The worst part was always waiting. The weeks of waiting for the order to march, the days of travel, and the hours spent tied to this damn bench really tore at Gregory's patience. He had been stripped of his armor and tied on his back to some kind of bench, limbs bound to its legs. Only the thin clothing he wore under his armor separated him from the cold night air, the slight chill adding another layer of mild annoyance to his current predicament. If they were going to kill him, he wished they would do it sooner, rather than later. It was hard to tell time inside the hide tent he was imprisoned in, though it felt as though hours had passed since he first awoke.
The battle had ended before it began, their march interrupted by a pack of raiding gnolls. Why did it have to be gnolls? Gregory's noble blood and considerable fortune rendered him practically invulnerable on the battlefield, more valuable to his enemy as ransom than another corpse. Gnolls, however, cared little for such enterprise, too filled with bloodlust or just too stupid to recognize the coat of arms of the king's own cousin.
He had survived the battle itself by virtue of skill and the unmatched protection of his armor, though he expected to never make it off the battlefield. Gnolls in this area rarely took slaves, preferring to eat the still-warm bodies of their foes, sometimes even as the battle still raged around them. Yet here he was, entirely unharmed (save the incredible pain in his head) and ignored. Surely there was a reason he had been spared where his fellows were not.
The question occupied his mind as he waited, alone with his thoughts. Try as he might, he saw no reason that he and he alone still lived: he was not the greatest swordsman, nor was he the strongest or toughest. He would make a poor slave and probably would not taste all that great, either. Perhaps he had been chosen at random as a sacrifice to whatever revolting god or demon they venerated. Either way, he was unlikely to figure it out himself and the gnolls weren't exactly opening up to him. He had been alone since he awoke and was doing his best to avoid attracting attention by making any unnecessary sounds. For all he knew, the stupid beasts may have simply forgotten about him.
His wait was finally ended as a single gnoll entered the tent. Greg knew little about gnolls, though he was convinced that this one was somewhat smaller and perhaps younger than most. Even still, it towered over him, a veritable mountain of muscle and fur. Thick limbs covered in near-white fur protruded from a patchwork of leather and iron armor. For a time it simply stood and stared at him, seemingly as confused as he. It approached slowly, never breaking eye contact, coming to a stop at the foot of his bench. Its breathing was heavy and movements stiff and halting. If he didn't know better, he may have thought it afraid. He was tied down and disarmed, not to mention nearly naked. What could it possibly be scared of?
Clumsy hands undid buckles and straps, removing the gnoll's armor one piece at a time, revealing more and more of the light grey fur. Greaves, spaulders, and vambraces lay in a scattered heap on the floor, leaving the gnoll in nothing but a worn coat of plates and iron tonlet. It seemed to hesitate as it removed the coat, turning away from the captive warrior as it pulled off the armor. The beast's back was as muscular as the rest of its body and no less furry, though something about the shape struck the man as odd, as though it was deformed or misshapen. As the gnoll turned, realization struck him.
An arm covered the beast's chest, though even its thick muscles could not hide what lay underneath. From its chest rose sizable mounds barely hidden by the intervening limb. It was a she. What Greg had mistaken for deformity was the wide hips of a woman. From the front it was even more noticeable, the indentations above her pelvis and graceful curves visible even through the thick muscles and fur. A thin layer of fat covered her stomach, just barely disguising the powerful muscles beneath. Her body seemed a contradiction of forms, as though sculpted by an artist who refused to believe that the bodies of a warrior and seductress need be different.
With her free hand, the she-gnoll dropped her tonlet, revealing the rest of her body at once. Full hips led to thick, muscular thighs below. A wide gap separated her thighs, further emphasizing her previously hidden gender. A sudden tightness in his pants broke Greg's concentration and brought him back to reality. He stared in disbelief as an enormous bulge formed, tenting the thick fabric that covered his groin. He turned to see the gnoll's eyes drawn similarly, fixated on his still-growing member. He laughed aloud and in earnest, struck by the absurdity of the situation. It was not his wealth, his title, or his skill at arms that spared his life but something so vulgar, so base that he had never even considered it. He was hung like a gryphon.
The she-gnoll bent at the waist, finally moving her arm and exposing her hanging breasts. The ubiquitous grey fur thinned considerably near her exposed pink nipples, indistinguishable from a human woman's. She leaned slowly over him, allowing her breasts to hang as she undid his belt, sliding down his pants and exposing his member. Trepidation vied with excitement on her face as she watched him spring free, already hard from her inadvertently erotic display. He was huge, even for his enormous captor, easily requiring two hands to fully cover. She prodded him gently with a hand, tracing the his length with a fuzzy finger.
Her eyes never left his as she explored him, groping and fondling his rod and sack in equal measure. His body was the envy of many men, though she seemed completely disinterested; his physique paled in comparison with any gnoll's, even her own. Instead, his member held her full attention as she stroked it slowly and watched him for any reaction. Her touch was far too light to bring real pleasure, as though she was afraid of hurting him. Instead she was barely teasing, her soft fur tickling the underside of his shaft as her hand pumped slowly up and down his shaft.
