The Orc King's Captive (7 page)

She groaned, tightening her grip
on the bed frame and started grinding her hips. The more excited she became the
move vigorously he devoured her, until she was moaning like a wounded animal,
sweating and shivering as her legs trembled around his pointed ears.

She grabbed his head in both
hands and tried to pull him inside of her, smothering him between clenched
thighs as she came. She rocked on his face for several long moments of bliss,
letting herself experience the intensity of her own desire. She realized the
truth, then, that for all his crimes and indignities, it was his body, his
heart, his mind she desired.

He pushed her off, flopping her
onto her back on the bed and crawled on top of her, forcing his rock-hard prick
into her dripping cunt. She kissed his lips, tasting herself as he fucked her,
pounding her lithe body with a brutal intensity that excited her beyond reason.
He was a giant inside of her, stretching her with his massive cock and forcing
her to cum a second time. She dug her nails in his back, drawing blood, but it
only seemed to excite him. Her head was swimming with pleasure, clouded by a
haze of sparks that swarmed like bees to block out everything but the sensation
of his rigid member in her tight hole.

He pulled out, her muscles still
contracting, and flipped her over onto her belly. She knew that that was how he
preferred to see her, face-down and submissive, and she raised her hips to
accommodate him, presenting herself.

He pushed himself in, straddling
her hips with spread thighs and pressed down on her back with his hand. He
fucked her like a whore, admiring his handiwork as he used her, spanking her
buttocks until they were red and raw.

She lost track of her orgasms,
shamed herself with the intensity of her own arousal as he dominated and
humiliated her. His cock seemed to know every weakness and stroked her
sensitive spots with uncanny accuracy, reducing her to a trembling mass of
quivering flesh.

Finally, she felt his cock
pulsing rapidly, moving inside of her like living steel. His body spasmed and
he drove himself deeper and deeper into her core, hands clenching the blankets
as he grunted and released his load.

It pumped from his cock in hot
waves, filling her cunt with fertile orc spunk. She felt it leaking out,
sliding down to her clit and dripping onto the mattress.

Her face was flushed, sweaty
with arousal, when the doors opened.

"My king," one of the
guards said, dropping his head and bending his knee. "They have renewed
the assault."

Kerlok pulled out, wiping his
prick on her buttocks.

"Bring me my armor,"
he said, jumping off the bed. He left the room naked; one of the guards shut
the door behind him, giving Quolondra a curious look.

She pushed herself to her hands
and knees, body trembling. She climbed from the bed and dressed herself before
rushing to the door. The sounds of battle had grown very close; her people had
found some chink in their defenses and were pressing them hard. Could it be?
Could her people have rallied and driven them back?

She heard a high-pitched hiss
followed by an explosion and the rumble of a crumbling wall. She'd recognize
that sound anywhere. Someone was using magic. She touched the collar, feeling
its cold weight. Then that must mean... they'd found some way around the Ur
stones! The orcs had been stripped of their secret weapon.

She tried the door, but they'd
barred it from without. She ran to the windows and thrust open the shutters.
Black smoke billowed upwards from below. They were fighting on the very steps
of the palace. She peered through the smoke at the figures below and saw her
nimble soldiers weaving among a troop of heavy orcs. They were bloody and
battered, but stinging like a nest of hornets. Mygamyl, her Master of Flames,
prepared another eldritch assault on the doors but his spell seemed to fizzle.
He looked up, sensing the disturbance, and waved her back with a frown.

She clutched the collar and
moved away. The
Urtolothia
was interfering with his magic.

It was almost too incredible to
believe. Somehow, after so much slaughter, her people were winning. If they
were this close now, it was only a matter of time before they reached the doors
of her room.

A sudden vision of Kerlok dying
beneath elvish swords and arrows made her heart lurch. She staggered back onto
the bed, head spinning. It made no sense; why should she care what happened to
the brute? She should be driving the killing blow herself...

In a panic, she leaped to her
feet, grabbed the chair that Half-mouth had been so fond of perching on, and
smashed it against the doors. It barely made them shudder. She hit it with the
palms of her hands, shouting. Had she lost her mind? She didn't know what she
was doing.

The doors suddenly burst open
and Groma appeared, hazed in smoke and bleeding from a dozen wounds.

"Get out of my way,"
she said, shoving Quolondra aside.

The orc woman slammed the doors
behind her and began dragging a bureau in front of it. An elvish arrow sticking
half-way through the back of her arm kept getting tangled in the rings of her
armor.

"What are you doing?"
said Quolondra. "Do you really think that's going to stop them?"

The warrior woman snarled, her
eyes wild with rage and terror. She grabbed the queen by the wrist and held the
point of her dagger to her chin. Quolondra winced, feeling the jagged tip draw
blood.

"Perhaps I'll use you to
buy my freedom," the orc said, sneering.

"Any one of my soldiers
could put an arrow through your eye at three hundred paces," she said.

"Not before I slit your
throat, sow."

"And kill Kerlok's
child?"

The orc woman hesitated.

Quolondra could see the conflict
written clearly on her face. Killing the elf queen was one thing, but killing
her liege lord's unborn child...

"The king is dead."

"If that were true you
wouldn't have hesitated."

"He will fall, if he hasn't
already."

"Surrender and I'll spare
you," Quolondra said. "And the king, too."

The sounds of battle could be
heard in the next room. Her people would burst through those doors any moment.

"Why would I trust
you?" said the orc, glancing over her shoulder. Sweat was beginning to mix
with the blood dripping from a wound over her brow.

"Because you saved my
life."

Quolondra felt the orc woman's
grip loosen by the tiniest fraction. Their negotiations were cut short by the
sound of splintering wood.

The doors crashed open, pushing
the bureau aside with a loud scrape. A dozen elves with nocked arrows stood on
the other side of the portal, a pair of enormous black bears before them.

"She has the Queen,"
said a sergeant. They drew back on their bows.

"Wait!" The queen
pushed herself in front of Groma. "She's not to be harmed."

The soldiers relaxed their bows,
uncertain.

"This woman saved my
life," said the queen. "Take her weapons, but don't harm her. And see
to it that her wounds are treated."

There was a pregnant hush and
then two soldiers seized Groma and led her away.

Quolondra smoothed her dress,
reclaiming an air of dignity.

"How did you manage this
miracle?" she asked, turning to the sergeant.

"The Ur stones were
captured, Your Excellence, along with the traitor Tolterian. He's being held at
the Hall of Ancestors, awaiting punishment."

"I look forward to
administering it," she said. She tugged on the collar, impatient to be
free of it.

The Master of Flames strode into
the room, followed by a dozen soldiers. On seeing the queen, his face lit up
with surprise and relief.

"My Queen—"

"Has Kerlok, the king of
the orcs, fallen?" she interrupted, doing her best to conceal the concern
in her voice.

The Master nodded. "He has
taken up position in the library. He has only a dozen or so bodyguards. It will
be over soon."

"I want him taken
alive," she said, heading toward the hall. Just knowing that he was alive
gave her strength. The others followed, bewildered by her uncharacteristic
demeanor.
Let them wonder,
she thought.
Let them be as confused as I
am.

"My Queen."

"What is it?"
Quolondra turned to the Master of Flames impatiently. He was holding up a small
key.

"The collar, Your
Excellence."

She smiled. "My apologies,
Master. I'm afraid the last few days have been very... trying."

He nodded. "There's no need
to apologize, Great One. I must confess, I expected to find you in... worse
condition. Your Excellence is most... resilient."

Pliant, you mean,
thought
the Queen with a shiver. She let the Master unlock the collar and remove it
from her neck. She longed to feel her powers return, but the mere presence of
the Ur stone collar was enough to obscure them.

"Remove that thing from my
presence. And see to it that it is safely guarded."

The Master nodded and gave it
the sergeant, issuing instructions for its disposal.

"Now, let's catch us an
orc," she said, rubbing her neck.

––––––––

W
ith her powers fully recovered,
it was a trivial matter to catch Kerlok and his three remaining guards. She let
him stew in the dungeon while she set about restoring order in the kingdom.

She had Tolterian fitted with
the collar that he himself had placed around her neck and sent him to the
deepest, dirtiest dungeon below the palace, throwing him into a cell occupied
by a dozen orc prisoners of war.
Let him have a taste of his own medicine,
she thought.
I'll decide what to do to him later.
The other conspirators
had been placed in other cells. She only wished that she had more collars.

Groma had been allowed to stay
in the palace as a guest, though she was not allowed to bear arms. Though she
was free to leave, her loyalty to her king worked as well as a leash and kept
her bound to the palace. The orc woman's self-imposed captivity rankled her,
making her sullen and quarrelsome, but the queen had no concern for her safety.
Indeed, so long as she carried Kerlok's child, no one in the castle had a
greater interest in the Queen's protection.

She hadn't decided yet what to
tell her people. She knew that she couldn't give up the child that her conqueror
had planted inside of her, but she knew equally well that they wouldn't
appreciate a half-orc bastard in line for succession. She had girlish notions
of the child's birth serving as a catalyst to unite their peoples, too long at
war, but she knew better than to hope for anything but more conflict arising
from his birth.

After a week of exhausting
planning and ruling, she stole away in the evening to see the king. She ordered
the guards posted outside the door to leave her and opened the iron-bound door,
slipping inside and closing it behind her.

Kerlok was in chains, sitting
with his back to the wall below a small window, looking more vicious and
bestial than ever. He was dressed in a loincloth, his powerful, chiseled body
covered with fresh, pink scars. He was just as she'd imagined.

He eyed her warily, shifting
somewhat and pulling on the chains.

"Do you know what's in
here?" she said, running her hand over her belly.

He inhaled deeply, absorbing her
perfume. "A warm place for me to spill my seed?"

She smiled, absurdly charmed by
his boldness and crudeness. She tried to appear in control, but she couldn't
hide the sudden flush in her cheeks. "Your son. Or your daughter."

He snorted. "I have
hundreds," he said.

It's good to see that
imprisonment has done nothing to erode his pride.

"But how many do you have
in elvish queens?" she asked, crouching over him.

The muscles in his jaw
tightened. "What's your point?"

"If you want me to keep
this bastard baby of yours, you'll do exactly as I say," she said, lifting
the hem of her skirt and settling down on his lap. She felt his cock twitch and
harden through the fabric of his loincloth.

He smiled, showing his fangs.
"You women are all the same," he said. "One good fuck is all it
takes to corrupt your morals."

"I'll show you just how
corrupt you've made me," she said, unlocking his chains. "Now shut up
and fuck me."