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Full Confession Ch. 01

By: MickJay





Full Confession Ch. 01



Her body was instantly receptive. My swollen glans roved noisily among the lubricious folds of her cunt, slipping inside with unexpected ease. She was marvelously tight, gripping my shaft fiercely as it sank deep within until the wild tangled hairs of my crotch mingled with Satta's immaculately trimmed muff.

I clutched Satta's raised left leg tighter against my body, grinding my hips and my teeth. She made a noise, a tiny mewl of pleasure, and her body tensed. Her cunt squeezed harder against my shaft, contracting then releasing, contracting and releasing. My cock had never felt larger or harder, and she was helplessly impaled on it.

Groaning, I clawed at her right leg, by which she was continuing to support herself with her back braced against the wall. I took her behind the knee and lifted her right leg as I had her left, pinning her to the wall with my weight. Satta grimaced and squirmed, lifting her buttocks to accept my irregular thrusts.

"Look at me, Satta," I gasped. "Look up at me."

"Yes, Master," she moaned, turning her eyes up to me. They were gray as a morning mist, agleam with raw pleasure. It was almost more than I could stand, and perforce I withdrew entirely from her sweet sheath, stood panting and scowling as I waited for my throbbing cock to recede from the brink of orgasm. I re-entered as soon as I felt capable of resisting the temptation of immediate ecstatic release, groaning as her torrid little hole gripped me.

I resumed my rhythmic thrusting, but turned my gaze away from Satta's pleasure-creased face, as I feared the mere sight of it might take me perilously close to climax. Instead I gazed down at the point of intersection between our bodies, eager to witness my ardent penetration of her.

Satta gasped and moaned with steadily rising intensity, her body trembling and shuddering. I hazarded a look into her face, and saw that her great gray eyes were fixed, as my had been, on the intersection of our bodies, her sweet brow deeply creased. She glanced then into my eyes, her lips parted.

"Master," she murmured. "Satta cums, Master."

She erupted immediately into the most delicious orgasm, writhing and squirming against me, murmuring through clenched teeth words of worshipful gratitude. Her comely climax naturally induced a like reaction in me, and with a final protracted groan I shoved myself as deep inside her as my length allowed, inundating her gloriously greedy cunt with my seed. I continued to pound her tight hole, panting with the effort, until my sated staff subsided, disdaining the silken temple it had been so adamantly determined to occupy just minutes before. My jism spilled out of her, puddling the floor at my feet.

Finally I ceased my thrusting and gazed at Satta, my half-limp prick nestled in her sheath. Her cheeks were deeply flushed with satisfaction, and she smiled up at me, a shy timorous little imp-grin. 

"Thank you, Master," Satta whispered, "for letting this hole be the instrument of pleasure for Master's mighty tower."

Yes, Reader -- Mighty tower, she called it, proclaiming this grandiose exaggeration with every semblance of verisimilitude. I knew that her words were the sort of obligatory fiction any servitrix would be trained to use in addressing a nobleman, and I felt a sudden rush of prickly vexation that she would employ them so carelessly on me. I wanted to hear from her only genuine expressions of passionate gratitude -- anything less was blatant mendacity. Peevishly I released her legs, letting her fall to the ground so that her plump buttocks struck with a gratifying smack.

"Forgive Satta, Master!" she cried earnestly, scrambling to kneel at my feet. "In her stupidity she offends without realizing! She angers her magnificent Master entirely without intent!"

I gestured at the globules of my semen on the floor, between her knees. "Clean up your mess," I commanded. "And finish making dinner."

"Immediately, Master! Satta obeys. Satta is good!" She lapped the semen from the floor, diligently licking it clean. "Thank you, Master," she said as I turned and left the kitchen. "Master is kind!"

As the weeks passed I used Satta avidly, many times a day, and because she was so readily available to me I even abandoned the daily habit of autoeroticism which I had formerly indulged. More accurately, whenever the urge to masturbate arose, I merely utilized one of Satta's lubricious holes to satisfy my need. Satta, for her part, seemed to take it for granted that she should be taken for granted, and evinced neither dissatisfaction nor displeasure. Quite the contrary, I daresay.

So for a time I was allowed to experience a taste of the sybaritic life to which I should have been entitled by the nobility of my blood. But Satta was not to me a mere means to achieving physical gratification; even after my carnal needs had been met I would remain in her company, seeking excuses to extend our post-coital interactions. Soon I was spending as much of my free time with her as I could, chatting pointlessly for hours as she performed her chores, using her whenever the desire arose in me, and then continuing with our palaver.

The Countess, at first pleased with my interest in our servitrix, became alarmed as its excesses grew more apparent. She became increasingly critical of Satta, berating the poor girl for every insignificant error and oversight. When, for example, Satta mistakenly made a ragout too bland the Countess belittled her vehemently in my presence. Satta made no attempt to defend herself, not even to explain that I had personally requested the milder seasoning myself. I did not bother to enlighten the Countess on this point, as I knew it would have made no difference whatever. When I saw Satta later that night -- after sneaking out to her little pallet in the wee morning hours -- the only apprehension my sweet servitrix expressed was over my own satisfaction with her dish. I assured her the meal had been perfectly to my taste, and in response she exerted the most strenuous efforts in demonstrating her gratitude.

The Countess grew more irascible as I continued to show an "unseemly" regard for Satta. When she discovered me one evening in the kitchen assisting in the preparation of a meal, she made a point of sending me on a needless errand into town while Satta finished making dinner. Thenceforth, the Countess monopolized our servitrix's time as much as she was able, and for days at a time I did not enjoy a moment alone with Satta. At first I endeavored simply to ignore the Countess's presence, but invariably she would maintain a perpetual critique, distracting me with querulous observations disparaging Satta's appearance, skills and technique.

"I do wish you would alter your position," she might insist. "The wild swinging of her runty little bags is most disagreeable!"

Or else --

"How can so lanky a backside possess such an excess of dimples?"

Or again -- 

"Do those oversized teeth not grate your flesh, Dominus?"

When she grew truly peevish she would make more broadly derogatory remarks: "Really, Satta! You cry out as if Lud Himself were filling you. The boy is hardly so well-endowed as that!"

Poor Satta was miserable. Born only to please her owners, she began to lose sleep when the needs of her Master and Mistress became mutually exclusive. After a few weeks her appearance was notably haggard and weary (as the Countess was only too quick to point out), and soon even her work suffered -- Both her household chores and the performance of her holes. In my presence she no longer tantalized me with her shy smile and timorous, anticipatory glances; when I used her she no longer climaxed (or no longer troubled to feign it, the Countess would claim).

One evening at dinner, after the Countess had reduced my poor Satta to tears over the alleged unsavoriness of a meat pie, I decided I must initiate a campaign of encouragement and praise. I made a great show of sampling a bite of the dish in question (bland, yes, but hardly worth excoriating little Satta over), then looked the Countess in the eye.

"Delicious!" said I.

The Countess's brow furrowed, her lips puckered. "Peasant fare," she countered.

I glanced at Satta, who knelt patiently in the doorway to the kitchen, awaiting commands. Her eyes were bright with the tears she had shed over her Mistress's displeasure. My heart cried out. 

"It is very much to my taste," I declared, watching to see if Satta would grace me with one of her longing looks; but her eyes remained averted, her countenance morose.

"Oh, indeed!" snapped the Countess, giving me a look of withering disdain.

"Satta knows my preferences in seasonings, My Lady," I replied. "And doubtless this was her overriding concern when she prepared our dinner. Is that not right, Satta?"

"Yes, Master," she said. Finally she lifted her chin a fraction, and her eyes met mine. The corners of her mouth curled very slightly upward, quivering with reticence. Even that miniscule response was enough to gladden my heart.

"That's much better!" I said heartily. "You were born to smile, Satta. Whenever you do, I can see the handiwork of Lud Himself in the beauty of your face."

Satta's jaw dropped, but before she could react further to my compliment, the Countess slammed her open palm against the table and interjected sharply.

"Lud's Light, Dominus! You are most inappropriately fulsome in your praise. The girl may be an adequately winsome receptacle for your spunk, but really! Her blood is most base."

My cheeks burning with suppressed anger, I forced my gaze from Satta's face to the Countess's. "Please do not speak so dismissively of Satta in my presence, My Lady," I said.

"You take offense, do you, Dominus?" she replied loftily. Then, pointing to the floor beside her chair she said, "Here, Satta!"

"Yes, Mistress," said Satta, obeying instantly. She crawled to the place indicated and lowered her head to the Countess's slippered foot, placed a reverent kiss on the toe and nuzzled the instep. The tiny skirt of her uniform rode up on her hips, baring the pink gash of her vulva dotted above by the puckered eye of her anus. I willed myself, unsuccessfully, to be not aroused by the sight.

The Countess glared at me. "Tell us, Satta," she said. "How highly do you value yourself?"

"Satta is not worth a fleck of spittle from the Mistress's mouth," said Satta softly. "She is worth far less than a drop of seed leaked from her Master's glorious shaft."

"And for the benefit of my benighted son -- who thinks you a Lady of most noble characteristics -- what manner of female are you?"

"Satta is the very lowest of beasts, great Mistress. She exists to obey, that her owners may live in pleasance and ease."

She paused, and I was on the verge of commanding an end to her degradation, but the Countess purred sweetly, "Continue, little one. Do not spare us the distasteful details."

"As Mistress commands," murmured Satta, warming to the task. Her buttocks were grinding slowly in the agitation of arousal. "Satta is the pig wallowing in its filth, great Mistress. She is the worm on its belly writhing at the feet of humanity. She begs only to pleasure and amuse her owners in whatever manner might be demanded of her."

The Countess nodded, still watching for my reaction. I was outraged by the Countess's casual cruelty, and inflamed beyond words by Satta's enthusiastic self-degradation. I struggled to maintain my composure and steady my breathing, meeting the Countess's gaze with a sullen glare.

"Go now to Dominus, Satta," commanded the Countess. "Tell him what feelings you harbor in your breast."

"At once, Mistress!" cried Satta. She turned and crawled to me, to my feet, rubbed her cheek against my boot and left a streak of tears. "Please, most wondrous Master," she moaned. "Satta begs only to be an instrument of amusement, an object to be used and set aside. Her holes need not be greased with flattery and praise, great Master."

"I understand your fondness for the girl, Dominus," interjected the Countess. "But you really must reserve your noble passions for a Lady of worth. Satta is here merely to serve your basest lusts."

"Please, Master," whimpered Satta, fairly groveling at my feet. "May Satta lick the leavings which stick to the sole of her Master's boot? It will form the grandest feast of Satta's life if Master commands it."

"Satta . . ." I croaked miserably, love and lust combating in my heart.

"Satta begs leave to mount the Master's leg, that she might hump it like a rutting dog. Satta begs it, Master!"

"We have driven her to a frenzy, Dominus," observed the Countess, eyes smoldering.

"Enough!" I bellowed, mastering my emotions at last -- Or rather, surrendering to the one over the other. "My heart is fiercely gripped by this noble passion, as you call it, Countess. I cannot simply will myself to be free of it. Satta, I love you."

Satta turned her face up to mine, and I saw there only misery and despair. "Oh, Master," she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. "Satta begs forgiveness, Master."

"Bah!" spat the Countess. "Dominus, you are a childish fool! Satta, get you to bed. We will speak more of this tomorrow."

"Yes, Mistress," said Satta at once. She rose, careful to avoid even a glance in my direction, and hurried to her pallet.

"You will sleep in my room tonight, Satta," the Countess said.

"Yes, Mistress."

Outraged, I called after her: "No, Satta! You needn't obey her command. Come sleep in my room tonight. In my bed."

"Do what you feel is proper, Satta," said the Countess primly.

Satta hesitated, her bedding gathered in her arms. For several seconds she stood there, her face contorted in indecision. Then, without a word, she slipped into the Countess's room.

The Countess eyed me with wry satisfaction. "Are you convinced, Dominus?"

"She doesn't understand," I said, shaking my head. "She cannot comprehend the strength of my love, or that --"

"She cannot comprehend why a nobleman would expend his love on a mere animal!" snapped the Countess. "And neither can I. Frankly, Dominus, your perversion is beginning to alarm me. What can I expect next from you? Professions of love for a goat? A proposal of marriage to a hare?"

I glowered at the Countess, said softly but clearly: "Satta's veins may be full of muck and filth, but you are the only beast in this house!"

The Countess could not have appeared more shocked if I had struck her across the face. "Dominus!" she cried, aghast. I waited for her to continue, to have her say, but she clamped her mouth shut and composed herself.

She stood up, eyes on the wall above my head. "I am taking my leave of you for the evening, Dominus," she said. "Good night."

I did not deign to reply.

The next morning I was unexpectedly awakened by a sharp knock at my chamber door.

"Who is there?" I called.

"It is I," said the Countess. "I must speak with you forthwith. It is a most urgent matter."

"Very well. One moment."

I dressed quickly, and two minutes later I opened the door to find the Countess standing with Satta on hands and knees by her right foot, head bowed.

"Good morning to you, Dominus," said the Countess. "I think you will be quite interested to see what I chanced to find among Satta's bedding this morning." She extended her hand, in which she held an object which I at first mistook for a lingam; peering closer I saw that it was in fact a figurine, roughly man-shaped.

"What is it?" I asked, taking the figure from the Countess's hand. It was made of wax, slick to the touch.

The Countess looked down at Satta, whose head remained bowed. "It would appear to be a crude charm," she surmised.

"Magic? But to what end?"

"Is it not altogether obvious, Dominus? It is a love charm."

"What? Impossible! Satta, look at me."

The girl raised her head, revealing an expression of misery.

"Where did that charm come from?" I asked.

Satta grimaced, appeared to be on the verge of tears. "Satta does not know, Master," she whimpered.

"Oh, come, Satta!" snapped the Countess. "I drew it out of your bedding this very morning! You were there, you saw it!"

"Yes, Mistress," said Satta.

"Then it came from your bedding," I prodded.

"Yes, Master."

"You used this charm to ensorcell me? To make me fall in love with you?"

Satta glanced up at the Countess, who was glaring intently at her. "Please, Master," she whispered, looking at me again. "Please do not be angry with Satta, Master! Satta wants her Master to be happy." Her voice broke, and a tear slid down her cheek.

I was dumbfounded. My feelings, so passionate, so overwhelming, had been no more than an illusion, conjured by magic! Furious, I gripped the charm in my two hands and broke it in half, with a crack that caused little Satta to jump. I fancied that my feelings for her abated noticeably as soon as the charm was broken.

The Countess gazed at me triumphantly, while Satta cowered at our feet like a dog expecting to be whipped. "This explains everything, Dominus," said the Countess. "I knew there could be no natural explanation for your behavior."

I let the pieces of the figurine drop from my hands.

"You are angry, Dominus?" asked the Countess.

"Very much so, My Lady," I said, my voice trembling with rage. I had been manipulated, magically violated!

"Then I suggest we first burn the anger out of you. Satta, fetch my largest lingam and the Chastiser."

"Oh, Mistress!" moaned Satta, eyes rolling with fright. Then, "Immediately, Mistress!"

She rushed into the Countess's bedroom, returned in half a minute with a monstrous phallus in one hand and a wide leather belt studded with metal in the other. She knelt at the Countess's feet, tears streaming down her face.

"You know what is expected," the Countess told her, almost tenderly.

"Yes, Mistress," sobbed Satta. She braced the end of the phallus against the floor, settled the lips of her tight little cunt against the enormous head, which was as broad as her fist. She writhed on it, gasping softly, and her cunt instantly began drooling. In seconds she was descending the shaft, rising and falling on it, sinking farther each time, down toward the base of the phallus. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face creased, her nipples harder than I had ever seen them. At last her buttocks brushed the floor, and the shaft of the huge phallus was crammed almost fully within her.

Satta held the belt up to me, but did not dare look into my face. "Please whip Satta, Master," she begged, her sibilant whisper barely audible. "Please make Satta suffer, Master!"

I took the belt, glowering. Satta turned her back to me, bent forward to press her face to the floor. She raised her buttocks high, presenting her backside, the end of the phallus protruding from her straining cunt. I kept my gaze on that lovely target, which quivered and gyrated ever so slightly in anticipation; I drew back my arm and snarling like an animal released all my rage in the stroke of the belt across Satta's buttocks.

It impacted with a report that resounded through the small house. Satta lurched, shrieking. I sneered, watching her buttocks writhe as she squirmed in pain, the mark of the belt darkening her flesh.

The Countess, arms folded across her chest, was gazing impassively at Satta. "Speak, Satta," she said.

"Please, Master!" gasped Satta. "Please whip Satta, Master!"

Her face was contorted by an anticipatory grimace which grotesquely disfigured her pretty features. From her throat issued a low quavering moan, and as I delayed my next blow in order to savor her agony and fear, this sound gradually rose in pitch to a breathless whine. She bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut; I raised the belt and lashed it against the backs of her trembling thighs.




Full Confession Ch. 01



Satta cried out shrilly, her body shuddering, her tiny fists clenched so tightly they shook. "Please, Master! Whip Satta, Master!"

I struck her again, with such force that she nearly toppled onto her side. Nevertheless she had the presence of mind to spread her knees wider, bracing herself. "Please, Master!" she whimpered. "Please whip Satta, Master!"

I obliged with zeal; the sound of its impact echoed in my ears like music, while Satta's plangent sob was more euphonious to me than her climactic cries of ecstasy had formerly been. I will spare my Reader an inventory of every blow, for the girl's whipping continued a surprisingly long time; I was determined to keep striking her until she ceased to beg for more. Yet her resilience was astounding. I beat her until her buttocks and the backs of her thighs were crimson, until the belt dripped with her blood, even until she could not support her weight and pitched forward onto her belly -- still she repeated after every blow, "Please, Master. Please whip Satta, Master."

She would sob the words, scream them, moan them; her voice weakened, grew hoarse, but still she spoke them. My rage and indignation wavered, my arm grew numb with fatigue, but still I persisted, unwilling to allow Satta the satisfaction of outlasting me. Finally, after I had struck a blow which spattered flecks of blood against the wall, Satta lifted her chin as if to speak but managed only to retch weakly onto the floor. Then at last she fell unconscious.

"You feel better, I trust," said the Countess, who had observed the entire proceedings without a word.

My arm hung limp at my side; the belt felt heavier somehow, as if weighted with Satta's blood. "I do," I said.

The Countess nodded. "Very good. You should go into town now. You need some diversion to take your mind off of this morning's unpleasantness." She held out her hand, and I relinquished the belt to her.

"What are we to do with Satta?" I asked.

"When she recovers, she will clean up this mess. Then . . . " She paused, regarding the bloodied servitrix in silence for several seconds. "Then we must impose a suitable sentence on her."

"What do you suggest, My Lady?"

The Countess's eyes narrowed. "Her act was criminal. And I for one am not prepared to abide the workings of witchcraft in this household."

"You would call it witchcraft?" I asked dubiously. I looked down at the pieces of the broken figurine on the floor, which seemed now as harmless as a child's doll.

The Countess's look suggested I must have taken leave of my senses. "She induced you -- a nobleman, I shouldn't have to remind you -- to fall in love with her. Even among the meanest peasants such magicks are recognized as infernal and ungodly. The curse of Lud Himself falls on the practitioners of such black arts."

"I hardly think she had any evil intentions, My Lady . . ."

"You are not such a fool, Dominus!" snapped the Countess. Her sneer, which bared her pointed teeth in a most sinister manner, implied that she had her doubts on that point. "You have been victimized, your emotions violated. Whether or not her intentions were evil, you have been most foully misused, and your transgressor must be punished. Severely."

"Of course, My Lady," I said. But now that my rage had been sated, I felt a sudden sympathy for the wretched girl, even a sense of protectiveness -- or were those feelings merely the vestiges of the nefarious charm with which Satta had ensnared me? Which emotions were genuinely mine, and which had been conjured? How could I know? 

One emotion, at least, was indubitably my own: Righteous anger. I allowed that feeling to re-assert itself, and my vertiginous confusion faded rapidly. The Countess was wholly correct in condemning what had been done to me. There could be no place for pardon or pity.

"Go on into town, Dominus," said the Countess in a surprisingly solicitous tone. She put a hand almost tenderly on my arm, urging me toward the door. "Spend some time with a girl, any girl."

"I don't believe I'm in the mood, My Lady," I protested.

"It will be the best thing for you, Dominus. Go now. I will make arrangements for Satta."

I cast a last look at the servitrix's prostrate form; for a moment my heart was wrenched with sympathy, but I scowled and tapped into my reservoir of anger. I spat on Satta and left.

My mind was reeling as I made my way to the walls of Further Edgewater. My anger with Satta -- deceitful, falsehearted Satta -- was matched only by the growing anger I felt with myself. Such a fool I had been, professing my love for that bootlicking fuckhole in the most absurdly extravagant terms! I had wholly embarrassed myself in the eyes of the only two individuals who mattered to me -- the Countess and myself.

But I had learned my lesson, and was ready to apply my hard-won knowledge -- the aristocracy might interact with commoners on the level of mere physicality, but they could never be conjoined emotionally; there was a disparity, a vast disproportion, between the emotional capacity of the nobility and that of the peasantry.

And now I would simply go and find a girl to satisfy my baser needs, descending briefly to the level of animal existence where the peasants spent their entire lives, before returning to the cottage and resuming my mantle of nobility. For the first time, I felt I fully understood what it meant to have aristocratic blood in my veins.

I reached the wall of the town, which was in essence no more than a wooden palisade, some twelve feet high. The city gate was already open to the desultory morning traffic, guarded by a lone militiaman. He wore a pothelm and was armed with a pike, but otherwise he was garbed in clothing typical of a peasant. Affecting an attitude of bored hauteur, I passed into town -- and thought to notice the guard stand a little straighter, as if aware that his indolent slouch was unacceptable in the presence of a Lord.

I had visited Further Edgewater on several occasions in the months since the Countess and I had moved into the cottage, and I had met a dozen or more young women there who would have fully suited my purposes that day -- merchants' daughters mainly. But I had no desire to go through elaborate preparatory rituals (food, drink, conversation) prior to sating my lust, and so I had only one recourse within that small town.

The Roustabout Inn, owned by one Graydon Zamp, employed a bevy of girls -- if seven might be defined as a bevy – who were routinely available for rent by the hour.

I proceeded directly to this establishment, a nondescript brick building in an alley lined with dilapidated wooden hovels. The street's ill-favored pedestrians eyed me guardedly; I placed one hand protectively on the moneypouch at my belt, the other on the hilt of my dagger. I did not release my grip on either until I was safely inside.

There was little noise from the three or four patrons, who each sat alone drinking cheap beer from wooden mugs. I wondered how there could possibly be enough profit for a man to make a living in owning such a place.

Graydon Zamp, tall and lean, stood at the far end of the long bar, attired in ostentatious finery which might have appeared foppish on a man of less austere mien. His woolen hose were gray and black striped, his vermillion velvet aketon was tailored according to the latest fashion: Open over the chest to reveal a blouse of red taffeta whose high, stiff collar brushed his earlobes.

As I approached, Zamp eyed me with an air of suspicion, even dread, perhaps assuming I was a creditor come to collect a debt.

"I require the use of a girl," I said. "For an hour at most."

I smiled reassuringly to allay his concern, but I suppose he was the sort who never fully lays aside his suspicions. He appraised me through narrowed eyes.

"You've been here before, m'lord?"

"Once or twice. But not recently. The Countess Borja and I moved into the area several months ago."

"Yes, the Countess's son. I thought I recognized you." He grinned – or rather, his lips curled upward at the ends. It was a thoroughly predatory expression, without warmth, good humor or fidelity. "A formidable woman, the Countess."

"I was not aware that she'd had previous business with you, Mr Zamp."

"Anyone who has any business in Edgewater has business with me, m'lord."

"Ah, I see."

Zamp raised a small glass of amber liquid to his lips, bolted it down at a gulp, hissed with what might have been equally appreciation or distress. "I do not mean to boast, Lord," he apologized. "I merely state a fact. You enjoyed my girls then?"

"They are adequate."

"Oh, indeed. Adequate and then some." He caught the eye of one of his serving girls, brushed the front of his jacket with one hand in a peculiar gesture which might have been entirely inadvertent. In any case, she seemed to pay him no heed, and left the room moments later. Smirking, Zamp refilled his glass from a half-empty bottle by his elbow.

"Did you have a favorite among my girls, m'lord?" he asked.

"If memory serves, they were admirably interchangeable."

"I see. Then perhaps you'll enjoy Heather. She has been with us for only a few weeks, and has earned a reputation for her exuberance."

"If she has all the holes I require, exuberance is superfluous."

"Sometimes, My Lord, it is the superfluities which make a thing worthwhile." Zamp drained his second glass of liquor. "By your leave, m'lord, I will go and summon Heather for your approval."

I dismissed him with a nod, turned to find a bar maid placing a large goblet of wine on the counter in front of me.

"What is this?" I asked. "I haven't ordered a drink."

"Compliments of the house, My Lord."

The wine was surprisingly good, and I had almost finished the entire goblet before I was approached by another girl, who favored me with a broad and welcoming smile. Her teeth were crooked, the canines crowded forward like fangs, yet somehow this only served to heighten her rough allure.

"You are Heather?"

She must have noted the approving gleam in my eye. "Yes, My Lord," she said, curtsying.

"I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Heather," I said, placing my hands on her lean hips and studying her figure through the simple blouse and skirt she wore.

She cast down her eyes coquettishly. "The pleasure is mine, m'lord," she murmured. "Am I to the Lord's taste?"

"Entirely. What is your rate?"

"Mr Zamp charges one rorr per hour, m'lord. But first, Mr Zamp would have me ask one question of the Lord."

"Very well. Ask your question."

Heather seemed suddenly reticent, licking her lips as she hesitated. "Mr Zamp wonders if perhaps the Lord would prefer something more . . . intense?"

Her tone intrigued me. "To what are you referring?"

"Mr Zamp has very recently acquired an extraordinary specimen, m'lord."

"Of what nature?"

Heather, now gnawing her lip avidly, spoke in a bare whisper: "My Lord has heard of orc-pets?"

"Of course I have," I said guardedly.

"Mr Zamp has a girl ..." Again she paused.

"What of this girl?"

Heather drifted forward, her body pressed full against mine, a curious gleam in her eye. "My Lord is curious?"

"Perhaps."

Heather squirmed against me, breathing heavily. "I will take m'lord to this . . . this girl, if m'lord is interested."

Her evident arousal was the deciding factor for me. "Show me," I said.

"Yes, m'lord."

She led me to the rear of the common room, out a door which opened into a tiled courtyard, and across to a cellar door beside the tavern's kitchen. Graydon Zamp himself was waiting by the cellar holding a burning lantern. He seemed unsurprised at my arrival, greeting me with a mischievous, malicious grin.

"My Lord seeks a unique experience," he said.

"I am told that you have an unusual girl available."

Zamp withdrew a large keyring, fitted one key into a great iron lock in the cellar door. "Orc-pets are said to possess a sexual prowess that no human female can hope to approach," he said.

"Who would know for sure?" I countered. "Girls with the taint of the orcs are supposedly unable to live among human society."

"You will not be disappointed, My Lord," said Zamp. "She is well worth the price."

I did not know what to think, but my curiosity -- yes, even my excitement -- was growing by the moment. I had often wondered what sex with an orc-pet would be like -- as what man has not, at one time or another. It is a common enough fantasy, I should think; the kind of thing to be discussed with enthusiasm over tankards of ale in tavern common rooms. Now I was being offered the chance to experience it for myself if I chose. It seemed too good to be true.

Warily I followed as Zamp, holding his lamp high over his head, descended a very narrow wooden stairway into the dank, dark depths of the cellar. Behind me the steps creaked as Heather crept less enthusiastically after us.

Zamp spoke over his shoulder to me, "You can take a look, My Lord, even speak with her. Then you can decide if you would like to pay for an hour with her."

"What is her cost?"

"A pittance, m'lord. Four rorrim for the hour."

"You charge only a single rorr for your other girls."

"But this is no ordinary girl, m'lord! Come, satisfy yourself."

The musty air down there was much cooler than outside. The cellar itself was not large, perhaps fifteen feet on a side, and it did not appear to have been much used in recent years. A few old crates were stacked in one corner, ancient cobwebs filled the others. On the floor against the back wall stood an iron-barred cage; a pale figure was crouched in the cage, long dark hair hung down over the bowed head.

Zamp glanced at me, then abruptly stepped forward and struck the bars of the cage with the lamp. With a sharp gasp the girl jerked her head up, then crawled forward. Gripping the cage with both hands she pressed her face between two bars and gazed solemnly up at us. A heavy iron collar had been locked around her throat, by which she was chained to a ring on the wall behind her.

"Why do you keep her locked up?" I asked, still staring brazenly at the girl.

"She is essentially an animal, My Lord," said Zamp. "If she were freed, she would attempt to escape. No doubt back to the orcs who owned her." He leered lecherously.

Heather, who had been hovering at the foot of the stairs, moved up close behind us. She peered around Zamp's shoulder, one small hand on his bulging waist. When I glanced down at her she offered me a significant look, one of fear, anxiety and deep uncontrollable lust. I grinned wolfishly, thought I heard a tiny whimper from her throat; then she licked her lips and looked quickly away, back to the girl in the cage.

"What is her name?" I asked Zamp.

"You may ask her yourself, My Lord."

I leaned forward, spoke slowly. "What is your name?"

Her eyes flitted from me to Zamp and back. In a near whisper she said, "Anna, Master."

She was quite pretty, even more so than Heather, with large emerald eyes and delicate features. The thought of this lovely young girl enslaved to the orcs, pleasuring them on command, filled me with an overwhelming erotic desire. For the first time that day -- for the first time in weeks -- my mind was freed from any thoughts of Satta.

"How long have you been here, Anna?" I asked.

"Don't know, Master. A few days."

"You keep her cage quite clean," I said to Zamp. "Immaculate."

There was no straw for bedding, no pans for food or water or excretory needs.

"I have my girls clean the place up regularly, My Lord," said Zamp.

"And what do you feed her?"

"Leftovers. Whatever scraps are at hand. She'll eat anything."

"Master?"

I turned at the sound of Anna's voice, quiet and meek. She was staring up at me, her face thrust as far as she could manage between the narrow bars of her cage.

"Anna would love to fuck the Master. May Anna fuck the Master?"

I grinned and, shaking my head, turned to Graydon. "It is a good effort, Mr Zamp. But I am not buying."

For a long moment Zamp did not speak. His eyebrow twitched upward. "Orc-pets not to your taste after all, My Lord?"

"Not an obviously fraudulent one."

Zamp's face remained inscrutably expressionless. "My Lord, you cannot mean to suggest--"

"Please do not feign innocence, sir," I interjected sharply. "As much as I would like to believe your claims, I simply cannot." I turned to the girl in the cage. "Your name, girl -- is it truly Anna?"

Again the telltale glance at Zamp. Then she hung her head, but still I received no response from her. 

Suddenly Zamp spoke. "Yes, My Lord. Her name is Anna."

"And is she an orc-pet?"

Zamp smiled grimly. "My Lord is perfectly aware of the answer to that question."

I looked at Heather, who was staring up at Zamp, chewing her lip intently; her eyes shifted to the floor, clearly avoiding my gaze. "Apparently you had very little regard for my intellect, Mr Zamp," I said. "I suppose I could report you to the authorities. There are stiff penalties for fraud."

"But what would you gain by that, My Lord?" asked Zamp, unruffled.

"Admittedly nothing. That is why" -- I reached for Heather, grasping her wrist so tightly that she cried out in pain -- "you will allow me the use of your girl here free of charge."

Zamp hesitated only a moment before responding. "Very well, My Lord. One hour." He spread his hands, smiling unctuously at me. "And My Lord will consider himself duly compensated for this . . . misunderstanding?"

I nodded curtly, my eyes on Heather as she struggled in vain. Zamp turned and left the cellars. Heather, mouth agape, watched him depart. Then she looked back at me and made one last half-hearted attempt to wrench her arm free, but I maintained my grip with ease.

"You knew the girl was a fake," I said.

Heather appeared to be on the verge of tears. "Please, My Lord," she said. "Mr Zamp will make me pay for your hour. It will come out of my week's wages!"

"Let it be a lesson then," I said, unmoved. "Next time you will know better than to tell lies to noblemen."

"Surely the money is nothing to you, My Lord! But I must go without food for the week!"

"What is your weekly wage?"

My question sparked a pale glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Two rorrim, Lord."

"My hour with you will only cost you a single rorr."

"That will leave me with only enough for the week's rent, Lord."

"Then you will not be thrown out in the street. You may consider yourself fortunate. Perhaps more fortunate than you deserve."

"My Lord is most kind," said Heather meekly, with no hint of irony. She must have known well enough that her deceitfulness precluded any expectation of lenience. I released her wrist; she rubbed it with her other hand, eyes downcast. Then she said, "Mr Zamp will wonder how the Lord knew Anna was not an orc-pet."

I chuckled. "Too good to be true. Besides, the penalty for harboring an orc-pet is death. I can't imagine Graydon Zamp risking death for a mere four rorrim an hour."

My skepticism brought a ghost of a smile to Heather's lips. "My Lord is very wise," she said.

I frowned, wary of accepting her compliment at face value. I turned to the girl in the cage, noted that she was huddled in the back corner, her arms embracing her knees, which were drawn up to her chest; now that she was no longer playing the part of the orc-pet she seemed to have become oddly self-conscious.

"How often have enacted this charade for Mr Zamp?" I asked her.

She looked up, gnawed her lips. "Only three times, m'lord," she said. Then, slowly, she got to her hands and knees, the chain rattling as she moved; her eyes were locked on mine, alight with some curious commingling of bashfulness and lechery.

"Your performance was quite good, Anna," 




Full Confession Ch. 01



Very softly, so low that I almost could not hear, she murmured, "Thank you, Master."

Heather said quickly, "Anna is just jealous that the Lord did not choose her to satisfy his needs."

In truth I had chosen Heather only because she was closer at hand; Anna was indeed the more comely of the two. But my prick frankly had no preference. Anna crawled forward to the bars of her cage and once more pressed her face between them, but now she pressed her chest as well, so that her large firm breasts protruded. Her little whimper of desire seemed altogether unfeigned.

"Anna will gladly be m'lord's pet," she said, her voice husky. "Anna will do everything her Master commands. She'll do it better than Heather." The two girls exchanged a baleful glare.

Heather spoke in bitter remonstrance, "Anna likes playing the orc-pet. She should be one!"

Anna's pale cheeks flushed pink. She crushed her breasts against the bars of her cage and moaned. "Anna is very good, m'lord!" 

"My Lord chose me first!" cried Heather. Having accepted that she would have to pay for my hour of pleasure, she was determined that her money would not be spent on Anna's behalf.

"I would be happy to use you, Anna," I said. "But I suspect Mr Zamp has the key to your cage and collar."

Anna's mouth yawned wide, her eyes on mine; her long slender tongue, remarkably nimble, curled and waved in what was clearly a gesture of invitation. I needed no further inducement, but stepped right up to the cage. Anna, panting with excitement, helped with the drawstrings of my trousers. Freeing my shaft, she sank her face around it without a moment's hesitation.

Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue more than fulfilling its promise. I pressed my belly against the cold iron bars as my cock hardened, and she began to bob her head along its length. Her cheekbones struck the bars again and again, with such force that I could feel the reverberation from each impact; but Anna was heedless of any discomfort -- indeed, if anything the pain seemed to further stoke her enthusiasm. She slammed her face against the bars with increasing ferocity, until her gasping was as much an expression of pain as excitement; but the only accommodation she allowed herself was a slight tilt of the head, a lowering of her chin so that her brow would strike the bars before her cheeks. When her forehead was thoroughly bruised, she raised her chin again and returned to battering her cheeks with undiminished vehemence.

I restrained my climax for as long as I could, but so intense was the erotic delight that Anna's performance generated in me that I lasted only a few minutes in her oral grip. When I felt the sudden tension in my loins preparatory to their spasmodic release, I looked over my shoulder at Heather; she stood in the same spot, undismissed, watching us with a ruefully amorous expression.

"Come here!" I snapped. She came forward hesitantly, and when she was close enough I snatched her forearm and yanked her forward. I pulled my hips away from Anna's face, pivoted toward Heather, who was already sinking onto one knee. I grasped my throbbing cock and cried, "Open!"

Heather obeyed with sudden urgency, positioning her gaping mouth in front of my swollen glans even as I ejected a stream of semen at her. It splattered against her nose and over her cheeks, then she succeeded in getting her lips around my cockhead. She sucked avidly at my much weaker spurts, gulping my seed.

I became aware of a familiar noise, a wet rhythmic sound. Anna was kneeling in her cage fingering herself heatedly, her eyes still smoldering. Her cheeks and forehead were brightly bruised. I stared at her, already regretting that I had not gotten a chance to get between those slender thighs.

Breathing heavily I turned away from Heather, refastened my trousers. I felt drained by the encounter, and altogether satisfied. Anna was no orc-pet, but her simulation of one had been sufficiently alluring. I smiled at her. "You are well worth four rorrim," I said.

She was still stroking herself, eyes half-closed. "Thank you," she murmured, "Master."

I thought of Satta then, and somehow -- though my lust had been quenched -- I yearned for her. For the first time I wondered what final punishment the Countess intended to exact, and with a sudden dreadful premonition I was certain that I would never see my sweet servant again.

I quickly fetched a copper quintilla from my pouch and tossed the small coin between the bars of the cage to Anna; it struck the soft mound of her belly and dropped to the floor between her knees. Uttering a small gasp she turned up her face, lips parting as if she still hoped to receive my semen in her mouth. I brushed past Heather, who gazed at me with a wry look of need and desire. Although I knew full well that her desire was only for the meager coin I had given Anna, I nevertheless felt moved to satisfy her. As I went to the stairs I drew forth another quintilla, fumbling it onto the floor in my haste. I did not bother to stop or turn around, but as I climbed the creaking steps I heard the coin clatter against the floor and begin to roll away. At the top of the stair I glanced back, saw Heather scrabbling after the quintilla as it rolled toward Anna's cage and between the bars. Heather, intent on the chase, collided with the bars, her forehead striking with such force that the bars rang like a bell. She dropped onto her side, stunned; the little quintilla rolled to Anna's knee and stopped there.

I did not pity Heather overmuch. To my mind, since Anna seemed to crave the role of an orc-pet, she had been less dishonest in presenting herself as one than Heather had been in playing along. Graydon Zamp was guiltier than either, of course, but I felt little animosity toward him -- rather, his hubristic ingenuity had earned my grudging respect. I hurried across the courtyard and entered the common room, feeling somehow abashed at having needed so little of the free hour I had been granted.

When I returned to the cottage I found that in my brief absence (I had been away for less than an hour) the Countess had already made arrangements for Satta's punishment. Four men of the most dubious aspect loitered near the front door, eyeing me unfavorably as I approached. One of them stepped forward to meet me, their leader I supposed. He was a big man, taller than me, stout as an oak, with a patch over the scarred ruin of his right eye.

"Mornin' to you, Lord," he said with surprising deference, but I was not blind to the glint of malice in his remaining eye.

"Good morning, goodman. Do you have business with the Countess?"

The man grimaced, baring several rotted teeth in what I realized must be his attempt at a grin. "We do indeed, m'lord," he said. "We're to be the Lady's escorts." He glanced back at his companions, whose smiles and chortles were no more reassuring than his own.

"And where is the Countess?" I asked.

"She'd be finalizing arrangements with Ruck," said the scarred man, jerking a thumb toward the back of the cottage. The men by the door laughed more loudly.

From the side of the cottage the Countess appeared then, riding a scrawny little nag. The horse was ancient, little more than skin and bones, but given the rarity of that species it must have been worth a small fortune. A man on foot was leading the horse by the reins, speaking over his shoulder to the Countess. She seemed to be in high spirits, laughing without restraint at his words. Before either of them noticed me, the Countess raised her arm and snapped her fingers twice; Satta rushed up from behind them, entirely naked, clean white bandages now swathing her buttocks and thighs. Her plump luscious breasts swayed violently with her motion, and I found myself speechless with jealousy as those uncouth peons at the cottage door ogled her sumptuous beauty.

As Satta stumbled past the little nag, the Countess pointed emphatically at the ground in front of the cottage. Without a break in stride Satta ran to the place indicated and dropped to her elbows and knees, thrusting her buttocks high in the air for the delectation of the men at the door. They murmured their approval, and I rediscovered my power of speech.

"What do you have planned, Countess?" I asked stridently, stepping forward.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Home so soon, Dominus?"

I did not respond immediately; I was watching Satta, whose head had jerked up at the sound of my voice. That face I had so long adored was contorted with the pain of her recent whipping, while her eyes burned with a deliciously alluring fear. She spoke, and though I could not hear the word, I could make it out on her lips: "Master!"

"What do you intend to do with Satta, My Lady?" I asked.

"The obvious," said the Countess laconically. She clapped her hands sharply twice. The scarred man who stood near me cast a sardonic smile at me and walked over to Satta, loosening his trousers.

"Satta!" snapped the Countess. "Where are your manners, girl? Speak!"

Satta's cheeks reddened perceptibly before she lowered her face. She said, very clearly, "Please allow Satta's holes the honor of pleasuring you, Master."

The scarred man's grin widened, serving to further disfigure his face. "Gladly, my sweet little cunt," he muttered, kneeling. The men behind him grunted with amusement.

I realized then that I had not altogether overcome the effects of Satta's magic; my emotions roiled in my breast. But I was determined to be free from her spell and so I did not interfere, but stood watching with clenched fists and teeth.

I could not see the scarred man's penetration, but I could tell the moment he entered her -- Satta's body tensed and she gasped sharply. He grimaced, gripping her tiny waist with hands so large they easily encircled her. His hips moved forward, slowly but steadily. Satta whimpered, her own tightly balled fists trembling.

"She's tight as a virgin!" grunted the scarred man. "Are you sure she's ever been fucked?"

The Countess was very much amused. "I assure you her holes have seen extensive use. Isn't that right, Satta?"

"Yes, Mistress!" cried Satta. She groaned deeply.

The scarred man began fucking her in earnest. "You like that cock, little one?" he snarled. "You like that cock in your tight little cunt?"

"Yes, Master!" she sobbed. "Satta --" she was interrupted by a moan wrenched from her throat, which devolved into a quavering whimper. Then, panting breathlessly, she continued, "Satta loves the Master's cock! Satta loves the Master!"

He fucked her harder, and her cries intensified. I felt a fury rising in my heart, a black indomitable hatred, and I embraced it. Now at last I understood what the Countess had been trying to make me realize about Satta -- that she was nothing but a hole, that her passions were not reserved for me alone, but were available to anyone who cared to take them. I glanced at the Countess, and saw that she was watching me intently. I attempted to smile, half grin, half grimace; the Countess studied my expression for several seconds, perhaps unsure what to make of it, then turned her eyes back to our servitrix.

Satta was climaxing, her entire body shuddering savagely, her head up, chin high, her clawed fingers raking the dirt. "Master!" she squealed -- and for the first time I despised the sound of her voice. "Satta cums, Master! Thank you, Master!"

The scarred man's fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of her waist as he continued to pound vehemently at her hole. His face twisted abruptly into an almost comically grotesque expression, and he uttered a single syllable -- "Shit!" -- as he ejaculated. For many long seconds they spasmed arrhythmically against one another, gasping and groaning.

When he was finished he abandoned her hole, rose breathless to his feet. Satta sat up on her knees and twisted about, mouth agape, cooing for a taste of his cock. He readily obliged and she sucked him zealously as she fondled her own tits, savagely pinching her distended teats. She cleaned him with her usual diligence, and when he finally shoved her roughly aside and turned away, she puled needfully after him.

But by then a second man had positioned himself behind her, his cock at the ready. Satta dropped hurriedly back to her elbows, offering up her lubricious sex. "Please fuck Satta, Master!" she moaned.

For an instant she turned her face to me, and I saw unmistakably her mortification, her anguish. For that moment my heart seemed joined again to hers; I felt her penitence, and gave my forgiveness. Then the man shoved himself into her dripping cunt and whatever I thought I had seen was obliterated by a nakedly libidinous expression as she climaxed immediately. She squeezed shut her eyes, lowered her face and moaned with ecstasy.

I do not think her climax ceased until each of the remaining strangers had made use of her to his satisfaction. Each of them, that is, except for the one named Ruck; he continued to hold the reins of the nag, speaking amiably with the Countess. Rather than devote my attention to the spectacle of Satta's shamelessness, I chose instead to study Ruck, whom I now realized must be the leader of the men. He was swarthy and clothed all in black, which perhaps lent him an even more sinister appearance than did his cruel features and dark goatee. I do not know how long I watched him conversing with the Countess before something in their interaction with one another, an informal intimacy I had never before seen in the Countess, made me aware of the obvious -- that he and the Countess were lovers. As I watched, the Countess leaned toward Ruck from her saddle, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, and murmured something in his ear. I could not hear his response, but it elicited delighted laughter from the Countess.

"You have not introduced me to your companion, My Lady," I called out, approaching them.

"I am remiss," replied the Countess. At the same moment her paramour extended his hand to me.

"Berjamin Rucker," he said flatly. He gripped my hand firmly, but without the excessive vehemence that small or otherwise insecure men are wont to use to prove that they are not weak.

"A pleasure, Goodman Rucker," I said.

"The pleasure is mine, My Lord."

He spoke without evident sarcasm, and for a moment I felt a curious sense of gratitude toward him. His eyes, cleaving to mine, were as cool and calculating as the Countess's, but his lips did not curl into that characteristic smirk which so often belied her most biting ironies.

"Will you be taking a turn with Satta, Dominus?" asked the Countess, and I did not need to look at her to know that her damnable smirk was in place.

"I think not, My Lady."

Ruck's men, having sated themselves, began calling to him to take his turn with Satta; the Countess, too, urged him forward. He smiled indulgently, but shook his head. Satta, instructed by the scarred man, crawled straight to Ruck's feet, leaving a slimy trail of spunk which spilled steadily from her cunt. She nuzzled his dusty boot, buttocks writhing. I stood nearly close enough to touch her, but she did not spare me so much as a glance.

"Please, Master," she pled, her tongue caressing Ruck's boot. "Fuck Satta, Master."

"Disengage yourself, girl," said Ruck, and though his tone carried no hint of a threat, she obeyed with alacrity, whimpering.

At last she turned to me, almost reluctantly, and put her face to my boot. "Please fuck Satta, Master," she murmured, no more than a whisper. I could think of no appropriate response, and so remained silent. Surprisingly, this seemed to arouse or encourage her; her hips began gyrating as they had for Ruck, and she kissed the toe of my boot. "Please, Master. Allow this hole the honor of pleasuring her great Master's cock one last time." She licked my boot, lapping diligently. Wherever her tongue lingered, the shoe leather gleamed beneath.

Still I did not respond, and I became acutely aware that everyone was watching me, though I could not meet their gazes. I stared at Satta's bandaged buttocks, which writhed heatedly, but they held no allure for me.

"Please, Master," she repeated between licks, now fairly whining with need. "Please fuck Satta, Master!"

She turned her face up to mine then, and I saw tears in her eyes. I looked away, toward the Countess. "We have sported enough," I said. "Let us carry out Satta's sentence."

"Indeed," said the Countess, with a most unpleasantly mischievous expression. She clapped her hands once. "Satta, come!"

"Yes, Mistress!" Satta leapt to her feet and hurried to the Countess's nag, where she knelt and placed her forehead against the stirrup.

"Will you follow where you are led, or must we bind and leash you?" asked the Countess.

"Satta will follow, Mistress," said the girl, voice tense with anxiety.

The Countess nodded to Ruck, who gave the nag's reins a jerk and started off, shouting for his men to follow.

"Are you coming with us, Dominus?" the Countess asked.

"Yes, My Lady," I said, and fell in behind the sauntering nag.

The scarred man led the way, a few dozen strides ahead of Ruck; Satta walked beside the Countess, still naked, heedless of the semen which dribbled down her thighs past her knees. I followed behind them, my thoughts running in endless circles. Ruck's three other men covered our flanks and rear, an arrangement I might have found ominous had I not been so preoccupied.

We marched thus into the woods, and had been traveling for the better part of an hour before it occurred to me to wonder what our destination might be. I approached the Countess, remaining on that side of the nag opposite from Satta.

"I am curious, My Lady, how you made your acquaintance with these men."

I had pitched my voice low, so that Ruck would not overhear. The Countess replied loudly enough to ensure that he could not help but hear: "Mr Rucker is a speculator and businessman. He came highly recommended."

"Can you trust him?"

"Do you not trust me, Dominus?"

"Of course, My Lady, but--"

"Then rest assured that we have nothing to fear from Berjamin or his men. For the simple reason, Dominus, that they would have nothing to gain from any act of treachery." The look she gave me was significant, and I knew that in spite of her undoubted intimacy with Ruck, she had no delusions as to his character.

"I thank you for easing my mind, My Lady."

She nodded but said nothing, and I dropped back a few paces. I could not refrain from glancing at Satta, who still walked silently beside the Countess, naked and lovely. I almost wished I had used her one last time before we departed the cottage, but I knew it would not have been satisfying. Not for me, at least.

Our march continued throughout the morning and past midday. We must have traveled ten miles or more northeast of Further Edgewater, far deeper into the forest than I had ever gone. The path we followed was scarcely visible among the undergrowth, but Ruck never slackened his pace. More than once I was startled by noises nearby, and I imagined all manner of wild animals stalking us as we proceeded.

At length I noticed that the scarred man had halted ahead of us, and as we approached him he pointed to the trunk of an enormous oak. Something had been nailed there -- a hand, which might once have been human. The decaying flesh hung from it in strips. Ruck, seeing the grisly totem, smiled at the Countess and said, "We're nearly there, My Lady."

Before the Countess could respond, I hissed, "Where?"

"A trading post," said Ruck. "Frequented by goblins. We left a signal expressing a desire to trade with one of their tribes, and they have responded affirmatively."

I felt ill. "With a severed human hand?"

"It is the Broken Hand tribe," said Ruck with a shrug. "Come, not much farther."




Full Confession Ch. 01



The Countess's face was pale. "Are you certain we are safe, Berjamin?"

"I have had many dealings with the goblins, My Lady. Particularly the Broken Hands. Hetman Grikka seems to have a high regard for me."

We continued another half hour, and my anxiety mounted as the trees and brush of the forest grew ever thicker around us. At last we reached a small clearing, ringed by ancient mossy standing stones. Ruck led us to the center of this clearing, where we were joined by all of his men.

For some minutes we waited there, and I watched the surrounding forest in a state of near-panic. Satta was kneeling by the Countess's nag, trembling visibly and gnawing her lips. The Countess, still mounted, seemed almost as anxious as Satta, clutching her shawl close around her shoulders.

I turned abruptly at a noise in the brush behind me, and a moment later a figure stepped into the clearing not ten yards from me. It was a human female, bent far forward as she strode out of the tangled vegetation. She was altogether naked, though she wore a peculiar arrangement of hempen straps about her face and her shaved head, and clutched a long sharpened stick in her hands. Only when she had fully emerged from the undergrowth did I realize to my astonishment that she was not alone -- a goblin was seated astride her, mounted on a kind of saddle strapped round her hips. He held a pair of rope reins attached to the crude bridle which I had already noted on her head.

He directed his mount straight at me, and I stared into her eyes as they approached. She must have been ridden hard, for her nostrils were flaring as she labored to breathe, and sweat streamed down her naked flanks, dripping onto the loam at our feet. A single long strand of saliva dangled obscenely from her chin, swaying with each step she took.

Her head jerked as the goblin yanked her reins; with a sharp grunt she halted just three feet away from me. She watched me warily, her bright blue eyes narrowed. Her entire body from head to toe had been painted, or in some wise dyed, a brilliant shade of red; but more disconcerting than the pallor of her flesh was the condition of her breasts. Each had been cleaved in two, and the wounds sewn shut with sinew. She appeared thus to have four badly disfigured breasts across her chest, tipped with half a nipple apiece. The scars showed significant healing, of many months at least. As she brandished the sharp end of her stake at me, those distorted breasts twitched side to side with the force of her movement.

The goblin was speaking, but when I finally tore my eyes away from the goblingirl, I saw that he was addressing Ruck. Meanwhile other goblins were advancing into the clearing all around us. A half dozen of them, all male, were riding brightly-painted human mounts. Several others, whom I took to be female, remained on foot.

All of the mounted goblins appeared to be armed with primitive weapons, clubs and flint-tipped spears; their human mounts and the female goblins all carried wooden stakes.

Ruck approached the mounted goblin nearest me, holding his hands up palms outward to show that he was unarmed. The human mount leveled her stake at his chest and whined threateningly. Ruck ignored the girl, nodded at the goblin. "Greetings, Mighty Grikka," he said. "We are honored that you are allowing us to trade with your glorious tribe."

The Mighty Grikka could not have stood more than three and a half feet tall on his own two feet; sitting erect in his saddle his eyes were several inches below the level of Ruck's own. He was arrayed in what must have been resplendent finery to a goblin -- a mantle of foxfur, breeches of palest leather, and a helmet fashioned from a small human skull. A humanhair plume of bright yellow rose from the top of this helm and fell past his shoulders.

"Ruck is long friend to goblins," Grikka acknowledged. "What does Ruck trade?"

"I bring you this human girl," said Ruck, indicating Satta with a sweep of his hand.

The goblin's eyes, alighting on Satta's naked form, smoldered with unmistakable lust. With a twitch of the reins he directed his mount between Ruck and myself. The goblingirl passed just two feet from me, and I felt the heat rise from her lean, hard body. When she was past, I noted a long tail of dark human hair dangling from a plug in her anus.

Grikka halted his mount and gazed down at Satta, who did not lift her face. "Why Ruck sell girl?" Grikka asked.

The Countess found her voice then. "I am selling her. She was caught using a magic charm." She held the goblin's shrewd gaze steadily.

"Girl is yours?" said Grikka.

"I am not her parent, if that is what you mean. I bought her services, and she repaid my kindness by attempting to ensorcell my son. Her treachery is to be punished."

Grikka was scarcely listening. He studied Satta for several seconds, then abruptly turned his mount to face Ruck once again; his girl's cloven breasts swayed just above Satta's head, the engorged nipples brushing her hair. "Grikka give ten rorrim for human," said Grikka.

The Countess frowned. "Ten? Any common laborer will earn that amount in a month!"

"Mighty Grikka is magnanimous, as always," interjected Ruck at once. "We gladly accept this generous offer."

Grikka drew a small pouch from beneath his mantle and tossed it in Ruck's direction. Then he pointed at Satta with a stubby, clawed finger. "You Rukka now," he proclaimed.

I thought her eyes flickered to mine at that moment, but so quickly that I could not be sure. I surely saw the gleam of suppressed tears, however, as she lifted her face for the first time, and cringed at sight of the goblin looming over her. She nuzzled one cleft breast of Grikka's mount, kissed the lopsided nipple tentatively with trembling lips.

"You Rukka!" repeated Grikka emphatically.

"Yes, Master," she said. "Rukka understands."

"Rukka up!"

"Yes, Master. Rukka obeys." As she rose she looked directly at me; her brow was creased with despair, and a single large tear spilled from her left eye, trickled down her cheek. She seemed on the verge of speaking, but instead bit her lip and lowered her head.

Grikka studied her up and down, his hideous visage contorted with pleasure. He chattered something in his infernal tongue, addressing his goblin escort. The half-dozen mounted goblins immediately rode nearer, their weapons at the ready. For a moment I feared treachery was afoot, but they did not attack. Instead they halted in a semi-circle just behind Grikka, and one of them swung down from his saddle. He marched up to Rukka, brandishing a simple wooden club and a hempen halter. Rukka shrank from the armed goblin, whimpering.

The goblin threw the noosed end of the halter deftly over her head and yanked hard, so that it tightened round her throat. He yanked again, and she staggered forward, choking.

"Please, Masters!" she gasped, clawing at the rope. "Rukka is good! Rukka obeys!"

The goblin jabbed the end of his club into her belly; with a grunt she doubled over and dropped to her knees. The other mounted goblins were gabbling and chittering excitedly, shaking their spears. One of them kicked his heels against his mount's flanks, then pulled fiercely on the reins of her bridle to bring her up short even as she stepped forward. He pulled back on the reins until her face was turned nearly upright, kicking his heels repeatedly against her flanks. He bounced in his saddle while his mount groaned and whimpered in frustration at being urged forward and reined in with equal vehemence.

I was becoming alarmed, fearing that the goblins would soon be completely out of control. Ruck, who had retrieved the pouch of money, was counting the coins within, apparently unconcerned with the proceedings. The Countess, on the other hand, was almost frantic. She directed her nag, suddenly skittish at the proximity of the goblins, close beside Ruck.

"Berjamin!" she cried. "We should be going now, I think. We will not want to linger."

"Grikka has not given us his leave," replied Ruck calmly.

One of the mounted goblins was now riding his girl in a circle around Rukka and the goblin who held her leash. Another one joined him, circling in the opposite direction and slightly farther out, so that their mounts brushed shoulders each time they passed. Rukka, still on hands and knees, was sobbing with complete abandon, so loudly that she could be clearly heard even over the hooting of the goblins and the grunting and gasping of their mounts. The dismounted goblin who still held her halter yanked it savagely, constricting the noose and choking off her cries. He loosened the drawstring of his breeches with his free hand and stepped out of them, revealing an organ which appeared monstrous on his diminutive frame, though it could not have been more than five inches long. 

Rukka, clawing at the cord around her throat, scowled with revulsion at the sight of this phallus. Again the goblin yanked the end of the halter, tightening the noose still further. Rukka's mouth gaped, her eyes bulging; she whined, trying desperately but unsuccessfully to breathe. The goblin stepped forward, his cock bobbing lewdly before her face. Rukka gazed up at him, mouth still open wide, face crimson.

"That's enough, you fucking animal!" I cried suddenly. "You're killing her!" 

I turned to Ruck seeking support, but he gave me only an admonitory look and hissed, "Quiet, you!"

All of the goblins ignored my outburst except for Grikka, who turned his mount with a twitch of the reins and rode her at a trot toward me. I avoided Grikka's face, glared instead at his girl. She came steadily forward, her little sharpened stake at the ready. Her bright red flesh gave her grimacing face an aspect altogether demonic. I braced myself for an attack, wondering whether I should make a grab for her weapon or simply punch her in the face.

Before I had decided on a course of action, her head twitched backward as Grikka tugged her reins, and she halted just out of my reach. Grikka gestured at me with his club. "Humans leave now," he said.

Ruck stepped forward, shouldering me aside. "We thank the Mighty Grikka for his patience and hospitality."

Grikka said nothing, but stared at me for several seconds before riding back to the little knot of goblins surrounding Rukka. I hesitated, even as Ruck and his men began to depart, with the Countess riding close behind. Rukka's noose appeared to have been loosened; the end of it which had been held by the goblin was now hanging free. The goblin himself had returned to his mount, and with a jerk of the reins he compelled his girl to drop to her knees. Standing behind her, he had only to bend his knees slightly to be perfectly positioned for penetration. He was staring at Rukka, jabbering vociferously as he shoved himself inside his mount's cunt and began hammering away. The other goblins greeted this activity with shouts of encouragement.

Rukka continued to kneel, cringing away from the close approach of the mounted goblins, who would frequently turn their girls and charge at her, buffeting her to one side or the other. Occasionally they would strike at her shoulders or breasts with their clubs.

"Rukka is good!" she sobbed, her voice barely rising above the goblins' cacophony. "Rukka obeys! Rukka begs to please her masters!"

I turned abruptly away, unable to watch any longer. Ruck and the Countess were almost out of sight among the trees, and I hurried after them, determined not to look back.

But then, faintly, I heard a voice call out to me from behind. Unmistakably it was not the voice of Rukka, who belonged to the goblins, but of my own beloved servitrix: "Forgive Satta, Master!" she cried. "Satta loves her Master! Satta will always love her Master!"

I looked back over my shoulder, and amid the rising dust and the swirling pandemonium of the goblins, I glimpsed for a moment Satta's face. Then I turned away.



Full Confession Ch. 02







Full Confession Ch. 02



I hesitate even now to recall the mess which had been made of Grrrss'k's face. I was swept by a wave of nausea, and for a moment could not speak for fear of retching; but gazing into her eyes, the only unmutilated portion of her face, I saw that she was wholly, indubitably human.

"Take Grrrss'k," she said abruptly. Then, pleading: "Take Grrrss'k." She was weeping steadily, twin strands of mucus dangling from her gaping nostrils. "Take Grrrss'k," she moaned. "Grrrss'k a good girl!"

I knew, as you surely know, Dear Reader, that the goblingirl could never live a normal life among humans. How could she be seen in public -- with a sack tied over her head? She must perforce lead a solitary and miserable existence. That, or return to the goblins and suffer their unimaginable mistreatment to her dying day.

How could I force her to choose between two intolerable alternatives?

Grrrss'k lifted one trembling hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, and I did for her the only thing I could do: Without warning I struck her with the rock, hitting her just above the ear.

Grrrss'k gasped and staggered backward. The sharpened stake fell from her fingers. She dropped heavily onto her side, eyes wide with shock and pain. I had hoped to knock her senseless with the first blow, and having failed in that I now feared she would lunge for her weapon and attack me. Instead she turned onto her elbows and knees, puling incoherently. Gazing over her shoulder at me, she raised her buttocks and offered her sex, hips gyrating. I suppose it must have been an ingrained response to physical assault, a desperate attempt at pacification.

Her body was exquisite, unmutilated, and as I stepped forward with my stone upraised I felt the unwelcome rush of blood to my manhood. Grrrss'k moaned fearfully as I approached, her upraised vulva bobbing and twitching. "Vuck Grrrss'k!" she pleaded. "Grrrss'k a good girl!"

I loomed over her, trying to find the will to finish what had to be done. Grrrss'k clenched her pointed teeth and squeezed shut her eyes, gasping for breath. "Grrrss'k a good girl," she whimpered, her body shaking with sobs. "Vuck Grrrss'k."

"Forgive me, Grrrss'k."

I finished my act of mercy as swiftly as I could, then sat down with my head in my hands, utterly forlorn. If Satta had indeed been sold to the orcs, I had no reason to pursue the Broken Hands any further. But what use would it be for me to turn my attention to the orcs? I could not possibly hope to wrest her away from them by either strength or stealth.

Nevertheless, I could not face the thought of living the rest of my life without Satta. If finding her proved to be tantamount to suicide, then so be it. 

I checked the goblin's corpse and found only a half-full wineskin. My belly rumbled, chastening me for having set off without thought of sustenance, but there was nothing on the goblin which I could definitively identify as food. I sampled the contents of the wineskin and discovered that it was not wine, but an acrid liquor which burned all the way down to my stomach; once there, however, it warmed and invigorated me. I tied the wineskin to my belt, snatched the sharpened stake which Grrrss'k had wielded, and set off in the general direction of the orcish lands.

As the morning advanced the day became overcast, and the gloom and murk did nothing to ameliorate my mood. I knew that I needed to go south if I hoped to reach the orcish lands, but with no sun in the lowering sky I was bereft of even the roughest measure of my direction of travel. At some point well past noon I came upon a wide stone bridge spanning a narrow but high-banked stream. I recognized the ancient, lichen-carpeted bridge, which lay several miles downriver from Edgewater; I must have been traveling southwestward throughout the afternoon, rather than southeastward as I had intended. 

In any case, I was standing at the farthest frontier of human habitation; there were no settlements in the wilderness beyond that bridge. Indeed, there were no humans whatsoever -- just wild animals; the queer, inscrutable fae; and orcs with their many pets.

Among them my Satta.

Boldly I started across the bridge, slipping slightly on the damp moss. There seemed nothing sinister or forbidding about the forest beyond, and I strode into it without hesitation. As soon as I left the grassy purlieus, however, the atmosphere underwent a transformation, and I felt a gnawing encumbrance of spirit which rasped at the edge of my consciousness.

At first I dismissed this turbid unease as a symptom of a fanciful imagination, and I could almost hear the Countess's cutting disparagement of my unmanly anxieties. Yet the feeling persisted, and even worsened as I delved deeper into the trackless wilderness; within two hundred strides I was thoroughly lost and bewildered, and more than a little alarmed. The trees seemed somehow more feral -- bent, hypertrophied, menacing; the low canopy formed by their gnarled and grasping branches was all but impenetrable to the sinking sun, throwing all into a deep and oppressive gloaming.

The sounds of that forest were more unnerving than any other I had known; the familiar buzz and throb of insects was louder and more abrasive than I was accustomed to, almost nerve-wracking; while the songs of the birds were abrupt outbursts of acrimony, without a hint of their customary dulcet harmony. The only other sounds in the forest were those of my own making as I blundered through the undergrowth.

Eventually, following an hour or two of perfectly aimless progress, my attention was arrested by a sudden whisper, as of a word or a breeze, somewhere just ahead. I stopped short, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down my face, and peered into the tangle of foliage. For many seconds I saw nothing.

Then a clump of furze ten feet away from me twitched, too sharply to have been caused by the wind, even had there been any. I gripped Grrrss'k's sharpened stake, my only weapon, more tightly in my fist and ventured a challenge:

"Hello?"

My throat was constricted with fear, my voice less than a whisper. I recalled too late that the only denizens of this forest must be either wild animals or creatures wholly antagonistic to my presence. Before I could crouch unobtrusively into the underbrush, I glimpsed a movement by the massive bole of an ancient oak -- a pair of luminous eyes in a shadowed humanoid face, bared for a moment and quickly withdrawn behind the trunk of the tree.

Given its diminutive size, I wondered if the furtive figure were a child who had wandered away and become lost in the woods. Clinging to this surmise, I stepped forward cautiously, brandishing the wooden stake ahead of me.

"Who's there?" I called, raising my voice to a full whisper. "Come on out, I won't hurt you."

There was a rustling at the base of the enormous oak, and then from the parting branches of furze appeared a creature of humanoid aspect, but not wholly human. It stepped boldly forth and stood before me, not five feet away.

I have described it accurately as not wholly human, but it was indeed wholly female. Though childlike in stature (not standing even as high as my armpits) her diminutive body was formed with the most voluptuous proportions -- breasts large and firm, and a waist so narrow I might encircle it with my two hands, with hips curving delectably.

Her flesh, however, was distinctly inhuman in hue -- a green so dark as to be almost black; and in her face the resemblance to humankind faded further. She had a tiny, sharp chin; a wide, narrow-lipped mouth; an almost rudimentary nose; and eyes which seemed to fill half of her face.

The creature gazed at me, fearless and unthreatening, her enormous eyes rejecting any attempt to resist or dismiss them. I stared back, entranced, aware of a rising sense of anxiety lest my rapturous, uncanny visitor suddenly choose to flee.

"Wait," I said softly, raising one hand as if in entreaty.

The creature cocked her head to the side, much as a bird might do, still regarding me intently. Then she spoke, very slowly and carefully. "Come," she said, and in her voice was the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.

"Come where?" I asked.

She put one slim finger to her lips, gazing abstractedly into the woods behind me. "You are followed," she murmured in a tone somehow conveying both disinterest and urgency. "Come."

She turned and disappeared into the underbrush with a sudden lithe bound. I did not doubt the veracity of her assertion and followed immediately after, silently marveling at my good fortune in having been found by this enchanting savior.

She moved with preternatural grace, and I had difficultly keeping her in sight; but she would occasionally pause when I fell too far behind, allowing me to catch up. After twenty minutes or more she stopped abruptly in a tiny clearing, and I came blundering after her several seconds later, immediately tripping over a protrusion which I took for a small tree stump. I fell to one knee, huffing and gasping, hoping we had reached a place of safety.

I devoted a few moments to the recovery of my breath, and then posed the question foremost among the many I had formulated during brief long march through the wood: "Who are you?"

I looked up, and found that the creature had silently moved close to me, to stand almost eye-to-eye before me as I knelt. She regarded me for some time with intense curiosity, then spoke a sound.

"'Sw'ss'lm'rr'?" I echoed, gazing into those immense, fathomless eyes. "Is that your name?"

The ends of her narrow lips curled very slightly upward, toying with a smile; she raised one finger, dark as an emerald, to her lips, and reached out with her other hand to touch my own lips.

"We must be quiet?" I whispered.

Sw'ss'lm'rr nodded, the strange smile widening incrementally; the finger on my lips moved slowly, softly down to my chin, and then up my jaw until her palm rested against the side of my face. I had assumed her flesh would be rough as bark, but it proved to be as smooth and soft as a green shoot. I simpered into Sw'ss'lm'rr's face, while she peered into mine with what seemed an immeasurable infinitude of tenderness and compassion.

"We can rest here?" I asked.

Sw'ss'lm'rr stepped back, made a sweeping gesture with her arm as if to welcome me to her home. "Safety," she murmured. "Rest."

Never had a bed of moss and humus seemed so inviting to me. I rose to my feet and stood hesitating a moment, fearful lest I transgress the bounds of my ethereal host's hospitality; but Sw'ss'lm'rr continued to smile encouragingly up at me, and so I strode to the center of the clearing.

"Rest," repeated Sw'ss'lm'rr -- and now I thought to detect something new in her tone, a trace element of eagerness. Before I could respond, Sw'ss'lm'rr was once more directly in front of me, one small hand on my chest, the other on my upper arm.

Amazed and delighted, I put a hand on the firm, pliant flesh of Sw'ss'lm'rr's tiny waist; the strange wonderful smile continued to beckon, the immense eyes now frankly affirming the fulfillment of my desire -- A desire which had been growing in me, all but unnoticed, since the moment I first laid eyes on her.

What followed is a disjointed memory to me, as if my perceptions had come uncoupled from the passage of time, and I was seeing events follow one upon another in discreet tableaux: First, I was seated on the soft earth gazing up into the enigmatic face of Sw'ss'lm'rr, who stood just beyond the reach of my outstretched hand; then I was naked, lying prone with Sw'ss'lm'rr crouched beside me, both hands gripping my cock; next, Sw'ss'lm'rr stood straddling my midsection while my erection awaited her descent, rising like an iron tower from my groin; finally Sw'ss'lm'rr was on me, my implacable tower of flesh and blood engulfed to its foundation in her 

exquisitely tight, wet quim.

But despite this apparent shrinking of my perceptions, my sensation of the event seemed only to intensify, each passing instant protracting ever further toward infinity, toward the promise of everlasting ecstasy. All cogent thought ceased; there remained only the experience of the eternal now of our coupling.

And then followed a fading, a gradual diminishment in that sensation of bliss concomitant with a weakening of strength and will. I noted this enervation without alarm -- indeed, without much interest at all. My senses were dulling, my consciousness receding.

I might more accurately say that my consciousness was dying, yet I felt no anxiety since "I" was too far gone to feel anything.

But before I had disappeared altogether into the welcoming infinitude, I had the distinct sense that my fall or dissipation into eternity was interrupted by a powerful buffeting, and I was suddenly conscious, however minutely, that my consciousness itself had been all but extinguished only a moment before.

My first feeling in that instant of recovery was a pinprick of panic, and I fought with all my strength to move, or to speak, or to see or smell -- fought mightily as a drowning man might fight against the water engulfing him though he has no notion whether his struggles will carry him up or down, toward salvation or doom.

I felt on my face a faint warmth; smelled something acrid; heard a muffled roar and a distant lingering shrill; saw at last a glow -- or at least a detectable lightening of the encompassing darkness. And then I breached the surface of consciousness and came fully to my senses.

I could not have been more astonished at what I saw at that moment: Berjamin Rucker standing beside me, bellowing like an ox, hacking madly at the ground near my head with a longsword. I cried out in alarm and rolled away from him, looking about for my clothing and thinking only to escape from his maddened assault. I realized suddenly that he must be attacking Sw'ss'lm'rr, and even as half my brain was moved to come to her aid, the other half awoke to the understanding that she was the real threat.

Crouching, I turned and saw Ruck standing with the point of his sword poised above Sw'ss'lm'rr's midsection; she was propped on her elbows, glowering at him with a face transformed by fear and rage: Her enormous lambent eyes were narrowed to glimmering slits, and her mouth was now a gaping maw with dozens of needle-sharp teeth bared.

Ruck's sword plunged into Sw'ss'lm'rr's belly again and again, while she thrashed violently, hissing and spitting. At length she fell still, but Ruck skewered her prostrate form a few more times before he was satisfied.

Then he turned toward me, breathing heavily, flush of face. "Are you wounded?" he asked.

"I ... no. I don't think so."

"We are safe for now," said Ruck. "It has fled."

"Fled? Didn't you kill it?"

I glanced at Sw'ss'lm'rr's corpse and was stunned to see only a pile of vegetation -- broken branches, tangled coils of vines, and dozens of the bright crimson leaves of red ivy scattered over all.

"Listen to me, My Lord Dunderpate," said Ruck, breathless. "Your lover was fae. A tree nymph, most like. In coupling with you, it was sucking away your soul, making of you a slave. Had I not found you, it would have soon reduced you to a witless automaton, obeying its commands without thought or will of your own, until the day you died." He leaned over and scooped up my piled smallclothes, tossed them to me.

"I didn't know," I said, fumbling with my clothes, my benighted brain still struggling to catch up with all that had happened. "I had no idea Sw'ss'lm'rr was a fae. How did you ever find us?"

Ruck raised his left hand, and I saw that he was holding a strange amulet on a leather thong, a thing of surpassing ugliness fashioned from a tiger-dragon's fang, a few gnarled twigs, and a bent nail encompassing the whole.

"My talisman not only detects the presence of fae, but offers some measure of protection against their enscorcellment," said Ruck. "It is an essential piece of equipment when entering an enchanted forest." The amulet's oscillations stilled, and Ruck peered intently in the direction indicated by the point of the nail.

"Will she be back?"

"Without a doubt. We are trespassing on its home. Somewhere nearby will be its hearttree, wherein lies its lifeforce. So long as that tree stands, no mortal weapon can destroy the nymph. A fire will keep it at bay, for tree nymphs fear fire above all else, but we should be away from this place without further delay."

I spied my trousers and shirt draped over a large bush and went to retrieve them, tripping again in exactly the same place I had stumbled when Sw'ss'lm'rr first led me into the clearing. Looking down, I saw what appeared to be the top of a large round stone protruding from the ground.

"You seem to have uncovered the remains of a previous paramour," said Ruck.

It was huge. I dug around it, curious to see its full dimensions, and finally succeeded in prising it out of the earth. I stared into the dirt-encrusted eye sockets of a gargantuan skull.

"Orc," said Ruck, and I shuddered. "Come, my lord. The sooner we are out of these woods the better."

"No. I came here to find Satta. I won't go back until I do."

"I appreciate your determination, but I was requested to bring you straight back to your home, and I intend to do just that."

"Then you will have to kill me, Ruck, and carry my body back to the Countess."

Ruck scowled. "We can continue this discussion elsewhere. For now, it would be best to put a considerable distance between ourselves and this place. Agreed?"

"Agreed. But I will choose the direction of our travel."

"Have you any notion of where we are? Or where you would like to go?"

"None whatsoever. But I intend to proceed in that direction." I pointed at random into the forest. I wanted only to forestall our return to Edgewater, where I knew Ruck intended to lead us straightaway.

"This direction would be better, my lord," said Ruck mildly, pointing.

I stood up and tossed aside the orc skull. "Then I will see you upon my return with Satta."

"This is foolishness! If I must truss you hand and foot and carry you from this forest, I will do it." "And what are our chances of getting out of this wood alive if you are carrying me the whole way? None, I daresay." Ruck grabbed my arm, glowering. "See here, fool! I don't give two rat's farts for you. I came after you because the Countess is scared witless at the thought of losing you! I won't hesitate to leave you behind if you refuse to come with me right now!"

"I think I've made my intentions perfectly clear," I said. With a snarl, Ruck put the point of his sword under my chin. "I must insist we return the way we came, my lord," he said quietly.

"Ruck, do you mean to kill me in order to stop me from risking my life in the woods?"

He glared at me balefully for many long seconds, but at length lowered his blade. "I almost admire your determination, my lord. But then I remember that you are merely a lovestruck mooncalf. All this passion and valor for the sake of a servitrix." He turned his head and spat in disgust.

"Satta didn't deserve her fate, Ruck."

"She was born, wasn't she? We all get what's coming to us." Ruck resheathed his sword. "Well, Lord Mooncalf, let us see what destiny awaits us."

For two hours we trekked deeper into the forest, until we were halted by the failing light as dusk approached. We made camp and built a small fire, and from under his cloak Ruck pulled a backpack, which he had stocked with a variety of simple provisions, apples and black bread and saltmeat, a skin of water and another of wine. I was reminded that I had not eaten all day, and devoured my portion with alacrity. Then I leaned back and felt the weight of my weariness settle into my bones.

"Where are your men, Ruck?" I asked, stifling a yawn. "Why didn't you bring them?"




Full Confession Ch. 02



Ruck swallowed a stream of wine from the skin. "Had I troubled to ask them to come on this fool's errand, they would have flatly refused -- assuming they could stop laughing long enough to speak. And I don't blame them."

"Nor I. But I do marvel that you could be prevailed upon to come after me."

Ruck was silent for a long time. "Your mother can be persuasive," he said. "And whether you know it or not, she yet retains considerable wealth."

"She promised you a reward if you found me?"

"Yes, my lord. Not enough to have enticed my men -- not nearly enough. But I decided I would devote twenty-four hours to the search."

"And why have you chosen to stay with me now, Ruck, instead of leaving me to my hopeless quest? I know you have no particular affection for me."

Another long silence, while Ruck quaffed the wine. Then he tossed me the skin. "In order to collect my reward, I must return you to the Countess alive and well."

I drank the wine, which was delicious. "How did you find me?"

"I followed your trail through the forest for several hours this morning, until I came upon a dead goblin and goblingirl. Your handiwork, I presume?"

"I snuck up on them. Attacked the goblin from behind and killed him without much trouble. The goblingirl ... she told me that Satta had been sold to the orcs. She begged me to take her home. Her name was Grrss'k."

Ruck watched me for several seconds, waiting for me to continue, but I could think of nothing more to say.

"That's just what the goblins called her," he said. "Whatever her name was, it wasn't that."

"Ruck, did I do the right thing? To the girl?"

His smile was a wry and wintry twist of the lips. "I'd have done the same, my lord, and called it a kindness."

"Are not the goblins your partners in business?"

"I have business with them on occasion. That doesn't make them my partners." He reached for the wineskin and I handed it back to him, my head already swimming. Ruck took another long draught. "I left the corpses and followed your trail south, straight into these woods."

"Do you suppose Sw'ss'lm'rr will come after us?"

"I doubt it, my lord. The fae think nothing of vengeance. And our little campfire will be thoroughly repugnant to it. But it would be best if we stay alert. I'll take the first watch."





Full Confession Ch. 02



"Blugruh must feed the human," she said, still gasping with pain as she continued to twist the heavy iron ring. Her other hand had dropped between her thighs, fingers rapidly stroking her clitoris. "Blugruh was commanded. Please eat, Master."

"Satta, listen to me! This may be our only opportunity! Free me now and we will go home together. I will make you my wife, and you will make me the happiest man alive!"

"Blugruh is no human, Master. She's just a pet."

Her words, spoken almost without inflection, froze my heart in my chest. In that instant, all hope died in me. "How long was I unconscious?" I asked.

"Many hours, Master," said Blugruh.

I could smell her scent, a strong but not wholly unpleasant odor of sweat, female sex, and some unidentifiable musk. My eyes rove over her naked body, and I could not entirely suppress my arousal. She was pulling on the iron ring, her breast corkscrewed; with an effort I averted my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Early morning, Master."

"What are the orcs planning?"

Blugruh shook her head. "Master Shadrac does not want the human males killed," she said. "That is all that Blugruh knows, Master." 

"Where is Ruck, my companion?"

Blugruh looked past me, across the firepit. I saw a dark shape there, unmoving. "The other human male is not dead, but he still has not woken."

That was good news, at least, but I was in no mood to appreciate it. "Where are they taking us?"

"Home, Master. Back to their village."

To the orc village, I thought, and some hideous fate. Against all expectation I had chanced upon Satta -- only to find that she was no longer human. Lud, in His infinite compassion, seemed a cruel and malicious bastard.

Blugruh released her breast ring to retrieve a large wooden bowl resting nearby. She did not desist from masturbating with her other hand. "Please eat, Master."

I looked down at the bowl, almost succumbing to a peevish inclination to knock it aside. But the contents of the bowl smelled savory enough, and my stomach gurgled hungrily in response. "Very well," I muttered. "Feed me the soup."

"Yes, Master."

Blugruh held the bowl to my lips with both hands, tipped it carefully. The soup was lukewarm and surprisingly palatable. Floating in the broth were the pulpy husks of what seemed to be enormous beanpods; they were chewy and tough, but pleasantly sweet. When I had devoured most of the soup Blugruh lowered the bowl and gazed at the meager remains, licking her lips. I did not doubt that hunger must have been a perpetual preoccupation for the gaunt orcpets. "Finish it," I said.

Blugruh's eyes widened as if in astonishment at this unexpected largess. "Thank you, Master!" she cried, and wasted no more time dunking her head into the deep hollow of the bowl and licking ravenously. Her tongue did not miss a single drop. At length she lowered the bowl and wiped a hand across her mouth and cheeks, sucked the residue from her fingers. Then she slipped the hand between her thighs to resume fingering herself. "Master is very kind," she murmured. "Blugruh lives only to please her Masters," she added quietly. "The human master, too."

"You may please me by helping me escape," I said, turning my face away.

"Blugruh must not, Master."

"Then leave me."

She hesitated for the barest instant, then said dully, "Yes, Master."

She rose and crept away. I watched her approach the orcs' lean-tos, curling up in front of the nearer one and cradling her head in the crook of her elbow. She did not close her eyes, but gazed in my direction, her hand moving between her thighs. Her pupils glowed in the firelight.

I gazed at her, the orcpet Blugruh, formerly the human Satta. Her body was coiled like a lounging cat, her eyes now closed. She was so lean now, so sinewy and hard, yet I could not tear my eyes from those plump breasts with their thick iron rings streaked with rust, that firm muscled belly and tiny waist flaring into generous hips! I thought that she had never seemed more desirable, more irresistible. I wondered at the frightful allure of her, and felt the insistent pressure of arousal.

Determined to occupy my thoughts with more pressing concerns, I began to struggle stubbornly with the bindings at my wrists and ankles, my resolution steeled by the knowledge that my fate must surely be sealed unless I could contrive some means of escape. I worked at the cords steadily until I could no longer sustain the abominable aching of my wrists and ankles, which had been chaffed bloody, and I fell limp, exhausted and spent. I could fight no more; the orcs would have their way. Satta was lost, and Ruck and I were doomed to face whatever tortures the orc's minds could conceive. It was a fate I felt I had done nothing to deserve, and I cursed Lud in silent vehemence.

Inevitably my attention was drawn back to Blugruh, her hand still moving languidly at her crotch. She seemed a model of erotic perfection, her body crafted explicitly for the carnal satisfaction of the male. The blood flowed once more to my loins, an unstemmable tide which filled the tissues of my member almost to bursting -- or so it seemed to me, writhing in a misery of frustration and dread while my erection throbbed uselessly against the constraint of my trousers.

I asked myself why I should not indulge my final opportunity for sensual pleasure in this life. On the morrow, after all, I would be dead -- or at least commencing a long and agonizing journey to death. Meanwhile, no more than twenty feet from me lay an exquisite orcpet. I knew, deep down in my fevered swollen loins, that I need only call to her and she would come. She would pleasure me with eager expertise, and I could then face my imminent demise without qualm.

I ground my teeth, fighting the urge to whisper her name, for fear of accidentally waking one of the orcs. Experimentally I spoke her name, the name given her by her orcish masters. My voice was less than a whisper, and she did not look up. Grimacing, I tried again, only slightly louder. The hand at her crotch stopped, and her eyelids fluttered.

"Blugruh!" I hissed, wincing at the sound of my voice. 

Her head twitched upward; she blinked drowsily, looking around. From the lean-to directly behind her came a noise, of a heavy body moving ponderously. I froze rigid, clenching my jaw so tight it ached. Blugruh rolled instantly onto her hands and knees, faced the lean-to with her shoulders slightly lowered and buttocks thrust high. The sight of her in this pose was an agony to my lust-addled mind.

Within the lean-to Shadrac's shadowy bulk was visible, sitting upright. I heard the sound of his claws rasping his rough hide as he scratched himself vigorously. "Blugruh," he rumbled.

"Yes, Master?" Her voice quavered, whether from anxiety or anticipation I could not discern.

"Okukpuk durrog," said Shadrac, or some such thing. 

These syllables had an electrifying effect on Blugruh, who responded in a tone of unmistakable delight: "Yes, Master! At once, Master!"

She leapt forward with an almost feline pounce and seated herself on her haunches by the orc's side. Shadrac grunted another word or two and then simply lay back, one huge hand on Blugruh's firm buttocks. She groaned, hips writhing as the orc squeezed and fondled her backside.

I could not tear my eyes away, could only watch as she reached for the monstrous organ with both hands. It curved like a strung bow, not yet fully erect. She bent her head over it and sucked the great glans, stroking it avidly until it stood straight upright, longer than my own forearm. She continued to suck and stroke for a minute or more, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet, then she rose and straddled the orc's broad hips. She squatted, placed her vulva almost tenderly against the glans and squirmed.

My sob of dismay was lost beneath her moans of pleasure. Scowling, hands balled into impotent fists, I watched from twenty feet away, my own erection as rigid as a stone within my trousers, already aching from the unrelieved pressure of the blood with which it was engorged. I had never felt so great a need to satisfy my body's craving, even as my heart seemed to shatter with every beat.

I squeezed my eyes shut for several seconds, until a long and wavering moan from Blugruh induced me to re-open them. Her swollen vulva had engulfed the enormous glans, and she was endeavoring to lower herself down the shaft with little twitches of her hips. She seemed undismayed by the disparity in size of their respective organs, and indeed her cunt stretched readily enough to accommodate the orc's girth; his fearsome member glistened with his pet's fluids, which oozed copiously from her hole and soon coated the full length of his shaft.

Blugruh thrust her hips forcefully downward, unmindful of any discomfort; when her descent was halted only halfway down by the sheer size of the orc's cock she gyrated vigorously, generating even more of her lubricious fluid, and then resumed her descent. She proceeded hastily, impelled by a mindless lust which would brook no delay. She gasped and groaned fervently, crying out in Lud's name with blasphemous gratitude.

Her emphatic vociferations did not affect the second orc, whose prodigious snoring continued uninterrupted; but the other orcpet stirred fitfully and awoke with a moan. Bukbuk blinked drowsily, masturbating even as she stretched herself; craning her neck she saw Blugruh astride Shadrac, and with a sudden sharp groan she sprang to her hands and knees and scrambled toward the lean-to, emitting a low, needful whine. She halted two feet from the copulating couple, crouched there with her chin nearly to the ground and her churning buttocks lifted high; her whine rose in pitch and wavered, punctuated by soft panting.

"Master!" she whimpered, writhing. "Bukbuk's holes beg to be fucked, Master! Please, Master!"

The pet's intrusion drew a frantic response from Blugruh, who impaled herself on Shadrac's member with redoubled intensity. She did not cease calling out to her orcish Master in a shrill and breathless voice, her cries rising in volume even as they grew more bestial, less coherent. This likewise stimulated Bukbuk to further vociferations and more violent undulations. Sobbing with need, she sat up and shook her small breasts fervently at the orc in a desperate attempt to entice the beast away from Blugruh's hole.

The spectacle of two orcpets wantonly surrendering to their basest instincts was more than I could bear to witness in my state of extraordinary arousal. With a strangled moan I climaxed, my erection throbbing as it unleashed streams of semen against the fabric of my trousers. I squirmed and thrashed in orgasm for a minute or more, the most overwhelming release I had ever attained -- even the most sublime acts of pleasure I had engaged in with Satta seemed as pale shadows to the crushing intensity of that climax. When it was over I lay gasping, physically spent, my erection only slightly diminished.

Shadrac and his pets, meanwhile, had taken no notice of me, but continued their activity with ever increasing vigor. Shadrac himself was growing more animated. He was propped up on one elbow, snarling vehemently at Blugruh, who was rising and falling with tireless zeal along his entire length. Bukbuk's own efforts to entice the orc continued unabated; she had turned herself around, proffering her up-thrust buttocks. 

Gazing over her shoulder she groaned deeply and called out to him, "Bukbuk's ass, Master!"

Blugruh thrust herself vehemently down Shadrac's shaft until her crotch impacted his with a wet smack. She ground her loins against him for many long seconds, fully impaled, squealing "Blugruh, Master! Blugruh!" Her body shook violently as she repeated her name again and again, her voice rising in pitch. At length her vocalizations lost all coherence, the syllables no longer recognizable as those of her name.

Shadrac's lust, by whatever combination of factors, was clearly intensifying. He huffed and snarled aggressively, baring his fearsome fangs as he stared down at the little pet squirming on his shaft. With a throaty roar the orc thrust his face down toward Blugruh's head, and his great gaping jaws snapped shut against the side of her head.

Blugruh groaned, her body lurching. I feared the orc had gone berserk and was devouring her; my own thoughts had lost any coherence, but I renewed my frantic, fruitless efforts to free myself from my bonds, with some notion of leaping to her rescue.

Shadrac gave a sharp twist of his huge head and drew back, bright blood spilling from his tusks. Then, with a husky sound which could only have been laughter, he began chewing whatever small morsel he had captured in his mouth. Blugruh was whimpering uncontrollably, but to my astonishment she made absolutely no attempt to escape the orc's clutches; instead she resumed fucking the titanic shaft with utter abandon, her buttocks hammering rapidly against the orc's crotch with a noise that echoed through the trees, her voice lifted in orgasm.

Bukbuk too seemed undismayed by the orc's sudden attack. She redoubled her efforts to tempt him into her holes, now sobbing with no more coherence than Blugruh. In response Shadrac uttered a menacing growl which only promised greater danger. Without warning, he grabbed Blugruh by the throat and flung her effortlessly aside. She tumbled toward me, landed facedown not ten feet away. There she lay panting heavily, body aquiver. I could see clearly the side of her face where Shadrac in his passion had bitten off the upper half of her left ear. Her blood, glistening in the firelight, trickled in rivulets down her cheek and throat.

I was only just recovering my strength from the climax I had experienced, and with a groan I sat upright. "Blugruh!" I whispered.

Her head rose abruptly and she looked in my direction; her eyes were unfocused, bestial. She moaned, a long low utterance, and began masturbating heatedly.

"Blugruh! Help me escape before they kill us all!"

I doubt whether the orcpet even comprehended my words. She turned and hastened back to her master on hands and knees, moaning ceaselessly.

Shadrac's attention was now devoted to Bukbuk, of whom I could see very little beneath the vast bulk of the orc. I gathered that she was on her back beneath him, doubled over with her knees to her chest and her tiny feet just visible above the orc's shoulders, on either side of his misshapen head. The lovely twin globes of her firm buttocks were cleaved by the extraordinary thickness of the orc's cock, which drilled implacably into the cramped space of her rectum, sinking steadily downward until only the scrotum remained visible. Bukbuk groaned, began babbling rapid syllables which may have been words of gratitude directed at her Master.

Shadrac pummeled his pet's anus for several minutes, while Blugruh roved around them trying fruitlessly to get her own holes refilled. More than once Blugruh backed toward Shadrac and Bukbuk ass-first, trying to squeeze herself between them. She would wriggle and squirm spiritedly in an apparent attempt to jostle the pair of them apart and then offer one of her own holes in place of Bukbuk's. Remarkably, Shadrac seemed to be unperturbed by Blugruh's intrusions -- indeed, he appeared to have no preference whatsoever for one hole over another. When his cock did in fact momentarily come free of Bukbuk's ass, Blugruh lunged backward, deftly interposing her own anus. Shadrac heedlessly crammed himself down her bowels, and Blugruh fairly shrieked in pleasure and satisfaction.

Bukbuk, not content to relinquish her source of pleasure, struggled violently beneath Blugruh, and despite the disadvantage of her uncomfortable position she succeeded by sheer brute force in dislodging the orc's cock from her rival's ass. Shadrac, blithe as ever, sought another hole to fuck, and Bukbuk managed to reintroduce her gaping anus at just the right moment. She moaned joyously, filled.

Blugruh had no further opportunity to pleasure her Master; within another minute Shadrac was climaxing in Bukbuk's bowels, bellowing as his huge body shuddered. Bukbuk was sobbing with ecstasy, as if the orc's attainment of orgasm was her own greatest achievement. Even Blugruh's groans conveyed far more triumph than disappointment.

Shadrac extricated his member from Bukbuk's anus and promptly lost all interest in the pets. He shuffled back to his lean-to and settled himself ponderously onto the filthy skins, yawning. Within a few moments his snoring had rejoined that of the other orc, who had not stirred. Bukbuk and Blugruh, meanwhile, wrestled spiritedly for several minutes, each endeavoring to thrust her fingers into Bukbuk's rectum and scoop out strands of that copious cache of semen Shadrac had deposited in her hole. They slurped the cum from their fingers with great moans of gustatory delight. Then, sighing contentedly, they crawled back to their masters and went quickly to sleep; Blugruh seemed to have forgotten my very existence, and did not so much as glance in my direction.





Full Confession Ch. 02



Shadrac stalked toward me, brandishing a huge stone-headed axe. I scowled, more fearful than defiant, and attempted to roll away from his grasp, but he caught my ankle and yanked me almost entirely off the ground. He cut through the bindings at my ankles, but left my wrists tied. He then went to Ruck and gave him a kick in the side, without discernable effect.

Looking at me he spoke briefly, and Blugruh translated: "Master says human get up now. We leave." I stared for a moment at her mutilated ear, the wound heavily crusted with dried blood; then I looked into her face, but she would not meet my gaze.

"What about Ruck?" I asked.

The two orcs conferred briefly, and then Shadrac directed a sharp command at Bukbuk, who lurched hastily to his side with a shrill "Yes, Master!" The orc pulled the pack from her back, then lifted Ruck easily and placed his limp form onto Bukbuk's back.

The orcpet groaned, gathering Ruck's dangling legs in the crooks of her elbows and shifting her weight experimentally. She bent far forward, more so than she had even with the pack on her back. Shadrac lifted the abandoned pack and threw it easily across his shoulder.

Shadrac spoke a single syllable, and we set off at a leisurely pace to allow Bukbuk to keep up despite her onerous burden. We walked through the morning, and the orcpet spoke no word of complaint, though her gasps and whimpers seemed to multiply with every passing mile; as midday passed I felt my own fatigue mounting as the extraordinary exertions I had undergone in the last thirty-six hours began to weigh on me. Several times I staggered and fell, but each time I willed myself back to my feet and carried on. Finally, however, as I sank onto the soft and welcome humus for the fourth or fifth time, I resolved to remain there no matter what Shadrac might threaten. Afternoon was well advanced, and I supposed that if I remained obdurate Shadrac might relent and allow us to encamp for the night. In any case, I was beyond caring.

Within seconds Shadrac was standing over me, calling to the orcpets. To my surprise he said nothing at all to me; instead, as Blugruh trotted up he grabbed the pack she was carrying and yanked it impatiently off her back, not troubling to loosen the straps. Then, before I could protest, he lifted me bodily off the ground. Blugruh, divining his intent, instantly turned and bent to offer the meager span of her back for this new burden.

I struggled, weak as a lamb. "No, no, no," I murmured. "Rest. Food. Then we go on."

I was draped over the little orcpet just as Ruck had been, my armpits resting on either of her shoulders, my legs dangling so that my toes almost scraped the ground. I could feel the heat of her body through my shirt, her sweat quickly soaking through to my skin.

Another terse command from Shadrac, who gave Blugruh's pack to the other orc, and we were on our way.

"No," I moaned, my voice no more than a whisper. "Rest awhile."

"Don't worry, Master," gasped Blugruh, locking her arms behind my knees. "Blugruh is very strong, Master!"

She set off after Shadrac and the others with a notably unsteady gait, but I was too exhausted to worry much about being spilled onto the ground. Nor was I disposed to complain about the myriad discomforts of this unique mode of travel -- Blugruh's protuberant hipbones digging into my thighs, the ceaseless jarring of her every footfall, the perilous slickness of her sweat-drenched body. I merely hung onto her back, scarcely conscious of our progress.

Something tickled my lips and I jerked my head upward with a strangled snore. I blinked my eyes and looked around. The daylight had dimmed noticeably; dusk was near. I was still being carried by Blugruh, my chin resting over her left shoulder. I felt the tickle at my lips again and shook my head, dislodging a large black fly. I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye, and turning my head saw that Blugruh's injured ear had attracted half a dozen huge flies, feasting on the caked blood.

As if my discovery had also alerted Blugruh to the flies' nuisance, she shook her head sharply twice. Two of the flies retreated, but after a lazy circuit of her head they returned to resume their meal. I heard then a tiny sound from the orcpet which might have been a sob.

"Blugruh?" I murmured.

"Blugruh . . . strong . . .!"

The orcpet's voice was almost inaudible, but the tone of near-desperate entreaty was unmistakable; she had been driven to her very last ounce of strength. I could feel the thundering of her heart against my chest, beating three times faster than my own.

"I'll get down," I said. "I can walk on my own now."

"No . . . Master," moaned Blugruh. She continued with an incoherent slur of syllables, accompanied by a shake of her head which I assumed was directed at me rather than the flies feeding on her mutilated ear.

"Stop, Blugruh," I said. "I will walk."

Blugruh obeyed my words without further hesitation, and stood swaying in her tracks. Gingerly I dropped to the ground behind her, my legs feeling like rubber. I took a step, testing my strength, and was reassured that I would indeed be able to walk on my own for at least a little while.

"Thank you, Blugruh," I said, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

Her body shook with sobs. "Blugruh . . . is shit!" she moaned.

"Nonsense! Do you need to rest?"

"No, Master!" she cried, aghast. "Blugruh must go on!"

With that, she shambled forward, feet dragging, and went straight to Shadrac. The orc stopped and turned, looked down at the pet and then at me. He dropped the pack he had been carrying, growled a few words. The other orc approached and tossed his own pack down beside Shadrac's.

Blugruh fell to her hands and knees. "Thank you, Masters," she gasped, crawling over to the packs.

Shadrac turned his eyes to me as his pet struggled to put one of the packs on her back. I hurried forward as quickly as my numbed legs would move, reaching out to help her. The two packs combined surely weighed almost as much as I did; Blugruh would never be able to carry both on her own.

Shadrac, however, thrust me aside with a sweep of his monstrous arm, so that I was sent sprawling to the ground. Blugruh, still weeping softly, strapped the first bundle onto her back, then clutched the second in both arms. Grimacing, she climbed laboriously to her feet.

I glared at the orc, wiped my bloody lip with the back of my hand. "Are you trying to kill her? Don't you see she can't go any further?"

Ignoring my outburst, Shadrac directed a few more words at his pet. She brightened immediately, seeming to find one last spark of strength. "Thank you, Master!" she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Blugruh's not tired, Master! Blugruh works hard, Master!"

She staggered off at a pace I found difficult to match, but I was impelled by a desire to know what Shadrac had said to motivate her so effectively. When I overtook her I was too breathless to speak for several moments. She was staring straight ahead, eyes glazed.

"What," I asked, "did Shadrac tell you?"

A gleam returned to her eyes. "Master is pleased . . . with Blugruh. Will use Blugruh . . . alone tonight. No other cunts. Blugruh alone."

The forest had already thinned significantly, and when we had trudged another few hundred yards we left the woods altogether and immediately descended the gentle slope of what must have once been the bank of a torrential river. There, in a shallow grassy valley, the orcish village lay a quarter mile distant from the senescent stream which still trickled incongruously in the broad riverbed. Despite the failing light, I could see that the orc village was arrayed haphazardly over an acre or more of ground surrounding a large central clearing. A road of packed earth wound its way among three-score wattle and daub structures, few of which were larger than fifteen paces a side.

We approached the village from the west without drawing any attention from its inhabitants. The light of the sun, just setting behind us, filled the sky with a variegated beauty, lending the village a picturesque allure. Though more ramshackle than rustic, it might almost have been a quaint human settlement. 

Orcpets seemed to be everywhere, most of them scurrying about on errands and chores. I noted one of them squatting at the edge of a narrow side street, urinating into the dust at her feet. On the next street I saw a small gaggle of diminutive pets gathered around the towering form of an orc; they squirmed and writhed at his feet, voices raised in a plaintive chorus. With a shock I realized that they were offering themselves to the beast, begging to be the object of his abuse.

We proceeded to the center of the village, where there was a small square perhaps fifty paces across, dominated by a large central firepit lined with stone, the flames of which cast a ruddy glow in the gathering dusk. As we entered the square, both Bukbuk and Blugruh were divested of their burdens.

Shadrac bellowed a command to Bukbuk, who gave a shrill cry of acknowledgement and rushed over to him. She dropped to her haunches before Shadrac's left foot, bent forward to press her palms flat against the ground, and lowered her face to kiss and nuzzle his filthy claws like a starved dog fawning on its master. Her shapely buttocks rose bobbing and gyrating as she licked her master's feet, her vulva glistening, the dark star of her rectum pulsing with passion. I stared, fascinated by the action of the pet's sphincter, lurid in the fluctuating light of the great firepit. It would constrict momentarily to a bud and then expand, yawning dark and wide enough for two fingers to slip inside without resistance. Thus it palpitated, while her buttocks churned arhythmically. Such was the effect of the orc's summons on this typical pet.

"Shublussha u gukku!" snarled Shadrac. 

The pet, licking determinedly at the crust between his claws, replied hastily: "Yes, Master! Instantly, Master!"

She sat back on her haunches, shuffled forward to press her body full against the orc's huge leg, and turned her face to present her profile again. She rested her cheek on Shadrac's tree-like thigh, her loins writhing against his hairy shin. "Master Shadrac will speak with the human male," she said in a soft, quavering voice. 

I said nothing in response to Shadrac. I had not expected a parley, and in any case I had nothing to say to my captors. I knew only that my fate, whatever it might be, must now be at hand. I suppose I should have panicked then -- and in a sense perhaps I did, my mind simply refusing to comprehend what was happening to me. After I had remained silent for several seconds the orc spoke, and the diminutive pet translated.

"Master Shadrac wonders whether the human prefers to live or to die."

"Naturally I would choose life," I said. "If the choice were mine."

"Master Shadrac is willing to give the human a choice, if the human will agree to His terms."

I was more confused than ever. "Why are you offering terms to a helpless captive?"

"Master Shadrac says the human has something the orcs require."

"Me? I have nothing the orcs could want."

Shadrac's response was a mere two syllables, but the effect of them on the orcpet was profound. She licked her lips and whimpered audibly, grinding her groin fervidly against the orc's leg. "Master is referring to the human's cock," she said breathlessly.

My blood suddenly ran cold, and I shuddered. "I don't understand."

Shadrac's response was not a lengthy one, but still Bukbuk seemed to struggle to keep her attention focused as she clung to his leg, humping and gasping. When the orc was finished, she conveyed his meaning with a trace of petulance. "The human male will be allowed to live here in the village. He will have free use of every pet. In this way he will earn his living."

Understanding had finally dawned on me, but still I feigned ignorance. "What do you mean, 'Earn my living?'"

"The human male will impregnate the pets, to maintain an endless new supply."

This then was Master Shadrac's solution to the shortage of available human females. It was simple, even elegant, and far cheaper than paying exorbitant prices to the goblins. I could only admire the orc's brutal acumen.

I gazed at the pet clutching Shadrac's leg, her small body shuddering with pure physical desire. A thick strand of vaginal fluid hung from her cunt, joining a small puddle which had already gathered on the ground directly beneath her loins. I was aroused at this sight, which recalled to my mind the spectacle of Bukbuk and Blugruh pleasuring Shadrac hours earlier.

I looked at Shadrac, who was watching me intently, and nodded. "I believe this is an arrangement I can live with," I said.

My horrified reader will now think that he has gained the measure of me -- that I am a soulless monster who would provide the enemies of Man with a limitless supply of helpless slaves in exchange for a lifetime of sybaritic ease. But I do not deserve to be judged quite so harshly. I yet held out some glimmer of hope that I might help Blugruh recover some portion of her humanity, and then we could escape. If Ruck still lived, and recovered from his injuries, our chances would be all the better. But I could not live indefinitely among the orcs without producing offspring, and so I knew that I would need to make my escape within a few months.

If my acquiescence surprised Shadrac, he showed no sign of it. He issued a few terse commands to the orcpet, who disengaged herself from his leg with a cry of Yes, Master! Bukbuk obeys, Master!

I watched her hastened away around the far side of the firepit, my eyes drawn to her mutilated face. When she had disappeared down a shadowy alleyway I reluctantly turned my attention to Shadrac, wondering for the first time whether he himself had inflicted the terrible wound on the poor girl. Regardless of his own culpability, he was wholly unaffected by her disfigurement, and this indifference seemed to me as great a barbarity as the violence of which Bukbuk's injury was evidence.

Despite the deal I had just made with him, my anxiety began to mount now that I was alone with the brute. My unease only intensified when another orc appeared, exchanged a few words with Shadrac, then advanced on me with a glare as baleful as a serpent's.

"We have an agreement," I said hastily as the big orc approached, glancing at Shadrac for support. "Your chief and I have made a deal."

The orc said nothing, merely bared his fangs and nodded. His paw shot forth and gripped me by the throat, choking off my cries. I could feel the cold hard claws against the flesh at the back of my neck. I struggled fitfully, though I knew this was futile. My mind was in a state of inert shock, unable to comprehend the wild vicissitudes of fortune to which I had been exposed over the last 24 hours and more.

The orc dragged me toward the firepit, and I experienced a moment of terror as I imagined myself being roasted alive. I attempted to beg them to simply kill me, but my words did not get past the fingers locked around my throat. I was thrown to the ground with such force that I lay dazed, while Shadrac stepped forward and with ghastly speed and efficiency tied leather thongs around each of my thighs, knotting them so tightly that I screamed at the agony of it.

"What is happening?!" I cried, now almost delirious with fear. I looked from one to the other of my captors, but saw nothing of reassurance in their bestial features. "Is our agreement forgotten?"

I struggled more violently, with no coherent thought save the desperate wish to escape, but the bigger orc held me down with ease. My legs grew numb. Shadrac unlimbered the huge stone axe he wore across his back, and I groaned with dread.

"What did I do wrong?" I asked plaintively. "I apologize. It won't happen again. Please."

Nothing happened, not for a minute or more. The two orcs simply waited. Then Bukbuk returned, carrying before her a wooden bucket. She placed the bucket by Shadrac's side and squatted next to it, bent her face to the orc's feet and dragged her tongue along his claws. I could discern, even in my distracted state, that she was trembling violently, and I assumed that she must have been frightened by the impending violence which her masters intended to do.

"What happens now?" I asked hastily, voice shrill. "You want me to fuck Bukbuk? I'm ready, I'll do it! Just bring her on!" I was babbling in the extremity of my fear, of course, only dimly aware of what I was proposing. I remember that Bukbuk responded to my words by glancing over her shoulder, showing me the relatively undamaged right side of her face. Her eye was agleam with malice, and I realized that her trembling was a product of excitement and anticipation rather than fear.

Shadrac spoke briefly to the other orc, who braced one knee against my chest, driving the breath from my lungs, and held both my legs immobile. I groaned, fully engripped by panic. The stone axe swung upward, paused there a moment, and then came hurtling downward.

The blade cleaved through my lower leg just above my right ankle with a pain worse than any I have ever endured -- indescribable, intolerable. I shrieked, thrashing violently in a useless attempt to free myself. In the grip of shock and agony, I was scarcely aware of the second blow falling, dispatching my left foot. Abruptly I was lifted, and the stumps of my legs were thrust into the searing ashes of the firepit. I passed out in that moment and lost control of my bladder, which I had manfully maintained until then.

When I regained my senses seconds later, Bukbuk was slathering hot tar from the bucket onto my wounds. The world was spinning around my head, the two orcs staring impassively down at me. I turned my head and retched, then sank once more into unconsciousness.