I was now wearing, and it hit me that he’d been thinking about doing this when he measured me, hoping Murzuth would let him.

Knowing that made me squirm again, unsure whether I wanted him to touch me more or less. I spotted Ragar in the crowd; she wolf-whistled and winked at me, and Murzuth pinched my nipple. Remembering both of them made me push up against the tailor’s mouth, and when he laved my clit with his tongue again, I made an undignified noise. Someone in the crowd hooted, and my cheeks burned; the tailor gave another wide, heavy lick. I almost didn’t care who was watching–oh, gods, how many people were watching? I couldn’t count, but it looked like maybe–a series of quick, playful licks–I moaned, pressing into the tailor’s tongue–

“Stop,” said Murzuth, and he did. “Alanthe,” she continued, “say something when you’re close, or it'll be hard for you not to come.”

“There’s plenty else that’s hard for her,” commented the tailor, to mixed boos and laughter from the crowd. A warm, wet shape bumped against my thigh as if to prove it.

Murzuth ignored him. “You don’t want to come without permission, do you? You want to be good for me.” She brushed my lips with the tips of her fingers; below her, the tailor brushed my lips with the tip of his dick. “You want to be a nice, obedient slut, don’t you?”

The tailor pushed into me with a soft groan. I nodded, kissing the tips of Murzuth’s fingers.

“My good girl,” she crooned as he bottomed out. He pulled out again and started thrusting in earnest.

Murzuth moved her hand from my mouth to rub little circles over my clit. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I started to nod, but she pinched my clit abruptly. I yelped. The tailor’s pace didn’t falter.

“Come on, little treasure, I want to hear you say it.” Murzuth returned to the gentle circles as if nothing had happened. “And you love giving me what I want, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, yes,” I said, a little breathless. Her fingers hit a spot that made my whole body shiver, and the tailor must have felt my pussy clench, because he moaned. “I… I want to be good for you.”

“More specific, please,” said Murzuth cheerfully. She pressed on my clit a little harder.

“I wa–ah–” A deep thrust, almost as deep as she could get, made my back arch and my legs twitch. “I want to be obedient,” I cried. “Ma’am, I’m close–”

“Oh, good girl!” Murzuth sounded delighted. She pulled her hand away. I made a low, involuntary groan of frustration, and she laughed. Something about her laughter was almost as good-bad-good as her hand had been, and I squirmed in her lap, wishing she would kiss me, wishing I could come. The tailor thrust faster, which didn’t help.

“Such a good girl for me,” Murzuth said, stroking my hair. “And who are you obeying? Who do you belong to?”

“You, ma’am, I belong to you!” It felt like a confession and an exaltation at once. The tailor pushed in farther and made a strangled sound.

He pulled out and away, and warm wetness spilled out of me. The crowd cheered, and several other orcs came closer, including a short, wiry man I hadn’t noticed before. Someone ran their hands over my breasts–I glanced right and saw it was the blacksmith, whose smile was oddly comforting–and a new pair of hands made their way up my legs. I looked down again: the wiry one. He looked me in the eye, smiled gently, and patted the outside of my thigh. He had choppy hair that fell halfway over his forehead.

“That’s right, sweet girl.” I couldn’t see her, but I was sure Murzuth was smiling, predatory and affectionate. The orc below me slid his hand up my leg without breaking eye contact.

I wouldn’t have looked twice at him before now–in fact, I’d probably seen him already and just not noticed him–but something about his demeanor made me feel taken care of, and when he rubbed his fingers against my labia, I thrust my hips into his hand without thinking. He smiled.

Murzuth bit my neck, and I cried out. There was a hiss from Feanor’s direction, but I didn’t look at him. The blacksmith bent down and licked my nipple; someone else rolled my other nipple between their fingers.

The orc with the choppy hair rubbed his fingers slowly against my clit. “Please,” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled and, far too gradually, pushed two fingers inside me. With his thumb, he kept making the same slow circles over my clit. “That’s–” I gasped. “That’s just the right amount of pressure, but too slow–please–please…” I didn’t know his name. I was pleading for him to fuck me, and I didn’t even know his name. I squirmed on his hand, closing my eyes and trying to hide my face in Murzuth’s shoulder, but she held me tighter against her chest.

The stranger said something in Orcish and curled his fingers inside me. Murzuth laughed, which bounced me on his hand, and I moaned helplessly. His fingers pressed firmly against that place that made me feel warm and tight and owned. I arched up again, nearly overwhelmed.

“Please, please!” I begged. “Don’t make me come without permission, please, I want to obey you. I want to be good!”

The fingers inside me stopped moving, and I was able to catch my breath, only to be freshly humiliated by what I had just said. When I thought about it, my clit ached to be touched again. The orc between my legs was still grinning wide, and my gaze darted back and forth between his eyes and the crowd. He spoke in Orcish again, and Murzuth responded, then scraped her fingernails over my stomach.

“What was that, little treasure?” she asked, still in a voice loud enough for everyone assembled to hear. The orc between my legs winked at me. I closed my eyes.

“I want to be good,” I whispered, fucking myself on the stranger’s hand now. “Please, ma’am,” I whispered. “Please, please…”

The hands were taken away, and I made a loud, desperate noise.

“Shhh,” Murzuth soothed, her breath warm against my ear. “Good girl. My sweet girl. Come here, treasure.”

She turned me around on her lap so I was facing her. Her expression was soft, but her eyes passed hungrily over my mouth. I could feel the weight of her breasts on top of my own. She pulled me close against her, positioned her cock under me, and gently guided me down onto it.

This was perfect, slow and full and warm and familiar. She was thicker than the tailor had been, and I moaned, long and low. She bottomed out inside me. I was breathing hard, looking into her golden eyes. Someone behind me squeezed my ass-cheeks.

Murzuth bent down until our mouths were only an inch apart. I closed the distance and kissed her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, pressing my breasts against hers, grinding down on her dick. Her lips were full and soft. She licked my bottom lip and I moaned, rolling my hips to feel her inside me. I should have been embarrassed to be riding her like this in front of everyone, and maybe I was, but all I could think about was getting more of her.

There was more Orcish conversation behind me, and Murzuth stroked my hair. Then she finally,

finally

started moving. I gripped the spot behind her shoulders, trembling with the effort of holding back an orgasm.

“Just like that,” she whispered in my ear. With her good hand, she reached between us, and she put her fingers on my clit but didn’t move them. “You don’t come unless it’s for me. Good girl.”

I broke. With a weak cry, I bore down on Murzuth’s dick, clinging to her. It was happening, and I wanted to stop, to obey, but at the same time I wanted not to stop, to keep feeling like this. But it didn’t matter what I wanted, tried,

meant

to do. I couldn’t help it.

Murzuth kept fucking me, pressing her fingers into my clit now, rubbing it against them with each thrust. “You can come for me now, Alanthe,” she said, and I could hear her smirk.

I keened into her shoulder, humiliated and helpless and soaring. She kissed my cheek and didn’t stop. Some deep thing in me squeezed, warm and shuddering, and I clung to her shoulders with all the strength in my body. Liquid dripped down my thighs onto Murzuth’s skirt.

She laughed breathily. She made me come again, and again, and again. She would slow down momentarily and I would start to catch my breath, and then, like she was taking advantage of an opening, she would press hard again on my clit, or pull out and thrust deeper into me. My body responded to her before I could think, writhing on command, making sounds I didn’t know I could make.

I was sensitive and overwhelmed, and the pain made me come even more easily, my hips jerking forward and backward in an erratic attempt to get more and less of Murzuth’s touch at the same time. I knew I was making pathetic sounds, whines and whimpers, but I couldn't stop.

“That’s my good girl. Does it hurt?”

I nodded, wordless, gasping, and Murzuth moaned. The sound made me push my hips forward again. “Keep going, beautiful,” she whispered. “You feel so good coming around my cock.”

Then she pinched my clit, hard. I screamed, and when I came again every twitch had its own aftershock. Tears squeezed out from between my eyelids.

Murzuth kissed the wet spots on my cheeks. “Little

treasure

,” she breathed. “So good. Can you do one more for me?”

My heart pounded, but I nodded again. Murzuth thrust her hips up, pushing her cock deep into me, and rubbed her fingers roughly against my clit. I came again, humiliated at how easy it was, trembling with adoration. Murzuth groaned loudly and moved her good hand from my clit to my hip. She held me in place while she came, and although it wouldn’t be as visible as when she’d come on my face, I felt like I was being painted with it, claimed all over again. Her nails dug into my skin. Her expression was rapturous.

Finally, she pulled out, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed the top of my head. “Thank you,” she whispered into my hair. “My Alanthe, my treasure. My darling.”

I didn’t respond, just nuzzled my face into the curve of her shoulder. I was still sensitive all over. I could hear her heartbeat, faster than usual but slowing down now, and

I

was the reason why. Knowing that gave me a kind of worshipful satisfaction, a warm, softly glowing feeling. I could have been floating. I could have stayed here forever. Murzuth rubbed the small of my back, and I sighed, relaxing into her chest. Her arms were around me, and I was safe.

When I remembered Feanor, it was like a hand had grabbed my heart and squeezed. I jumped and glanced around; he was still exactly where he had been, bound and gagged on what was now my right side. My throat felt tight, but I gathered my wits, got my legs under me, walked over to him, and untied his gag.

His face looked pinched, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “That was excessive.”

I said nothing.

“Fine,” said Feanor, “point taken. Untie me, and I’ll leave with nothing else said.”

I looked at Murzuth, and she nodded. Another orc hurried over and untied Feanor’s hands and feet.

He shook the stiffness out of his limbs and looked at me, but when he saw that I was still looking at him, he quickly looked away. His face was softer now. I thought that he felt either sorry for coming here, or sorry for me.

“If you’ll have it,” he said quietly, “You should take the bracelet in my bag. As a gift… an apology.”

I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. I was still a little muddled from having more orgasms than I could count. I cleared my throat and said, “Okay.”

Feanor rummaged in his bag, and no one moved to stop him. He pulled out a small golden circle studded with green gems. He held it between two fingers, and when I reached out, he placed it in my hand. He didn’t touch my skin.

“Thank you,” I said.

He bowed his head. “You’re welcome. And Alanthe…”

“Yes?”

“You should know what she really thinks of you.” He finally looked me in the eyes, and then he turned and walked away.