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From: hick@main.jetnet.ab.ca (KNW)
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Subject: {ASSM} A Story of the Wars - The Captive, Part 1
Date: Mon, 19 Jun 2000 05:10:03 -0400
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The following story takes place in a fantasy world, and contains adult content.
All characters are quite obviously fictional.
A Tale of the Wars - The Captive, Part 1. By KNW
After only half an hour of combat, the attack was over. Minhane sat, chained
to the rest of the surving elven defenders, watching the orcs ransack thier
homes. Now, with time to think and only the pain of a blow to the head to keep
him occupied, he began to notice there was more than one sex of orc involved in
the attack.
He recognized the hulking, deep-green skinned male orcs, he'd fought and beat
many in his time, but there were a cadre of females with better armour and
apparently better fighting skills. He'd fought one to a standstill before a
blow to the back of his head took him out of the battle. Now, seated with the
rest of the male prisoners, he began to seek out the one he went toe-to-toe
with.
Leading a trio of other females, all clad in chainmail, leather, and
face-covering helms, she came up to the group, and began to look the prisoners
over. Roughly handling them to check for injuries, she paused at him. Though
the slit in her helm, he saw a pair of red eyes peering back at him. She
nodded, and he was unchained from the rest, only to be fitted with leg shackles
and manacles. At the end of a few feet of chain, she lead him away from the
rest.
'Lords,' he thought, 'what is to become of me? A slave in some mine? Food
for some beastial captain?' His mind raced.
He looked back, and saw the women of the tree-top village being led away
single-file in chains.
Minhane felt a coal of anger burn in his chest. Orcs wern't known for
keeping female prisoners alive for very long...
Minhane was thoroughly confused now. He'd been washed (rather roughly), fed,
some shaman had performed a ritual over him, and now his hands and feet had
been shackled to a wrought-iron bed inside one of the many tents the orc army
had set up. He was mildly thankful for the scratchy fur blanket that covered
him, but was beginning to worry about his immediate fate. 'Did the orcs not
capture enough female prisoners?' he thought to himself, and began to become
truly fearful. Better to have died to an orc than to wind up being sodomized
to death by one.
His fear came to a peak when someone came to the tent and barked out orders
to someone in the rough, gutteral tones of the orcish language. He saw the
sillouettes of two burly orcs take posiiton to either side of the tent flap,
and in came the same female who had chosen him.
In an almost ritual fashion, she hung her sword and lay her shield beside her
bed on an oaken stand. She stood over him, running thick, gloved hands over
his body, still covered by the fur blanket. A musky scent entered the tent,
and Minhane became strangely aroused.
She removed her helm and revealed a finely angled face the colour of jade. A
pair of half-inch long tusks protruded from full, deep green lips. She reached
behind her head and unfastened a clasp, allowing luxurious copper curls to fall
around her shoulders. Her face bore a pattern of tatoos: A red strip over the
brows, a red 'v' centered above them. Twin white 'v's beneath her eyes, and a
red stripe from bottom lip to base of chin. They gave her face a wicked look.
"No what you expected, eh, elf?" She spoke good Elven words, even if the
grammer wasn't perfect.
Minhane was speachless. She undid four small straps on her sides, and
removed the chainmail. The muscles in her shoulders rippled as she moved, and
she hung the mail on the headboard. An earth-toned tunic of sack-cloth
strained to confine breasts the elf hadn't imagined could exist.
To an elf, slender was the norm, and most elven females while curvy and fine
of feature, could never attain such voluptious proportions. It was then he
realized she was over a head and a half taller than he.
She pulled the tunic off, and tossed it aside. Her body was like chisled
jade with a few deep green lines showing where her mail had not turned blows
away, and a few of the coarse, tribal tatoos orcs were wont to wear. Black
patterns interwove themselves upon her abdomen, a simpler pattern like that on
her face was borne upon her left shoulder, and again upon her right breast. A
few smaller, less ornate decorations appeared on her hips and forarms. A
giantess of painted jade.
She was very large to the elf. He wondered if he could even reach his hands
around her waist, while knowing he could never manage her rounded hips. More
coppery curls appeared below her navel, and the orc smiled, watching Minhane's
eyes travel about her body.
He struggled for words. Here, a member of a race he despised stood almost
naked to him. He recalled the friends and family lost to the endless clashes
between orc and elf. This latest conflict was turning out to be the strangest
of them all.
"I am Luthiv," she said, hands on hips, "and you, elf, are mine." She drew
back the blanket and looked over his naked form.
Minhane did a double take when he glanced towards his feet. Where his elven
penis had been, a specimen over twice the size now stood, thick and pointing to
the roof of the tent. When last he'd seen himself, he was the typical four
inch elven male (which seemed to suit his lifemate just fine), but now.. now a
member as thick as his wrist bulged and twitched with every beat of his heart.
"Old Tarvag doing good work," she pointed out, lightly caressing the bulging
head, "I would have pay him back in kind, had he not lost his meat to dwarven
axe those many year ago." She wore a smirk, and other than her boots, gloves
and tatoos, that was all she wore.
She straddled his chest, bringing herself near his face. Through copper
curls he saw a pussy he thought he could fall into.
"We're build big, elf," she said, grabbing the wrought iron headboard with
both hands and placing her crotch directly upon his face, "you should see what
OUR normal male have." She began to rub herself lightly on his lips.
"We hear you elves be great lovers. Prove me this, elf." His heart raced as
a confusing amount of emotions raced about his head. Should he remain still,
should he give in and stoke her fire, or should he fight back and bite her.
The motion of her lips across his, combined with her musky scent and that
damnable shaman seemed to take hold of his senses, and he succummed.
With a practiced touch, his tongue found her. Orcflesh was coarse, but
supple, and while she may not have tasted like the honeydew his lifemate was,
the spell upon him and he could not turn back. A flick here, a long, light
stoke there, and she was soon breathing heavily and gasping with every touch.
Her hands held tight to the railing and her back arched as she screamed out.
The guards ran in and instead of seeing the elf trying to kill her, they
watched as Luthiv thrashed, gasping and shrieking her way through an intense
orgasm. Minhane's eyes were tightly shut, fearing her wracking motions would
cause her to accidentally kill him.
She almost passed out there, and if not for the sudden breeze that passed
thru the tent, she would never have guessed that anyone had come in. Her eyes
rolled in her head, and as she turned and vaguely recognized the guards, she
snarled out a curse Minhane did not know. The guards nearly tripped over each
other trying to leave the tent.
Luthiv took a few deep breaths and regained her senses. She picked herself
up and moved down his body a bit. On her hands and knees, her blood red eyes
looked into his pale blues, and still somewhat breathless she said this: "You..
elf.. I shall keep you forever.."
"I look back on my captivity with mixed emotions...
Yes, she was orc, she should have been my greatest enemy
but bewitched as I was, there was nothing I could do to
break from her."
Minhane Skysinger, 'Of my Captivity'
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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