The Thrumgore's Bride

Lark awoke in an unfamiliar place. The air smelled of smoke, fur, and something that made her stomach churn. Nothing like her home which always smelled like the fresh bread her mother baked.

She looked around. A stone wall stretched up to meet a cave ceiling. The ground was covered with hay, animal skins, and piles of bones. A large fire was roaring in the center of the cave and she could hear the sizzling of meat cooking.

Lark's stomach growled. It felt as though she had been sleeping for days. When she tried to sit up, pain shot through her ribs and from her leg. Lark fell back onto the fur mattress and gasped for air. She felt her side and winced. A sticky bandage covered a wound on her side and her leg was in a splint.

Heavy footsteps came down the passageway. Lark's eyes widened as she saw the towering figure that entered the main chamber. Broad shoulders and thick limbs made the creature seem as if it could crush a mountain. Its mottled skin was covered in scars and coarse, tangled hair hung across a prominent brow. Wicked eyes glowed red in the firelight, and large, clawed hands reached for the meat on the spit.

Lark trembled with fear. She was in a Thrumgore cave. She was wounded and alone in a Thrumgore cave.

How did she get here? Lark tried to remember what had happened. She had been checking the rabbit trap behind her family's house when she heard screams. She had run to the sound, only to find her home being attacked by bandits. They spotted her and she ran away. While she ran, one of them shot her with an arrow causing her to fall and hurt her leg. She must have hit her head as well because she could not remember anything after that.

The creature turned away from the fire and approached her. Lark attempted to crawl away but the pain in her leg forced her to stop. A heavy odor of dirt, sweat, and vegetation filled her nose as the Thrumgore came to a stop in front of her. It stared down at her with its red eyes, and Lark saw its lower jaw move as it watched her. Large yellow tusks curved out from its mouth, framing a set of sharp, broken teeth.

She kept her eyes on the Thrumgore, trying to read his body language. The fire backlit the creature, making it difficult to see his face. He stared at her for a moment and then moved to a crate nearby and produced a small vile. Small by his size, but when he held it out to her, Lark saw that it was the size of a wine bottle.

Glancing at the bottle, Lark could see the liquid inside. It was a dark red color and hung on the sides of the green glass like syrup.

"Medicine," growled the Thrumgore. His voice was gravelly like stones being ground together.

When she hesitated, he thrust the bottle into her hands. She looked up at him and he pointed to the bottle, then to her leg. Not seeing any choice, Lark uncorked the bottle and sniffed the contents. The smell of the liquid burned her nostrils and her eyes watered.

"Drink it. You will heal faster," he said.

She didn't want to drink it, but her wounds burned and she felt weak. As she took a sip, the bitter liquid burned her throat and she gagged as it hit her empty stomach. The taste was vile and it coated her mouth with a thick film. Lark swallowed again and again, hoping to clear her throat.

"More," the Thrumgore ordered. He came closer, surrounding her with his heavy odor that mixed with the sour taste of the liquid in her mouth.

As she drank, the Thrumgore pulled the furs away and looked at her wounds. For the first time since she woke up, Lark became aware that she was naked. A pang of embarrassment swept over her, only to be dulled by a sudden wave of fog in her head.

The Thrumgore peeled away the bandage and examined her side. Large fingers probed her wound and she winced as he turned her side to the light. Pain faded to a dull throb as the medicine began to work. Lark fell back as he slathered an odd ointment over the wound before bandaging it again. Then he turned to inspect her leg. There was no excessive care on his part as he tended to her wounds. He was clumsy and rough, but she thought he was attempting to be gentle.

"How old are you?" he asked.

It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. Was this medicine what he'd been giving her to keep her asleep? "Uh... T- twenty," she mumbled.

He grunted and sat back on his haunches. "Good age for a bride."

"Bride?" she asked, her words coming out slurred.

He left her for a moment to collect something from the fire. When he returned he was holding a small bowl filled with a steaming liquid. It smelled like broth, and the scent made her stomach growl.

Taking a seat beside her, the Thrumgore eased her into a sitting position and held the bowl to her lips. She drank it down greedily, gasping when it burnt her tongue. Even then, she was too hungry to care.

When she finished he gave her another bowl. She ate that as well. He watched her, his eyes moving over her body. Once the second bowl was gone, he lay her down and covered her with the furs.

He sat beside her, eating his meal of whole forest pig. The sound of his strong teeth tearing into the flesh and crunching bones filled the silence. In her foggy state, the sound was both comforting and repulsive. It began to lull her into a light sleep when part of her fur blanket was lifted away.

She watched through bleary eyes as he reached out and ran a rough knuckle over her breast. It was a gentle touch that circled her nipple, teasing it to a hard peak. Lark tried to ask what he was doing, but the medicine had dulled her mind and she couldn't form the words. The only thing she could do was watch as he continued to caress her.

"Hmm," he said, his eyes never leaving her body. "You are a pretty female. You will be a fine wife and bear many strong sons."

Lark watched as he moved his hand to her stomach. He rubbed his palm over her skin as if he was imagining life growing inside her. She tried to move. She wanted to bat him away and tell him to stop, but her body was too heavy.

The furs were completely pulled away now and he carefully eased her legs apart. He gazed down at her bare skin and Lark spotted a string of drool drip from his lips. He licked it away and then settled his large body between her legs. Whatever had been in the medicine was working miracles on the pain. She should have been in agony by the way he was moving her leg, but she felt nothing. Even though he was nearly three times as wide as she was, and her legs were spread wide, there was no pain.

"Now you see why I gave you the muckberry wine," he said as he eased his cock over her slit. A slick, clear fluid ran from the head of his member, coating her skin and allowing him to glide over her with ease. "No pain. And you will not wiggle or struggle as I take you."

His hands wrapped around her hips and he pulled her closer. The Thrumgore's hands nearly wrapped around her body. His claw tips touched together at the middle of her lower back and pressed into her flesh as he pulled her against him.

"You will be a good wife to me and, in return, I will give you all the pleasure you could ever want. I will be a good husband. Protector. Provider. Warlord to whom you will be loyal and serve faithfully."

He pushed his way into her and where she expected pain, there was only pleasure. Her maidenhead opened for him so easily that she should have been ashamed. From where she lay, Lark watched as her belly bulged as he filled her. It was unnatural how easily his huge cock fit inside her. She felt a slight twinge of pain when he started to withdraw, but it was quickly replaced by a rush of pleasure as he plunged in once more.

Coarse hair pressed against her clit as he drove into her. The sensation sent shockwaves through her body and she moaned, arching her back. The gentleness he had shown before was gone. Now he was all about the power, strength, and the raw, primal force of mating his female.

The thick scent of his natural odors grew stronger as he continued to pump into her. In her current state, Lark found herself sliding from hating the aroma to taking deep lungfuls of it. When he bent over her, she could feel the heat of his breath against her face. She could smell the cloying scent of his sweat mixed with the earthy smell of his body and cooked meat from his dinner.

A powerful arm rested above her head and a rough hand turned her face toward him. He kissed her, his thick tongue licking her lips before invading her mouth. The breath tasted foul but even then, Lark found herself sucking on his tongue as though it were a treat.

This seemed to please him as he pressed his hips down against her. His other hand slid up her body to cup her breast, and squeezed. Lark moaned around his tongue, and he gave a low growl of satisfaction.

Lark wished she could move her hands. She wanted to feel the roughness of his skin and the hard muscles beneath. Even though her mind was screaming that this was wrong, her body was responding in a way that made her want to be close to him.

A wave of pleasure ripped through her like a bolt of lightning. Lark whined as her body convulsed and tightened around his shaft. Her head felt even lighter than before, but the Thrumgore continued to press down on her.

His tongue slid from her mouth as he drew back. "Good," he said. "Even little human females like a big cock. Now I'm going to finish this consummation properly."

The Thrumgore's head lowered as he grabbed her by the waist again. Lark felt herself being lifted as he sat on his knees. With this new position, he drove into her with animal intention. Her belly bulged with each thrust and her growled as her inner walls tightened around him. She was still recovering from her orgasm but he had her writhing again in seconds.

He grunted and growled as he moved inside her. The sloppy sounds of his body slapping against her blended with her moans of pleasure. Another orgasm quickly mounted as he slammed into her one final time. She felt his cock pulse as a gush of hot fluid spilled into her.

Lark watched as her stomach stretched as her womb filled with his seed. Excess fluid poured out of her, dripping onto the fur bed. She tried to breathe, but she felt as if she was about to faint.

When he pulled out, Lark felt a suction that left her body feeling empty. With the same gentleness he had used to clean her wounds, he laid her down on the fur bed. He did not bother to clean her off, but pulled the blanket up to her neck and moved to sit beside her.

"I will give you more muckberry wine in the morning," he said, nonchalantly. "Now you will rest. Tomorrow, when you wake, I will check you wounds, feed you, then take you again. I will do this until you have healed completely. Once you are healed, I will take you to the village. You will be a woman of the tribe and be my wife. You will give me children, and view me as your warlord and honor me with obedience and loyalty. Is that understood?"

Lark was too tired to answer. She just nodded. He reached down and gently brushed a hand over her hair. A voice in the back of her mind told her to be afraid, but she pushed it away. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes.

Before she fell asleep, she managed to whisper, "What is your name?"

"Morgul Grimjaw," he replied. "Yours?"

"Lark Cantrell," she said, her voice barely audible.

Morgul grunted and pulled her closer to him. "Like a bird. You are a pretty little bird. I will keep you safe."

True to his word, when Lark woke the next day, Morgul gave her more wine and checked her wounds. Before the medicine began to kick in, she was able to see that her wounds were not as bad as they had seemed the day before. Even her leg was less sore than it had been.

When he was finished, he gave her little time to rest before he settled between her legs and began to claim her again. This time, she was more aware of what was happening and tried to get away. Fear officially kicked in, but there was nothing she could do.

While he was still gentle with her, when she tried to escape, Morgul made it clear that he wasn't going to let her go. She could either accept his advances or be punished for her defiance.

He filled her belly with his seed over and over throughout the day, stopping only to feed her and let her rest. After a day of being with him, Lark was exhausted, sore, and unable to fight back. The muckberry wine left her as limp as a rag doll most of the time; all she could do was endure what Morgul gave her.

During one of their breaks, he explained how she came to be his. The bandits raided her home, killing her parents and siblings. They chased her down, injuring her, and when she hit her head, they'd taken her as a prize. As they escaped, the group had run into Morgul and offered her to him in exchange for safe passage. Being on the lookout for a mate, Morgul had accepted the offer, but signalled the intruders to his fellows among the Thrumgore.

She also learned this was one of the many caves where Thrumgore took their captive mates to prepare them for assimilation into the clan. Thrumgore were only males, so the females were always human. They could be here for days, weeks, or even months, depending on how well they cooperated. Here, the males would care for them, feed them, and mate with them until they were ready to return to the tribe.

And that was what Morgul was doing to her. When he was done explaining, he gave her more wine before placing his face between her legs. He kissed her softly, then began to lick her with his tongue, until she began to moan. His tongue was not near as large as his cock, but it was thick and wriggled like a snake inside her.

Days went by and in time, Lark's wounds healed. She was able to move around the cave without too much pain, though she was still a little weak. Morgul used less and less wine, and, for a moment, she thought she would be able to run away. However, as time went on, and her strength began to return, Lark began to realize that each time Morgul was around, her body grew hot and desperate for his touch. He would look at her with his glowing red eyes, and her heart would skip a beat.

Lark found herself beginning to initiate contact with Morgul. She would touch his face, or run her fingers through his scraggly hair. Worse still, she would often find herself in his arms and would kiss him.

One night, Lark found herself awkwardly straddling his hips as he lay on the ground. He watched with his red eyes as she rode him, taking his thick shaft deep into her body. She loved the expression on his face as he watched her. Her husband looked so pleased to see her like this, and it gave her a warm feeling inside.

"Are you ready to journey to the village?" he asked her, his voice gruff and low.

"Yes, my warlord," she answered, smiling at him.

"Are you willing to bear my sons?"

"I will bear as many as you desire," she replied. There was a whine in her voice as she moved with more intent. The idea of bearing his sons gave her a strange sensation of arousal and fulfillment. She wanted to be heavy with Thrumgore young, and to give birth to his children.

Morgul gave her a satisfied grin. "That's my little bird." Gripping her hips, he thrust his hips upward and brought her body tight against his. She felt him swell and grow inside her, filling her with his hot seed.