Uncivilized Creatures Stolen

Author's Note: This takes place in the same fantasy setting as my story Uncivilized Creatures, following another case of a different orc taking a human pet.

"Please, please, please," Sylvia whimpered. The sweating, mostly-dressed pirate on top of her grunted and covered her mouth with his hand, muffling her begging into quiet gulping whimpers as he speared her quivering pussy with his deliciously hard cock over and over.

Each thrust lit her whole body up with bright, blinding pleasure, pushing her right up against the maddening edge of orgasm--but the collar locked around her throat kept her from going over.

The collar had controlled her life for as long as she could remember. She'd been born to a poor family in the capital, where an extra mouth to feed was a burden rather than a blessing like it might have been on a farm in the countryside, and had been sold off as soon as she was old enough to walk and to follow orders.

The first collar they had put on her then had only had spells for tracking and for obedience, of course; as a child, she had been educated as was proper for any slave--taught how to do basic household tasks, taught the correct forms of address for a master and for a master's family and friends.

They never taught her the correct way to speak or behave if she was owned by an entire ship full of pirates, but the pirates didn't seem to care how she addressed them anyway.

Once she was eighteen, she'd been considered pretty enough for a companion's collar, and had received a pretty standard one at the time, with all the usual spells: one that kept her in the part of her monthly cycle when she was most aroused, which also conveniently kept her from bleeding; one that prevented her from catching pregnant; and one that restricted her orgasms to only happen when a man spilled inside of her.

The pirate fucking her groaned and, with a couple more erratic, rough thrusts, flooded her pussy with his seed. She groaned, her whole body twitching and convulsing in a faux orgasm, trained to expect a release that coincided with his, but of course it didn't happen. Instead, the need just burned even deeper in her, her tunnel cramping in frustration.

That was the fault of her most recent owner. He'd swapped out her collar for a customized one, one that instead allowed her to orgasm only when someone ordered her to do so. She'd been grateful at the time; her master had done it because he'd been born female, himself, and wasn't able to use her in a way that would bring her satisfaction--magic could do many things for someone rich enough to afford it, but it couldn't install a fully working cock where there hadn't been one to begin with.

She'd thought he was extremely generous for worrying about her pleasure at all. He'd been generally very kind to her, too--he'd had a fondness for spanking her, sometimes hard enough to make her cry, but that was far from the worst use she'd seen in her two decades or so of living as a companion slave. He'd spoken to her like a person instead of a thing, and had shown a genuine interest in her comfort and happiness. She might have been falling in love with him, a little, though she knew it was foolish.

Then he'd taken a trip across the ocean and brought her along. His ship had been boarded by pirates, and they'd claimed her as part of their ransom. And her life had become this.

The man, having finished using her, slipped his softening cock out and finally dropped his hand from around her mouth. She groaned and squirmed in place, squeezing her thighs around the burn between her legs, leaning heavily against the deck rail that he'd propped her against because her thighs were shaking too much to take her weight. "Please let me come," she begged, her voice cracking; her hopes weren't high, but the driving need inside her was so stupefying that she couldn't resist asking.

Her words were ignored. The pirate handed her over to his friend, who shoved her against the railing again and thrust his own cock into her. She let out a deep groan, her eyes fluttering shut as her body desperately welcomed the hot, thick spread of his cock even as she wanted to cry from frustration.

The pirates had had her for almost two years. Not that she could keep track of the days, herself; she relied on overhearing them discussing the passing of the months. The seasons on the ocean passed differently than she was used to, and sometimes they would lock her in a dark little closet in the hold for days or weeks at a time when the captain was concerned that she was becoming too much of a distraction.

That was the worst; locked away with nothing to occupy her mind except for how her pussy throbbed and leaked and begged for a cock. They would laugh at her when they brought her food and water and found her crouching so that she could keep two or three fingers shoved up inside her aching cunt. It was humiliating, but she couldn't help herself. In the year they'd had her, they had never given her permission for a single orgasm.

The second pirate finished with her as well, his hot seed flooding into her desperate body along with his friend's. When he pulled out, he took a moment to squeeze one of her breasts with one hand and her crotch with the other.

"Oh, oh, oh," she whimpered, twisting and grinding into his hand as her clit caught between two of his rough fingers, her vision dimming and then brightening with how hard the pleasure hit her. The pirate laughed in her ear as he rubbed her pussy rough and hard, making her sob and buck in his grip, too desperate to even find the words to beg.

When he let her go, she couldn't stay upright any longer; she dropped down to her knees on the ship deck.

That was where they generally wanted her, anyway. They called her 'the bitch' and told her to crawl around like a dog if they saw her walking.

"Please," she moaned, rocking her hips and squirming as her pussy convulsed and spilled their seed and its own needy fluids onto the wood decking. Tears filled her eyes as the two men turned and walked away, returning to their jobs on the ship without acknowledging her desperate pleading.

She whined and lay there for several long minutes, her whole body shaking and weak from how badly she needed an orgasm.

She hated when they touched her clit. She tried to avoid it, herself. Even though, as a slave, she'd never really been free to find her own pleasure, there was an instinct inside of her that was convinced that--as horny and desperate as she was--she was going to come the instant it was touched. Every time they rubbed her there, it was like her body reached new heights of senseless, pure need, the clawing arousal inside of her battering away at her sanity as they rubbed and rubbed at the sensitive little organ.

She reached down there now, her hand hovering between her thighs, desperately fighting back the urge to rub and squeeze at her throbbing clit, knowing it would only make things worse.

"Please, please," she whimpered pathetically as another pirate walked past. She was begging to be fucked as much as she was begging to come; having a cock inside of her was one of the only ways she felt close to sane now. He barely even looked at her, just nudged her trembling body out of his way with his foot. She sobbed.

***

That evening, the captain claimed her for himself at dinner, hauling her off the knee of another pirate who'd been tormenting her in his lap. She stumbled after the captain, bow-legged, her thighs slick with her own juices and her mind blank with need after just five minutes of having her nipples teased while she had been unable to resist grinding her clit into the man's thigh.

"Kneel down there, bitch," the captain instructed her as he sat down to eat, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor. She dropped down to her knees between his feet, working on the natural assumption that he wanted her in position to suck his cock; he grunted in displeasure and corrected her by yanking on her shoulder until she moved to the left, kneeling directly over one of his huge leather boots.

He bounced his foot a bit. "Hnh," she whimpered as the leather brushed the wet lips of her pussy, her spine curving automatically as torturous pleasure crawled up it. He laughed.

"You make a damned pathetic sight, you know that? Little bitch in heat, leaking all over the ship. Never seen a more contemptible wench." He lifted his boot, pressing it firmly against her sopping slit. She groaned and had to lean forward and brace herself against his leg, unable to hold herself up, her whole body spasming with the lightning-shocks of overwhelming desire.

"Please. Please let me come," she begged.

"Nah. If I wanted to see a woman come, I could pay a whore in any port to fake it for me," he informed her, bouncing his foot so that the toe ground roughly against her gaping hole, putting unimaginably wonderful pressure against her aching insides.

"Oh," she groaned, fingers scrabbling weakly at the wood floor. "Oh, oh ff--frick," she only barely managed to censor the curse, her lower-class upbringing trying to break free under the strain of her desperation. The captain laughed, as did several of the crew who were near enough to hear. "I need it, please, please, I'll do anything!"

"You'll already do anything we tell you to, bitch," he pointed out. "You're fucking collared."

"Please," she whimpered, and then began to cry, loud and messy. "I'm losing my mind, please!"

"Don't know what you think you need a mind for," the captain pointed out. "All we need you to do is spread your legs. You could be a vegetable for all I care." He reached down and pinched one of her nipples, hard, with fingers greasy from his meal. She screamed, her body going rigid and her pussy squeezing over and over on nothing as it tried to come and just wasn't allowed. The faux-orgasms were vicious, hard, her whole body crunching inwards like it was becoming angry with her, like this was somehow her fault.

"Please!" she sobbed finally, when she could find her breath again. He was still crushing her nipple between his thumb and fingers, hard, unrelenting, and her body was still convinced that she should be coming from it. "I can't take it! I can't! Please! Just tell me what to do, I'll do anything!"

"Stupid bitch doesn't know the word 'no'," the captain remarked, making the crew laugh again. "I want to see what that filthy hole of yours looks like after five years of denial. Maybe then we'll let you come, see if you have a heart attack from it."

"No, no," she moaned, horrified by the idea of another three years like this, condemned to being constantly fucked and never satisfied. "You can't, please, you can't! Oh, God, please!"

"I can do whatever I want," the captain reminded her. He hauled her up then, over his knee and into his lap, and drove two fingers into her clenching cunt. She twitched and shook, moaning at first in something like relief at having her hungry hole finally filled, then in despair as the rough stimulation forced her once again up against the un-passable barrier that locked her climaxes away. She couldn't stop herself from squirming and rutting back against him, even as it rubbed her clit into the rough fabric of his pants, tormenting her. Tears spilled down her cheeks once again, mirroring the fluids of arousal spilling from her pussy.

The captain laughed.

***

Sylvia lost track of time soon after that. She stopped being able to tell apart the weeks from the months, the months from the years. It didn't matter much, anyway; her life was just need, arousal digging away inside of her, interspersed with the faint relief of having her pussy filled whenever someone saw fit to fuck her.

The captain brought her ashore in one port and had several piercings installed - one in each of her nipples and one through the hood of her swollen clit. She screamed and cried from the pain when they pierced her, but the worst part came when she was healed; she had never expected that having pieces of metal lodged in her flesh would feel so insanely good. She got wet instantly whenever any of the men so much as twisted the rings in her nipples, and they no longer needed to bother with touching her clit to stimulate her there; whenever they fucked her, the jostling and bouncing made the weight of the piercing in her hood press and tickle against it, sending her mad with desire. Even just walking and crawling made the piercing rub tantalizingly against her clit, swollen as it was all of the time.

She began to scream whenever she was fucked. She didn't have any control over it; the pleasure was unbearable and overwhelming, her body short-circuiting, convinced it was about to come as soon as a cock entered her. More often than not, when one of the pirates bent her over, she would black out, only becoming aware again some time later when her mind was finally able to swim free of the swampy morass of need, need, need. She would wake up with her throat sore from screaming and one hand clutching at her twitching pussy.

Sylvia forgot to beg, or maybe forgot how to. There was no point in it, anyway. The only words out of her were desperate cries of "yes, yes, yes" and "oh, fuck, oh, God" whenever a cock pressed into her swollen, throbbing cunt. She stopped remembering her training, to censor her cussing. She lost any hope of orgasm, or any memory of what the pleasure of coming felt like; this was her life.

That was the condition she was in when the pirates picked up another unwilling passenger.

She usually took little notice of what cargo was brought on board the ship, but he was hard to miss, caged as he was in the middle of the deck--a male orc, dressed in animal skins and rags that barely hid his massive cock when it was soft and did nothing at all to hide it when it was hard.

Sylvia quickly became acquainted with the sight of it hard, because the orc shamelessly masturbated whenever a member of the crew used her in front of him. He would sit back comfortably against the side of his cage and stroke himself, like he was a luxury passenger and she was being fucked for his entertainment. He seemed entranced with the way she screamed and groaned and drooled, the way her pathetic body shook and sweated with desperation.

One evening, she woke from a daze to the sound of her own moaning. She blinked her eyes open slowly and realized she was sprawled out on the deck beside the orc's cage--she remembered, vaguely, one of the pirates pushing her up against the cage, pressing her breasts through the bars as he fucked her. The orc had come right up to the side of the cage to watch. Had he touched her breasts? Played with the nipple piercings? Or had she imagined that?

He was definitely looking down at her now, crouched down to be close to her face. She blinked at him blearily through the separation of the bars, then moaned again at the feeling of her piercing jostling against her clit, a gentle pressure rubbing against the sensitive organ. She lifted her hand, expecting to find that she was rubbing herself again, but no--her hand was at her side.

She lifted her head and looked down to see the orc's finger brushing over her. He was just able to reach with his hands pressed against the bars, and was caressing her, rubbing light circles over her throbbing clit.

Sylvia whimpered and dropped her head again, looking up at him. The orc tapped his finger on her a couple of times, and then said something in his rough, guttural language. Sylvia just shook her head, uncomprehending.

The orc adjusted his stance and gestured to his hard cock, jutting out from under his loincloth, and then mimed gripping someone's hips and thrusting into them.

That, Sylvia understood. She recognized distantly that it was a shameful proposal--to be fucked by an orc, little more than an animal--and also that she should probably be frightened, given the relative size of his cock, although the collar was meant to protect her from most sexual injuries. She had very little room left in her for shame or fear, though. She needed to be filled, and he was offering.

She dragged herself shakily up onto her knees and backed against the cage, pressing her pussy to a gap between the bars. The orc said something in an appreciative tone and stuck his finger into her; she whimpered and clenched. His finger was nearly thick enough to be a cock all on its own. When he pulled it out, she whined, immediately feeling terribly empty. The orc said something unidentifiable in his language, but he managed to make the low growl of his voice sound reassuring. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.

It took a minute or so for the orc to figure out the angle to get into her; his size made it difficult for him to get down to her level, but there was no way she was going to be able to stand up while being fucked, not without someone to hold her up. She could barely stand these days at all. Finally, he managed to line up from a sort of splayed kneeling position. He wrapped his enormous fingers around her hips through the bars, locking her into place, and for a second she felt something almost like fear as she felt the massive head of his cock--maybe two thirds the size of a human's fist--press against her gaping hole and wondered if she had made a terrible mistake.

Then he began to press into her in slow, lurching movements, and the stretch of it nearly made her black out with pleasure.

"Oh, oh, oh," she groaned, writhing in his grip. "Yes, yes, oh, God, yes, fuck me, fuck me!"

He might have answered her in his orcish language; she couldn't hear over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. The sheer girth of his cock forced her pussy to stretch unimaginably wide, momentarily distracting her from the hard, burning need to come that haunted her; for a moment, just fucking on its own was a satisfying experience, rather than the frantic prelude to crushing disappointment.

"What the devil is happening over there?" one of the pirates muttered; another laughed.

"The orc is fucking the bitch. That's a new one."

The orc rocked deeper inside of her, each movement bouncing the piercing against her clit and making her groan. "Yes," she grunted. "Yes, yes, fuck--ohhh..." she lost her voice for a moment as the orc reached as far inside of her as he could get, his cock-head slamming with uncomfortable force against the mouth of her womb. It hurt, and she knew there was a time in her life when she had hated the feeling, but in her current state of madness, she craved every sensation the massive cock was giving her. "Yes. Yes. There," she gasped, and rocked back on his cock, forcing it to dig harder against her until she could feel the ache of bruises forming inside her.

"Oh, fuck. Mm--I want to come," she gasped, mostly to herself, because none of the pirates were near enough to hear her, and they wouldn't have cared anyway. Just saying the words out loud for the first time in ages made her eyes well up with tears of frustration again, but then the orc pulled out and thrust into her again, and she wailed as the sensations inside of her grew in intensity. "Ye-e-es, oh, oh!"

The orc grunted his answering pleasure, and began to fuck her more steadily, driving into her like a battering ram. She began to fade in and out of awareness, drifting between the tingling almost-orgasmic pleasure of his massive cock spreading her open and the sudden, lurching need to be given permission to come.

A few of the pirates walked over to enjoy the show, and she occasionally managed to gasp out pleas to them: "please, please let me come, oh, oh fuck, oh, he's so big, please, can I come, please," each word forced out of her with the thrust of the orc's massive cock. The men just laughed at her, then laughed again when the orc shifted his angle and she squealed with pleasure as he rubbed against something swollen and desperate inside of her.