CAPTURED BY THE ORC

Chapter Sixteen: First Time

 

Samson’s mouth opened into a silent scream as Dalthu’s cock plowed into him. 

 

I’m going to tear!

 

“Da–Dalthu! Wait!” Samson tried to squirm away, but large green hands held him tightly around the waist, preventing escape. Dalthu groaned and humped his hips forward, forcing his cockhead farther in. Samson yelped and arched his ass up as his inner walls were pushed aside, forced to accept the orc’s brutal presence. “You’re too b–big!”

 

Dalthu froze, and, for a moment, Samson hoped that the bloodlust had dissipated and the warrior had regained his sanity. He twisted around to look back at his captor’s face. The orc’s eyes were shut tight in ecstasy. “Dalthu?”

 

Silence.

 

“Dalth—GAH!” 

 

The orc’s reply was to pull his monstrous shaft back out the way it came. Samson whimpered as his muscles clamped instinctively around the orc cock, but just as the tip was about to slip out of his backside, Dalthu dropped his full weight forward, spearing Samson with one brutal punch from cocktip to pubic hair. Samson howled in shock as his ass went from empty to full; a hard, pulsating bar of flesh was deep inside him. 

 

The crowd, which just a moment before had been tensely silent, erupted. Most orcs cheered loudly while others continued to chant “Shok, Arash, Vrashaathe”. Rachelle had her arms raised to the sky, praising some invisible entity. The war chief and the white-haired elder were laughing about something. Meanwhile, Samson thought he was going to pass out. It felt like his insides were being hollowed out when Dalthu withdrew, and it knocked the breath from his lungs when he plunged back in. His vision was going blurry and his body slumped forward with each jarring thrust from the golden-eyed warrior.

 

Dalthu gripped him tightly. "Do you really have time to be thinking about anything else?" Then he buried himself back into Samson. 

 

“Aaagh,” Samson cried as the orc dick bottomed out in his ass, slamming painfully, Dalthu’s balls slapping against his. “Slow—slow down, it hurts.” 

 

Dalthu leaned over, covering Samson’s body with his large frame, and Samson felt the warmth of the orc’s chest on his back. The warrior’s hands moved from Samson’s waist to roam his body as he continued plowing. His fingers ran across Samson’s chest and he scraped his fingernails roughly against erect nipples. Samson tried to stop his body from betraying him, but Dalthu was relentless. Biting back a moan of pleasure, Samson squirmed against his captor’s body, trying to escape the pinching of his nipples, but he only succeeded in forcing the orc's cock further into his ass.

 

”Push back,” the orc ordered. “That’s right, fuck yourself back onto my cock.”

 

Dalthu’s free hand reached between Samson’s legs and grabbed his prick, enlarged, red, and inflamed with lust. The orc’s thick fingers wrapped around Samson’s length and covered the cockhead with his thumb. A chill ran through Samson as he felt his tip rub against his captor’s calloused skin. His tip dripped and soaked the orc’s fingers as they stroked Samson’s member up and down, the squelching sound giving away his secret. He couldn’t hide his arousal any longer. 

 

“Liar. Look closely. Does it look like you’re hurting? To me, it looks like you’re enjoying it,” Dalthu rasped as his fingers continued pinching and pawing, making Samson’s body jerk back and forth. “Do you like this orc cock?”

 

His voice in my ear . . . the sound . . . is too erotic . . . 

 

“Mmm,” Samson moaned, more in pleasure than in pain. “Not so hard.” His hips swayed back and forth, eagerly. The orc ignored him and slammed back into him with a jolt, pushing him hard against the ground. Samson gasped for air as his captor continued to pummel his body, pulling his cock out of his ass, only to jam it back in again, slamming into his stretched ass and fucking him faster and faster, each thrust with more force.

 

“I can’t hold out much longer, little tiger,” his captor panted. 

 

He’s not the only one, Samson thought. 

 

His swollen cock, sensitive from slapping his stomach as Dalthu railed him, was dripping precome onto the dirt below. The feeling of his cheeks slapping against Dalthu’s abdomen, of his own cock sliding through Dalthu’s hand, growing slippery from the precome, was too much; a ball was growing deep inside of him and Samson was desperate to make it pop. 

 

My nipples are tingling, my ass is throbbing deep inside, and my cock is so hard it hurts. My whole body’s in trouble.

 

Dalthu’s body stiffened and, with a deafening roar, buried his cock deep inside Samson. “TAKE IT, TAKE IT DEEP INSIDE YOU.” The load of orc come shot inside him, bathing the walls of his anal tract with his captor’s hot juices. Samson’s body tightened on the throbbing organ in him, his insides dancing around the orc cock, clenching and unclenching on the spewing organ. Dalthu twitched and shuddered inside him. “Oh goddess, Samson, your ass is milking the cum from my balls,” he said and rolled his hips against Samson’s pelvis.

 

That did it. Shooting up from between his legs and racing along his spine, an overwhelming pleasure crashed over Samson and completely overcame his senses. “GOD PLEASE,” he screamed. His fingers pressed into the dirt as he threw himself back into Dalthu’s waist. Even though Dalthu had already come, he wasn’t getting any softer, and Samson continued to slide on the green pole with desperate speed, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat as his hips raced back and forth fucking the cock behind him, only stopping when his hips finally gave out. 

 

Samson slipped off of the monster cock with a SLORP and fell limply to the ground. He was drenched, covered in both his and Dalthu’s fluids. Even worse was the feeling of numbness. He couldn't feel anything. He could only hear the wind wailing softly. And sniffling.

 

Sniffling?

 

Samson rolled his head to the side. A few feet away, the mangled corpse of Baronk was still lying in the dirt and a woman was crouched over his body. Samson recognized her immediately. It was the woman he’d seen during the fight. The one who had watched Baronk with worry.  Samson couldn’t see her eyes now, but her fingers were stained red as she continued to stroke the dead orc’s broken face over and over. 

 

She disappeared as two yellow eyes blocked his view. It was Dalthu. Samson heaved a sigh of relief. The orc’s eyes were back to normal. The warrior was shouting something at Samson.

 

Huh. Why does he sound so far away?

 

Samson shook his head. He couldn’t understand what the blasted orc was saying. Or why his captor’s expression was contorted with worry. He opened his mouth to shout “I’m fine” but no sound came out. 

 

Then his world went black.

 

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

 

Everything hurts. 

 

That was the first thought Samson had when he awoke. The second thought was, Where am I?

 

He peered over the thick fur blanket he’d been wrapped in. He was in a small room that smelled of leather and smoke and pine. Pine made sense since the walls looked to be wooden beams lashed together with rope. The dirt floors had been carpeted with animal hides, and candles placed around the room cast a warm glow, making the otherwise empty room feel cozy. Next to his cot, a bowl of water had been placed on a stool. Samson reached out, but as his fingers touched the edge, it tipped and both the bowl and its contents fell noisily onto the ground.

 

There was a clatter from the next room followed by a curse, and then a familiar green face raced through the door. Golden eyes brightened when they saw him. “You’re awake. Mother, he’s awake.”

 

“Move, let me see.” The small, dark-haired woman pushed past the giant warrior and hurried over to Samson’s bedside. Rachelle knelt beside him and held his face in her hands. Grim-faced, she looked him over, checking for damage, but soon relaxed into a smile. She leaned her head down and touched her forehead to his. “You will be fine.”

 

Samson opened his mouth to thank her, but Rachelle shushed him. “But don’t strain yourself. You still need to rest.” She cocked her head to the side and told Dalthu sternly, “You hear me? He needs rest.” Rachelle picked up the fallen bowl. “And water.”

 

Behind her, Dalthu’s eyes had never left Samson’s face, but the mention of water seemed to shake him from his trance. “Ah, I should have placed it closer to you the first time. I’ll go get some more,” he said, and ducked back out of the room. 

 

As soon as he was gone, Rachelle leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s been hell to deal with. After you collapsed he hasn’t eaten or slept once, just paced around all day and night.” She patted Samson’s cheek. “Your mate is a handful.” 

 

Mate . . .

 

Samson’s mind was suddenly flooded with images. 

 

Cruel, black eyes. Red puddles on the ground. Black eyes holding me down. Everyone laughing. Laughing at my shame. 

 

“Samson!” 

 

Samson sucked in a sharp breath. His hands had somehow wrapped themselves around Rachelle’s wrists and were squeezing them tightly. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, letting go immediately. “I’m so sorry.”

 

The dark-haired woman pulled Samson into her arms and rocked him. “You're safe now, you’re safe,” Rachelle chanted. “No one will dare hurt you again. My son claimed you in front of the horde. No orc would be foolish enough to challenge him after what he did to Baronk.” 

 

What does she think I’m afraid of?

 

A rustle and loud footsteps alerted them that the golden-eyed orc had returned from his mission. “I’m back,” Dalthu said, stepping into the room. He proudly held a clean bowl and a jug of water, but his smile fell as he took in both their faces. “What happened? Samson? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

 

“Sha, listen to you fuss. Don’t you know your mate is made of stronger stuff?” Rachelle sniffed and tucked a fur up under Samson’s neck before pressing a kiss against his forehead. “I will come back tomorrow,” she said and then marched out, leaving Samson alone with Dalthu. 

 

I can’t stay lying down.

 

Samson wiggled his arms out from the covers and hissed as he tried to sit up. His body felt loose and sore, as if he’d been stretched out too far. 

 

“Here, let me help you—”

 

Cruel, black eyes.

 

Samson flinched as Dalthu reached toward him. The orc dropped his hands. 

 

“I’ll . . . I’ll pour some water, so take your time.” Dalthu turned to busy himself with the jug and bowl as Samson willed himself into sitting upright. 

 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Dalthu said, his back still turned. “I was worried.” 

 

“How long was I out?” Samson croaked.

 

“Three days.” Dalthu turned around with a fresh bowl of water and Samson finally got a good look at the orc.  

 

Three days?

 

Judging by the warrior’s face, three weeks would be more believable than three days. Dalthu looked miserable. His eyes were sunken and deep lines creased his face. He had a sickly pallor under his green skin that was noticeable even in the dim lighting, and his normally silky black hair looked like a rat’s nest. 

 

“Ulam will be relieved. I mean, everyone will be . . . relieved—is, everyone is relieved . . . myself the most . . .” Dalthu cleared his throat. “You’ve become the talk of the village,” he chuckled.

 

Everyone laughing at me . . .

 

“Is this funny to you?” 

 

Dalthu’s smile vanished. “No, I—”

 

Laughing at my shame . . . 

 

“You think it’s funny, what you did to me?” Rage bubbled up inside Samson. Like hell would he allow himself to be mocked, not after all he’d been through. 

 

“Samson, that’s not what I—”

 

“It wasn’t enough to screw me with a rock, you had to violate me in front of everyone?”

 

Dalthu stiffened. “That wasn’t what I had planned, but it was necessary—”

 

“So you were still planning on fucking me, then?”

 

“Eventually, you would—”

 

“I would what? Come around? Just accept that I am nothing but a cock sleeve for a monster?”

 

Dalthu jerked back like he’d been slapped. “Is that what I am to you?” he whispered. “A monster?”

 

Samson stuck his chin out defiantly. “Am I just a toy?”

 

“No little tiger,” the warrior shook his head and his voice became soft. “That’s not what you are to me.”

 

“Then why—” Samson’s voice broke and he cursed himself. Why did it hurt so much? Would it have been better if Dalthu had treated him cruelly all along? If he’d simply treated him like an object and never bothered showing him kindness, then maybe it wouldn’t matter so much to know why. “Why did you do that to me?”

 

“I did it to keep you safe—”

 

“Safe?!”

 

“—and to keep you safe,” Dalthu continued doggedly, “I had to claim you—”

 

“Oh well, then everything is fine right?” Samson snapped. He’d had enough excuses. “I mean, as long as it's “orc tradition” anything goes, right? Murder for foreplay and public fucking for dessert?”

 

“If there had been another way—”

 

“I trusted you!” Samson shot back before collapsing into a coughing fit. Dalthu grabbed the jug, and, careful to not touch Samson, tipped some of the water down his throat. The cold soothed his throat but not his anger. Samson glared up at his captor. “You said you’d never hurt me.”

 

Pain flashed across Dalthu's face, but just as quickly a shutter came down behind his eyes and left only a stone-faced orc staring impassively down at him. “What should I have done then? Hm?” The orc’s jaw tightened. “Should I have let Baronk have you?”

 

Samson gave a derisive laugh. “Too late to ask that now.”

 

CRACK. 

 

The bowl Dalthu had been holding shattered. “You’d have preferred Baronk, then?” His eyes darkened as he advanced on Samson. “Or maybe one of the other warriors? I noticed several who could not keep their eyes off you. Has one caught your fancy? Tell me—”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Tell me which one you dare to want—”

 

“Stop.”

 

“Tell me and I will use his skull as a dish to serve you golden berries and tashalaran grapes.”

 

“I SAID STOP.” 

 

The room went quiet except for the heaving breaths of the occupants. Samson hiccuped, holding back a sob.

 

“I will leave you to rest.” Dalthu stiffly turned and walked toward the door. He paused in the doorway. “It was necessary,” he repeated softly, and then he was gone.

 

Samson fell back against the pillows and curled up into the thick blanket. 

 

It smells like him.

 

“Stupid orc,” he whispered. “Why would I want anyone else?”

 

Tears welled up and Samson allowed them to fall, finally crying himself into a dreamless sleep.

 

To be continued . . .