Orc Dominance In Elvenar The Cousin

The pristine royal halls of the Elvenar court were filled with the sound of the heavy war boots from the 10 or so orc party led by the heavy chieftain Grog. Up on the silvery throne the cute and naive elven queen Yahadriel looked at their muddy shoes with shock and disgust.

The great doors of the Elven throne room creaked open, revealing not only Grog but his entire party of also some bound elf women only wearing heels, tiny chains and collars around their necks. Carried with the orc was a large wooden chest, ornately carved with symbols that only he knew the meaning of.

Queen Yahandriel stood near her throne, her eyes narrowing as she examined the orc and the bound elf women closest to Grog. Galadriel was her cousin and former queen of Elvenar until three months ago where she had stayed after what was only to be a short negotiation but then rumored to have been seduced and tricked by the orc wile nature.

Grog could see that Yahandirel's eyes involuntarily glanced over Galadriel's perky tits and saw both them and her clitories pierced with small purple gems.

There was excitement and shocked whispers throughout the hall as many elven bystanders recognized the former queen even without her long royal gowns but not almost entirely naked.

Yahandriel held a long, silver staff, inlaid with gemstones that pulsed with magical energy. Even though she was much younger than the former queen, just barely an adult, she was a vision of elven grace and beauty and yet her eyes spoke volumes about her knowledge from reading many books.

"Grog, chieftain of the Broken Tusk tribe, you stand in the presence of Princess Yahandriel of the Silverleaf Kingdom. State your business," proclaimed a herald, filling the silence.

Grog stepped forward, his tusks gleaming. "Ah, Princess Yahandriel, a pleasure it is. You are as beautiful as the stories say, and I see you wield the staff of Elara, a powerful artifact indeed."

Yahandriel raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "You're well-informed for an orc. Now, what brings you here?"

"I bring trade and propositions. And peace, if you'll have it," Grog said, his eyes never leaving hers. He could sense her thoughts flickering, wary but curious. "I see a possibility of unity, a conjoining of strengths that could benefit both our peoples."

Yahandriel was skeptical. She sensed his underlying motives, a thirst for power but also a glimmer of sincerity. "Orc and elf culture has been incompatible for hundreds of years. What could you offer us that we could need from you?"

Yaladriel had a very pretty and cute round face. Long straight black hair down past her shoulders with her elven ears pointing out. She was a very conservative purple dress that covered her entire body all the way up to her chest.

Even though she was young and skinny Grog knew that he had to be very careful of her magic. He had with him in his chest a large anti magic crystal that if he could get it close enough to the throne would negate her magical powers and that it also had the added benefit of increasing the libido of elven females thousand folds.

Being now in the middle of the courtroom the elven audience standing closest to the orc party with the heavy chest he could tell that their magical staff had dimmed and was no longer functional. He alone could also tell that all the women were breathing more heavily. He was still not close enough to the queen though.

Grog stepped closer but was halted by two elven soldiers so short they only reached his shoulders. He could have pushed them aside with one hand but decided to stay put.

"I have received the information that your warden of your royal jails has retired." Grog could see the queen looking over to one of her advisors that nodded confirming the information.

"We understand you have had some criminal issues. Whenever you actually catch someone the elf will simply cast a teleportation spell and be gone as soon as your jailers blink. I now have the means to negate magic even though I will keep the secret as to how. What I am looking for is employment, and lodging."

Yahandriel studied him carefully. She couldn't fully read his intentions. "I'm listening, Grog, but know this: your words are sweet, but it is your actions that will determine the course we set today."

Grog smiled, a predatory but not entirely insincere expression. "I expect nothing less, Princess. May our actions speak louder than any words could."

"What does your orcish clan ask for in return for keeping our worst captives locked in my dungeons?"

"Cultural understanding. That you keep an open mind. I myself will stay down below in the dungeons making sure over the coming days and weeks that the jail is running to your liking and I will only come to you when I am summoned. My first demand is that you will take one of my bound elf girls as one of your personal maidens that can inspire you to understand our ways. You will also send one of your current maids to assist me, a new rotation every week".

Without hesitation Yaladriel pointed at her cousin in the front. "Her, I want her to be free".

"Not possible. Galadriel is my queen and will bear my children even though I of course share her with every other orc leader like our traditions demand." More upset gasps around the room. "She will be returning to our village together with some of my men."

"Fine. "Then her." She pointed at a blonde elf with a shy smile that had her head down making her hair cover her naked tits.

Grog hid an evil smile. Adaira always looked so innocent because he knew she was one of his most sex crazed slutty and nasty elfs they had ever bound. She would be the perfect companion to letting the elf queen down on a slipper slide. It was not barely this very sunset that Grog had fucked Alwen from behind pushing his large orc thumb up her tight elven bum making her orgasm as he pinched her from the inside.

"Great! I will leave Alwen with you and you call for me in the dungeon when you have need for my company" Grog had now slowly moved close enough to the throne to have his newest magical ability detect thoughts be in 30 feet range of the queen.

"Oh god what does he mean by asking for his company? I thought I would be strong enough mentally to meet my first orc but standing here seeing his strong muscles it takes all my focus not to look down at his loincloth."

Grog felt his cock stiffen and laughed and turned around letting the queen see his naked green ass before she had time to react and cover her eyes.

Walking down many stairs and starting to instruct his soldiers where to place the chest with the anti magic crystal and how to start preparing the jail for them and their captives.

The Royal Chambers of Silverleaf

Princess Yaladriel sat at her dressing table, her delicate fingers running absentmindedly over the surface of an ornate silver mirror. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of curiosity and doubt as she replayed the events of the throne room in her mind. The sight of Grog, so confident and unapologetic, lingered more than it should have. His sheer presence unsettled her--yet intrigued her in ways she could not quite explain.

Her servant, Alwen, her new servant gifted from Grog, quietly entered the chamber, carrying a silver tray with steaming herbal tea.

"Your Highness," Alwen said softly, setting the tray on the table. "You seem troubled. Is it the orc delegation?"

Yaladriel turned to Alwen, her dark eyes reflecting a mixture of innocence and suppressed excitement. "Alwen, have you... spoken much to any of them? Orcs, I mean. Up close, as I did today?"

Alwen smiled, then nodded her head. "They don't like my words, I usually only moan and scream with pleasure when I am with any of them. They are... brutal, crude. Dangerous. And amazingly passionate lovers. "

Yaladriel leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. "Lovers? That is... unexpected."

"Yes," Alwen replied. "Though their lust is not often freely given. It must be earned or... taken."

Yaladriel's brow furrowed, but her curiosity deepened. "And what of their... habits? Their ways with the elf women they claim as their own? Do you know anything about that?"

Alwen pretended to make her cheeks flushed a light pink. "Your Highness, such topics are not fit for--"

"Please, Alwen," Yaladriel interrupted, her tone firm but imploring. "I am not asking out of frivolity. It is my duty as ruler to understand all facets of these negotiations. If we are to coexist with them, I must know the truth."

Alwen looked away, nervously wringing her hands. "I have only heard whispers, Your Highness. Stories from those taken to their camps... They say the orcs are relentless. Their strength and stamina are unmatched, and they... demand total submission. Yet, some elves speak of an inexplicable allure, a kind of primal bond that defies reason."

Yaladriel felt her heart quicken, though she masked her reaction with a composed expression. "And the women? Do they suffer greatly under their rule?"

Alwen hesitated again before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "At first, yes. But... Now most actually all seem to... embrace it, even relish it. They say the orcs awaken something in us--something they didn't know existed."

The princess felt her pulse race at the revelation. She dismissed Alwen with a nod, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. What was this strange curiosity stirring within her?

Moments later, there was a knock at the door. When Yaladriel called out, Alwen entered, carrying a small velvet box. The elf maiden, now Grog's emissary, curtsied low before approaching.

"Your Highness," Adaira said with a soft, knowing smile. "The chieftain sent this for you. A token of goodwill."

Yaladriel opened the box cautiously and found an ankle bracelet made of delicate silver, adorned with a small, glowing purple gem. She recognized the faint hum of magic emanating from it.

Adaira stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "It is said these gems are prized among the orcs. They are symbols of unity... and trust. To wear one is to accept their ways, even in part."

Yaladriel's breath hitched. She knew she should refuse outright, but the gem's soft glow and the weight of Adaira's words intrigued her.

"And if I wear it?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Adaira's smile widened. "Then you take the first step toward understanding them. Toward embracing a new... perspective."

Yaladriel hesitated, her fingers hovering over the bracelet. Every part of her upbringing screamed for her to reject it. And yet, the allure of the unknown--of Grog's confident smile and the strange magnetism of his presence--clouded her judgment.

Finally, she lifted her foot and allowed Adaira to clasp the bracelet around her delicate ankle. The moment the gem touched her skin, a warm, tingling sensation coursed through her, making her gasp softly.

Adaira leaned in, her voice barely audible. "You will find that understanding comes easier now, Your Highness. Just listen to your heart." She lightning fast gave her a deep kiss on the mouth while her hands somehow found themself inside her dress playing with her tits.

Yaladriel dismissed Adaira, her thoughts a mix of confusion and exhilaration. She couldn't deny that a part of her had already begun to change. As she stared at the glowing gem on her ankle, she felt a strange sense of anticipation for what lay ahead.

The Morning Inspection

Yahandriel stood before her gilded mirror, her slender naked figure bathed in the morning light streaming through the tall windows of her chamber. Her mind was still clouded from the events of the previous day, the bracelet's soft, purple glow on her ankle subtly drawing her thoughts back to the orc chieftain and his enigmatic presence. She had tried removing the bracelet before going to sleep in her large royal bed but found no obvious mechanism to open it. It just seemed to be one solid gold ring with a purple gem.

Alwen entered, carrying a garment draped over her arms. It shimmered in the sunlight, its minimal fabric glinting with golden chains and deep purple accents.

"Your Highness," Alwen said with a soft bow, "Chieftain Grog insisted that you wear this for your inspection of the dungeon. He believes it represents strength and... openness to new customs."

Yahandriel's eyes widened as she examined the garment. It was nothing more than a bra and loin cloth barely hiding her body. "This? It is hardly fitting for a princess. It is so..." She trailed off, unable to find a word that did justice to the daringly skimpy design.

"Provocative, perhaps," Alwen suggested, though her tone was unusually encouraging. "But, Your Highness, you have already embraced the bracelet. This could further solidify your position as a ruler willing to adapt and... understand."

Yahandriel hesitated. The bracelet on her ankle pulsed faintly, the sensation sending a warm, soothing wave through her body. Her resistance faltered, and she found herself nodding. "Very well. Help me dress, Alwen."

As Alwen adjusted the golden chains around Yahandriel's delicate shoulders, clasped the tiny bra in place, and secured the almost nonexistent loincloth, Yahandriel couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The outfit left little to the imagination, exposing her lithe, pale figure in ways she had never dared before.

The Dungeon

Yahandriel descended the winding stone staircase to the dungeon, careful not to fall in the new golden high heels, her golden chains jingling softly with each step. The air grew heavier, charged with an inexplicable tension as she approached. The large purple gem embedded in the center of the dungeon floor radiated a faint glow, and she could feel its magic suppressing her own.

Waiting for her was the orc warden, a hulking figure of green muscle and authority. His rough-hewn features were softened by a confident smirk as he bowed slightly.

"Princess Yahandriel," he rumbled, his voice deep and resonant. "Welcome to your dungeon."

Her breath caught for a moment as she took in his imposing presence, his strong arms crossed over his chest and his leather armor stretched taut across his broad shoulders. She quickly composed herself.

"You are... Gorath, yes?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"Aye," he replied, his tusks gleaming as he grinned. "It is my honor to oversee this place. And let me show you how we maintain order."

He gestured for her to follow. As they walked, Yahandriel noticed that the cells were eerily quiet, devoid of the usual sounds of prisoners.

"Where are the captives?" she asked.

"The male prisoners have been transported to our camp to work off their punishment or we just obliterate them to dust," Gorath explained casually. "This dungeon is now reserved for female captives. Their rehabilitation is... delicate work, best handled here under your castle's care."

Yahandriel nodded, though the explanation left her with more questions than answers.

Gorath stopped before a large iron door and pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit chamber. Inside were two attractive young elf women, both naked and tied to tall wooden Saint Andrew's crosses. Their slender forms were adorned with intricate bindings of silk and leather, and their mouths were gagged with soft cloths. Their eyes widened slightly when Yahandriel entered, but they didn't seem fearful--if anything, they appeared... excited.

Gorath stepped forward, gesturing toward the captives. "We heard that these two were caught last night, stealing from the kitchen. Apples, of all things. We saw it prudent to discipline them properly. Their elf superiors in the kitchen at first seemed hesitant about our authority to bring elf girls with us to the dungeon since they hadn't got any instructions on how our agreement actually worked. I told them you would agree and visit soon and then got them here and we have had so much intimate fun with them!"

"Intimate fun? Discipline?" Yahandriel asked, her voice betraying her nervousness.

"Bondage fucking and light pain," Gorath replied matter-of-factly. "We fuck them and whip them. A technique to help them associate discipline with pleasure. It's effective for ensuring loyalty--and correcting improper behavior." The muscular orc pointed on the dirty floor between the spread elf girls leg two pools of dried orc cum and one of the girls had still orc cum dripping from her shaved tight cunt down the inside of her slender leg.

Yahandriel's cheeks flushed as she watched the scene unfold. An orc attendant stood beside one of the cute captives with a wet huge green cock the size of a horse cock, carefully running a gloved hand over the elf kitchen staff bare back while flicking her with a soft leather flogger. The elf woman let out muffled gasps, her body writhing slightly against her restraints.

The other captive was similarly engaged, her head tilted back as a second orc got between her legs took his massive orc cock out and slowly started fucking the young elf, alternating between firm pressure and teasing pinches that made her shudder.

"They seem to be... adjusting well," Yahandriel said, her voice barely above a whisper as she now watched intensely both pretty elf captive girls getting fucked.

"Indeed," Gorath said, stepping closer to her. "Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin, Princess. Once they learn this, their loyalty will be unshakable. If you excuse me it was more than an hour since I fucked either of them and I feel it is time for me to go again." Gorath dropped his loincloth walking naked with a whip in his hand to the closest girl.

Yahandriel found herself unable to look away, her heart racing as she observed the scene. The warmth from the bracelet on her ankle seemed to intensify, clouding her thoughts with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Gorath whipped the girls behind every time she was moaning loudly.

"This... technique," she began hesitantly, "it does not harm them?"

Gorath chuckled cock buried deep. "Harm? No, Princess. It transforms them. Makes them stronger, more resilient. And in time, more willing to serve."

Yahandriel nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on the captives. She could see the faint traces of pleasure on their faces, mixed with the tension of their restraints. The sight stirred something deep within her, something she couldn't quite name.

Gorath's deep voice broke her reverie. "Would you like to observe more closely, Princess? Perhaps even try your hand at guiding their rehabilitation?" He moved her royal hand to the warm sticky skin of her subordinate.

Yahandriel's pulse quickened, but she managed a composed smile. "Perhaps another time," she said, though the idea was far more tempting than she would admit.

As Alwen led her out of the chamber, Yahandriel couldn't shake the images from her mind--or the growing realization that she found the entire experience far more thrilling than she ever expected.

The Queen's Trial

Yahandriel's curiosity gnawed at her throughout the day. The image of the two elf captives in their silken bonds, their gags muffling soft, submissive sounds, refused to leave her mind. Back in her chambers, she paced nervously, glancing at her servant Alwen, who stood quietly in the corner, always attentive to her queen's needs.

"Alwen," Yahandriel began hesitantly, her cheeks coloring, "those gags the captives wore... they seemed... unusual. I am curious to understand their purpose."

Alwen raised an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. "Of course, Your Highness. It's a tool to encourage submission and silence. A symbol, if you will, of trust and discipline."

"Symbolism," Yahandriel repeated, as if convincing herself. "Perhaps I should try it--to better understand the... rehabilitation process."

Alwen tilted her head. "A wise choice, my queen. You've always sought firsthand experience to better lead your people. Shall I fetch one for you?"