Page 4 of The Orc's Rage

Yes, this woman... she was perfect for his purposes. It had become clear to him when he tossed her over his shoulder and she fought back with all her strength. She was resilient, and her body was tough. She would carry many fine orclings for him.

Until now, Kargorr had been much too busy reclaiming land for thegrrosekto be bothered with siring offspring. It would draw his attention away from what was important: taking back what the humans had stolen in the thousands of years his own people had been trapped in the ice.

But with this raid, with this woman now hanging limp over his shoulder, Kargorr imagined something else. Many of his warriors had taken humans in the past to help sate their needs, to swallow up the dripping remnants of their rage when they returned from the battlefield. They said there was nothing like returning from the fight and sinking your cock into a perfect cunt.

Perhaps Kargorr could have a vessel to sate his own rage, something soft and giving to fuck when his veins ran too hot and his hands were still covered in blood. A place to bury himself, where he could continue his line and have hardy orclings who grew into fine warriors themselves.

Yes, that’s what this feeling was telling him. It was time.

And if this human was as delicious as he imagined her to be, then he would find another, and another to bear him half-bloodedgrrosek, who had proven to be excellent fighters and archers. The half-breeds had the gift of far sight, when an orc himself could only see what lay a hundred paces in front of him. They were skilled artisans, too, with a precision to their movements that made them perfect for working with steel. Thegrrosekhad succeeded in making rudimentary steel weapons on their own, until the half-breeds emerged and could hone and sharpen them. They could learn human techniques, too, but remained loyal to theirparog,where they had been born.

As the woman finally lost her strength, Lord Kargorr tucked her under his arm instead. She was light, probably too light. He would have to feed her good meat with lots of melting fat to return her to a state where her womb would be ready. He would keep her in his tent, nested deep in his bed of furs, until she was plump and heavy with his horde.

The woman awoke when they began to climb into the hills. Once more she fought, biting and clawing, but to his thick, dense body she was barely more than a kitten. She left a few long scratches on him, but he would teach her later that such behavior was unacceptable.

The sun was heavy on the horizon when they stopped to pitch camp, but he did not let her go even then. She was quick, and he couldn’t have her running. Once the fire was started and the fresh meat cooked, Kargorr forced her down into his lap. She struggled mightily, which had the gratifying effect of the woman rubbing herself all over his groin.

Still, it wasn’t time yet. She needed ripening.

He offered her food, but the woman stubbornly turned her head away and bit her lips to keep them closed. With her dark eyes set as hard as her mouth, he warned her, “I will make you eat if you do not listen.”

Still she didn’t answer, glaring at him with everything she had, so he shoved the meat into her mouth. She fought him, but he was far stronger, and soon the food was between her teeth and halfway down her throat. She choked and struggled until at last she gave in to her hunger. Then she snatched the next piece away from his hands and set about tearing it apart, chewing it with a look in her eye that made sure he knew she didn’t like being told what to do.

Soon the fire died down, and his warriors made their way to their own beds. Kargorr picked her up and carried her to his traveling furs, and when she realized where they were headed, she dug her nails into his hands and bit deep in his arm.

“No!” she shouted, earning smirks from the other orcs. “You can’t!”

But Kargorr’s skin was tough as leather and his hands were calloused from his practice with an axe, and all her ferocity did was irritate him as he tugged her under the furs and pulled her tight against his body. Still, she didn’t stop her wriggling.

Finally, tired from a long day of traveling, Kargorr snapped at her. “Stop. I will not fuck you. Tonight is for resting. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“For you, maybe,” she snarled back. “I won’t rest until I’m free of you.”

He grinned at the ferocity in her voice, in the clench of her jaw. She would make a fine concubine and mother to his orclings.

Cedar

Even after he fell asleep, the big creature did not release his iron grip on her. He had forced food down Cedar’s throat in front of the fire while the other warriors, males and females alike, devoured their meals. Some even had loud sex, right there among them. Cedar tried to close her ears to it, because she knew she needed the sleep if she was going to figure out a way past this monster, but still their cries and moans filled her head.

Her plan was to wait until the massive orc had finally loosened his hold on her in his sleep, and then she would seize the opportunity to pull free. She listened to the slow, steady beat of his huge heart against her ear, feeling each of his breaths against her cheek. He was dirty and reeked of sweat, but she imagined so did she. His body had a musky, heavy scent to it, and she could feel his power in that smell—almost taste it.

Cedar did not expect to fall into a deep slumber herself, pressed tight against the orc’s bare chest, his breaths hypnotizing her. She dreamed the road leading to Lissa’s house ran red with blood, and an orc rose out of it, covered in it, reaching toward her with it dripping from his hands. He had a scar running from one side of his face to the other, ending in a deep groove in his tusk.

But when he grabbed her, he held her close, as if trying to comfort her inside the nightmare he had created.

When Cedar awoke, it was daylight and she was strangely cold. When she opened her eyes, she found herself alone under the thick pelt. Instantly, she was wide awake. She remained prone, pretending to sleep as she studied the other orcs. They were occupied with loading goods and packing up camp, all their backs turned to her.

Here was her chance. Rather than getting to her feet and running, though, she slowly climbed out of the bed, pretending to roll it up when a female orc with a shaved head, except for a massive braid, glanced over at her. Then Cedar walked slowly, without urgency—though she wanted nothing more than to sprint away at full speed—through the camp, past wagons being loaded and a pair of orcs arguing. She couldn’t outrun any of these huge monsters, she knew, so she had to capitalize on their distraction.

No one spared her a look as she crept by. The cool wind bit at her exposed legs as she started down the hillside, throwing her thick skirt up into the air. She took one long stride, then another, ready to whisk herself away and find some human town, somewhere else, somewhere she could start over, maybe—when something massive and hot grabbed her wrist.

“Going somewhere?” a voice snarled.

Cedar was brutally yanked backwards, the air thrown from her lungs when she met an unforgiving surface. Slamming into the orc’s chest was like colliding with a rock.

“No,” Cedar coughed out. Who knew how he would punish her for trying to run? So she thought fast, and then said, “I just needed to pee.”

She couldn’t see his face as he stood behind her, holding her captive, but she hoped he was considering her lie. The orc didn’t move or speak, and his hand tightened even further around her wrists.

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