5 comments/ 12100 views/ 2 favorites In Love and War By: xenophile Chapter One The occupation of Sandman's Point had reached it's seventh year before the King saw fit to try and retake the desert town. Rachel supposed it was partially due to the town's strategic unimportance. Rumor had it that the Bloodmaw clan had taken it for the sake of having something to brag about than out of need of territory or slaves. That meant that the town had not suffered horribly from their new masters, though Rachel would have been hard pressed to say that she preferred them. Her parents died in combat when the orcs took the town, and ever since she had been the one to raise her sister Sophia. Rachel supposed she should have been thankful that Sebastian Bahn was willing to hire her after they were conquered, but she had become sick of the job since the orcs had started eyeing her developing chest line. Many of the better looking women in the town had been forced to serve the Bloodmaw clan as whores, or taken away to parts unknown. Rachel often feared that the same fate would befall her, but worked in a tavern serving them anyways. The possibility was especially strong now, since the Bloodmaw clan was determined to hold onto Sandman's Point as a matter of honor, and reinforced their numbers with the addition of three hundred warriors, for a total of four hundred orcs in the town. Many of them had bought weapons from a young orcish merchant who sat in the corner of the tavern. He was a rough looking individual who watched her thoughtfully with a pair of golden eyes and demanded that she refill his drink with more frequency than his bladder could have possibly wanted. The orc's stare made her uncomfortable, but he was a gentleman compared to some of the grunts who would often grope her as she made her rounds. "So what's a pretty girl like yourself doing at a watering hole like this?" One of the grunts asked as she brought him and his friends a pitcher of beer. He spoke in the orc tongue, which she had learned bits and pieces of through the years. She was not quite fluent in their guttural language, but she could get the general gist of what they said, although she doubted what she was hearing was as polite as she translated it to be. "Just making a living," she answered cautiously, stumbling over a few of the words. The orc laughed and gave her right buttock a firm feel. "Come with me, and I'll see to it that you make a better living elsewhere." Judging by the laughter his comment raised, Rachel surmised that there was some dirty joke in there that she missed, aside from the offer to become his slave. Fortunately, she was spared from having to give an answer by the merchant, who pounded on his table and ordered more beer. She flashed an apologetic smile to the soldier and his friends and quickly left the table. However, orcish grunts were not known for being weak willed and Rachel found him waiting for her just as she came out of the kitchen with another tankard of beer for the merchant. "What'd you say, eh?" He asked with the smell of hard liquor on his breath. Rachel tried to step around him, but he grabbed her by the wrist almost hard enough to break it. "Waitress, my beer!" The merchant demanded swiftly upon seeing the altercation. "Take your beer and go to hell!" The grunt yanked the tankard out of Rachel's hands and flung it at the merchant, covering him in beer. "Leave the women to the real orcs, fucking non-com." The merchant looked shocked at the attack; insinuating that an orc was a noncombatant and thus unfit for fighting was one of the worst insults that they could imagine. For a moment he looked like he might have risen and started a fight, but then his eyes met the floor in a gesture of submission. He wrapped his heavy cloak around his body and silently finished off the beer in front of him. Emboldened by his display of aggression the grunt holding Rachel lifted her up and slammed her down on a table, knocking away several dirty plates and glasses in the process. His rough hands tore her bodice apart and make quick work of the shirt underneath, revealing a pair of well formed breasts. He took one in each hand and began fondling them, loudly describing the feeling to his companions, who cheered him on and gathered around to watch the spectacle unfolding in front of them. "Let me go!" Rachel yelled in embarrassment, doing her best to wrestle with the soldier. It was a futile attempt at freeing herself as he was much stronger than her, but she could not bring herself to lie back and give in to him, even after he gave her a firm backhand that made her see spots. When she regained her vision, she noticed that he had moved on from her breasts to her skirt, which was then ripped from her body to expose her long legs and the black underwear that stood between him and his objective. Rachel renewed her struggles and managed to give her captor a kick in the head while they were distracted admiring her body, but she was soon seized by all of her limbs and held down as the grunt's fingers slowly traced their way up her leg and to her panties. She gave a cry of rage as he played with the elastic band, pulling it up and letting it snap back against her skin. Rachel fought back her tears at the fact that the long dreaded day had finally arrived, vowing to remain strong even as they defiled her. "Oh fuck it," the merchant sighed, drawing a broadsword from under his cloak, which gave an unnaturally sharp ringing sound as it emerged from its scabbard. The soldier assaulting Rachel barely had time to look behind him before five pounds of steel smashed into his forehead and spilled his brains out over the table. Rachel rolled to the side in order to avoid the gore and quickly dropped to the ground. She took cover under the table as the other grunts realized what had just happened. The orc in front of her drew a sword from his belt, but the merchant quickly kicked the pommel and sent it flying back into the scabbard so far that it became stuck despite the orc's best attempts at freeing it. The merchant whirled around to parry a blow from another soldier's axe, freeing both the weapon and half of an arm in the process. The axe landed in front of Rachel and she quickly grabbed it and tripped a grunt with it as he circled around the table to reach the merchant. She tried to hit him with it, but she was unfamiliar with the weapon and it ended up being kicked out of her hands. The grunt swung wildly at her with his own axe, but he fumbled the weapon in his hands and it ended up cutting into his thigh. Blood shot out from a severed artery and he bled out within seconds from the self-inflicted wound. There was silence in the tavern as the merchant stood in the center of a ring of dead bodies, constantly looking around for more enemies. Rachel became mindful of her nakedness and covered herself the best she could with the tattered remains of her shirt. "Fuck," the orcish merchant said again. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I wasn't supposed to do that." He seemed to have forgotten about Rachel as he checked the windows to make sure no one had noticed the fight. A hail of arrows flew into the room in response; clearly, someone had seen him. "Fuck," he said again, with a resigned look on his face. The merchant took in a deep breath and charged straight into the wall of the tavern. The wall gave way before him and he burst through the solid timbers and showering several very surprised grunts with rubble. A chaotic melee soon followed between the merchant and an orc patrol ten members strong, where he went about carving his way through them to reach their sergeant. The two dueled for several seconds, with neither coming out on top, until the merchant became fed up and rammed the sergeant with his shoulder. The orc went flying across the street and impacted against the side of a cart full of hay. He steadied himself against the cart, ready to continue the fight, but a dagger swiftly emerged from the hay and caught him in the neck. The hay was tossed aside as a woman stepped out of the cart. Rachel would have considered her attractive if not for the telltale signs that she was a tiefling; curled ram's horns on her head an a prehensile tale wrapped around her waist. What was such a creature doing in her town? "What did you do?" The tiefling yelled as she pulled an oak quarterstaff out of the hay. "I'm sorry, it just happened!" The merchant responded. "Well I hope it was worth it, because you've just woken up the entire town!" "Fuck!" The merchant said again. "Do we pull out or what?" "Can't, they've probably got us surrounded by now." As if on cue, another patrol rounded the corner with weapons drawn. The tiefling calmly waited until they came within range before mercilessly raining down blows with her quarterstaff. Their leader began to cast a spell in response to the melee, but a cloud of glittering particles appeared around his head and blinded him. His magic went wild and shot off into the night air, leaving a purple streak of energy behind. Rachel picked a cloak off of a dead orc and wrapped it around herself before peering out of the tavern wall to see who had blinded the patrol leader. There was a lithe figure quietly weaving spells on the roof of the blacksmith's shop across the street. The mage focused on disabling the enemies rather than killing them, perhaps out of an attempt to avoid collateral damage; Rachel had heard bards tell tales of mighty wizards who could level cities with destructive magic and had no desire to see that scenario play out in her town. A light flared behind the two fighters and another patrol of orcs rushed at them. Rachel bit her finger; it looked like the three would soon become overwhelmed by the sheer number of the enemy. Then she noticed that the orcs were not giving off their customary war cry. In fact, it sounded like they were running away from something. Fire spouted from the back of the group and briefly illuminated a man in a suit of armor with two large tanks strapped to his back. Metal hoses ran from the tanks to under his arms, where they ended in nozzles. A steady stream of fire issued forth from the tanks and roasted the slower members of the fleeing patrol alive. "I take it you are all well?" The armored man asked with a stiff, mechanical voice when he reached the others "It seems that we have been discovered. I believe our chances of making it out are minimal given the that we would have to fight our way through several hundred orcs; might I suggest we take the opportunity to press our advantage and eliminate their command center in the town hall?" "Might as well," the tiefling replied. "Though I wouldn't expect to take them by surprise now..." The four quickly vanished into the night, making their way north to the town square and the mayor's office. Rachel drew her knees to her chest and wondered what the next day would bring. Long had she awaited the day that a bright knight in shining armor would come to free her town, but if the king was finally trying to retake it, who were the people she saw? The kingdom did not employ orcs and tieflings, and magic was frowned upon by the aristocracy. "Rachel! Rachel!" The sound of rapid footsteps filled the air as a girl's voice cried out for Rachel. "Are you alright?" "I'm fine," Rachel quickly responded, rising from the ground to meet her sister. "I'm scared; I heard shouting and saw the fighting..." Sophia said. " Rachel, what's happening?" Rachel went over the events of the evening in her mind. "I'm not sure... where's Sebastian?" "I think he's hiding," Sophia replied. "Can we... would it be ok if we went up to our room? I don't want to be out here." "Sure we can, darling." Rachel hugged her sister and took her back to the safety of their room upstairs as explosions started to shake the tavern's windows. Chapter 2 The two girls stayed in their room all night and well into the next day, afraid of venturing out into a town which still experienced periodic outbreaks of violence. Smoke rose above the rooftops of from several places; the square, the marketplace, and the old mill on the outskirts of town. Rachel passed the time by telling her sister the old stories and fairy tales that she had heard from wandering minstrels long ago when travellers still came to Sandman's Point. It was a difficult task remembering what she had heard so long ago, but Rachel managed to keep Sophia entertained for hours as the sun crept higher and higher. The sounds of battle gradually faded and was replaced by an eerie calm. Then, sometime after noon, the quiet covering the town was broken by the sound of iron-shod horses marching into town. The girls peered out of the windows to see over a hundred cavalrymen riding into town, bearing the flag of the Kingdom of Acarta and the King's standard, a green griffon over a bronze shield. Slowly, other windows opened as well, and citizens began to cheer their liberators on as the soldiers rode towards the town hall. Sophia flung open their window, while Rachel hurriedly pulled out an old flag with the monarchy's coat of arms on it so that she would have something to hang out of the window. The flag fluttered merrily in the breeze as if were waving to the soldiers. Sebastian was ecstatic about Sandman's Point returning to the Crown and hurriedly cleared away the dead orcs from his tavern. The hole in the wall was covered by a painted a sign offering free food and drink to any soldier. Seeing the damaged wall made Rachel think of him; what had happened to the orc? He and his companions had fought off an entire regiment of Bloodmaw grunts; surely they were working for the Crown? But polite society had long shunned orcs, tieflings, and mages... As if to answer her questions, the merchant from yesterday carefully stepped through the doorway, with a hood covering his face "Hey," he greeted. "Sorry about the, um, hole in the wall. I can pay for it if you want." "Oh, there's no need for that," Rachel smiled. "We was thinking of adding a breakfast nook there anyways." "Good, good... I'd hate to be in more trouble than I already am," he laughed. "Can you make me something to eat? I could use a something after last night." "Sure thing." Rachel called out to her sister in the kitchen for a large rare steak and some beer before showing the orc a seat. "So, uh, I hope you don't mind me asking, but who are you?" "I'm Bjorn Foehammer, of the Bonesplitter clan," he replied, tucking a napkin into his blood soaked collar. "That's a human name," Rachel observed. "There's plenty of humans where I come from," Bjorn shrugged. "And you are?" "Rachel. I live here with my sister." A bell in the kitchen rang to summon her. Rachel left to attend to her business and quickly returned with the steak. It had not taken much time to cook, but she supposed that was the point of rare meat. Bjorn certainly did not mind; on the contrary, he dug into it with great relish, right up to the point where the tiefling kicked the sign through the hole in the wall and stormed into the tavern. "Now that we've a moment," she said, "Will you mind explaining to me just what was going through your head last night?" "C-Corporal," Bjorn stood up hastily, not even pausing to remove the napkin, and saluted her. The tiefling simply glowered at him until he continued. "A patrol was getting out of hand so I stopped them, and one thing lead to another..." His ears flattened against his head as Bjorn tried to explain himself. "I don't care if they were going to burn the inn to the ground," the tiefling growled. "Your orders were to observe and report. Get it through your thick head - we need to be subtle." "Hey, lay off him!" Rachel found herself defending Bjorn. "He stopped them from raping me!" The tiefling looked her over disdainfully. "Kid if it was a choice between that and my team dying - which is what nearly happened - I'd toss you to the wolves any day." "Kathryn, that would be dishonorable!" Bjorn protested despite her withering glare. "Being a mercenary' isn't about honor, it's about doing the job you're paid for. We were supposed to be reconnaissance. Idiot." The woman made a rude gesture at Bjorn and abruptly left the way she came, leaving Rachel and Bjorn alone in the tavern. "Wow," Rachel said after Kathryn had gone. "What a bitch." "Don't be too hard on her," Bjorn mumbled as he took a halfhearted stab at his steak. "Her girlfriend's been in a coma for nine hours now. Some bastard got her in the back with a poisoned arrow." Bjorn played with the remainder of his steak without much enthusiasm before offering it to Rachel. A serving girl like her seldom got the chance to enjoy rich food, so she accepted without hesitation. He cut out a portion for her and pushed it to one side of his large plate. The two ate in silence for a while before Rachel decided to resume the conversation. "Think she'll wake up?" Rachel asked. "Eventually," Bjorn replied. "Aiva's pretty hard to keep down." "That's good to know. I'm glad none of your friends died on account of me." Rachel said. "So what brings ya'll to this town?" "The idea was that I'd spy on the orcs for a while, while selling them cursed weapons so that your army would have an easier time retaking the town." Bjorn explained. "Speaking of which... what did you do with those I killed yesterday?" "Soldiers took them for disposal," Rachel replied, hungrily wolfing down the bits he cut out for her.. "Good, they'll know not to play around with the gear." He finished off his steak quietly and sat back in his chair, still downcast. Rachel did not know much about Bjorn's tribe, but from her experience, orcs loved to talk about themselves.. "I don't believe I've heard of your clan before," she said in an attempt to cheer him up. "Not surprising," he replied, with the ghost of a smile around his lips. "We live in the Southern Wastes. Have been there since... about the time this world was born, really." From what Rachel knew, that had to have been at least fifteen thousand years. "A long time to live in the snow." "Probably why I jumped at the first opportunity to leave," Bjorn joked. "My cousin - I have this famous cousin - had friends in a mercenary company and arranged a position for me. It sounded like a great way to see the world, so I signed up and here I am." "Well I think you'll do great," Rachel said. "Rescuing damsels in distress is a how a lot of heroes get their start." "I'm glad you think so," Bjorn chuckled. "Maybe I'll try joining a group of paladins next. Seems like we'd have more in common." Rachel would have loved to stay and laugh with him, but several soldiers rode up to the tavern in search of a good meal. She politely excused herself to attend to them, but told Bjorn that he could stay as long as he wanted. He took her up on the offer and sat there, drinking steadily as the afternoon turned in to evening. Around dinner time, a red-eyed brunette not much older than Rachel wandered into the tavern. Her steps were somewhat unsteady, as if she were drunk, and she wore mage's robes; Rachel guessed that she must have been Aiva. "How's it going?" Aiva asked, helping herself to a pitcher of Bjorn's beer. "Not bad. Glad you're ok," Bjorn replied bashfully. "Eh, so am I. Could use some entertainment, though. What do they have around here besides alcohol and sheep?" Well, Aiva seemed nicer than her tiefling friend, Rachel thought. She walked over to the table and introduced herself. "Oh, you're the one Kat was telling me about," Aiva sounded amused as she said it. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through." "Are you referring to the orcs, or your friend?" Rachel asked, still resentful of the tiefling's attitude. "Both, I suppose," Aiva shrugged. "Are you ok?" "I'll live," Rachel replied. "So, you're looking for something to do?" In Love and War Both mercenaries nodded. "We haven't had much fun these last few years, but there's a couple of storytellers who like to come by in the evenings, and we've got a few instruments in the tavern. Also..." Maybe it was the excitement she felt from liberation, or the fact that Bjorn had saved her last night, but she was feeling rather bold towards the orc. Although Rachel was unskilled in the art of love, she had heard stories, and had often dreamed of bringing what she had heard to life. This seemed as good a chance as she would ever have; Bjorn was more heroic than anyone else she was likely to meet. "Also, Bjorn... I think I might have something to interest you in my room," she whispered, blushing furiously as she said it. Bjorn choked on his beer and sent a spray of foam over the rim of his mug, while Aiva raised her eyebrows and whistled. "Alright, I'm impressed. Bjorn, why don't you take some time off?" "Thanks Captain," Bjorn mumbled, blushing as red as Rachel. He took her by the hand and she smiled at him invitingly, leading him up the stairs to her room, much to the amazement of the soldiers, many of whom were probably planning how to bed the girl themselves. Rachel's room was located to the immediate right of the stairs, barely more than a glorified closet. There was only one bed against the wall by a window, with a dresser and a desk taking up most of the other space. "Sorry it's not much," Rachel blushed as she stood by the bed. "Fine by me," Bjorn shrugged. "I sleep in a hummock." The initiative Rachel had shown in leading Bjorn up to her room was rapidly fading away as she realized just how inexperienced she was. Rachel flashed him a smile and scoured her mind for anything that might help her proceed. "First time?" Bjorn asked understandingly. Rachel nodded shyly. "Pretty girl like you?" He said. "I'm surprised." "It helped that I had someone willing to defend me," Rachel grinned. "So, um. I don't suppose you know what comes next?" Bjorn grinned wolfishly, showing several of his canines. "Just lie back and let me handle it." Rachel sat down on the bed and kicked off her sandals, wondering what the orc had in mind. Bjorn straddled her lap and gently kissed her. The tenderness of his mouth surprised her; Rachel had expected him to be as fierce a lover as he was a fighter, but Bjorn showed a great deal of finesse as he explored her lips. His tongue soon sought entrance to her mouth and Rachel froze, unsure of how to respond. None of the boys she had kissed before had ever tried anything like it; the entire practice struck her as unsanitary. Then again, Bjorn did seem to know what he was doing, so wouldn't it make sense to trust him? Rachel parted her lips and let Bjorn's tongue enter her mouth. The sensation was unfamiliar to her, but not altogether unpleasant. She found herself relaxing and even aiding him in his exploration of her mouth with her own tongue. The orcs she was familiar with had atrocious personal hygiene and would no doubt have tasted like something foul, but Bjorn seemed to have kept himself well groomed. True, he smelled rather strongly of sweat and beer, but it was oddly fitting on him. The bed squeaked as Rachel fell onto her back, inviting Bjorn to press on. She grabbed hold of the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her shapely breasts to him again. Bjorn gently massaged her right breast while planting kisses across her left. His lips wrapped around her nipple and he sucked on the little nub like an infant, occasionally flicking his tongue across the top and sending a stroke of pleasure through Rachel's body like lightening. Sharp teeth raked the skin of her breast and the nipple, never piercing her but driving her wild with the thrill of it. Rough, battle hardened fingers toyed with the other breast, their previous gentleness lost to passion. Goodness, was this what she was missing, Rachel wondered. She cast her inhibitions to the wind in search of more pleasure and wriggled out of her skirt. The motions forced her to distance herself from Bjorn, and he watched amused as her breasts shook in front of him. With her skirt discarded, the only thing between him and her flower was her underwear. The orc slowly slid down until he was kneeling on the ground and took the band of her panties in his teeth. They slid over her hips with a gentle tug, revealing her moist flower to him. Much to Rachel's surprise, the next thing Bjorn did was to latch his mouth onto her flower and lap away at it. Rachel squirmed in embarrassment at having someone become so intimate with her nether regions; they were untidy and could not have possibly smelled good. Why would he be willing to taste them? The serving girl tried to escape by pulling herself away, but Bjorn held her in place by the legs. His rough tongue could separated her petals and dove into her folds, lapping away like a wolf. The wave of pleasure that rolled through her surprised Rachel: she had played with herself before, but never had it felt as good as this. She stopped resisting and laid back as Bjorn's tongue worked it way in deeper until he had pressed his nose against her bud. It was like lightening had struck; Rachel arched her back and shuddered as a storm brewed between her legs. She squeezed Bjorn's head with her thighs to capture him so that he would never stop pleasuring her mound. Bjorn grinned in the dim light of the room and caught her gaze with his amber eyes. "I think it's time we moved on," the orc whispered. Rachel whimpered as he stopped attending to her in order to shed his garments. His manhood stood proud and erect when it was freed from the confines of his trousers. Its bulbous head, thick veins, and dark grey skin looked different from what Rachel imagined a human's would be like. It also seemed too large to fit in her, though again, Rachel did not have much to compare it too. "I.. will I be able to take it?" She asked nervously. "Should," Bjorn grunted. "It's basically what you'd get from a human. Well, with some cosmetic differences." Well, Rachel supposed that Bjorn would know. She tried to relax as much as she could given the situation and spread her legs for him. The orc took a step towards her, but then stopped to fish through his pants for a silver ring, which he slid over his rod. It fit snugly and contrasted with his dark skin; Rachel wondered what its purpose was. A few delicate maneuvers later found Bjorn poised at Rachel's flower, with his head rubbing her petals. A pearl of thunder rolled through the storm clouds in Rachel's mind as Bjorn penetrated her soft folds, bringing himself up to her virgin barrier. The young girl wrapped her arms around her lover's neck and urged him on. With one smooth motion, Bjorn penetrated her maidenhead so swiftly that there was barely any pain, only a feeling of pleasure as he explored the unknown depths inside of her. Hot lips pressed against Rachel's mouth and stifled the passionate moan that escaped her throat as Bjorn filled her entirely. The silver ring he had slipped on nestled against her entrance and touched the bottom of her bud. It felt cool at the start, but soon warmed up as Bjorn stayed in her and let her adjust to his size. The sensation of being so full and having warm metal pressed against her was quite strange to Rachel, who barely even touched herself normally. Another gasp of pleasure escaped Rachel as Bjorn pulled out until his head was just separating her lips, and she worried that the customers downstairs might hear her. Dear Mithras, what they must be thinking of her now? Rachel tried to imagine what was being said about her by the soldiers and blushed, but her embarrassment only served to increase the heat in her valley. Her body became incredibly sensitive to Bjorn's touch, not only in her flower, but on her neck, shoulders, breasts, arms... everywhere he touched was set on fire as they indulged their passions. Slowly, guilt began to accumulate in Rachel's stomach. Bjorn had done so well in pleasing her that she felt ashamed that she could not return the favor. What did orcs like? Despite having lived under their rule for more than half a decade, Rachel still did not understand the beasts. They enjoyed violence, cruelty, and drinking. As far as she knew, Bjorn only shared their love of drinking - and maybe the violence. Maybe. Violence? A thought began to form in Rachel's mind as she formed a tentative plan to entertain Bjorn. Her hands reached past Bjorn's shoulders and down to his back, grabbing a good deal of skin in her fingers. Rachel let her nails rake deep into the orc's back as she pulled her hands up, leaving deep scratch marks in their wake. A primal howl shook the walls of the building as Bjorn thrust into her harder and faster than ever. Rachel hung onto him by the neck as he pummeled her furiously, driven to a frenzy by her actions. Another wild cry joined his, and Rachel realized that it issued from her body, which had abandoned all pretense at modesty and sought only to find its release. The storm between Rachel's legs broke as she pushed back against Bjorn. Lightening flashed before her eyes as the clouds released a torrent of rain. Rachel snared his waist with her legs, holding him against her as her as her flower milked all the nectar it could from his manhood. Chapter 3 "Sister!" Sophia shouted as she heard Rachel's voice pierce the sounds of the tavern. The young girl had never heard anything like the racket coming from their room, which sounded more like a fight than anything else. The bloody butcher's cleaver she was holding came with her as she shot out of the kitchen and ran for the stairs, only to find her way blocked by a red eyed girl about her sister's age, wearing black clothing and a brown cloak. "Sorry kid, but you're sister's... busy," the girl said with an amused look on her face. "Why don't you sit down and we'll have a chat?" "Are... are you sure?" Sophia asked nervously. "Believe me, she'd probably want you to stay down here as well." The girl chuckled and pulled out a seat for Sophia. "Name's Aiva, what's yours?" "Sophia..." the cook reluctantly sat down next to Aiva and laid her cleaver on the table. "I cook." "I was figuring that or some sort of psychotic murderer," Aiva joked, putting an arm around Sophia. "So what's your story?" "I live here," Sophia replied, out of confusion and an honest lack of things to say. As far as she knew, only heroes had stories. "No one special, really." "Are you sure?" Aiva asked. "You know, you don't quite feel like a blank." "A what?" Sophia did not quite understand the slang that the foreign girl was using. "You know, a mundane. Someone who can't do magic. Those soldiers over there are blanks, my girlfriend's a blunt since she knows a little, and I'm keen because I'm a full fledged sorceress." "Those are funny nicknames." "Yeah, we mages are an arrogant bunch," Aiva grinned. "Of course, we can also fuck with reality so it's not altogether unjustified. Maybe I could try and teach you some magic? You do seem to have a nice... endowment." Sophia blanched at the innuendo. Was Aiva flirting with her? Why would she do that? "There's some really intriguing tantric exercises I've been dying to..." The sorceress trailed off as the tavern door opened. Sophia looked over to see a woman with horns and a tail stalking over to their table. Whoever said that jealousy was a green eyed monster must have had a vision of Kathryn in mind; Aiva saw the assassin's emerald eyes narrow dangerously as she saw how Aiva's arm was wrapped around Sophia. "I swear, I was just being friendly!" Aiva's arm snapped back to her side as if she had been struck by lightening, and Sophia hastily excused herself to the kitchen in order to resume her cooking. "We'll talk about this later," Kathryn hissed, glaring daggers at Aiva. "Brent's been liaising with the cavalry commander, who has requested our help defending this place." "Not like I've got anything else planned for the evening," Aiva shrugged. "Sure, we can help stand guard." "You're telling me that all these boys can't hold onto a town we took for them?" Kathryn asked sceptically. "Come on, you were there last night. Those orcs were a pushover. I swear, most of them pissed their pants when they saw Bjorn 'cleave their chief in twain'." "Still, I'd prefer if we had something to stop them from having another go at us." "If you wanted a watchdog, you should have brought Cassie along." Aiva rolled her eyes. "Please, I've had enough of that mutt. Do you know she sneaks into my room every day, no matter how many wards I put up? It's driving me crazy; there's no way the bitch should be able to do it, but it keeps happening. I'm fucking sick and tired of being woken up by her drooling over me." "So I guess it's your fault that we have to stand guard now." Kathryn shot back. "Now where's Bjorn?" "Er... about that... I think he deserved a bit of R&R, don't you?" The implication was not lost on Kathryn, as she realized the serving girl from her earlier visit had been replaced by the tavern owner. "Whatever," the tiefling waved dismissively. "Lead on, Captain. We're supposed to watch the main gate." The two walked out of the tavern with Aiva leading the way, quietly making way towards the town's main gate. Aiva did feel a little guilty at having flirted with the cook, but was not sure exactly how to apologize to Kathryn so she let the silence build between them until the town wall came into sight. A heavy barrier made of red bricks, it had been build by slaves so that the orcs would be able to hold the town in the event of battle. Fortunately for Aiva, their attack yesterday came from inside. For a while it looked like they were in for a long night of standing around doing nothing. While it was not a problem for Brent, since he was a machine, Aive found it tedious and let her mind wander. Hot, uninhibited, wanton sex with Kathryn struck the sorceress as a better use of her time, though that did not seem likely to happen now. Aiva snuck a glance at her lover and noticed that Kathryn still looked plenty upset, even though they were well into the night by now. Gradually, Aiva became aware of a slow and persistent grinding noise from somewhere around her. Kathryn heard it as well and began craning her neck in search of the source. From what she could tell, it came from somewhere in the wall, which in her experience was seldom a good thing. Before she could shout out a warning to the others, their section of the wall collapsed. Brent activated jets in his legs and shot up into the sky, but Aiva and Kathryn found themselves trapped in rubble as war drums began beating. The shadowy outlines of orcs appeared in the dim moon light and quickly advanced on their position. The rubble was too heavy for Aiva to move, so she decided to cast a teleportation spell and move both her and Kathryn back up to the parapet, which was rapidly filling with human soldiers. "Fucking hell," someone said in alarm as they caught sight of just how many orcs were there. It seemed as if all those who had been routed yesterday had come back with reinforcements; over five hundred figures charged at the town from the front alone. "Stand your ground!" Aiva barked, drawing a pistol from her belt. "We've kicked their asses before and we'll do it again. Ready your bows and fire on my mark!" - "Kat, am dead?" Aiva spoke with barely more than a whisper as she leaned against the broken wall of someone's house, with an empty revolving pistol in hand. "Not yet, kid." Kathryn dropped down next to the sorceress and put an arm around the tired girl. The last seven hours had been hell, but the town was still free and the orcs had been beaten back once again. Aiva looked rather disappointed at the news. "Can you kill me?" "Maybe later," the assassin laughed wearily. "Want me to make you feel better?" "Out in public?" Somehow, Aiva mustered the energy for a look of disapproval. "Mind out of the gutter," the tiefling admonished playfully. "Here, put your feet on my lap." Aiva hesitated. "Kat, you know how I feel about that..." "Relax, it's just a massage, Kathryn said. "Lie back and get some sleep, you need to recharge." There was a trace of skepticism in Aiva's expression, but the prospect of a massage of any sort was too good to pass up. The tired girl laid down in the shattered remnants of the building and let Kathryn unlace her boots. Kathryn carefully slid them off and peeled the socks off of Aiva to expose a pair of small, well formed feet. Ashley's long toes had nails which were full and clean, while the soles of her feet had only a few callouses from her active lifestyle. Slowly, Kathryn began to knead Aiva's muscles and tendons with her thumbs. The sorceress initial look of discomfort slowly faded and she began to nod off under Kathryn's ministrations. Kathryn watched her lover sleep and slowly ran her nails up and down the soles of Aiva's feet, thinking what a pity it was that the sorceress could not appreciate her body more. There was a scrambling sound behind her, and the girl Aiva was flirting with yesterday appeared on the street. Kathryn subtly reached for her dagger and kept an eye on the girl, who made a beeline for them. She looked rather distressed, though Kathryn supposed that was to be expected of someone whose home had been the site of two large battles in the space of two days. "What do you want?" Kathryn demanded harshly, though she was careful to keep her voice down for fear of disturbing Aiva. "I need to talk to Aiva," the girl whispered with a shaky voice. "She's sleeping. Piss off." "But... but..." Sophia appeared to be on the verge of tears, but Kathryn did not care and drew her dagger out of its scabbard. That managed to shut the girl up and cause her to run away, which gratified Kathryn to no end. Aiva stirred slightly, but Kathryn resumed the foot massage and soon the sorceress was snoring away, blissfully oblivious to the world around her. Many hours later, Aiva awoke in a soft, clean bed back at the tavern, with Kathryn's bare body curled firmly around her own. Aiva grinned at the sight and rolled over so that she was lying on top of the assassin, with her cleft pressed against the woman's thigh and her head resting on Kathryn's supple breasts. The sorceress gave a content sight and was about to drift off to sleep again when a metallic knock came from the door. "Come in," Aiva groaned. Brent deftly squeezed his large body through the door and closed it behind him before anyone could see the women lying on the bed. "Captain," the construct began, "I trust that you are well and have regained your spells?" "Feels like it. What's up?" "Preliminary reports indicate that we only sustained moderate casualties during this attack. Bjorn estimates that the enemy dead number two hundred or so, but he expects that they have a fallback position somewhere in the area that allowed them to regroup so quickly after our first engagement. I have taken the liberty of marking on our map several possible locations for their base of operations, with the canyon to the northeast being the most tactically advantageous." "Good work, lieutenant," Aiva said lazily. "Is there anything else?" "We did receive a request," Brent continued. "Major Feurst notified me that several of his men and townsfolk may have been taken prisoner. He would appreciate it if we could assist his men in mounting a rescue mission." The sorceress tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Tell you what, give me two hours and then have Bjorn meet us back here and we'll discuss it." Brent gave a stiff salute and marched out of the room, leaving Aiva to enjoy Kathryn's pillows for the time being. She nuzzled against them tenderly, basking in their warmth and taking pleasure in being able to hear Kathryn's heart beat and lungs breath through them. They were magnificent, and the sorceress found herself idly wondering if Kathryn would be able to produce any milk. It seemed highly unlikely, but Aiva put her mouth to Kathryn's nipples and began suckling from them anyways. It turned out to be quite fun, even if they were dry. In Love and War All too soon came another knock at the door. Judging by the sound, it was Brent again. "Fuck, has it been two hours?" Aiva wondered as she shook Kathryn awake and made her get dressed. The sorceress shrugged on a robe herself before giving permission to enter again. Brent walked with Bjorn in tow. "Captain, corporal," Bjorn saluted. "I understand we are to talk about rescuing the prisoners?" "What's this?" Kathryn asked, which caused Brent to explain the situation again. "Alright, now that we've all heard the story, let's get to talking," Aiva said. "Who's for and who's against?" "Fuck it, we're not being paid to win this war for them," Kathryn scoffed. "Let them fight their own damn battles for a start." "Captain, we can't just ignore this," Bjorn pleaded. "I know it's not justifiable, but I really think we should do it." "You're damn right it's not justifiable," the assassin snapped. "We're not here to give away services for free. If Feurst wants more, he'd better pay for it." Bjorn looked like he might lost control of himself for a second, but he eventually managed to clamp his jaw shut and look down at the floor. It seemed as if something was bothering him beyond the idea of leaving helpless hostages in the hands of the enemy. "I do agree that partaking of this mission without payment is a bad business decision," Brent chimed in, "However, I am in favor of our participation as I believe it the right thing to do for ethical reasons." Despite what their opinions were, the final decision rested with Aiva. The sorceress frowned and weighed her options; on one hand, the company was generally not in favor of knight-errantry, but on the other, she did trust Brent's judgement and if he was for it, then that was something in its favor. How did she herself feel? Aiva had no particular investment in this war, nor would she be affected by its outcome. A timid knock came from the door and Aiva looked past Bjorn's hulking frame to see Sophia standing there, with a lack of sleep evident in her tired eyes. "Please... can I say something?" Sophia asked shyly. "Look, I... they took my sister in the fighting. Can't you do something?" So that was what Bjorn was bothered about, Aiva concluded. Well, if she had been the one in bed with Rachel, she might have been tempted to rescue her as well. "Got money?" Kathryn's brusque voice cut into Sophia like a saber. "No..." The girl trembled, painfully aware of how poor she was. "But I'd do anything if it meant getting Rachel back. Anything. I'll even..." Sophia blushed and could not continue the sentence. She walked up to Aiva and whispered the rest into the sorceress' ear, glowing like the setting sun by the end of it. "Well, that's certainly a flattering offer," Aiva said after she heard it. "But, um, that won't be necessary. We'd be happy to have you enlist in the company, though." "You mean it?" Sophia cried happily. "You'll go and rescue her? Oh thank you, thank you!" Aiva found it hard to breath with Sophia's arms wrapped around her, but Kathryn eventually intervened and pried the girl off. "You've got your deal, now fuck off," Kathryn spat, shoving Sophia out the door and locking it tightly. "Really, that was unnecessary," protested Bjorn, earning himself a wrathful glare for his efforts. "Out," the tiefling ordered. "How?" the orc asked. "You've locked the door." "Out!" Kathryn pointed at the window and Bjorn sighed, opening it and jumping to the ground. Brent soon followed suit, not wanting to be caught in the impending fight, leaving Aiva and Kathryn alone again. "For fuck's sake, Ashley, think about what you're doing," Kathryn said, accidentally using Aiva's real name. "Watch your damn tongue," Aiva hissed back. "Sorry, but still, we're going to be flying blind here." Kathryn said. "It's a dangerous mission and I'd like to at least let know why we're doing it for nothing." Aiva was silent for several minutes. "I never had a family." Kathryn looked at her lover in surprise. This was the fist time Aiva had ever talked about her past. "Ok, that's not technically true," Aiva clarified, mistaking Kathryn's expression for one of confusion. "Obviously, I had parents. That being said, a devil who specializes in seducing noblewomen and an aristocrat who considered me a liability at best make for pretty shitty parents. I grew up in a monastery to avoid embarrassing my mother. Very few people know we're related." "So you had a crappy childhood; doesn't explain why you're taking on a charity case. Hell, I had it pretty rough growing up too, but you don't see me rescuing damsels in distress for free." "I suppose it's not the best reason, but I do see something of myself in Sophia. Besides, she said she'd join, so we'll be getting something out of it. It'd be nice to get a spellcaster we could mould from the ground up instead of recruiting someone and having to work out all the bad habits they've picked up over the years." Kathryn shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't agree with that. Too much risk, not enough reward." "I know," Aiva admitted. "I'm probably going to get us all reprimanded for it, but that's what we're doing. Can I count on you?" "Aiva, I'd throw myself off of a cliff if you really wanted me to, but I don't expect I'd be happy about that either." "That's so sweet and disturbing at the same time." "Oh, you know me, I'm just a big softy deep down inside," Kathryn laughed, before turning serious again. "Say, as long as we're going to be tempting fate again... can I tell you something?" Aiva leaned forward and listened attentively. "Alright, I figure I should tell you why I used to hate you so much," Kathryn said. "Bjorn keeps telling me I should always settle my accounts since I might die at any moment." "Wasn't it because I helped capture you when you were working as a pirate?" Aiva recalled. "Helped kill your captain too, didn't I?" "It was more than that... do you know what I was doing on that crew?" Kathryn swallowed before continuing. "I was the captain's fuck toy. She caught me stowing away aboard her ship and gave me a whipping for it. Would have thrown me overboard and made me swim back to land if I'd just given in like a normal person, but I was arrogant and took everything she could dish out that day, which impressed her enough to keep me like some sort of pet. She healed my wounds and spent the better part of a month breaking me. She would whip me, starve me, drug me, chain me naked to the deck so the entire crew could see and use me... and she even made me like it. After a while, I stopped trying to escape because it was easier to just be a slave. No need to be strong, or brave, or powerful that way. No way to fail because I couldn't fall any lower." Aiva squeezed the assassin's hand sympathetically. "And that's when we caught you?" Kathryn shook her head. "No... you see... it gets worse. She lost me in a fight with some paladins, and they decided to let me go after realizing what I was. I was free for the first time in months and I made a living for myself again as an assassin. Things were going pretty well until one day the captain knocked on my door and walked into my house like she owned it. She demanded that I come back with her because she could use a good assassin. I drew a sword and pointed at her, swearing I'd never serve her again, but she simply batted it aside and became... insistent. And I... I just folded right then and there. Collapsed into a crying wreck before her. The bitch didn't even have to do anything to me other than ask, and I was helpless to resist her. She had her fingers wrapped around my mind so tight that I think only her death would have freed me." "Then why'd you hate me for it?" Aiva asked, looking rather perplexed. "Because, as much as I detested her... I also loved her," Kathryn admitted hesitantly. "She was so strong and powerful... when she made me worship her, I did so honestly because I truly respected her in some sick and twisted way. After she died, I blamed you for it and felt like I could never forgive you. Liliths' blood, it all sounds like some cheap romance novel, doesn't it?" There was something blurring Aiva's face, and Kathryn realized that she had been crying as she told her story. She looked away so that Aiva would not have to see her face and wiped away the tears. "But that's all in the past now," Kathryn said. "Your team was just doing it's job, and she was a bitch anyways. You make a better captain for me than she ever could." Aiva drew close and put her arms around Kathryn's trembling body. "Well, now you're making me feel like such a jerk for eyeing Sophia. Don't suppose I could make it up to you later?" "What do you have in mind?" Kathryn purred seductively. "You decide," Aiva replied playfully. "I like surprises." Chapter 4 Cold water washed over Rachel's body, which jolted her from her sleep. The comforting tavern she worked in was gone now, replaced by a dimly lit cell whose floors were smeared with blood. In front of her sat a fearsome looking orc with a leather mask on his head and a nasty looking whip in his hands. Rachel trembled in fear as she realized what had happened; she had been captured at some time during the fighting. "Greetings, wench," the orc in front of her sneered. "I am Taskmaster Gurz, and you will answer my questions or suffer my... displeasure." "I have nothing to say to you," Rachel replied with as much bravery and dignity as she could, sprawled on the ground in soaking wet clothes. "I see they never bothered to break you in," the taskmaster noted, unfurling his whip. "Baern and his men might have been soft, but I assure you that is a flaw not shared by all of the Bloodmaw clan." Gurz spoke with a sinister eloquence lacking in the other orcs Rachel had encountered so far. She shivered, and was sure that it was due to more than just the cold. The mindlessly violent orcs she knew were bad enough; what would happen when they had intelligence to direct their actions? The whip sprang forward and slashed across Rachel's chest, cutting through her shirt and leaving a bright red mark on her breasts. A wild scream tore through the air as Rachel covered her aching chest and pressed her body against the ground so that Gurz could not attack there any more. "That was just a taste of what you can expect for disobedience," Gurz snarled. "Now, let's see what I have here..." A table stood in the corner of the cell, holding a dish with a metal cover on it. The taskmaster brought it over to Rachel and set it on the floor in front of her before lifting the lid. A fragrant aroma spilled out and Rachel saw that it contained several roasted pork ribs. "I do apologize for forgetting my manners," Gurz smiled, picking up one of the ribs and gnawing on it. "Would you care for something to eat?" Rachel looked at the meat suspiciously. While she was unsure of why the orc had offered her food - bribery, probably - she doubted very much if it was for the sake of manners or her own good. "I ate before coming," Rachel replied, as her stomach betrayed her by growling loudly. "I don't doubt that you did." Gurz laughed at the unintentional innuendo. "Speaking of which, that orc you bedded... who was he? I am interested in knowing what clan he hails from." "We didn't talk much." "I suppose he didn't tell you who he worked for either?" The orc picked up another rib and made short work of it. "It never came up," Rachel stated defiantly. "They never choose the easy way." Gurz sighed and finished off the ribs by himself. "Oh well, I suppose I'd be out of a job if you did." The whip sang again and slowly, painfully, stripped away Rachel's clothing and dignity with each lash. Much like the pleasures of last night, this kind of pain was also a new experience for her. Gurz set her flesh ablaze with pain as he sought out whatever bits of information Rachel might possess, but in truth she knew very little and none of it was of tactical value. Eventually, Gurz let her have a brief respite as he pondered his next move. The girl had no use as a source of information, but her young body would be just the thing to the boost morale of his twice defeated clan. The taskmaster snapped his fingers and called in a priest, who came in wheeling a cart full of sacred oils and ointments, along with the necessary implements for their application. Rachel's eyes darted back and forth between her two captors as they spoke. The dialect they were using was not quite familiar to her, and she found that she could only understand snippets of information. Whatever they were planning, though, it seemed to involve her. The young girl flinched as the priest approached her, but the crack of the whip soon convinced her to stay still. "Hurts, don't it?" The priest seemed rather amused at Rachel's discomfort. "Here, this'll help." Too hurt and afraid to refuse, Rachel closed her eyes and let him spread a clear cream that smelled strongly of tree bark over her skin. The pain from Gurz's lashing soon stopped, and was slowly replaced by a pricking sensation on her skin, which gradually turned into fire. Rachel moaned as lust welled up between her thighs. It reminded her of what Bjorn aroused in her, but whereas their passion has been satisfying and almost romantic, this feeling was... corrupt, and dirty. The priest chuckled again and turned the naked girl on her stomach, with her knees under her so that she was kneeling with her bottom up in the air. Rachel moaned as she felt something prodding against her rear entrance; her mind screamed at her to fight whatever the orcs were doing to her, but her body refused to listen and wiggled excitedly as if inviting the priest to continue with his work. The orc's body prevented Rachel from getting a good look at his actions, but whatever it was that he was forcing into her felt thin, flexible, and tubular. A hose, perhaps? Coldness flooded Rachel's bowels, and the sane part of her mind concluded that it probably was some sort of hose. A shudder ran through her body, and as much as Rachel wanted to blame it on the frigid liquid spreading through her insides, she knew that excitement played as much a part in it as anything else. Tears trickled down her face as she wondered exactly what she had become; this was not right, none of it. No normal person became charged under these circumstances, and especially not from that hole. The tube came out of her and Rachel clenched her sphincter with all her might, afraid to let even the smallest drop through. Both orcs laughed as the expression on her face, which grew more intense with each passing moment as her bowels demanded that she relieve the pressure. Cramps soon started to set in and Rachel's legs began kicking in frustration. "Want to let it out, bitch?" Gurz asked maliciously, clearly enjoying the spectacle in front of him. Rachel cast her pride aside and nodded. "Well, then I guess you'd better ask for it," the priest said. "Go on, beg." "P-please..." Rachel whimpered, desperately searching for the right words. "I... I'm sorry... I'll be good, I promise..." The orcs looked unimpressed and Rachel wondered exactly what they were looking for. How would she know what to say? She was just a working girl who had lived all her life in one town. A girl like herself knew no fancy words, but if she wanted to avoid losing control of herself in front of the orcs' cruel eyes, she would have to come up with something. "My lords, I beg of you, please let your... your..." Rachel swallowed and comforted herself with the thought that this would all be temporary. She would eventually escape and be back home again, with her sister and their friends. All she had to do was to survive and endure. "Please let your slut find release," Rachel cried. Talking about herself in the third person made it easier, as if it was not really her being humiliated. "Please show her mercy for behaving so badly! She knows she was wrong to have defied you!" Finally satisfied with her debasement, the priest pulled a bucket off of his cart and placed it on the ground in front of him. Rachel crawled over and squatted over it; having to relieve herself in front of onlookers was beyond embarrassing, but it was better than the cell floor, and was probably the most she would get from her captors. No sooner had Rachel relieved herself than she was bent over again and another tube inserted into her. This time the liquid was warm, with the same foul heat that the cream had. Lust took hold of Rachel and she sank to her knees, panting like a dog. This time a round object followed the enema and Rachel found herself plugged so that nothing could escape. A collar was fixed around her neck and the priest led her away with a leash. Rachel instinctively crawled on all fours in the priest's wake as he took her out of the interrogation chamber and down a dark hallway. They proceeded slowly, as the fullness of Rachel's belly prevented her from moving at anything faster than a slow crawl. It was too dark to tell if anyone was watching the, but Rachel kept imagining unseen horrors in the shadows who would see the slut that she had become. All of Rachel's fears became reality as the priest opened a heavy door at the end of the passage to reveal a large chamber, where at least a hundred orcs knelt before the statue of their terrible god. She shrieked with shame and tried to cover herself, but Gurz's ever present whip slashed across her behind, causing her to collapse on the floor. "Men!" Gurz bellowed. "We have tasted bitter defeat this day, but by the god that made us, I swear to you now that our vengeance against the humans will be both complete and terrible. Tomorrow we will set out to repel the invaders, but for now let us plunder this human wench!" A kick hard enough to send Rachel sliding forward several feet landed on her sore bottom, drawing a burst of applause from the audience. The taskmaster moved to take Rachel in front of his men, but the priest stopped him. "Now now, Gurz," the other orc reprimanded, "Leadership might be your department, but we are in the presence of the Warbringer himself now, and this is my domain. I say it would be only proper that the first of us to taste this morsel be our god himself." "Right you are!" Gurz laughed. "To the alter with her!" Two grunts lifted Rachel by her arms and carried her to their blasphemous alter. The brief outburst of resistance Rachel had shown earlier had faded due to the drugs, replaced by a mellow compliance as she was laid atop the cold stone surface. A bowl full of golden oil was poured over her chest and stomach, rendering them hypersensitive to touch. Some of it leaked down to Rachel's flower, nearly driving her mad as the slightest touch felt like it would send her over the edge. A heavy incense was lit and its heady vapors clouded Rachel's mind even further. A dull, monotonous chant filled the room as all the orcs knelt in supplication to the fearsome idol behind the alter. Rachel stared up at the harsh face of the orcish deity above her, and to her surprise, it looked back. The statue's hands went under her arms and held onto her breasts as they pulled Rachel onto her feet, holding her to its chest. Rachel was not too far lost in the sensation of the statue's hands mauling her chest to notice something nudging her thigh. She gasped when she saw a rock hard penis erect itself between her legs. Its cold, smooth surface brushed against her flower and its bud, causing Rachel to grind herself against it involuntarily. She shuddered in disgust at her body's betrayal, but could do nothing to stop it. Every orc in the chamber had their eyes on Rachel as her body begged their living god to claim her. It raised the mortal offering off of the alter so that its member was in line with the woman's cunt and slowly brought her down upon it. A howl of pleasure rang out amidst the ensuing applause as Rachel found herself forced to spread her legs in order to accommodate the idol. The plug and liquid made her passage so much tighter for the monstrous length in her and she had no idea if it would ever fit without breaking something.