Amariel’s Adventures: Chapter 1, A Treat for the Orcs

Elf! Elf! Where are you, half-breed?” That old familiar voice yells: that hateful old man calling his belongings, his slave.

Scurrying quickly up the stairs from the basement, I get so his side as fast as I can, “Yes, master?” I ask in my most respectful voice, disinclined to provoke his anger.

“Did you get yourself ready the way I told you?” He looks me up and down, his beady eyes scanning over my young, thin form. He motions for me to rotate, and I do, showing off the clothing I had been told to wear. He looks over the scanty clothing I’m wearing, hardly covering my pale elven skin, and the thin gauze over top of that. “Looks like you managed to dress yourself properly, like a good little girl. Are you ready to go out there and help your new friends have a good evening?” He asked with a leer.

“Friends? You said there was going to be just one!” I cry indignant.

“Well, there’s been a change of plans. They’ve paid a very fair sum of money, and they expect the amusement they deserve. Do as I say, and fix your tone of voice before I fix it for you, child.”

“But I’ve never been with more than one client at one time, I don’t know wh-“

His sudden slap across my face cuts my plea off short. “Shut your mouth, little girl, until they give you something to put in there. Your job isn’t to ask how or why, your responsibility as my property is to do as I say. If I say there’s going to be more than one client, then you’ll service more than one client. Now go out there and make them want you. Who knows? You might even be able to earn a tip.”

Walking through the curtain that divides the hallway, I step into the waiting room, looking around. All eyes are on me, the young elven girl. Half elven, actually, but they don’t know that. With pale, smooth skin; sensuous, well rounded hips; long, flowing hair the colour of flame; piercing green eyes; soft, supple, if a little petite, breasts. I was a sight to behold. All that topped off with the fact that my outfit didn’t cover up much of the aforementioned traits, I was quite an eyeful.

My sharp eyes quickly pick out my clients from their descriptions; they’re the only orcs in the room. Seated around a circular table, with drinks in front of them, they were a terrifying sight. Each of them quite tall, probably over seven feet, with varying degrees of musculature.

The one seated close to me, the biggest one of all and therefore clearly the leader, eyes me up and down. His muscles ripple beneath his green skin, and his under-bite jaw cracks into a grin of anticipation. This, along with his large teeth that look capable of shredding flesh, makes him a ghastly creature.

He stands up and lumbers towards me, blocking out all light. His humongous hand stretches forward, and one of his bulky fingers, the size of three of mine, trace my cheek. Using all the training I had been given, I don’t flinch away from his touch, and look him in the eyes, forming my facial features into a look of shyness and lust, like the clients love.

“Well, brothers,” the gnarly creature rumbles, “it looks like this nice young lady is going to keep us company tonight.” The company behind him hoot and cheer, drawing stares from the other people in the waiting room. “And let me tell you, she is a fine young creature.”

He wasn’t kidding about the young part. Although I had already been alive for thirty summers, due to my elven parentage, I was yet only an adolescent, having hardly the physical maturity of a sixteen year old human. While some of my body might pass for someone older, anyone looking at me would be able to guess at my youth. In a lawful area, sale of someone as young as me would be highly illegal, but this wasn’t a lawful area, and these were certainly not a lawful group of people. If you could even call them people.

Tracing a hand down his muscled bicep, I say in my most seductive voice I can manage, given the circumstances, “I sure am, sweetie. If you and your friends would follow me, I can show you the room we’ll be using tonight, for our ‘entertainment’.”

His grin widening even further, showing me more of this teeth than I would ever want to see, he rumbles out “Lead on, little elfie girl. Make haste, the night is short and we have lots of plans for you.”

Trying to make my shudder of disgust look like one of anticipation, I coyly turn away and tell him and his friends, over my shoulder, to follow me. I heard chairs being shifted and drinks being hastily finished as the band of orcs follow me down the hallway. I led them up a flight of steps, then another, up to the ‘penthouse’ room.

Stepping through the doorway, I turn and motion for them to follow me. The leader wastes no time lumbering into the largest room in our brothel, and he quickly surveys the room. Noticing the largest bed we have, circular and covered in fine furs; several sitting-sofas; and a window with a view; he nods, satisfied.

As all the orcs file into the room, I get my first good look at them, away from the dim lighting of the waiting room. They are all massive, huge and powerful. A couple wear leather on their torsos, but the other two are dressed in only loincloths and a few accessories, typical of an orc.

The leader stands tallest of all, easily seven-and-a-half feet, and probably three hundred pounds, his skin a dark green-brown. I can’t help but notice the huge bulge in his loin cloth and shudder, wondering if what they say about orcs is true. His three companions are all smaller than he, but not by much. All near the area of seven feet, and easily two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, their skin colours ranging from a grey colour to one who is a dark, bluish green. The shapes in their crotches are less than his, but still quite impressive. And scary.

Turning from them for a moment, I gesture with a sweep of my arm at the bed, and ask them if they’d like to get more comfortable. Turning to face them once more, I see the leader swoop forward, encapsulating my face with his massive hands. I struggle briefly, for only a moment, before I remember that it is not my place to decide what happens.

Plummeting his face towards mine, he crushes his mouth into my lips, forcefully parting them with his tongue. Meeting no resistance from me, his tongue swirls around my mouth, touching and grazing my own as he explores his new domain. As this horrid kiss takes place, I can smell and taste his foul breath: rancid meat and souring milk. As he continues his incursion into my mouth, I feel myself begin to gag on the smell and taste flooding me, and have to force myself to stay calm.

Soon enough, he breaks out of the kiss. Looking down at me, he grins his appreciation of my reaction. Reaching one of his mighty hands around my back, he pulls me close, pressing his semi-stiff member up against my stomach, giving me a good idea of how huge he is. I was tall, four or five inches below six feet, but he still overshadowed me by nearly a foot and a half.

Both of his hands quickly travel down my back and start cupping my ass, rubbing and fondling my cheeks to his content. I feel his rod twitch against me in expectation and his deep voice booms forth once more. “Well, men, are we ready to see what this girl’s capable of doing?” His inquiry is met with cheers and hoots behind him, which causes him to become even more bold. He grabs a hold of my thin, gauzy dress and pulls it over my head in one quick motion, leaving me feeling even more vulnerable, with only a revealing bodice over my chest.

“Lose the top, woman” he growls, and I comply, quickly stripping away my tight garment. Usually clients prefer slow and sensuous movements, but these didn’t seem the type to enjoy such an art. His smirk widens, and he places a hand on my shoulder, then applies pressure. “On your knees, whore.”

I fall to my knees in front of him, and he steps close, his crotch looming just in front of my face. Knowing what to do here, (it is my job, after all), I grab a hold of his loincloth and pull it down, finally freeing his appendage, allowing me to finally see it. It is a veritable monster, bigger than any I’ve ever worked with before. It’s at least three hand-breadths long, maybe even four. In imperial inches, it would be ten or eleven. A small sob escapes my throat as I realize what kind of damage a club like this could do.

“What are you waiting for? Suck me like the whore you are!” he growls out, causing me to flinch. His words are harsh, harsher even than my Master’s, but he isn’t wrong. I have a job to do. I had worked with more penises than I could count, and this one would be no different.

Placing my small hand around his wide shaft, I start slowly pumping him, feeling his size and shape. It seems to barely fit in my hand. Each time I make it to the bottom, his coarse bush of pubic hair tickles and irritates my hand. Leaning forward, I stick out my tongue and slowly lick the underside of his thick shaft. Gradually working my way up, I get to the head and start circling it with my tongue, swirling around the tip. I look up at his face, and see that he’s enjoying it, and feel more confident. Placing my mouth against the very tip of his giant shaft, I give it a kiss, then spread my lips, getting ready for my mouth stretch.

Pushing forward, I start gradually taking his swollen member into my mouth, sliding my lips slowly down over the head, taking more of him into my aperture. As his head passes my tongue, I feel my jaws being forced apart. When his head gets to the back of my throat, just at my tonsils, I take time to adjust to his width. Then, again, I swallow more of his shaft. Taking a deep breath, I engulf as much of him as I can, feeling him slide deep down my throat, as deep as I’ve had someone, yet not even to his base. I gag a bit, not only at the sheer size, but also at the rancid taste. His phallus tastes of old sweat and unwashed skin.

While deep-throating him, I keep my hand moving up and down, assuring all of his penis has pleasure.

After a moment I slide his member back out of my throat to allow myself to breathe. Grunting in impatience, he grabs the back of my head, and shoves himself deep into my throat. Gagging from the size and speed of it, I start twitching, and he pulls back out. After just a second to catch my breath, he shoves back in, viciously using my throat.

Struggling not to choke, I do my best to keep working him with my hand, thus keeping him from trying to shove in all the way. The group behind him cheers him on, but they make no move to join in.

After what several moments, he pulls out of my mouth completely with a loud ‘pop’ sound, and steps back, his colossal penis glistening with my saliva, and he grunts, “get on the bed.”

I quickly scurry onto the bed, and lie down, watching as he approaches. He grabs my extremely short shorts, and pulls them off in a swift motion, ripping them along the side. Suddenly I am fully revealed, as I had been told to wear nothing under the shorts, and his companions cheer at the sight.

And what a sight it is. As usual before I see a client, I’m entirely shaven, not a pubic hair in sight. My tight vagina lips are fresh, pink, and lightly glistening from the cream I had put on them before going out to the clients. Even though I had been with more than my fair share of clients before, I was still as tight as a first-timer because of the wonders of restorative magic.

He grunts his approval, then grabs my hips and pulls me towards the edge of the bed. I quickly spread my legs, fearfully inviting him into my warmth. His comrades all surround the bed, watching as he lines himself up with my prize, his prize. They look extremely eager, but know not to try to touch me until their leader had had his fun, such was the orcish way.

From his standing position he can see all of my body as I lay on my back. My lips that are just against the end of his shaft; my hips that are just above the bed; my breasts that, while small, are enough for most people, ending in my small nipples. He presses his head against the lips of my opening, and rubs it up and down a few times, getting ready to start his excavation.

“Hm. Our little concubine is wet! You like the idea of my huge orc dick splitting you open?” He demands in a deep rumble, and his followers hoot.

“Mm, yes. I can’t wait to feel how huge you are. Shove your huge cock into my tiny little hole!” I say back, giving him my best look of lust. In reality, I was actually terrified. I wonder if the pleasure from something that big can possibly overcome the pain that is to come.

“You’ll soon regret saying that, little tramp” he threatens, and begins to push his length into me. It’s as much as I can do to stop myself from crying out at the sudden stretching of my crevice, and his mammoth parcel slides bit by bit between my folds.

He stops after he’s several inches in, his head just inside of my warmth, so that he can savor the feeling. Then with a sudden motion, shoves in hard, pushing his way a few more inches into my tightness, stretching out my muscles. This time I do cry out at his merciless pressing, as the pain hits me like a knife.

As he pushes again and again, I feel like every ounce of me is being torn. His grotesquely large shaft is far larger than anything I was ever meant to handle. He finally meets resistance at my deepest wall, bumping into my cervix and causing me to cry out again. He grunts in disappointment that he isn’t even all the way in, but I’m relieved because I know it will only get easier from here.

His gargantuan hands once more sweep over my body, exploring my chest this time.