From uwm.edu!caen!news.cs.indiana.edu!ux1.cso.uiuc.edu!maverick.ksu.ksu.edu!umriscc!mcs213k.cs.umr.edu!asparrow Wed May 22 23:00:47 CDT 1991


        The throne room was crowded with dignitaries and nobles.  They covered
most of the stone floor of the room and pressed at the foot of the fur covered
dais.  The crowd talked and gossiped among themselves.  Much had happened in
the empire since the last Anniversary Celebration.  The elven kingdom had been
crushed and its queen taken as a slave. Twenty of the highest officials had
been sold to various rulers for pot girls.  A bare handful of elves had
escaped and was rumored to be hiding in the Pixie Wood.  The last rebels of
the Northern Desert had been crushed.  The Dark Lord's dominion now
encompassed all but a few hundred square leagues of the continent.
        Slowly the great double doors at the end of the room swung open.  The
Dark Lord stood in the doorway, flanked by his advisor and sister, Zara.  He
strode down the long carpet, a short cape billowing behind him, with more
magnificence in his stride than any in the room had ever seen.  Zara, in a
long black dress tailored to match his apparel, followed him to the dais.  All
bowed or curtsied as the pair passed them.
        The Dark Lord reached the end of the carpet and mounted the dais. 
Turning to face his subjects, he seated himself in the concealing shadows of
his throne.  Zara stood to one side.  At a gesture, the dignitaries rose.  A
few mumbled words caused a quill, a long parchment, and an ink bottle to float
in front of Zara.
        One by one the visitors approached the dais and presented their yearly
tribute.  The plains provinces gave grain and slaves, male and female.  The
males would be put to forced labor on the roads, on the farms or in the trade
galleys.  The female slaves were sent to the castle's waiting room, pending
their examination by the Dark Lord.  The grain was presented by voucher.  A
certain amount was stored in the Dark Lord's granaries for use of the palace,
the troops in the field, or the peasants themselves, if necessary.
        The forest rulers told of timber, pelts, and other resources that but
awaited the Dark Lord's word.  Several bales of fur were given as a token of
the riches that were his to command.  Zara made the notes of location and
amount pledged on the parchment.
        The ShetaRra chieftains were there in their full desert regalia.  They
pledged eternal fealty and presented the company of five of their warriors who
would guard the harem for the coming year.  The nobles, soft and citified,
gave the ShetaRra wide berth.  They knew why the last desert rebellions had
been crushed.  With this tribe of fierce men and fiercer women as allies, the
Dark Lord was unstoppable in the northern sands.
        The Dark Lord sat boredly through the proceedings.  It was interesting
to see what he was getting, but tons of wheat and logs of wood bored him.  The
furs had been of good quality--his troops would be warm this winter--but of
only slight interest.  He wished he were out leading a few of those troops. 
The problem with acquiring an empire is the running of it afterward, he
thought.  The wood and grain were vital, but of less interest than the gold
and jewels.  His mind wandered and he remembered that he was planning to
commission a necklace of emeralds for Zara's birthday.  He had no difficulty
remembering the date, seeing as how it was his also.  They would be beautiful
with her green eyes.  There would be dwarves on the grounds for several days,
he could have it done immediately.
        The Dark Lord looked up from his planning to see an orcish chief
approaching with twenty soldiers.  Urfchet was a loyal soldier and he trained
his subjects the same way.  The orcs marched in seven columns of three with
Urfchet out in front.  The Dark Lord was startled: the tribute was twenty, not
twenty-one.
        "Mighty One," the chief began, "my people have always been loyal to you
and your cause.  A fortnight past, the Great Grumpch appeared to me in a dream
and told me that you were his chosen and my people and I must serve you even
better than before.  You have eliminated our enemies and given us much spoil. 
Our lives are yours.  Also, I was told to give of my family, my only daughter,
the light of my life, that you may know our sincerity in this.  Gretch, come
forward!"
        From the midst of the soldiers stepped an orcish maiden, dressed in her
finest blood-red feast clothes.  By her people's standards, she was a beauty. 
Her ears pointed up and had the slight, bristly tufts on the ends that were
found so attractive.  Her snout had just the right tilt and the pinkish end
was moist, a sign of excellent health.  Her small tusks were a lovely yellow
and curved up from her lower jaw.  She was round and brawny, a perfect figure,
with low slung breasts and wide hips.  Her talons were a healthy black and
nicely pointed.  All in all, she was the best looking orc wench in the tribe.
        Gretch dropped a perfect curtsey to the Dark Lord, and smiled a toothy
smile.  Inwardly, the Dark Lord groaned.  He had expected something like this,
especially since he had passed over the orcs in the annual beauty contest. 
This meant he would have to bed the repulsive female that stood, bobbing and
smiling at the foot of the dais.  He began to scheme, thinking of how to get
rid of her gently with no offended feelings anywhere.  He knew the orcs would
not stand for having Grumpch's will flouted, even by his chosen one.
        Forcing a smile, he nodded his approval.  "I accept her without the
preliminaries.  I am honored that you would bestow such a beautiful female on
me," he told her father.  Urfchet beamed with pleasure.  "For now, it is long
past the zenith, and the meal will be getting cold.  You are all dismissed to
the dining hall.  I will join you shortly."
        The Dark Lord rose and descended from the dais, Zara in his wake. 
Offering his arm to Gretch, and holding down his gorge by force of will, he
escorted the orc princess out of his throne room.  Zara and the five new
ShetaRra trailed him.  The guests left after the eight had vanished around the
corner.
        The Dark Lord led Gretch to the harem.  The two ShetaRra on duty
immediately snapped to attention and opened the door.  After the Dark Lord,
Zara and Gretch had passed through the portal, they set about greeting and
instructing the new guards.
        The eunuch was surprised that his master would make a surprise
inspection, especially on the tribute day.  He called the girls to attention,
breaking up Phyllia's reading lesson, and Verca and Elna's composing.  Lucy
and Phaedra had been rehearsing for the banquet, accompanied by Prisca and
Vanessa.  They had been in the middle of a complicated balance and the
eunuch's clap caught them by surprise.  They tumbled into an ungraceful heap
on the cold marble.  The Dark Lord chuckled as the pair disentangled
themselves and joined the line.
        "Lem," announced the Dark Lord, "this is Gretch.  She'll be here for a
time.  I want her sent to me in two weeks.  Until then, she is to stay here."
        "Yes, Master," Lem responded.  "I have a collar in the alcove if you
need it."
        "No, I'll collar her later tonight.  She is a special gift and I want
her well taken care of."  The Dark Lord pulled the eunuch aside and hissed,
"See to it that she's bathed immediately and depilated shortly thereafter. 
And give her a dose of the herbal sludge, I don't want a half-orc bastard."
        "Yes, Master.  I will also give her a full examination.  I've heard
about orcish females."
        "Very well, then, take good care of my present," the Dark Lord called as
he turned to go.  "And Lucy, flex your knees, it might make that lovely
balance easier."
        "Yes, Master," she said, blushing furiously.
        Gretch looked around the harem in wonder.  It was so white and clean it
made her uncomfortable.  The other girls looked afraid of her and she wondered
why.  They were soft and vulnerable, now that she thought about it.  They
would freeze if they went outside.  The hair on their bodies was concentrated
into one small triangle plus a healthy growth on their heads.  They were ugly,
naked creatures, deathly pale and weak looking, she thought.
        The funny little man in the gray robe and sandals walked over to her. 
"Welcome to the master's harem, Gretch.  I am Lem, the eunuch in charge. 
Please come with me."  He led her to a curtained off alcove under the balcony
and the stairs.  The other girls breathed a sigh of relief.  Gold-lily peered
out from behind Rhea's broad figure.
        Inside the alcove, the eunuch looked at the orc.  "Take off your
clothing, you won't need it here.  I'll put it in a safe chest so that you can
have it back, if you ever leave."  Gretch stripped reluctantly.  The clothes
were new.  They had been made especially for her presentation to the Chosen
One.  The eunuch unlocked a large iron trunk that he pulled from a recess in
the side of the alcove.  Taking a scrap of parchment, he wrote "Gretch" on it
and pinned it to the clothing with her brooch so that she would get it back. 
He folded her clothing and set it aside.  It would be washed before it was
packed.
        "Now for a bath.  You must be rather dusty after your trip here.  Go
back out to the main room and ask for Rhea.  She can take care of your bath." 
Lem handed her a crockery jar.  "Give this to Rhea, she'll know how to use it. 
After your bath, come back here to me.  I need to ask you some questions and
look over your body to learn what is normal for your health."
        After the door had swung shut, and she was out of range of the ShetaRra,
Zara asked, "What prompted you to take her?  Have you gone completely mad? 
Don't you know that orc bitches have teeth?"
        "Zara, one doesn't flout the will of Grumpch in front of his most
fanatical followers.  Besides they are the best soldiers I have, surely I can
tolerate one night with a woman of their people, whom, I might add, they have
freely given me.  I am not enthusiastic about the prospect either."
        "Didn't you hear me?  Orc females have teeth."
        "So do you, my dear sister.  It didn't stop me in your case.  I prefer
my women to have teeth, it makes it easier for them to eat."
        "Not ordinary teeth.  To be completely crude about it-"
        "I wish you wouldn't.  Not that it shocks me, I just don't find it
appealing from you."
        "You're still thinking about being called 'the Chosen One of Grumpch'
aren't you?  You haven't heard a word I've been saying."
        "I've heard.  But if you're going to hand me the story about the rape-
proof orcish woman, I've heard it from Balkar.  I personally think it is a
fairy tale.  Now smile, we have guests to impress."
        Gretch took the crock carefully and left the alcove.  She was
embarrassed to be naked, but the other girls were refusing to look at her. 
She walked over to a pair of blondes who looked alike.  "Who is Rhea?" she
asked.
        "Rhea is the brown haired one over there, the big one," said one of the
blondes, pointing to a pair of brunettes laboring over a clay tablet.  A tiny
blonde sat nearby.  She looked different from the others to Gretch.  There was
something strange about her.
        Gretch went to the trio sitting by the wall with the tablet.  As she
neared, she saw what was wrong with the little blonde--she was an elf, the
natural enemy of Gretch's people.  No one had told her that the Chosen One
mated with elves!  Instinctively, she snarled.  Rhea and Gold-lily sensed
danger and looked up.  Phyllia, struggling with her reading, did not.
        Rhea quickly rose and went to Gretch before the situation could become
heated.  "I am Rhea.  The eunuch sent you out to me?"
        Gretch nodded and handed her the crock.  "He said you would know what to
do with this."  Rhea opened the crock and smelled the contents.  She shook her
head.
        "I suppose you need a bath," she said, not hopefully.
        "The eunuch said so, but I don't think I do.  I had one a fortnight
ago."
        "We bathe everyday here.  It may be a little cold right now, but you'll
get used to it."
        "Is it healthy to bathe so often?  It washes off protective coatings
from the skin, doesn't it?" Gretch asked puzzled.
        "Our master likes us to look clean and smell fresh; right now you don't
fit either of those criteria.  Now into the fountain with you, but stay in the
lower level," Rhea snapped, a little shorter than she had intended to.  She
had never been comfortable around orcs.
        Reluctantly, the orc stepped into the fountain.  Gold-lily moved near
Morgan for protection.  It looked like a long two weeks in store for the elven
princess, Morgan thought, absently rubbing a long-healed wound from her
taming.  Rhea seemed to be abandoning the little one in favor of a new girl. 
This was routine, but unexpected in the elf's case.  Morgan smiled at Gold-
lily, assuring her of protection.
        Gretch knelt in the tepid water.  Rhea, sitting on the edge of the
fountain, handed her the pot of soapwort ointment.  After the orc had gotten
wet, she rubbed the soap over her body.  When she went under to rinse, the
water in the lower basin turned a sickly gray.  Rhea fished for the lever that
would open the drain, so that the water would not be recycled to the drinking
level at the top of the fountain.
        "When you get the soap off of you, step out of the fountain," Rhea told
her.  Gretch followed the directive.  Her skin was a grayish pink, with liver
brown mottling, Rhea saw when she left the water.  Gritting her teeth, she
began rubbing the contents of the crock the eunuch had sent over Gretch's
body.  The sharp bristles on the orc's arms and belly pricked her hands and,
by the time she had finished, they were bleeding.  She had used all of the
depilatory on Gretch, and had not even come to the armpits or legs.  She would
ask Lem to cut those before she even thought about attempting to remove the
black bristles that had been ceremonially braided into fantastic patterns.
        "Let that dry," Rhea instructed.  Gretch stood quietly, waiting, while
Rhea went to the eunuch's alcove.  She knocked gently at the wall beside it. 
Lem peered out and Rhea held up her bloody hands, rather melodramatically,
Vara thought to herself as she watched.  Lem took the injured slave girl
inside the alcove.  She returned shortly with a small earthen dish of salve.
        Gretch watched as Rhea tended her cut hands.  "Did I do that?  Your
hands are very soft, aren't they?  I'm sorry."
        "Don't worry about it.  You won't do it again.  The ointment I used will
remove the bristles so that they don't irritate our master," Rhea informed her
shortly.  "Is it dry yet?"
        Gretch nodded and a few flakes fell to the floor.  "I think it is."
        "Then back in the fountain with you.  Wash it off well, Gretch."  The
orc obeyed and soon the water in the lower basin was black with floating
bristles.  She knelt under the second tier to finish the rinsing.
        When the depilatory had been rinsed off, Gretch stepped out of the
fountain and Rhea handed her a towel.  The orc looked puzzled, so Rhea
demonstrated its use to her.  When Gretch was dry, Rhea noticed that the
fountain had stopped draining.  The grid over the drain was clogged with black
bristles.  She sighed and scraped a double handful off of it.  They could be
rinsed clean and used in hairbrushes, she thought.  The drainage resumed.
        Seeing that she was finished with her bath, and feeling horribly naked,
Gretch went back to the eunuch's alcove.  She knocked on the wall beside the
curtain as she had seen done earlier, and Lem let her in.
        "Lie down on the bed and I'll be back shortly," he said scooping up her
clothes and leaving the alcove.  Grabbing Vara and Lila, who were sitting near
the alcove, he instructed them to wash Gretch's clothes and hang them on the
weaving frame to dry.  He turned and re-entered the alcove.
        Using the standard procedure, he questioned the orc about her life's
history.  The questioning was followed by a physical examination.  Lem got as
far as her shoulders, having checked her ears, eyes, snout and teeth, before
he stuck his head out of the curtain and yelled for Rhea.
        "I thought I told you to depilate her!" he snapped.
        "I did, sir, but have you seen the bristles on her?  I salvaged a good
number, enough for four new hairbrushes.  I didn't want to try the ones I left
before they had been cut."
        "Very well," Lem grumbled, "I can see your point.  I'll take care of
them.  Go back to Phyllia."
        Lem went back to his study of Gretch.  After the external examination,
he began the internal.  He set the candle in a stand beside him, and peered
into the dark recesses of the orcish interior.  Noticing a protruding ridge an
inch or two inside, he prodded it a bit with a finger.  He pulled it back,
bleeding and cut to the bone, and saw a set of clenched teeth where the ridge
had been.  Lem stared at his hand in pain and shock, noticing the teeth-marks
on the bone, as if she would have gone through that too.  He was dreading
telling the Dark Lord.
        Poking his head back into the main room, he called for Phyllia and Rhea. 
The pair came on the run, hastened by the urgency in his voice.  He dismissed
Gretch before they arrived.  She let them in on her way out.  She had thought
it over carefully while lying on the eunuch's bed, she could not let the elf
live.  That was her next job: kill Gold-lily.
        The two girls entered the alcove to find Lem holding a bleeding finger
aloft like some mad prophet.  Rhea saw what was needed and prodded Phyllia out
of her shock.
        "Get the curved needle out of the sewing case, and the black, shiny,
flat thread," Rhea told her.  "You're going to sew him up.  What happened,
Lem?" she asked as Phyllia rummaged for the requisite objects.
        "Gretch bit me," he said, rather shocked and surprised.  "She bit me,"
he repeated as if unable to believe the reality of his wounds.
        "Why?  Did you poke a rotten tooth while checking her mouth?  Jarna bit
you for that, but not as badly."
        "No, I was done with her mouth.  I was giving her the internal check for
sores and pregnancy, even though she said she was a virgin, and I saw a ridge. 
Thinking it was the remnants of her maidenhead, I prodded it.  She bit me."
        "Vagina dentate?" she asked.  "I thought it was just a myth.  After all,
the orcs have to propagate somehow..." she trailed off.  "How far in was it?"
Rhea asked.  Phyllia had found the equipment.
        "Sterilize that needle before you even think of using it on me," the
eunuch screeched shrilly as she threaded it and prepared to sew.
        "What?" Phyllia asked.
        "Pass it through the candle flame.  Then start sewing," Lem instructed. 
Phyllia passed the needle through the candle flame.  She had tied a neat knot
in the end of the thread.  Lem, sitting on the floor, lay his hand on the seat
of his chair.  "Be careful, Phyllia.  Please, be careful," he breathed.
        Cautiously, she began to stitch the sides of the wound together.  Lem
gritted his teeth and blinked back tears.  His low threshold of pain was being
taken out past the limit.
        "You didn't answer my question, Lem," Rhea reminded him, in an effort to
take his mind off of the pain.  "How far in were the teeth?'
        "An inch, maybe two," Lem rasped through clenched teeth in the uncertain
voice of one about to cry.  "What difference does it make?"
        "That explains much.  The orcs are small enough that they fit beneath
the teeth.  From the looks of your finger, our master should be warned, and
quickly."
        "I've finished," Phyllia said, tying off the gut at the end of the
stitching.  "Now what?"
        Lem instructed her in what herbs were needed and how to prepare them. 
Rhea supervised her reading pupil carefully, her own slight knowledge of herbs
being greater than Phyllia's at this point.  She didn't want the girl
confusing duckwort and belladonna and poisoning Lem unwittingly.
        After his finger had been packed in healing paste and wrapped in a clean
cloth, Lem directed Phyllia in mixing a dose of preventative for Gretch.
        While the eunuch was busy in the alcove, Gretch began to hunt for the
elf.  She saw the little rat had taken a place beside a tall girl with short
hair.  The orc looked at Gold-lily, catching her eye.  She snarled and bared
her upper fangs.  The little coward crowded closer to the larger slave, as if
expecting her protection from the orc.  Morgan looked up and saw Gretch
approaching.  She moved quickly, placing herself between Gold-lily and the
orc.
        "Gold-lily has asked me to protect her.  If you value your ugly hide,
you will leave her alone.  If you try to hurt her, I will make you wish you
hadn't even thought about it.  Now leave us alone, pig-face,"  Morgan informed
Gretch harshly.  When the orc had backed down, she turned to Gold-lily and
reminded her, "You owe me your silver bracelet for this."
        "For your protection for as long as it's needed," Gold-lily responded. 
"If you have to fight her, I'll add in my beryl ensemble as we agreed."



        Finally, the Dark Lord could put it off no longer.  He had to do
something about Gretch.  Lem had warned him about the teeth, but he still had
to do something.  General Gnash had no mate, he remembered, also noting that
Gnash and Urfchet's peoples were hereditary enemies.  That could be to his
benefit.  The rivalries between orc tribes could boil over now that there was
no common enemy.  Urfchet would be loathe to attack Gnash's people for fear of
harming Gretch and Gnash would not dare to attack Urfchet for fear of the
treatment he would receive at home.  Even the Dark Lord didn't want to cross
the family loyalties of the orc tribes, especially when a female's wrath was
involved.
        He drew up the summons for General Gnash to appear in his court as soon
as feasible.  There was a brief peace and he wanted this done before he
decided to finish conquering the continent.  From Lem's reports, Gold-lily was
in danger and the other girls were beginning to become ill.  Gretch was having
a decidedly bad effect on the morale of his slave girls; even Elna, bred for
pleasure though she was, was having difficulty responding to him.  It was time
to summon the orcish maiden.
        Leaving the study, after giving a messenger the summons for General
Gnash, the Dark Lord went to the harem.  The girls knelt, beautifully, but all
looking upset to some degree.  Lem came out of the alcove, the bandage still
on his finger.
        After a brief inspection, the Dark Lord turned to Lem.  "I want Gretch
for tonight.  After that she is to be lodged in the room in the West Tower." 
The other slave girls looked as if a death sentence had been halted.  "Her
clothes are to be returned to her, and I will remove her collar.  Do this when
I return her."
        "But, Master,.." Lem began.
        "No 'buts'.  Do it," the Dark Lord commanded, snapping his fingers for
Gretch to follow him.
        The orc heeled him from the room and up to his bed chamber at the top of
his tower.  Even the hounds displayed more than their average ferocity towards
Gretch.  She snarled right back at them.  It was clear that this female
brought out the worst in everyone around her.
        When they were alone in his chamber, the Dark Lord sat heavily in the
plush chair behind his carved desk.  Gretch knelt in the required position. 
The Dark Lord had seen men and women killed in more bloody ways than he could
name.  He had tortured his own brother-in-law to death.  He had seen cruelty
and terror in forms that had no name.  Even so, his stomach did a slow roll at
the sight of the kneeling female orc who awaited his attention.
        "Gretch," he began, rather slowly, not wanting to hurt her feelings in
any way that she might bear a grudge for, "you can put your knees together and
bring your arms around the front of your body."
        "Yes, Master," she replied and obeyed.
        "Gretch, look at me.  What I'm going to say might hurt your feelings,
but I have to let you know.  I won't be using you.  I'm going to give you to
General Gnash.  I'm sorry.  I just cannot bring myself to use you.  By orcish
standards, you are beautiful, but by human standards, which I use, you are
less than desirable."
        "Master, may I speak?" Gretch asked.  Her language had improved during
her stay in the harem.  The Dark Lord nodded.  "I have prayed to the Great
Grumpch constantly while I was here to make me worthy of the attentions of his
Chosen, but also I prayed to find you attractive.  You are less than desirable
by orcish standards, my Master.  You are too pale, and your skin is too soft. 
Your nose is too small and does not tilt right and you have no tusks.  Your
teeth are small, weak things compared to orc teeth.  I knew that among the
type of females you favored I would have no place.  I am glad you are giving
me to General Gnash.  I have seen him and he is very handsome.  Forgive me for
my boldness, Master."  Gretch bowed her head expecting punishment for her
words.
        "Gretch, come to me," the Dark Lord said softly.  She looked up but his
face was unreadable.  Gretch stood and walked over to his chair.  He reached
out and drew her into an embrace.  "You are lovely by your people's
standards."  Steeling himself, he kissed her gently on the lips, avoiding her
snout as best he could.
        The Dark Lord released the orc and rummaged through the top drawer of
his desk.  Finding a small knife and a ring of keys, he scraped the sealing
wax off of the lock on her collar and unlocked it.  "You are free.  I will
take you to your new quarters."
        "Thank you, Master," she whispered, as he stood to take her back to the
harem to retrieve her belongings.

_______________________________________ 
This is a piece that occurs after the Elven War, which is what the
whole first 15 chapters is gearing up for.  Since I am still rewriting  
chapter 13, it may be a while before gretch gets written in.  My
thanks to Kimberly Truax-Greenberg for her piece "Shoushaleth's love"
which inspired the description of Gretch.  There is another version
of Gretch that got eaten by the computer in which Lem was less
effecient and the Dark Lord paid the price...(heh, heh, heh)
Since my collaborator disliked that piece intently (after all, it
was his wang) I never bothered to reconstruct it.       

Slave of Matth
  Formerly Angel the Succubus


