Illustration by Guppo13

CAPTURED BY THE ORC

Chapter Six: Homecoming

 

The next morning Dalthu was strangely reserved. He re-wrapped Samson’s ankle and assisted him onto the back of their wolf, but otherwise did not touch him more than he had to. It made Samson anxious. 

 

The last night’s adventure had shaken him to his core. He couldn’t stop thinking about the things Dalthu had done to him and the overwhelming pleasure he’d experienced. It was unlike anything he’d ever known. Just thinking about it was causing him to shift restlessly in his seat.

 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Dalthu’s voice rumbled against his back, and, to his horror, Samson found his body responding to it.

 

“No,” Samson tugged at his tunic to hide his growing erection.

 

Dalthu crooked a finger under Samson’s chin and tilted his head to face him.

 

We’re so close . . . I can feel the warmth coming off of his body . . .

 

“Samson. Tell me.”

 

“Hmph,” Samson jerked out of the orc’s grasp. Hearing the orc say his name caused a strange pang in his heart that made him feel uneasy. He glared petulantly up at bright golden eyes. “Since when are you so concerned about my thoughts and feelings?”

 

He was rewarded with a dumbfounded expression. “What?”

 

“You heard me,” Samson hissed. “First you kidnap me, then make me do all manner of dirty, nasty, perverted things, violating my mind and body, barely giving me a moment's rest, and now . . .” he sucked in a deep breath. “You refuse to touch me.”

 

Dalthu’s mouth dropped open. “. . . what?” 

 

Samson huffed. Irritation had made him bold and careless. “It’s all your fault. You taught my body to be like this and haven’t touched me all day. Now that you’ve made my body strange, you’re tired of me? Is that why—”

 

Samson paused his rant as he finally realized what he was admitting. 

 

Wait . . . what am I saying?!

 

Dalthu’s expression shifted from confusion to delight. “Goddess,” the orc’s voice was rapturous. “You are incredible.”

 

“No, wait. I–I didn’t mean . . . What I meant was—”

 

“Hush, little one,” Dalthu said, stroking Samson’s lower lip with his thumb. “I know exactly what you meant. Please forgive this stupid orc for neglecting your body. I thought perhaps, since you are human, last night had taken a toll and you needed a break. I underestimated you. Never again. From now on, I will do my best to pleasure you every moment of the day. To sate your incredible lust. Now,” he leaned in close to Samson’s ear. “How do you think I should deal with a breeder that gets aroused without permission?”

 

Dalthu’s hand slid up under Samson’s tunic, sending a shiver of pleasure running up his spine. Samson squirmed in his seat, trying to escape the orc’s molesting hands. Also trying to escape the startling sensations that were causing his hips to roll forward.

 

“I–I’m not . . . not—mm aroused . . .”

 

“Oh really? Then what is this?” And with that, Dalthu pulled Samson’s tunic up and over his head, stripping him bare in an instant. Samson’s hard cock bounced up and down, plain for all to see. With a cry, Samson clapped his hands over his member, trying to hide his shame.

 

“You fiend!” Samson spat. “You . . . animal!”

 

Dalthu barked a laugh. “You’re already hard and I haven’t even gotten started. You are the animal,” Dalthu traced an invisible path up Samson’s arm, the orc’s large fingers barely brushing his skin. “You’re starving for my touch.” 

 

Samson couldn’t hold back a whine of frustration. “Dalthu . . .”

 

“Don’t worry, little tiger,” Dalthu whispered as he threaded his fingers through Samson’s hair. “I will fill you until you beg me to stop.”

 

Dalthu tilted Samson’s head back and gently brushed his lips against him. Holding his chin firmly, the orc darted his tongue out and flicked it against Samson’s open, panting mouth. 

 

Being kissed makes me feel like my lips and my body are his. I’ve never felt so completely mesmerized before. Why . . . why does it feel so good?
 

“M–m . . . mmm,” Samson’s whole body was trembling. “Muh . . . mmo—”

 

“What are you saying?” The orc’s voice was low and heavy. Dalthu nibbled Samson’s lower lip, sending a jolt of desire coursing through his body.

 

“More,” Samson sobbed.

 

Dalthu growled a curse and pulled Samson into a punishing embrace. “Open your mouth.”

 

Samson did as he was told and opened his mouth wide, shaking in expectation. The orc chuckled and then slipped his tongue over Samson’s. Samson clenched his eyes shut and reveled in the heat invading his mouth. 

 

Dalthu’s warm tongue, deep in my mouth . . . circling and wrapping around my own.

 

It was beyond erotic. Dalthu’s tongue explored boldly, tasting him, leaving Samson swaying to their carnal dance. 

 

He’s taking me with his tongue!

 

Samson was so lost in the sensation in his mouth that he had let his hands drop from modestly covering himself. It wasn’t until Dalthu’s large hand wrapped around his shaft that he was startled out of his trance and realized how exposed they really were.

 

“Stop,” Samson panted, pushing weakly against the orc’s hard chest. “We’ll be seen.”

 

“Too late for that, little one. Look,” the orc directed Samson’s gaze to the right. “You already have an admirer.”

 

An orc riding next to them was staring unblinkingly at them. Ice gray eyes stood out against his dark green skin, which extended all the way to his prick; Samson knew this because the orc was holding it in his hand, giving it long, rough strokes while watching them.

 

Dalthu gave Samson’s cock a hard squeeze. “Does that excite you, pet?”

 

“N–no . . . I’m no—”

 

“Your mouth says no, but your body can’t lie.” Dalthu pinched Samson’s nipple with his other hand. Samson stifled a shriek. He didn’t want the peeping orc to get off on him. Samson ground his teeth, trying to stay silent as Dalthu flicked his tender nipples. “You are harder than before. How lewd.”

 

Samson whimpered and looked over at the masturbating orc. He was still watching. 

 

Dalthu growled. “Let’s give him a better look, shall we?” He pulled Samson’s legs over his own, spreading him wide open before returning to fondle his twitching dick. Dalthu ran his finger over the slit of Samson’s prick, coating it in his slick. “You’re so wet, kitten. Should I be jealous?”

 

Samson bucked his hips desperately. “N–nh…” 

 

I’m so close. 

 

“My little tiger likes to be watched. Truly, you are a perverted breeder,” Dalthu laughed. “Would you like my brothers to watch us mate?”

 

Unable to form words, Samson shook his head. Bad enough he was one orc’s plaything; would he also have to endure being bred in front of others? Like livestock? It was too humiliating. That’s what his conscious mind thought. His body had other ideas. 

 

“Oh god—” That was all he managed before the orgasm hit. It started in the pit of his belly and spread through his entire body. His fingers and toes curled as his whole body stiffened and his back arched, pushing his ass against Dalthu’s pulsing cock.

 

“The look on your face . . . I can hardly stand it . . .” Dalthu humped against his back in rhythm. 

 

Samson felt the orc’s load empty against his back, but he didn’t have the energy to care. The physical release had done its work, and the stress and exhaustion of the past few days caught up to his body in moments. He closed his eyes and passed out in Dalthu’s warm embrace. 

 

******************

 

“Samson. Wake up. We’ve arrived.”

 

Samson rubbed his eyes and looked up. In front of them was an enormous wall made of redwood timber. It stretched out on either side for about a mile.

 

The orc village.

 

A horn blast sounded and the wooden gate opened for their arrival. 

 

As they advanced, Samson prepared himself for what he’d see inside the town. He expected a primitive village filled with barbarian orcs, devoid of any color or culture. As they passed through the gate, however, his eyes widened in shock.

 

Yes, there were orcs everywhere, but they were of every size and color. Most were an earth tone, but Samson saw an orc in a dusty shade of blue and another that was a stark white. The visual impact was striking. 

 

As they paraded through the village, its inhabitants went about their lives. The sound of a blacksmith’s hammer cut through the hum of conversation and laughter. A wonderful smell of spice and meat roasting pervaded the air, and Samson felt his stomach rumble appreciatively. There were stalls selling bizarre fruits and bright colored fabrics. Samson could hear a vendor calling out about discounted weapon sheaths. 

 

They reached the center of the settlement and stopped. Dalthu dismounted his dire wolf as a brown orc with a scar over his lip stepped forward. The scarred orc took the reins from Dalthu while reaching up to pat the wolf’s head fondly. A group of orc children ran past with wooden swords, laughing. Samson was reminded of how he and his brothers used to play.

 

Dalthu was lifting Samson down from the wolf’s back when a voice called out to them.

 

“Es! Dalthu!” 

 

A massive green orc with two long black braids strode toward them. 

 

“Aka'Magosh,” the braided orc grasped Dalthu’s forearm in warm greeting. “Welcome back. I heard from Sarbub that you ran into some trolls.”

 

Dalthu chuckled. “Not just trolls,” he said, and presented the sharp teeth that had been pulled from his arm.

 

“You are blooded twice over then!” the bigger orc roared happily. “Perhaps your breeder can make a necklace of them for you.”

 

Samson twitched as attention turned to him. The braided orc eyed him up and down, and Samson felt strangely self-conscious. The orc gave a low whistle of appreciation and slapped Dalthu on the back.

 

“A handsome breeder, for sure. You certainly did not exaggerate his beauty.”

 

That caught Samson’s attention. “What—” 

 

“May I steal you for a moment?” The braided orc interrupted, turning his focus back to Dalthu. “There is a matter to discuss.”

 

Annoyance flashed across Dalthu’s face. “Can’t it wait?” he grumbled.

 

“So impatient!” the braided orc laughed, refusing to lose his good humor despite Dalthu’s obvious irritation. “After the ceremony you will be too busy to meet, so it must be now.”

 

Dalthu looked down at Samson and for a moment appeared anxious.

 

“Come, come,” the other orc seemed to notice his reticence. “He’ll be safe with the other breeders, and this will only take a moment.”

 

Dalthu huffed and turned Samson to face him. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

 

Samson nodded and the two orcs wandered off. 

 

What did he say? Dalthu spoke of me before? But how? We had never met before the orcs raided our village. And what was this ceremony he mentioned?

 

Soft crying interrupted Samson’s thoughts. He looked around for the source and saw an orc child hunched down in between two buildings. Samson gnawed his lip. Dalthu had ordered him not to move. The other orc said he’d be safe with the group. It’s not far from the group. As long as he kept them in eyesight he’d be fine. Samson made his way slowly, so as not to startle the child. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

The little orc boy glanced up at Samson and managed to babble “I–It’s b–broken—” before being overcome by tears.

 

Samson peered around the child and saw a broken wooden sword.

 

He must have been playing with the others.

 

“There, there,” Samson soothed. “It’s only a toy sword. Just ask your papa for another.”

 

The orc boy shook his head ferociously. “No! My mama made this just for me,” he picked up the wooden hilt piece and held it up to Samson. “See? It even has my name.”

 

Carved in the hilt was the name ‘Ulam’.

 

Samson was about to tell Ulam to cut his losses, but then remembered Dalthu’s story about when he’d broken something and been beaten. He looked down at the small orcling and felt a pang of guilt about leaving him to that fate. Then a thought occurred.

 

“Ulam . . .” he said slowly. “I think we may be able to fix your sword.”

 

Ulam’s big, brown doe eyes looked up hopefully. “Really?” he sniffed. “How?”

 

“Well, first we will need some tree sap—”

 

“There’s some on almost all the fence posts,” the orcling said, wiping his nose. “My friends and I like to roll it up into marbles.”

 

Samson chuckled. “My brother and I used to do that too,” he said. “We'll also need charcoal. Old charcoal, preferably.”

 

“And then you can fix my sword?”

 

Samson glanced over at the group of prisoners. They were still within eyeshot. He turned back to the anxious orcling and nodded. “I will try.”

 

The orc boy jumped to his feet and whooped. “I’ll be right back,” he shouted, and ran off into the village. 

 

Samson gave a small laugh. It seemed, at least, that orc children were the same as human ones. Samson knelt down to examine the broken toy. The sap mixed with the charcoal would create a strong bond. Strong enough to bind the cracked wood together. It should work. He hoped it would work. Truthfully, Samson didn’t think he could stand seeing the boy’s sad little face if it failed.

 

If that happens, I’ll ask Dalthu to buy one from a craft stall.

 

Samson paused. Was he now going to be asking favors of his abductor? The gods only knew what the monster would request for payment. He looked down at the toy in his hands. 

 

What am I doing? I should be looking for a means to escape, not messing around with children’s playthings! 

 

Samson threw the wooden sword to the ground with a curse. A large shadow cast over him and the surrounding patch of ground. Samson huffed and turned to face Dalthu.

 

“I stayed close to the group so you can’t be—umph!”

 

A large hand clamped painfully over his mouth and cut Samson’s words and breath short.

 

“You put on quite a show, breeder,” a voice rasped. 

 

The back of Samson’s neck prickled in fear as cold, gray eyes leered down at him. Eyes that Samson recognized.

 

The orc who watched me this morning . . .

 

The orc’s grip on his jaw tightened. “Time for a private performance.”

 

Samson gave a desperate muffled scream before being dragged between the two buildings and out of sight.

 

To Be Continued . . .