World of Warcraft Porn Story: The captive, pt. 1
PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS STORY DOES NOT TAKE PLACE IN THE WORLD OF WARCRAFT, AND THAT I DID NOT WRITE IT, ONLY PUT ONTO HERE BY A FAN OF PLAYORC.COM
The Captive, Pt 1
After only half an hour of combat, the attack was over. Minhane sat, chained to the rest of the surviving elven defenders, watching the Orcs ransack their homes. Now, with time to think and only the pain of a blow to the head to keep him occupied, he began to notice there was more than one sex of Orc involved in the attack.
He recognized the hulking, deep-green skinned male Orcs, he’d fought and slain many in his time, but there were a cadre of females with better armour and apparently better fighting skills. He’d fought one to a standstill before a blow to the back of his head took him out of the battle. Now, seated with the rest of the male prisoners, he began to seek out the one he went toe-to-toe with.
Leading a trio of other females, all clad in chainmail hauberks, leather leggings, and faceplates, she came up to the group, and began to look the prisoners over. Roughly handling them to check for injuries, she paused at him. Though the slits in her helm, he saw a pair of red eyes peering back at him. She nodded, and he was unchained from the rest, only to be fitted with leg shackles and manacles. At the end of a few feet of chain, she lead him away from the rest.
‘Lords,’ he thought, ‘what is to become of me? A slave in some mine? Food for some bestial captain?’ His mind raced.
He looked back, and saw the women of the tree-top village being led away single-file in chains.
Minhane felt a coal of anger burn in his chest. Orcs were not known for keeping female prisoners alive for very long…
Minhane was thoroughly confused now. He’d been washed (rather roughly), fed, some shaman had performed a ritual over him, and now his hands and feet had been shackled to a wrought-iron bed inside one of the many tents the Orc army had set up. He was mildly thankful for the scratchy fur blanket that covered him, but was beginning to worry about his immediate fate. ‘Did the Orcs not capture enough female prisoners?’ he thought to himself, and began to become truly fearful. Better to have died to an Orc than to wind up being sodomized to death by one.
His fear came to a peak when someone came to the tent and barked out orders to someone in the rough, guttural tones of the Orcish language. He saw the silhouettes of two burly Orcs take position to either side of the tent flap, and in came the same female who had chosen him.
In an almost ritual fashion, she hung her sword and lay her shield beside her bed on an oaken stand. She stood over him, running thick, gloved hands over his body, still covered by the fur blanket. A musky scent entered the tent, and Minhane became strangely aroused.
She removed her helm and revealed a finely angled face the colour of jade. A pair of half-inch long tusks protruded from full, deep green lips. She reached behind her head and unfastened a clasp, allowing luxurious copper curls to fall around her shoulders. Her face bore a pattern of tattoos: dual red strips over the brows, a red ‘v’ centered above them. Twin white ‘v’s beneath her eyes, and a red stripe from bottom lip to base of chin. They gave her face a wicked look.
“No what you expected, eh, elf?” She spoke good Elven words, even if the grammar wasn’t perfect.
Minhane was speechless. She undid four small straps on her sides, and removed the chainmail. The muscles in her shoulders and arms rippled as she moved, and she hung the mail on the headboard. Her thews bore striped tattoos, not unlike the rank chevrons the Empire used for denoting rank, but this detail was overhshadowed when he saw something more interesting: an earth-toned tunic of sack-cloth strained to confine breasts the Elf hadn’t imagined could exist.
To an Elf, slender was the norm, and most Elven females, while curvy and fine of feature, could never attain such voluptuous proportions. It was then he realized she was over a head and a half taller than he.
She pulled the tunic off, and tossed it aside. Her body was like chiseled jade with a few deep green lines showing where her mail had not turned blows away, and a few of the coarse, tribal tattoos Orcs were wont to wear. Black patterns interwove themselves upon her abdomen, a simpler pattern like that on her face was borne upon her left shoulder, and again upon her right breast. A few smaller, less ornate decorations appeared on her hips and forearms, and the chevrons from her arms were repeated upon her shapely hips. She was a giantess of painted jade.
She was very large to the elf. He wondered if he could even reach his hands around her waist, while knowing he could never manage her rounded hips. More coppery curls appeared below her navel, and the Orc smiled, watching Minhane’s eyes travel about her body.
He struggled for words. Here, a member of a race he despised stood almost naked to him. He recalled the friends and family lost to the endless clashes between Orc and Elf. This latest conflict was turning out to be the strangest of them all.
“I am Luthiv,” she said, hands on hips, “and you, Elf, are mine.” She drew back the blanket and looked over his naked form.
Minhane did a double take when he glanced towards his feet. Where his Elven penis had been, a specimen over twice the size now stood, thick and pointing to the roof of the tent. When last he’d seen himself, he was the typical four inch Elven male (which seemed to suit his lifemate just fine), but now.. now a member as thick as his wrist bulged and twitched with every beat of his heart.
“Old Tarvag doing good work,” she pointed out, lightly caressing the bulging head, “I would have pay him back in kind, had he not lost his meat to Dwarven axe those many year ago.” She wore a smirk, and other than her boots, gloves and tattoos, that was all she wore.
She straddled his chest, bringing herself near his face. Through copper curls he saw a pussy he thought he could fall into.
“We’re build big, Elf,” she said, grabbing the wrought iron headboard with both hands and placing her crotch directly upon his face, “you should see what OUR normal male have.” She began to rub herself lightly on his lips.
“We hear you Elves be great lovers. Prove me this, Elf.” His heart raced as a confusing amount of emotions raced about his head. Should he remain still, should he give in and stoke her fire, or should he fight back and bite her. The motion of her lips across his, combined with her musky scent and that damnable Shaman seemed to take hold of his senses, and he succumbed.
With a practiced touch, his tongue found her. Orcflesh was coarse, but supple, and while she may not have tasted like the honeydew his lifemate was, the spell upon him and he could not turn back. A flick here, a long, light stoke there, and she was soon breathing heavily and gasping with every touch. Her hands held tight to the railing and her back arched as she screamed out.
The guards ran in and instead of seeing the elf trying to kill her, they watched as Luthiv thrashed, gasping and shrieking her way through an intense orgasm. Minhane’s eyes were tightly shut, fearing her wracking motions would cause her to accidentally kill him.
She almost passed out there, and if not for the sudden breeze that passed thru the tent, she would never have guessed that anyone had come in. Her eyes rolled in her head, and as she turned and vaguely recognized the guards, she snarled out a curse Minhane did not know. The guards nearly tripped over each other trying to leave the tent.
Luthiv took a few deep breaths and regained her senses. She picked herself up and moved down his body a bit. On her hands and knees, her blood red eyes looked into his pale blues, and still somewhat breathless she said this: “You.. Elf.. I shall keep you forever..”
–
“I look back on my captivity with mixed emotions…
Yes, she was Orc, she should have been my greatest enemy
but bewitched as I was, there was nothing I could do to
break from her.”
Minhane Skysinger,
‘Of My Captivity’Published: Year 152 of the New Calendar
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -“There are no moral compunctions within Orcish ‘society’ about slavery, cruelty, treachery, or greed. Indeed, they are concepts embraced by Orcs, but it must be said that Humans acted in this same way once upon a time.
“Now, while ‘slavery’ has been abolished, there are people held in bondage in this world. In Bregna, the system of serfdom allows for a rigid aristocracy to exist within the Emperial framework. Solthic’s caste system holds one tenth of its population at the very bottom, called the ‘lowest born’ and they are not even allowed to be paid in coin for any service they may render. While the ‘frontier’ of the West may have its own levels and classes, it has never been immune to this most ancient of sorting the populace.
“The Orcs hold individuals in personal enslavement, there are very few places where hordes of slaves are kept as forced-labour, because this requires manpower and resources to maintain, something the Orcs have little patience for. An Orc’s personal slave, or ‘bodyslave’ is kept for few reasons beyond pleasure and the ‘feel of having another under one’s control’. Many are female, ensorcelled or physically chained, kept as toys for their lustful masters, although some of the Orc’s female officers do keep their own chained males. It is strange to see a high-ranking female with a handful of near-naked males in tow, each of a different breed. Ogres, Elves, Humans, halfbloods and more, there seems to limit to the reaches these Orcs are willing to go in the name of pleasure.
“Cruelty is another matter entirely. It is used as a tool to keep one’s underlings in line, and as a goad to enforce one’s will. While there are rules against causing grevious bodily harm to another without a valid reason, it is not impossible to come up with a reasonable cause for any level of treatment.
“Treachery is also commonplace, it is a method of advancement and the threat of knife or bludgeon keeps Orcs on their toes. Any sign of weakness is reason enough to slay a superior and gain his rank, but this is frowned upon because it robs the ‘army’ of qualified officers.
“Last is greed, that most powerful of urges. As a whole, Orcs are poor, in fact they are impoverished by Human standards. The average ‘grunt’ owns little more than the pack on his back, the armour on his body, and the sword in his hand. This is maintained, because it gives each young soldier the desire to loot and raid and steal and gain more than the megre allotment he started his career with. Successful soldiers gain better arms or clothes, replace their earthenware ‘kits’ with porcelain or steel pots, even find portable wealth they can barter for other things with.
“There is no ‘economy’ for the Orcs. Most of the currency gained in raids is put into the hands of commanders who use it to purchase goods for their individual armies. There has never been (according to my sources) a single Orcish coin struck. Why make with your own efforts that which you can readily steal?
“Indeed, it is an alien system, but not one that is impossible to understand. Given time, it is quite likely the Orcs would develop a society much like that we Humans enjoy. The rudiments of art and poetry exist, they have engineers and doctors, cartographers and ‘diplomats’, and a ready-made hierarchy. If not for their warlike ways, would they not be a neighboring empire in their own right?”
–
Gorruk Plinthale
“Orcs of the Continent.”
Preamble to the main work.
Imperial Year 7916 (Old Calendar),
-4 Standard Years (New Calendar)