My warchief, it feels so right to be in your strong arms again.
I haven't had a real man since I left to play diplomat with the elves.
As some misguided diplomatic courtesy, they offered me their finest companions.
You should have seen their faces when they saw me.
They disgust.
But you know what I think?
I think they weren't intimidated.
They know they could never tame a strong orc woman, not like you can, my warchief.
They see us, and they realize just how inferior they are to us.
Would you like me to tell you, sir, how inferior your elves are?
Yes, sir, I'll tell you, while you remind me just how superior you are.
The elves' thin faces and spindly limbs pale in comparison to your muscular, battle-hardened
body and your beautiful, battle-scarred face.
The elves' magic cannot even come close to comparing to your ferocity and strength.
The elves' long lives are meaningless when a true man like you can break them over your
knee as easily as a twig.
Just like how you're breaking me now, sir.
Orc men are just so much better than elves, and they always will be.
God's help are cold, sir.
I need you to take me.
Please, please, I beg of you.
I need my strong, powerful warchief to dominate me right now.
Please, sir, I'll do anything.
You know I would.
Anything at all to please my almighty warchief.
