The caravan had just left one of the greater cities on the edges of the Golden Fire Plains, so named for the pale yellow grasses that grew there most of the year.  They had come away less burdened with goods, but far richer than many had been prepared for.  The depredations of the raiders in this area had left the city with a dearth of many things usually collected in tithe and tax from the outlying towns and villages.  Many had presumed the raiders to be Southron or Mountainmen of the East, and were confident in the warriors granted by Rohan to protect them.  And under normal circumstances this would have been enough.  

What attacked them were not men at all.

The grey and black skinned bestial men that poured out of ravines on either side of the caravan trail were massively built, taller than most Men by a head, broad of shoulder and well armed and armored.  Long shafts of thick black wood pierced armor with ease; the roars of their voices were half scream-half growl and drove the horses mad.  The warriors were hard pressed, and even the most skilled were shocked by the gruesome ferocity of their foes – limbs laid to the bone, or even lopped off, guts opened wide, wounds that would have felled even the toughest Man did little but anger the beast-men who wore white paint and black armor.  

The battle was not long, and there were far too many who were helpless before the might that felled great warriors.  And the beast-men had no qualms about taking prisoners – they preferred it.  

The remnants of a once proud and rich caravan were gathered up and taken to the rocky hinterlands, secreted away in a place rarely rode by the Rohirrim, and there the beast-men enjoyed their spoils.  Food, drink, treasure alike were taken; so too were many of the women, men and children.  But as all such, the strongest took the best for himself.  And Lurtz's share was by far the greatest, both in treasure and in women.  She stirred as he sat, watching the bound woman come to her senses slowly, blood matting her hair still, her thigh pierced by one of his arrows and leaving her lame.  

She would be a pleasure to tame.

Rylyn struggled against the darkness that held her, rising up toward a red light that grew brighter as her senses returned to her.  She ached all over and her head throbbed.  She squeezed her eyes shut tight until the red haze dimmed somewhat.  Feeling nausea swell from her belly she rolled to her side and groaned, pain in her leg flaring white hot.  She felt like she had drunk too much mead, but she had no memory of having done so.  Something though… something flitted across her memory, but it kept dancing out of reach before she could catch it.  The red light flickered.  Firelight. She heard the crackle of flames and felt the warmth.  She squirmed, groaning again and frowning at whatever was hampering her movements.

Clarity came to her suddenly and with it her senses returned.  She stiffened, the soft crackle of the fire drowned out by distant laughter, rough and menacing, moans, sobbing and screams.  A flood of images flashed in her mind.  Memories of battle, huge dark beastly man-things bearing strange weapons, clubs and sharply pointed scimitars, engulfing the caravan.  Her horse cut from under her by one as she fought off another.  Screams of fear and pain.  Blood freezing battle cries.  Orcs!  But like no orc she’d ever heart tell of.

They’d been outnumbered, the party of guards hired by the caravan numbering less than twenty.  But they where the Rohirrim, the horse lords, and her captain had been confident.  That confidence had been repaid with pain and death.  On foot she had fought, killing one of the creatures more by luck than skill and wounding another that had howled and attacked with greater ferocity.  It was her captain that had saved her, coming between them to battle the beast.  It was hard pressed to fend off both her and the skill of a full horse-lord of Rohan and too often gave her its back as the lesser threat.  It was during such an time that she saw her opportunity to get her blade past the creatures weapon and armor.  She’d been about to deliver a fatal blow when pain had blinded her and her leg had given way beneath her.  Even as she fell, the orc she had been about to kill turned and slammed his arm against her, throwing her back and knocking her sword from her hand.  She’d tried to rise, but another of the creatures, a massive dark beast with what appeared to be a white hand print on his face had walked up to her.

He’d stood there looking down at her, his mouth twisted in a cruel grin as he’d held the black bow he carried loosely in his hands, an arrow casually notched to the string.  Her leg had been on fire, but she’d scrambled away as fast as she could toward her sword.  As if unconcerned the beast had watched her, his ugly grin growing.  Behind him her captain fought on bravely, but without the added benefit of her distraction he was soon taken, his blood splattering the ground like rain as he fell.  She’d almost reached the sword when the archer raised the bow, drawing back the string.  She knew she would die, but not without fighting she wouldn’t.

She looked away from the archer, her fingers scrabbling at the hilt of her sword, when another beast – one who carried her wounds and lived only by providence – rushed past the bowman toward her.  The weight of his footfalls warned her of his coming and she had her sword in hand and was turning as he reached her.  She looked up in time to see a massive leather boot coming at her.  The kick connected with the side of her head and her world had gone black.

Breathing slowly to control both her nausea and her panic, Rylyn opened her eyes, squinting against the light of a bright fire.  She wasn’t shocked at what she saw, but her terror was beyond compare.  The throb in her head was nothing compared to the searing pain in her leg as she whimpered and tried to move away.  The bindings at her wrists and ankles only made it worse as she struggled against them.  Why did she have to live? she asked herself.

The massive beast man walked over to her, wearing little more than leather jerkin and hide trousers.  The paleness of them made Rylyn feel ill, though she was unsure exactly why.  If she had known they were made of those who had tried – and failed – to slay Lurtz, she would have been properly terrified.  Not that she was not terrified now.  She stank of fear and pain, and the scent made Lurtz sneer in satisfaction.  He ran his hand up her bared thigh.  She had been stripped of armor and the padding beneath it, leaving her in a loose shift that came to just mid-thigh.  Otherwise she was naked.

The sensation and experience of her dignity being removed would be educational, Lurtz knew.  He had done this before.  Rarely with a female so lovely as this.  His hand slid up her leg, and he squeezed the wounded thigh.  He'd been careful not to cut the great vein there.  It had been a tricky shot.  He would have felt no loss if she'd died of course.  But his pride might have been stung for a moment.  He squeezed harder, until the wound oozed bright red.  Good.  No infection, no sickening smell of decay. 

The noises she made brought a grunt of amusement from him, and he grabbed a skin of the vile liquor that kept better and was safer to drink than some of the waters hereabout.  He splashed it on her wound, fire erupting through her leg as he washed out the wound with the spirits.  His hand moved up further, baring more of her leg, then her slender waist and the soft curls and down between them.  He grunted and his fingers slid into and along her slit before they continued up her belly to begin baring her breasts....

Her initial scream as the creature had touched her wounded leg had brought roars of laughter from others of his kind and calls of encouragement in their guttural language.  Then cries of pain and terror from throats used to the softer words of the Rohirrim proved the lusts visited on them in anticipation of more screams.  Rylyn regretted that and clenched her teeth together as he squeezed her leg cruelly, holding back the scream that built inside her until she must let something out or burst.  What escaped from her was a moan, still loud enough that she knew the one standing over her enjoyed forcing from her that and the whine as he bathed her injured leg with the poisonous fire he splashed over her.

Her teeth still clenched and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she breathed through her mouth to keep from vomiting.  She knew if she did she would choke on it.  Why she didn’t want to die, just let it come so that it could fill her mouth and lungs, steal her breath and take away this hell, she didn’t know.  She just didn’t.  As if he knew her struggle she found him smirking at her when the pain began to subside and she opened her eyes.  Then, he touched her again and the terror she felt as his fingers brushed her thigh was not fear of pain.  It wasn’t even fear of being raped that tore whimpers from her lips.  

His fingers slid into her and the whimpers turned to soft cries of dismay.  She thrashed against the bonds that held her, trying to escape those fingers, to no avail.  Her worst fear was realized as one large, calloused finger touched the apex of her slit and she felt a jolt of fear and pleasure.  Tears filled her eyes, but did not fall and she trembled violently as he continued up, touching her as if she was his to do with as he pleased.

But she was his.  His captive, bound and helpless against him.  That knowledge brought her no excitement as it had years before, when she was just a girl.  Then she had been young, too young to realize her feelings had been wicked.  She had wanted what he had planned for her, had liked that he frightened her.  She’d been saved by her brother and father.  Saved from him and from herself, if not from the longings she’d had for years afterward.  This was different, though.  This was no man, but a filthy, disgusting, ugly orc.  

More afraid of herself, of these dark desires she felt, she turned her head away as he lifted the shift higher, baring the front of her body to him almost completely.  Her face burned with embarrassment.  Part of that was just being naked before him and everyone who chose to look that way.  A larger part, the majority of the flush on her cheeks was what he also revealed.  Her body was slender, gently curved and pale in the firelight that warmed her skin.  Her breasts were high, neither small nor large, and tipped with dark pink nipples that were puckered and hard with the corrupt hungers she’d thought finally gone from her.

He those hard points for a few moments and she bit her lower lip and kept her head turned from him, her eyes closed tight until his hand moved down her belly again.  Ashamed but terrified, she opened her eyes and looked up.  “Please don’t,” she begged, even knowing it was useless.  “Just kill me.  Kill me and consume me even… Please!”  She would rather die, would rather feed an army of orcs than have him touch her again.

Lurtz growled his amusement, and reached over, grabbing her hair and yanking her head up to look into her eyes.  He growled words barely intelligible to the Shield-Maiden in the common tongue of Men.  “You are liking this more than you want, woman!”  His hand slid down, between her legs.  This time his thick, powerful fingers, calloused and rough, slipped into her folds and petals...and he looked surprised, his yellow eyes widening.  He stood upright and shouted aloud.  “Hoy, the slut's a virgin!”  The catcalls and raucous roars were even more loud, more amused.  He turned to her, sliding his fingers along the thin, delicate barrier of her hymen.  A virgin woman?  It was unthinkable, unprecedented.  But a prize worth fighting for now.  

“You smell of need, whore.  You'll get what you want, and like it.”  He grinned, his sharp teeth glinting too white in the firelight amidst his dark face.  Leaning close he ran his thick purplish tongue along her firm breast, stroking her hardened nipple with cat-like roughness.  Lurtz's fingers moved up, teased her nub and stroked it, bringing fire to her loins despite her protests.  Oh, she wanted this.  She wanted this so badly he could taste it on her skin.  “I wonder what Man almost had his way with you, whore-child....”  His words were far more calculated than those of his brethren.  No human woman liked being called a whore.  Especially ones who smelled like whores.  

He stood up and unlaced his leather trousers, exposing something that looked like it was formed of equal parts nightmare and flesh.  It was thick, hard, huge, and all too much like a Man's cock, save in color and in thickness.  There was no doubt he'd split her open if he decided to be too rough. And all too little hope that he would not be that rough. 

His knowledge of her need was mortifying, but his announcement, then fact that he chose to do it in common tongue so all could hear, made her long for death to avoid what she believed he had planned for her.  What finally started her tears wasn’t her embarrassment.  She stared at him with silent tears coursing down her cheeks, trying so very hard not to squirm as he touched her.  He had been gentle so far, his touches teasing to elicit a wanton response so it was not pain that made her cry either.  She cried because he was right and he knew it.  She would like it.  She would like it because she had wanted it for so very long.

She turned her eyes away when he started loosening the laces.  Wicked desires she had, but she was still mostly innocent.  It hurt that he called her a whore.  She was no whore.  So many times she’d been tempted, could have given herself to any number of men and boys.  She hadn’t.  She’d waited, protecting her virtue.  His silence, his waiting certainty that she would look made her determined to not look at him.  She wouldn’t give him what she knew he wanted.

But she did look.  She looked and gasped and looked away again quickly, both whimpering in fear of him and the pain he would give her and strangely curious.  She was a whore, she thought to herself.  No woman could want this as she did.  No innocent could be thinking the wicked thoughts she was thinking.  Even her surety that he would use her and then give her to whoever else wanted her when he was done was a thought of both dread and wonder.  

A part of her was glad that she was bound, that she couldn’t resist him because it meant that she didn’t have to.  She could keep telling herself that she didn’t want him to take.  But that was a cowards way out, she knew.  Bound she could give herself to him and not hate herself for it.  Unbound she could fight him, hurt him, maybe escape.  Or at least she could anger him enough that he would kill her quickly.

She turned her face back to him and opened her eyes, the soft green of them large in a face too pale from fear, he was closer now and the enormity of his sex was distracting in the fear it caused her.  With effort she drew her eyes from his throbbing prick and raised them to meet his.  She licked her lips nervously.  “Untie me and I will… not resist.”  She’d planned to offer herself willingly, but just could not face that she wanted to do just that, but not to get away as she planned now.

He opened his mouth and growled, a throbbing, thick noise that was less threat or groan than it was a gurgling, dark chuckle.  Lurtz twisted his hand around and shoved his thumb into her – but not her sex.  No, he violated her derrière, without warning or preamble, knowing exactly how painful and cruel the intrusion would be.  Even as she drew shocked breath to respond to the terrible, horrifying intrusion he pushed two fingers into her mouth, trapping the scream along with her tongue as his rough fingers choked her.  “I am no goblin fool, no brainless orc, bitch.  I am Uruk-Hai, and far more than any man than you'll ever have had.”  He ground his thumb inside the delicate, tender passage, moving it about slowly and making her insides shift and twitch.  The agony was intense....but there was a shameful pleasure there as well, being put in her place.  

Pulling his hand from the soft mound of her sex, his thumb sliding out with an even more agonizing sensation than it had given when it had violated her, he tore the remnant of her shift from her, making the bonds bite into her wrists and ankles.  The brute grasped her breast, trapping her nipple between thumb and forefinger and pulling purposefully.  He called out over his shoulder, his voice carrying far.  “Bring me tongs and a ring, you worthless scum!”  He turned back to her, his sharp teeth bared in a terrifying grin.  “I think a wedding ring is in order....”  Lurtz pulled and twisted her nipple, letting it slip from his grasp as he held her silent and gagged with his fingers and hand. 

Her eyes streaming with tears from pain and humiliation and gagging on the fingers in her mouth, Rylyn blinked in shock at his words and shook her head violently.  Terror deeper than anything she’d felt before filled her as he grinned at her.  Rylyn had to concentrate hard to suppress the reflex to puke with the thought of what he meant by his words.  Her teeth rested against the tops of his fingers and the urge to bite down was strong.  As much as she wanted this, she wanted to fight too.  She wanted to hurt him and stop him if she could, but she knew in her heart that if she bit him he would use those fingers to grab hold of her jaw and pull it off.  She could actually see him do it in her head, could imagine choking on her own blood.  That he could and probably would kill her without qualm did not lessen the wanton desires or her fears in the slightest.

His fingers were cruel as he touched her, not teasing her breast as he had earlier, but pinching and pulling at the sensitive nipple, until it was tight and hard, jutting proudly from the dark tender skin that surrounded it.  In spite of the pain he caused, or because of it, her whimpers of pain turned to soft moans of something far different after only moments.  Laughing at her, the orc pinched harder, enough that she tried to scream before she choked on her own saliva and had to close her mouth around his fingers and suckled on them so that she could swallow and not drown with it.  That drew the beast man’s attention and he looked at her, assessing, calculating, before his grin broadened and he switched his attention to her other breast.

By the time another of the beast men arrived minutes later it was all that Rylyn could do not to squirm beneath her captor’s cruel caresses.  She was breathing harshly through her nose and her derrière was coated with wetness that had dripped down from her sex.  Her mouth was watering so that she could do little except suck and swallow around those huge fingers, which seemed to please the beast for some reason she didn’t understand, but was sure did not bode well for her.  With her head held in place, she could not see the other, could only hear his voice, the harsh tone of his words.  Then as suddenly as he’d entered her mouth, the fingers were gone, pulling from between her lips with a soft sound that made both of them laugh.

Rylyn gasped for breath, but her fear of what he might do next wouldn’t let her look away.  There was nothing she could do to stop him, but neither could she hide from it.  Carefully raising her head so that she could see them both, she watched as some kind of tool exchanged hands, her apprehension growing, but it was what she saw next that horrified her.  A ring.  Her heart stopped and she thought she might actually die of fright, hoped she would.  Then it lurched in her chest and beat so hard and fast that she thought it would bruise her inside.  A loud whimper escaped her and several chuckles made her notice others standing just at the edge of the firelight, mostly in darkness.

Screaming in wordless rage and terror except when she drew a harsh breath or grunted in pain, Rylyn thrashed against the bonds, bloodying her wrists and ankles against the leather straps that held her firmly in place no matter how hard she pulled.  This didn’t stop her.  She’d pull her arms off if she had to.  She would not be bound to an Orc!  She wouldn’t!  Not even if it was barbaric and not real in the world of men, she could never survive it.  Wouldn’t want to survive it.

The ring in question was made out of adulterated gold, a darker, deeper sort of reddish gold than ordinary gold.  It was also harder as a result.  She could see it was not a complete ring, as he held it between two fingers to let the firelight glint off of it beautifully; there was a gap, and it was slightly oblong.  “This will do just nicely for a wedding,” he grunted loudly, which brought hoots of laughter and raucous calls from the collection of onlookers.  He looked at her and gave another of those croaking, rumbling growls, his pointed teeth grinning cruelly as he grabbed her breast and pulled, pinched her nipple taut and hard.  

Lurtz pinched her nipple harder, pulling it hard enough that he bruised the delicate flesh of her breast under his fingers, darkening her fair Rohan skin.  “I was told you horse-men liked gold,” he growled at her, “so here is a piece you'll not lose!”  He took the ring and scratched her skin with the open gap, making her realize the ends were points, cut at an angle to make the gap.  Shoving the sharp point into her hot, bruised flesh, her tortured nipple, he pushed it into her skin, tore an opening for the ring to be passed through.  He opened his mouth and breathed, his cock throbbing as the scent of her blood and terror and pain surrounded him. A hard, quick stroke of his tongue along her nipple cooled the burning flesh and let him taste her blood; fear and pain made it all the sweeter.  

Pushing the piercing through entirely, he let go of her nipple, the ring cold and heavy in her newly pierced breast.  He poured more of that hideous fire-water along her breast, splashing it carelessly, making the wounded delicacy of her body burn anew.  He growled at someone nearby and a long pair of pliers was thrust into his hand.  He grinned at her and closed them about the ring, and squeezed hard.  The ring bent, the gap disappearing; but then he turned the pliers over to someone else and took something else out, a different tool.  This he used to crush the gap, molding the gold together in a mark that not only symbolized the White Hand of Saruman, but also would make it impossible to simply spread or twist the ring out of true so it could be removed.  The gold would have to be cut – or simply torn from her flesh.  

“There, proper adornment for my bride!”  The other orcs laughed raucously at that claim and he grabbed her beautiful hair, bloodied and dirtied as it was, yanking her head down.  “Now for my kiss!”  He claimed, and he presented her with his man...no, his monstrous, heavy sex.  There was nothing of man in him.  He leaned down and growled deeply.  “And mind you, it better be a good kiss if you want to live to see sunrise, whore....”  Lurtz moved close, her tears and weakened struggles even more exciting.  At this rate he might be able to let her loose from her bonds.  She still had a little fire in her, but he would bend that flame to his will yet. 

Terrified, hurting and ashamed, Rylyn met those hateful yellow eyes with soft green.  Nothing she’d done had loosened the bonds that held her by so much as a fraction of an inch.  No matter how hard she had pulled, it was her own body that she’d felt giving instead of those straps.  It was the futility of it that had finally worn her down.  She couldn’t fight this, even if she wasn’t battling her own twisted wants she wouldn’t be able to fight against this.  Not and win.  This hadn’t stopped her from hating it, for hating him and that horrible, painful ring that even now burned at her breast like it was red hot from the forge.  But neither had her hatred stopped her gasp and the knowledge in his eyes that it was more than just pain she’d felt and how much that frightened her.

“Why would I want to live that long?”  Her voice was low, almost a whisper, and there was little inflection in it.  The affect was purposeful.  She wasn’t giving up, she didn’t actually want to die, but it was still preferable to a short, hellish life as this creature’s… plaything.  She couldn’t think of herself as a bride.  She wouldn’t.  This could not be real.

That odd growl came again and his hand twisted in her dark hair, pulling until she cried out no matter how hard she tried not to show her pain – which only amused their audience that much more.  “But you wouldn’t want to die before you consummated your marriage, would you?” he asked.  His evil grin widening, the sharp points of his teeth standing out in sharp relief to the dark skin of his face, he breathed in deeply through his mouth and nose.  “No… you wouldn’t want that.”

In sudden horror Rylyn realized what he meant.  He could smell her.  His claim earlier hadn’t just been words to frighten her.  He could smell her need, her body’s reaction to all that he’d done to her and would do to her.  Her eyes left his and looked around at the half dozen or more that stood watching and laughing then went back to his face.  They could all smell her.  She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of him as another of those dark, growling laughed came again and raucous calls in that guttural voice sounded around them.

Something touched her face, spongy and hard at once, and left a smear of slick liquid against her lips.  Rylyn whimpered and turned her head, but didn’t open her eyes.  A bright light flashed across her darkened vision as his hand twisted viciously in her hair and her neck was twisted painfully.

“Now, bitch!” he roared at her.

Whimpering in pain from her wounds, his hold and her own self loathing, Rylyn opened her mouth and kissed the slick hardness that bumped her lips again.  Afraid to give less than he might be wanting, she opened her mouth wider, letting just a little bit of the enormous tip slide between her lips and licked at it before drawing way, her lips sliding over him slowly.  Tears spilled from beneath her closed lids, leaving her long black lashes looking wet and spikey against cheeks that burned bright pink in the flickering light of the fire.

He growled, this time in pleasure, as she began to pleasure him.  She was starting slowly, but she was not acting as reluctant as she undoubtedly felt; Lurtz was positive of that.  And despite her relative innocence, she was not unaware of how to perform either.  “So it is true that all horse-women know how to perform from birth!”  The other laughed raucously at that, and before she could pull or turn away Lurtz grabbed her by the throat.  Upside down as she was, he had to lean over to position his hand properly, but it was no less tight a grip and certainly no less threatening a grip for that.  His voice was low and gravelly as he murmured to her, “Oh no....you kiss it well, or I'll give you to the others....”  The beast jerked his head, braids lashing.  

The others were drinking heavily, and many had blood on their hands and faces.  There were guttural roars and heavy thuds as they fought over finer pieces of meat or heavy pieces of jewelery.  There would be worse from them than she was getting now, of that she had no doubt.  “...better....” he growled as she continued her ministrations.  The Black Archer leaned over her, hands clutching at her firm breasts, nails digging in as he squeezed.  Fire erupted from her newly pierced nipple, marking her as belonging to these monsters that raped, pillaged, killed....and ate men.  The beast-man shuddered as he leaned into her mouth, making her take more of his hard, thick cock into the heat of her sweet mouth.  

Oh yes, she was going to breed fine children, Lurtz was absolutely certain. 

Her eyes had opened as his hand wrapped around her throat, choking off her air for a few seconds as he threatened her.  She could not turn her head, his fingers held her just beneath her jaw, keeping her head still, but she did not need to turn to know the truth of the threat the others offered her.  The beast that held her had finally found her true weakness.  In spite of her earlier moment of curiosity at the thought of being passed around, she did not want to be used by orc after orc.  She did not want to be use by this orc either, but surely debasing herself for one was better than being raped by all of them.  

Unable to hold back her sobs, she nodded her compliance.  She did not close her eyes this time as he brought his massive sex back to her face.  It was long, wide, dark and gnarled, truly disgusting in every way, and still she opened her mouth to him, even lifting her head to lick at the tip of his massive head.  She licked away of bead of thick fluid, shuddering at the idea of taking his seed into her mouth, but not stopping.  She lapped at him again, flattening her tongue against him as she slid her mouth over him, drawing him into the warmth of her mouth, sighing as his hand finally slid from her throat, thick nails scratching at her skin leaving faint red marks on her neck.

She raised her head higher as he bent over her, taking another inch of him between her lips, suckling softly, then harder as he grabbed at her tender flesh, sending searing pain through her.  She tried to scream and choked as he pushed more of his cock into her mouth suddenly.  She went rigid, her whole body tensing with the pain and fear, but also with the return of her own sick desires as that burning pain kindled other fires that she’d rather deny.  Her body didn’t care, though.  It mattered not at all that the hands that touched her were as large and dark as hers were small and pale.  The ache that throbbed between her thighs didn’t care that it was the too large sex of an orc she was sucking, or that it would be the same that stole her virtue and honor from her.  All her body knew was that it wanted this, had waited too long for what this one promised.

That evil, grinding sound came again, the one she recognized as a laugh, and Rylyn knew that he recognized her need rising above the pain.  He squeezed her breasts again, but rather than scream the dark-haired shield-maiden of Rohan moaned around the flesh that filled her mouth, arching her back to push up against his hands rather than try to escape his touch.  Her legs strained to come together, to squeeze tight even as the movement pulled at the arrow wound.  His grip on her eased and she relaxed again, her mouth opening wider as her jaws relaxed and she took more of his cock into her mouth, using lips and tongue to please him.

Rylyn did not want to die, but she was going to; of that she was positive.  It was the one comfort she had in this.  That she would die among these orcs and not have to face another man or woman who had not done what they had to do to survive as she would.  She would die, but maybe not today or even tomorrow.  Not if she could please this orc.  That she would enjoy pleasing him, being force by him, even hurt by him, was a mark of shame that she would have to bear for he would not let her pretend otherwise.  She had no doubt the creature would torture her with his knowledge, but Rylyn did not want to die, so she would endure it.  Endure and find pleasure in it.

She did find pleasure in it, her skin tingling with the sound of his strange, evil chuckles and his grunts of pleasure as she suckled his massive sex, teasing him with her tongue and trying not to choke as he pushed more of himself into her mouth.  That he did not wish to kill her yet was evident in the care he took not to prevent her from breathing for too long.  But this was not the first time Rylyn had used her mouth to pleasure a man.  She had once been, by her very nature, a lustful girl, curious and flirtatious.  It was that nature that had brought the attention of the guard that had held her captive, intent on making her his, but he had not been the only one.  Others, before and after, had been teased and pushed until their control had slipped.  She’d learned young how to please and placate a man without giving herself to him.  It was something she had learned well.  On her knees she had serviced them, learned from them how best to please, learned to relax and take all of them into her mouth; though none had been as well endowed as this orc that she worked to pleasure now.  Thoughts such as this were both frightening and enticing, taunting Rylyn with their wicked promises.

Drawing her head away suddenly by twisting to the side, she let the Uruk Hai’s cock slip from between her lips and gasped for breath.  His growl alerted her to his displeasure, but she took a couple of more deep breaths before asking, “What is your name, orc?  Or do you even have one?”  She stared up at him, her eyes roaming along the line of his body, greedily taking in the strength of him, the brutality of his very countenance as much as his throbbing cock still wet and dripping with her saliva.  Oh, yes, she would enjoy pleasing him.  She would enjoy it on his terms.  She would give in to him and survive a few days longer for doing it hopefully.  A few days more in which she could indulge her wicked soul before, if she was very, very lucky, he broke her neck or put an arrow through her heart before the others ripped her apart and ate the bloody pieces of her as they did with some other unfortunate man or woman of Rohan even now as they fought, fucked their captives and watched her perform for their leader.

“Hah!”  He barked that single word of laughter, amused by her temerity, her desire to know his name.  She was no wizard spawn, so his name would mean nothing more than something to call him.  “You warrior women really do know your place,” he growled at her, his hand crushing her unwounded breast with bruising force, her nipple pulled tight and hard between his rough fingers.  “You can call me Lurtz....or 'husband' in private!”  This proclamation brought more hoots of laughter and grunting amusement from the others who watched.  He found her question very amusing.  It made the torment more personal, more intimate when you know your torturer's name.  That she would willingly seek this knowledge spoke of desperately needing some way to make the intimacy he was taking from her her own in some twisted, needy way. 

Lurtz thought it was hilarious.  

Leaning over her, he offered her his cock again.  “Now do your wifely duties, horse-whore!” He growled, much deeper, much more threateningly....and he drew his hand back, and slapped her hard.  Not across the face, as she'd first feared when he'd lifted his thick, calloused hand.  Nor, as she'd been terrified when she saw his hand coming down, across her wounded, aching breasts.  The massive bestial monster, the twisted creature from whatever dark pit of hell he'd been spawned, brought his massive hand down on her exposed, vulnerable, aching sex, a ringing slap that set fire to her body and made her spasm so hard the bindings cut deeper into her wrists and ankles than when she'd tried to escape.  

The catcall and howls of laughter came from a far, far distant place; pain and fire and a twisted, crawling pleasure drowned them out as Lurtz ran his fingers against her bruised, burning sex.  He stroked pleasure into the burning fires his slap had inflicted, playing with her sensitive gem and his dull, heavy fingers stretching and teasing the barrier that proved her 'innocence'.  Her shuddering movements and gasps were all too obvious.  “You're no innocent babe,” Lurtz said quietly, pretending that the others couldn't hear.  “You pleasure a man with your mouth far too well....daddy's little whore, your horse-lord's slut?  Whore lord, perhaps....”  He uttered that creaking growl of laughter again just before he slapped her bruised, burning sex again, just as hard as before.  Oh yes, he knew what she wanted, what she needed.  And he had absolutely no qualms about giving her exactly that.  She clearly thought that as long as she belonged to him she was safe from the others.  That was only partly true....Lurtz needed breeding stock.  So she was safe anyways.  It would just make it that much easier to have his way with her.

Green eyes of a color so soft they looked as if they should have sparkled with love and wonder on the night she gave herself away instead glittered with hatred and lust as she glared at the orc called Lurtz even as she writhed under the pain and pleasure of another slap to her exposed cunt.  She hated him not because of what he did to her, not because her flower throbbed and burned from his blows or even his caresses.  She hated him because he would not let her hide from what she was.  “Horse-lord’s slut?  Barely...”  She shrugged.  She had done so very little of what she had wanted, not even giving what she gave to this one all that often for fear that she would not be able to control the fires that had burned inside.  “What man of Rohan or Gondor could give me what I want?”

Lifting her head, Rylyn licked at the tip of Lurtz’s prick again, teasing him by swirling her tongue around the head, taking him into her mouth and quickly pulling away again.  “But think, orc… Lurtz…” She said his name softly, practically purring it in spite of the green fire that burned into his bright yellow as she met his gaze again.  “Think on what I offer you.  You could take it easily and I would like that, probably more…”  She shrugged and turned her attention back to his throbbing sex, pressing her tongue against him as she licked along the underside as far as she could reach, then smiled as he moved closer so that she could wet those few extra inches.  “I offer you no horse-lord’s slut,”  

Rylyn’s heart pounded and she trembled visible with her fear of what she was doing.  Not only was it her certainty that she was tainting her soul beyond redemption, but also that she knew she could not trust this orc, his words or his intentions.  Young she was, but he was right that she was not innocent.  Her own body’s cravings had stolen much of that from her and the men that she had let partially seduce her had taken the rest until all that remained was the tiny membrane that proved only that no man had been inside of her sex.  She was not so innocent that she believed anything was true, safe or sacred, not even his promise to kill her if she displeased him.  She met his eyes again, her own now holding as much fear and agony as they did passion and hostility.  “I am offering you something I doubt you get very often.  A willing… eager… virgin... orc-whore.”

Punctuating each word with tiny licks and kisses to his monstrous sex, she ended her offer by giving to the one called Lurtz what he wanted.  Tilting her head back, Rylyn opened her jaws wide and slid her hot mouth over his cock, letting him slip between her lips smoothly until he touched the back of her throat and she gagged with it before she drew back.  She did not take him completely from her mouth though before she went down his length again, taking in fully half of him before she could accept no more in the wet warmth of her mouth.  Instinctively, she pulled at the bond that held her right hand, twisting against the leather strap that kept her from using it to stroke the part of him her mouth could not reach, her throat could not except without causing her own death.  She didn’t care if he took what she offered or just took her, she wanted this, wanted to please him until she felt him throbbing and jerking inside of her mouth.  

She was a whore, an orc-whore, and, at least at this moment, she was Lurtz’s orc-whore.  The decision to give herself over so completely to the desires she’d denied since she’d been a child did not alleviate her fear or hatred, if anything it intensified them almost as much as it did her lust so that her soft moans and struggles as he suckled him were as much pleasure as they were terror.

His thick fingers slid between her nether lips, roughly crushing the throbbing, aching nub of her little jewel, sensitive and swollen from his punishing blows.  He rubbed at her as she sucked his prick, sliding his fingers inside her flower, sullying places that no man had ever touched with obscene monstrous digits bred from what seemed like beast and goblin.  Lurtz groaned and looked down at her....he took a thick knife and whipped it down, cutting the thin cord that attached to the rock, leaving a length still around her wrist, freeing the hand that she sought to touch him with.

Baring sharp teeth in a grin, he laid the thick knife across her belly and leaned into her a little, making her take just a touch more of his gnarled length, before he grasped her newly pierced nipple and pulled, even as he stroked the liquid heat between her legs.  “Virgin orc-whore, then?  We'll see how well you manage.”  He left the blade resting on her belly, both threat and offer.  She could try for it of course.  It would be amusing to see what she preferred – fighting or fucking.  Lurtz was positive she would not bother with the weapon.  She needed this too badly.  

“You use your mouth well....wonder if you've offered other holes for your masters....”  Her confused glance made him laugh, made his cock throb, spilling heat into her throat.  “Oh ho....don't even know what a catamite's pleasure is!  Virgin twice over!”  This brought raucous, howling laughter and the clatter of weapons against armor, and low moans of pain and despair from other more human throats.  He leaned into her, and drew his fingers against her clit, crushing the tender flesh mercilessly.  “You'll soon find out, my little horse-whore....”  

The knife was a temptation, but not in the way that she knew Lurtz meant it to be.  The threat of it was the temptation.  The cold metal against her burning skin was a delicious counterpoint to the bruising pleasure of his touch to her previously secret treasure and the sharp agony of the now warm metal piercing.  Her fear was strong as she wrapped her freed hand around the base of the orc’s shaft, squeezing him as she stroked the remaining length of him.  She wasn’t gentle, she didn’t need to be.  Not with this one that called himself Uruk-Hai.  That he didn’t need to tell her what to do, that she gave him this extra pleasure, greedily striving for his release as much as her own set the watching orcs to growling in laughter and encouragement, one or two even using the common tongue.  Rylyn ignored them all, even Lurtz.  He did not matter to her, only what she wanted.  That what she wanted would bring him pleasure and maybe afford her some small measure of safety for a while were just by products.

Sucking Lurtz, stroking him, she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, accepting more than was comfortable with an eagerness that surprised even herself.  She strangled, choked, and scraped her teeth against him in retaliation; the sudden hard throb of his sex in her mouth telling her as much as his grunt that he didn’t find this unpleasant as men did.  His touches, the roughly calloused fingers made her squirm and wriggle.  Her back arched, rising off the rock as he tugged at the ring, pulling her wounded nipple until a thin trickle of blood ran in a dark red rivulet down her breast and she stopped moaning and started crying out, her words garbled and muffled by the flesh that gagged her as she thrashed against her bond.

Suddenly the huge beast above her tensed, his prick getting harder, larger until she thought her jaws would crack with it.  Then he was moving, his fingers clamping on her, bruising her soft flower and abused breast alike as he used this hold on her to keep her from moving while his hips pistoned and he used Rylyn, roughly fucking her mouth.  Her body went limp with the desire this raised in her, the agony of his hands, the panic of her constricted breath as he pushed deep into her throat fading as liquid heat filled her mouth and flowed through her body.  This was what she wanted, his release, his pleasure, the power to make it last, to make it better than he’d imagined or to shorten it, make it disappointing and frustrating.  She’d thought she would do the latter to the orc, her captor and now her master, but her desire, her lust for what she knew he could give her had other ideas.

Relaxing, she let him have his way with her mouth, sucking hard as his hips pumped, taking that half second to swallow down the thick, salty and pungent  cream he gave her with each thrust and throb of his cock into her hot mouth.  She couldn’t swallow it fast enough, her mouth still full even as more issued forth until it came out around his sex, coating her lips and trickling over her chin and cheeks.  Her face burned with humiliation, burned and was cooled by the orc’s seed.  She was embarrassed not because his juices wet her face, filled her mouth, but because she trembled on the verge of a powerful orgasm that she fought against; brought to the edge by nothing more than Lurtz’s final grunt and a heavy shudder that ran through his massive body, giving proof of his deep enjoyment of his whore as much as his growling chuckle as he slipped from her mouth to let her breath.

Lurtz looked down at her trembling, straining body, her face red even beyond the mild strangulation and the discomfort of her position....he studied her for a moment and a slow, cruel grin broke across his features, his catlike eyes narrowing in understanding.  The massive beast of an orc walked around her slowly, his hands sliding along her sweat and grime coated skin, slid through the line of crimson that had spilled from her breast like lava from the Mount of Doom.  He licked the blood from his fingers and then placed both his hands on either side of her legs, glaring down at her as she strained her head to look up at him, bowed over the 'altar' as she was. 

Lowering himself, he continued grinning knowingly, and she realized now that he knew, knew how close she was, how easily she could be made to pass into the heated bliss of her climax.  He grabbed her thighs tightly, ignoring the fact that he hurt her, and leaned forward his mouth opening huge and wide, fangs moving towards her sweetest flesh.  Then his tongue slid into her nether lips, deep, deep enough to cause her a second, smaller burst of pain as he took her virginity with his tongue, tore her delicate maidenhead, and stroked wet, burning heat along her cunt, her folds, her burning little jewel in its place of safety.  His teeth scraped at her soft skin, through her gleaming curls.  Then he licked her again, her need unable to be avoided, her monstrous 'husband' pushing her over that brink with two swipes of his black tongue. 

Rapture warred with the agony of mortification as Rylyn lost the battle to remain untouched by the pleasure she had given. Sweet heat radiated from the wet, slick center of her body, making her tense, her body straining against the orc's hold, the bonds and even her wounds.  She pulled at the cords that held her, her back arching, her head thrown back, eyes closed as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through her.  She struggled to not cry out, to maintain some dignity, but as if he knew her heart and worked to break it, Lurtz licked at her again and again, his tongue hot and rough as he teased her, pushing her to higher and higher plateaus until she could hold it back no more and she moaned and whimpered softly.

Pushed far beyond the bounds of morality in her need, Rylyn no longer cared that they knew.  She hated this, but her need for it was greater than her hatred.  Bracing her feet against the rock she pushed her hips up, pressing against the orc’s mouth without heed to teeth or the glow of evil intent in those yellow eyes.  Howls and jeers echoed through the night sky as her free hand found Lurtz, her pale fingers tangling in dark braids as she pressed against the back of his head, pushing him harder against her softness, pressing his wicked tongue deeper between her petals and into her pulsing sheath.  Calls of ‘whore’, ‘slut’ and ‘harlot’ drowned out her cries, the ragged hitch of her breathing and her tears, not all of the words in the guttural accent of the raiders.  Then screams, women and men, voices already hoarse from previous protests, their denials no more effective now than before.  To her further shame, this did not bother her as it should have.  Nothing mattered except Lurtz and the wonderful horror of his mouth on her.

The sharp teeth pricked, scratched at the delicate flesh surrounding her burning, throbbing sex; they were as sharp as they looked, and they dug and grabbed at her skin greedily.  There was no doubt in her mind that if he chose he would shear through flesh and muscle with ease and leave her a red ruin, dying in the throes of her pleasure.  It horrified her that the idea that he could do such a thing – might do such a thing if the whim took him – only made the intense pleasure more exquisite.  His thick tongue pushed deeper inside her, stinging pain lingering from the tearing of her delicate inner flesh where once she had been a virgin.  Now she truly was an orc's whore, a slut in the most base manner.  

Though the pleasure still burned in her body, and she urged him on, Lurtz only continued his deep, harsh nether kiss for a moment longer.  He then rose up and took the knife from her belly, slicing the cord that tied her other hand down, allowing her to sit up if she so desired.  Leaving her legs tied, he reached around her back to pull her close, and slid his tongue, slick with her secretions and his saliva, across her torso.  The orc was licking up the hot blood he'd spilled from her wounded breast, tasting her life, her pain.  He moved up, lapping at her skin until her stroked her nipple, the piercing catching on his teeth as he suckled hard on the soft nub and the flesh surrounding it.  He bit down, firmly enough to bruise, not quite hard enough to cut her tender flesh.  

Grabbing her leg with his other hand Lurtz yanked her into him, grinding his thick, still hard cock into her soft, pulsing sex, not entering her so much as he was grinding her into himself as he sucked on her breast and slid his hand under her taut, quivering ass.  He kept her like that for several minutes, grinding his cock into her vulnerable cunt, switching from one breast to the other, suckling cruelly on her bleeding nipple and biting the other with cruel, bruising force. 

A small drop of blood welled on Rylyn’s mouth as she watched Lurtz brutalize her breasts, brought there by her own teeth as she bit the inside of her lip to stop her sounds from reaching others.  Her grunts and sighs were soft, barely audible except to the orc that held her.  That one knew and tormented her with his knowledge, finding as much pleasure in the painful humiliation he caused her to feel as he did in the physical pain he gave her.  That she felt pleasure in that dual wounding only compounded both, turning them into a vicious cycle of need and despair.  Only her hope of death kept Rylyn from sinking into complete self-loathing.  Her wish from death after this one night of debauchery letting her give herself over to it with less guilt.

Her body burned as he rekindled the flames of her passion.  Not passion for him, but passion for the wicked, dark and painful things she wanted.  Her breasts ached from his attention, the golden ring scalding her each time he took it into his mouth, drew on the torn and tortured flesh, scouring it with his tongue as a lover without the ability to bring intense distress with such a simple act might.  Each time he did this, she whined, her back bowing.  Her fingers clutched at him, alternately digging into his muscled shoulder and arm or pulling against the sickly soft leather of his jerkin.  Her other hand had slid around his neck, behind the heavy, rough braids he wore, encouraging his torture.

Even with his attention, the painful pleasure of his lips and teeth, Rylyn wanted more.  The liquid slide of his hard length against her hot flower had her squirming, wanting him inside of her.  She had waited so very long for what he was holding back from her.  Now that the barrier of her maidenhead was gone, she wanted it.  No, she needed it.  She needed him inside of her.  All of him.  She knew it would hurt, would be an agony unparalleled in her life to this point and still she wanted it.  That he would tear her was almost certain.  He would tear her and leave her injured and bleeding, maybe even dying if he was too rough, his size and strength ripping her body open.  The thought that he could do it accidentally, that he might do it purposefully, made Rylyn shudder and gasp, her recently abused lower body tightening suddenly even as the dark and twisted desire sickened her.

Grasping his hair in both hands, Rylyn pulled Lurtz’s mouth from her, shuddering as his teeth caught at her nipple, pulling and then cutting her slightly as the flesh tore free.  She met his eyes boldly, unworried that she might anger him.  She was still trembling, her voice lost to her for a moment still after she had his attention.  She dropped one hand from his hair, his braids falling over his shoulder against her even as she brushed her own dark, bloody hair back behind her ear in a strangely innocent and provocative gesture.  “Do not think to make me ask you for what you are going to take, Orc.”  Gathering up his locks she pulled them back again, not to hurt, but simply to see his face better, unwittingly revealing the curve and faint point of the ear she’d exposed, betraying a heritage not fully of the race she claimed.  “I am not so weak and easily broken as that.  I have given myself to you, but I will not beg for this.  Death perhaps, but not this.”

Sliding his hand from the curve of her derrière up her back, then grasping the back of her neck, he clamped down tight, his strength overwhelming.  His massive hand wrapped around the lower part of her skull, as well as her neck and he leaned close, his lips crimson with her blood.  “Oh no?”  He slid his other hand down to her lower back and pulled away a little, and then scooped her up, pulling her legs tight in the bonds and yanking her head back, bowing her across the rock again.  “You will beg for it, or you will get it elsewhere, orc-mate.”  He snarled at her and then pressed the tip of his sex against her body....but not her soft, wet, hot flower.  

No, the bulbous, huge, slick head of his cock pressed tight against another opening.  He shifted his grip to her neck and chest, holding her down.  Her hands were free, but the knife was discarded, sticking out of the ground next to his leg within his easy reach – not hers, held down as she was.  “You'll beg, for my seed in your hole, or you'll get a new hole, horse-woman.”  He growled at her, teeth bared in a threatening grin.  He leaned into her, pushing the tight opening with the blunt rod of his maleness, making her feel how tight she was, how much resistance was there.  “You'd be a catamite better suited to the horses you ride or the dogs that pick at your scraps....”  Lurtz leaned close, pushing harder, making her tight rosette twitch as he rubbed her there.  “...elf-child slut...” he whispered in a heated, grinning hiss of threat.  

“Saruman would have a use for your blood....maybe he'd make something of you other than an orc...” he continued, his other hand digging sharp nails into the soft curve of her buttock as he held her trapped against the rock, his hand on her throat making it impossible for her to do more than wriggle; she could easily scratch him, grip his arms, but escape was impossible.  He pushed just a little more, and she felt her tight opening start to spread, the moist kiss of his cock-head along her tight opening a terrifying, monstrous threat.  “Beg, or you get this....” His cock pulsed, throbbed against the tightness of her forbidden places.  “....with nothing to ease the passage!”

He was going to do it anyway, whether she begged or not.  She could beg, plead with him, promise him anything and everything he desired and still he was going to take her like this.  He had not said that she would be safe from this if she begged; only that she was surely not if she failed to beg.  Her certainty that Lurtz would take her entreaties, enjoy every fervent utterance, then enjoy her tears just as fully while he proved himself as monstrous and lacking in honor as she knew him to be, held her tongue through her terror.  There was no desire for this, there would be no pleasure in this for the shield-maiden, twisted or otherwise, but maybe in the pain there would be some redemption.

The eyes that looked at him were the color of the new grass that covered the wide plains of Rohan early in the spring, just after the winter snows melted and before the sun baked them to a tired gold.  Unlike those fresh and tender blades, her eyes held no hope for a future where all would not be burned away and made dull and harsh.  The child of a mother that passed away at her birth and left to the protection of a father that knew she was not his, she’d never had a chance at naivety.  Her heritage had been hidden from all others, but her father had known and had been tormented by the proof of his wife’s betrayal.  His torment had been hers, visited upon her in the dark hours, and it showed now as Rylyn looked into those bright xanthous eyes.

“I do not want this, but I will not beg.”  She never had.  Not for love, not for mercy, not for attention, not when she had been told to leave the only home she’d known with no where else to go.  She had survived that, she would survive this.  Or she would die.  Panic was rising to the surface, her terror of the pain that was to come so strong that she shook with it, her voice betraying her trembling even had he not been able to feel it.  “Tears, screams, pain and blood are yours… even my life is yours to take.  But what you demand is mine to give.”

Rather than growl, or roar, or simply strike her, Lurtz laughed at her.  Laughed that grating, hoarse laughter, quieter than the others but by far more cruel and hateful.  “Oh yes, it is yours to give.  But you are no good at deception, horse-lord's slut....”  He leaned into her, pushed the head of his thick, twisted sex into the tight, unready opening, only the attention she'd plied it with moments before making the passage any easier at all.  “Lie to yourself if you like, but this is what you want!”  He pushed deeper, making her body accept the intrusion.  The pain was intense and he held her to him, using his hand at her backside and the ropes that held her legs far apart to his advantage.  His other hand grasped her hair, yanking her head back so he could lave her throat with his tongue, tasting the sweat, pain and fear in her.  

She was tight – so very tight – and Lurtz enjoyed the slow, brutal opening of her darker passage.  But her half-breed status made her more resilient.  As painful and terrible as it was, she did not tear – at least, not much in comparison to the weak flesh of Men.  Even as she resisted, her body accepted and he growled at her, amused by the fact she could take so much so easily.  “Even your body betrays how much you want this, whore-child!”  His harsh, guttural whisper, the white pain gleaming in the firelight, the hideous, brutal strength of him....he pushed deeper and she felt him actually inside her now, her derriere aching as he made her forbidden places open to his desire.  Lurtz force her to take him and he howled as she clamped down, her body's attempt to reject the massive intruder only pleasuring him.

Whimpers and grunts as Lurtz's massive sex pushed her virgin, velvet passage open turned to tears and screams as the Uruk-Hai pushed deeper. Even in her agony Rylyn's senses were not closed to her. She felt the ripping torment of his intrusion, made worse by her own body's instinctive reaction, but she also felt the rasping sensation of his tongue against her skin, the grip of his fingers, the hardness of his arms beneath her hands as she clutched at him.  She was also aware of the lustful grunts of the creature, his low growls of pleasure in her body.  Overlying it all was her awareness and perverse appreciation of the sheer size and strength of her rapist.  Her enjoyment of this even as Lurtz hurt her only made her sob harder and struggle.

Distantly she heard the growling laughter and voices of others, but the pain was too great for it to have more than a background importance.  The ache and burn in her back opening took up all of Rylyn's world that was not already filled by the beast man that claimed her.  Then even that minor cognizance was washed away and there was nothing except pain, searing and tearing torture, as her new master shoved deeper, ignoring her resistance as he buried his monstrous shaft inside of her.  The screams of the girl - for she was really no more than this despite her lack of true innocence - filled the darkness of the night, echoing against the hills and through the valleys that surrounded the Orc camp.  Dragging her intently toward him so that her knees bent slightly, Lurtz settled his groin against Rylyn's buttocks, his dark, mottled flesh hot against the pale, bruised and scraped skin of the shield-maiden.

Kneeling on the rock, Lurtz yanked her up so that Rylyn sat on his lap, drawing another gasping scream as he shifted violently inside of her pulling at her insides where she was impaled on his cock. Her scream was cut off suddenly, muffled by Lurtz's mouth closing over hers.  She pushed against him, desperate to escape the Orc’s kiss, causing herself even more harm as sharp teeth scraped and filled their mouths with the copperish taste of her blood.

Trapped on his lap as she was, her ineffectual struggles to push him away only amused him further, and  he leaned into her, his hard, muscular chest sliding along her firm breasts, leaving a dark red smear along his chest as her wounded nipple was crushed against his body.  His massive hands gripped her buttocks and hips tightly, almost large enough to grip both thigh and buttock at once.  Lutz's nails dug into her skin as she screamed and pushed at him, the pain of his rape agonizing; she felt herself being pulled from within as he lifted her, his lips breaking the kiss as he did so, his laughter cruel and deep....then he was deep inside her again, having only pulled out of her part way, and his fangs and lips were pressed tight to hers, eager to taste the blood she offered him involuntarily. 

When she turned her head he laughed at her and grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her mouth open and shoving his thick, hot tongue into the dark soul kiss, sharing the taste of her blood with her.  She couldn't bite down; his grip was simply too strong.  He rocked his hips, making her feel how deep he was in her, how hard thick his sex was as he moved just a little inside her tight, torn passage.  Lurtz kept the kiss for some time, tasting her sweet elven-tainted flesh, and pulled away only she had started to see stars from the near choking kiss.  His hand moved back down to her hip and he pulled himself entirely free of her tight derriere...only to force her open once again, penetrating her to his thick hilt.  

Her shrieks made Lurtz want her that much more, and he growled at her softly as she struggled to take a breath after his too-deep thrust.  “You'll make fine children for me.”  The look in her eyes was wonderful; nothing could have been more horrifying to her than that simple truth, and her pain and despair gave Lurtz as much pleasure as the feel of her body tightening in pleasure around him.  “And you still want my cock, you elven slut, even now!”

“No.. no… I’ll kill myself first.”  Much to Rylyn’s anguish, she knew her denial was a lie.  The beast’s intent to force her to carry his child was repellent in that it would mean remaining with him, being his to do with as he pleased for months, perhaps years.  Yet at the same time the idea of having her wicked lusts sated again and again, the very fulfillment of her fantasies, brought with it a burst of pleasure that made her body tight with sudden need.  Even his lifting her, drawing almost free of her again before shoving his entire length inside of her bruised and bleeding opening was not enough to completely blot out the desire she had for the abomination that had claimed her.  Her high-pitched yelp faded to whining as she struggled against his hold on her, her sobbing as much from her horror at the sensation of his hard body pressing her legs wide, the feel of him between her thighs as he moved against her.

Hands that had pushed at him moments ago grabbed at the thick leather of his clothing, fingers clutching at the bulging muscles of his arms and shoulders as Lurtz began moving inside of her in truth.  No longer pausing to torment her, he held her hips tightly and thrust inside of her.  She cried out with each thrust, her tears flowing down her cheeks with the agony of his repeated intrusions.  Even in her misery, she felt a twisted sort of pleasure, the pressure, the pull of him inside of her touching her in ways she’d never been touched, exciting her in spite of the pain.  Each hard shove pressed her against him, her soft flower pressed against the flat plane of the Orc’s belly, leaving him slick with her juice as a new ache began to war for dominance inside of her. Ashamed that she could not control the reaction of her body, afraid that the sting and tearing were as much the reason for her lust as for her whimpers and sobbing, Rylyn hung her head, hiding her face against Lurtz’s broad chest.  Hiding not just from her humiliation at being used, raped by an Orc, but from her wants and desires that had in a matter of a few hours begun to center on this hateful beast.

Lurtz used her – there was no love, only pure lust – hard for several eternal minutes, each deep, painful thrust a shocking jolt of twisted pleasure.  He paused and reached down, and then cut the two things that had held her legs open and wide for him, freeing her from her bondage to the altar where he'd taken her and nearly made her a woman.  Not yet – she was still a virgin, though now far less innocent than she had ever been before.  He freed her, but then he as on top of her, her wrists pinned under his hands, held down as he yanked his flesh from hers, and forced it back inside her body, again and again, his pelvis inflicting hard, jolting shocks to her soft flower. 

As she sobbed under him he grunted eagerly, animalistically....and then he roared, his shaft pulsing so hard she could feel each throb, each swell of him as he spilled himself in her darker passage.  He kept her pinned down, looking down at her, face flecked with her own blood from the monstrous kisses they'd shared.  His roar was accompanied by howls and other roars as he made her his in that forbidden manner.  He leaned close, her breasts brushed by his leathers and his chest, a singing flare of pain from her wounded nipple, reminding her how he'd 'married' her.  “You won't let yourself die, orc-wife....”  His deep, inhuman voice grated on her ears and tore at her heart, because she knew it was true, just as he did  No, this slut was his forever.  She could never go back to the world of Men....she would find no pleasure there.  

He yanked himself from her backside, spilling his seed along the altar, making her feel hot and torn and bleeding though in truth she was only a little wounded, despite the agonizing pain.  Lurtz growled at her, and bit her breast, the unpierced one, savagely, marking her with his teeth in a wide oblong along the softness of her firm breast, heedless of the agonizing pain it caused her.  What was far more important to him, as he held her down, is that the pain would make her clench....which meant that when he shoved his cock inside her unused, maiden's cunt she would be as tight as she could ever be.  And that made him nearly come again as he pierced her, forcing himself as deep as he could go, as hard as he could, as fast as he could in his first taking of his wife's virginity.  

Her entire body one large throbbing ache and bleeding from multiple wounds, Rylyn howled with pain and pleasure as her softest flesh was opened by Lurtz’s monstrous manhood.  The mild twinge of her maidenhead being breached earlier was nothing, completely forgotten under the sting of her hot sheath being filled completely, stretched almost to the point of tearing.  Still holding her wrist in one hand, he wrapped his fingers in the tangled darkness of her hair and yanked, forcing her head back, baring her throat as he used his weight and brute strength to hold her down, force her legs wide while he shoved his full length into her again and again.  Every thrust felt like it was tearing her inside, pushing against something painfully unmovable and she screamed with it even as she clenched around him tighter.

Her cries were suddenly silences as he bit her again, his mouth and teeth clamping over her exposed throat just hard enough to leave bruises and make it difficult to breath.  Gasping, Rylyn could do nothing more than thrash against him, against his hold, his body, his invasion and ride out the pain and pleasure of having him inside of her finally.  Almost at the point of blacking out, she stopped fighting him, only grunting softly as he used her.  It was, she realized in the gray twilit world, everything she’d ever wanted, all she’d ever dreamed of in the darkest hours of the night when she’d lain awake long after everyone else was asleep.  That realization brought a soft cry from between bloodied lips that had nothing to do with pain, her legs pressing tight against the Orc’s side as he rode her.

Then his mouth was gone and she drew a deep, wheezing breath that brought the light and the world back into sharp focus.  His hot tongue abraded her skin as he licked the tiny pinpricks caused by his teeth, making her shudder and him laugh, before he let go of his hold on her hair.  Looking up, Rylyn stared at him through eyes half-closed in pleasure, meeting the hateful yellow of his without fear.  Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his hips even as her arms went around his neck.  She could do nothing but hold on to him, there was no chance for her to respond to his brutal assault, but her desire, her need for all that he was giving her was there in her eyes.  The hand not holding her wrists moved to her breast, pinching and pulling at her wounded flesh, making her arch her back into his hand and drawing gasps from her that only made the emerald flame in her eyes burn brighter when she opened them again.

In the dark night around them men and women screamed and the Uruk-Hai howled their approval at their leader’s conquest of his ‘wife’.  She didn’t care that they watched.  Not at that moment.  That they watched and they all knew that she wanted this was inconsequential to her deepest desire.  Even more important than the building heat in her loins, the tight, burning coil of ecstasy that threatened to come undone within her at any second, was her need to feel him bury himself deep inside of her, hurting her, possibly ripping her apart, as he jerked and throbbed and spilled his heat inside of her again.  She needed to feel him spray her womb with his seed, feel it fill her and seep out, painting her aching dark entrance again, have it smeared on her thighs along with her virgin’s blood.  All of this was in her eyes as she stared up at him.  She would not beg, but it was there.  Grabbing his hair, she pulled him down to her, pressing her mouth to his, unmindful of the sharp, white teeth as she kissed him and moaned into his mouth while she shuddered and her soft flesh started spasming violently, rhythmically grasping at his invading cock.

A half dozen little cuts flooded her mouth with the taste of copper and iron –  blood not only from her mouth, but from his own, his teeth just as eager to cut his flesh as hers.  He drove himself into her, her tightness becoming even more so, not merely from pain inflicted this time but from pleasure taken in her brutal, unforgiving rape.  The rippling waves of her hungry sex pulled at him, made it nearly impossible not to rip her inside out, as she started to climax, and the thought of how it would look, the beauty of her red, raw flesh being exposed, ripped open by his maleness as he fed from her mouth and throat, took her tongue with his teeth, is what brought him over once more.

Burning heat filled her to overflowing, his cock pulsing so thick inside her it pushed her insides almost as brutally as his fucking alone had done.  And he spilled, more and more, not ceasing his brutal use of her once virgin femininity as he did so...he pulled out, still spilling his seed, painting the soft down between her legs...and then making her shriek s he planted his cock in her already plundered back passage, shouting his pleasure, growling, hot laughter at her acceptance of her new place – at least, at this moment.  

She would bear him good sons, Lurtz knew....and they would be more terrible, more terrifying than even the Uruk-Hai....the first of the Ogres.

~XS & Bramble