Idea living in my head rent free. This takes place at the same time as Orc Slave AND you get free world building of things you haven’t learned in the main series yet. You need zero information about that series to read this tho
A band of rogue Orcs had been terrorizing the outer villages, close to where their own village had been all those years ago. The King had sent a few knights, but the Orcs always managed to avoid them, or destroy them.
As a farmer’s daughter, you had to constantly clean up their mess.
Fields destroyed or scavenged. Farm animals stolen in the dead of night. The silo broken into and weeks worth of grain gone. Broken fences. Shattered pottery.
So, to make up for the money you lost, and the cost of rebuilding, you decided to start hunting. It wasn’t hard, until you realized that the band of Orcs were also hunting the same woods as you, and you learned that the hard way.
Searing pain filled your entire body as the metal jaws clamped around your leg. Hot blood was only trickling down since you weren’t stupid enough to try to pry it off of you yet. Your mind was hazy with pain as you tried to figure out what to do, but you didn’t have much time to think.
“We caught a live one!” a male voice boomed.
Dried grass and broken branches crunched as the heavy weight came closer to you. When the trees parted, you saw an older Orc standing there. Scars littered his face. His chest. His arms. His hooked nose had clearly been broke at one point with how it healed twisted. He was massive. Easily 7’ tall, probably taller. He was more chubby than muscular, but there was no doubt that he was strong.
“A human?” he sneered, but then sighed. “Better than nothing, I suppose.”
“Wh-what?” you whimpered as he unhooked the chain and lifted you up, trap around your leg and all.
“Shut up. Your King thought we would just lay down and die after he took our home?” he scoffed as he carried you, not caring as you whined and whimpered in pain. “Well, he was wrong. We’re not animals. We’ll fight to survive, even if it requires… unpleasant actions to be taken, and unpleasant foods to be eaten.”
Your stomach dropped. “You, you don’t mean you’re going to…” The words couldn’t push past the lump in your throat.
“Eat you? It’s not ideal, but you’re what I caught,” he muttered in obvious annoyance.
The camp was nestled deep in the trees. When the other Orcs see him carrying you, most are annoyed. Others are terrified. None of them agree you should be eaten.
“Heal it up and send it back to the village!”
“Just toss it into the woods. It can find its own way home.”
“Mahkah,” one Orc said to the Orc now settling you on a large, flat rock slab. “We aren’t eating the human.”
“It’s what I caught,” he muttered as he broke a berry between his fingers, and started outlining parts of your body. “Assuming it tastes like pork, we can get cuts of meat like-.”
“Mahkah, stop!” the other Orc snapped, grabbing your arm. “Look at the tiny thing anyway. All the fat will melt away and it’ll be little more than a morsel anyway.”
“Use the bones in bone soup. Plenty of marrow,” Mahkah grunted out as he adjusted you in his arms.
You hissed. The metal trap still too tight around your leg, digging the sharp metal points into your muscles. More blood was dripping down your calf. The argument between the two Orcs resulted in mounted voices and the one holding you, Mahkah, yanking you back against his chest.
“It’s my catch! And I think it’s a waste of our little supplies to heal the damn thing. It’s just a human.”
“My name is Y/N,” your voice trembled, unable to think of anything else.
The Orc who you thought was the leader looked down at you, then back at Mahkah. “Take Y/N to your tent. Clean and stitch it-.”
“Her,” you corrected, your voice still shaking from pain and fear.
“Her, wounds,” the Orc relented. “The sins of a King are not a mere peasant’s to bear.”
“Fine! A waste of supplies and time!” Mahkah snapped before whirling you around.
You stifled a cry.
Over the next week, Mahkah reluctantly took care of you. He stitched you up, cleaned your wounds, and fed you.
“Tiny little thing. So easy to make cry,” he grunted one day as he was changing your bandages.
“Shut up,” you snapped, hiccuping through burning tears.
Surprisingly, he chuckled.
By the end of the week, you felt dependent on Mahkah. He was all you had in the camp, after all, so maybe it wasn’t that weird. You couldn’t tell.
You started talking out loud to yourself when he was around, hoping to endear him to you. You talked about the farm, how you missed it. How it was nearly time to cut the wheat and dry the hay.
By the end of week two, all you could really say was that you had an unhealthy obsession with him.
“Mahkah, p-please don’t,” your voice warbled as he slung his quiver over his shoulders. “I don’t know what the other Orcs will do to me if you’re gone.”
“Our Leader said you were not to be eaten. You’ll be fine,” he huffed as he grabbed his bow.
“But there’s other things they could do,” the whispered words barely pushed out of you throat.
Something flashed in the older Orc’s eyes as he snapped his head up to look at you. “What? Why would you say that?”
“I-I see how some of them look at me,” the words were still whispered.
His tusks raised on his face as he snarled, stalking over to you. “How do they look at you?”
“Like they want to possess every part of me.”
“No,” the word was too hard. Too fast. Before you know it, he’s pushing you back on the furs that make up his makeshift bed. “My trap caught you. You’re mine.”
His hunting blade was suddenly pressed against your stomach, trailing up your soft belly.
“Mahkah, Mahkah no,” the words broke, tears spilling down your face as you gripped his hand, still stained with the berry juice he had used to draw those lines along your body that first day. The same way your skin was still stained.
“Shut up. I can’t, I can’t do it if you’re looking at me,” he snarled, the tip of his blade cutting your shirt. Blood blossomed under the tip of the knife.
“Mahkah, please. Please,” you sobbed, gripping his hand harder in both of your smaller ones.
He was panting, his lips parted as he stared down at you. Then, suddenly, he was on top of you, his lips crashing against yours. And you were responding in kind.
His large, calloused, scarred hands discarded your clothing while your small and admittedly calloused hands discarded his. Soon you were wedged under him, his large fingers bullying into your cunt to stretch you for him- your cunt drooling around his fingers.
“What a sweet little morsel,” he growled as he leaned down, licking the blood from the small wound on your stomach.
Your head was spinning, whimpers and moans dripping from your lips. The Orc couldn’t wait. Ripping his fingers from your cunt, he pushed his massive cock into you. Gripping your legs, he pushed them up near yours face to fold you in half. A scream ripped your throat, but you were clinging to him, hiccuping and sobbing but begging him not to stop.
Those large fingers gripped your delicate flesh, then burst the stitches he had so painstakingly sewn in your skin. Even as he was bullying your cervix with his massive cock, he dipped his head down, licking the fresh blood now trickling down your leg, pushing nearly his full weight against you.
“You taste so sweet. I bet you’d taste even better in a stew, my heart. I’d wear your pretty bones around my neck so we’d never be apart again… but that will have to wait,” he growled against your bleeding skin. “Because you’re mine now, and I won’t simply consume something as precious as you.”
Each word was punctuated by a brutal slam against your cervix, knocking the air out of you, but fuck, how you relished it. You pulsed and throbbed around him, as if trying to pull him impossibly deeper.
When he finally came inside of you, he leaned down, bracing himself on his forearms as he panted against your neck.
“You’re lucky that fat on meat is a luxury that I can’t afford,” he murmured, pressing a shockingly delicate kiss to your throat. “But a necessity on a breeder.”
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