Barbarian Abroad

The world ached and Cole wanted it to stop. He'd settle with the tightness behind his eyes or the rope that rubbed sorely against his wrists and ankles, but anything be stop the nausea-waves that came from the tender back of his head. He was also upside down or his captors were marching him across a grass ceiling, neither possibility helping his blurry eyes and brain. Cole had been tied to a wooden pole, trussed up like a pig on a spit. He couldn't see whoever had his legs, but the large man in front of him wore a fur vest and leggings, a bit of blood staining the edges. Cole was found himself carried through a fire-lit camp, mismatched tents and thick-haired beasts of burden beginning to line the 'roof'. Tusk-mouthed, muscular humanoids looking at him with cheers and jeers of congratulations, the flicking light stretching the features into grotesque shapes as bone-torn meat dripped down their chests. One of his bearers raised his end of the stick higher, showing off the trophy to earn another round of hooting calls.

"Can't you all just shut up?" Cole barely mustered, tired from pain and a half day without food as his stomach growled louder than his voice. Even a beast-man can't live on sex alone, he was uncomfortably reminded with another hollow lurch. The fur-shirted man was pushing through into a tent, laying Cole down on a thick carpet, the wool smelling a little like one of those hairy beasts. Three moon-globes illuminated the large shelter in pale light, the green orcish skin of his captors becoming clear. Trinkets lined the edges of the surprisingly large tent, heraldic shields with moving imagery, skulls of monsters without eyes and too many teeth. A white-bone throne sat as almost as tall as the cloth ceiling, blades and spears and a warhammer with a head the size of Cole's trunk propped against it, ready to meet any challenger. Cole's captors knelt before their resting chief robed in dire bear hide that enshadowed their form. One of them had managed to grab a skewer of meat, holding it behind his back as he held Cole's axe in the other.

"Got some electrum, Chief Ironside. Prop'r Baron's mint too." One of them passed Cole's coin pouch up, which a strong, feminine hand claimed.

"It's all the Baron's mint, Boargut." The chief answered slightly wearily to the vested orc, either from the hour or her men. "Unless ya two genius' figured out how to mine electrum without getting the pickaxe stuck in the vein, again." The two males paused for a moment before shaking their heads to the ground. She tossed the pouch back to its finder, before shifting to the other man.

"What about the axe, chief?"

"It's stone, Flatfist." She said his name with the same tone as 'idiot', resting her hand against her unseen temple. "What are we gonna to do with a stone axe?"

"Maybe it's the craftsmanship of it, you know, authentic minotaur design." He hoped, turning back to the tied Cole to bail him out, his thick eyebrows looking especially pleading. Orcs went usually pretty by most people's standards, and Flatfist had something very pug-like about his squash-nosed face. The half-minotaur was too busy focusing on the skewer in the orc's hands anyway, the scent gnawing at his stomach. The hunger was worse the kidnapping right now. The dire bear shrugged, rising up from the polished throne, at least a head taller than either of the shaking orcs.

"Oi, bull-boy?"

"Wuh?" A green hand grabbed Cole's chin, making him turn towards his axe as Chief Ironside waved it in front of his face.

"This axe, you make it special?"

"What?" The axe was lowered, revealing the orc woman's glinting, frustrated eyes. The two orcs behind her sidled up, anticipation etched on their faces.

"You make it special? Like the edge tells ya ancestral history in a complex lettering using seemingly random scratches." Cole furrowed his brow, as if he was missing a punch-line to some joke.

"I mean, I made it because the straps on the last one snapped and an axe head went into a river? So it's got better straps?" She let him go with a sharp sucking of her teeth, pivoting towards her slumping tribesmen, flourishing her garb in Cole's face.

"Greeeaaat." She tossed the axe into Flatfist's arms, knocking him onto his arse. "Leave half the electrum on the throne, keep the axe if ya want it. If he sells well, ya'll get half again between two. And go grab dinner, I can hear ya guts whining." Ironside shooed off the pair, though not before taking Flatfist's meal and ripping a piece off for herself. The chief crouched down to Cole, drawing a knife from her shadows and cutting his bindings off. Though most of her details were shadowed, he noticed several thin scars across her toned limb.

"Thanks, I think." He said, rubbing his slightly raw wrists, his eyes drawn to the aromatic skewer bobbing in the talking robe's other hand.

"Eh. Rope burns don't make a pretty slave, and besides, you're not dumb enough to run, I hope." The knife slipped away and she helped him upright, patting his back and arms. "Ya got slave meat on you, so don't do anything stupid and ya'll be treated just fine. Last fella we sold was an elf,

musician lucky enough for him, else we'd have put him on luggage duty. Ya could fetch a good price too, if the nobles fancy any exotic barbarian servants."

"I'm not a barbarian." He snapped, before clutching at his whining stomach. "Just because I use an axe, doesn't mean I'm some kind of raging savage." Barbarians just lost themselves to anger and did stupid things. Cole liked to think of himself as more 'accident-prone' than blood-frenzied.

"You alright in the head? Most people start trying to bargain their freedom or make idle threats when they hear they're gonna to get sold, not get pedantic over life choices."

"It's not a. . . I'm just hungry." He caught himself, deciding not to anger the orc chief however tempting.

"Here." She slapped the skewer in his hands, sighing much like how she sighed at her orc men earlier. "Scouts heard ya fucking up a storm near the Ship's Lake, got an eyeful too from what I heard. Though I guess it's just 'the lake' now. Thanks for destroying some of our cultural landmarks by the way, I hope those mermaids were worth it, they at least seemed to have a good time."

"It was a shitty beached hulk that had been looted to the bones." He replied between voracious bites of the pale meat.

"Yeah. But it was our shitty beached hulk."

After a few more mouthfuls of what he hoped was boar, Cole's stomach ceased its complaints. He patted his stomach happily, the dull ache behind his eyes gone as his new owner sat on her throne counting her half of his electrum. The elder minotaurs back home had been able to throw orc raiders around like toys, but Cole wasn't so sure of his chances against an entire, well-fed tribe. And the business end of Ironside's hammer was something he fancied stay clear of.

"So," He called over, resting the skewer aside a silver chalice. "I'm sure you hear this often . . ."

"Want to not be a slave then?" Cole could hear the smile in her voice, as the thick bear cloak continued counting the magnetic coins. "Let's step outside."

The tribe toasted and cheered to their chief as she strode out into the fire-lit camp. Weapons shook and skewers waved as she held up her hands to the green mass and called out, "As was decided from our tribe's wisest chief, this slave will be given the choice to challenge a clan member to wrestle for his freedom! If he wins by strength of arms or strength of display, he will be set free. If he fails to impress us, well, he's probably safer with us than out in the big scary world. So slave, what do ya say?" Cole felt the hundreds of pairs of eyes suddenly turn on him. When he had hoped to experience some foreign culture, see their ways of life, he hadn't expected to get thrown into such a deep end of it.

"Is this not a bit quick?" He sidled up the chief, a little thrown with the offer.

"Best time for it. I fed ya, ya can grab a drink and ya'll want to be at ya best. This is it bull-boy, take it or leave it."

"Fine." He stamped frustrated, "I accept!" The orc mob cheered and began to form a fighting ring, it was going to be dinner and a show tonight. Ironside patted Cole on his tan back, as she guided him into the centre.

"Good choice and don't worry. When you lose, we won't eat ya until they isn't any food left to ransack." She said proudly, "Some human folks won't even spare ya that kindness." He sighed, as he picked out the pug-faced orc that brought him here, chatting to the other one over their coins. Compared to the chief and some of the larger orcs around, he looked like a fair chance of being beaten.

"So, how about it, Flatfist? Think you can stop me?" Cole challenged, pointing towards him with vengeance in his heart.

"Think again, bull-boy." Ironside chuckled as she waved Flatfist to stay where he was.

"What about Boargut?"

"Ya don't get to choose. Ya get to challenge a clan member, not pick a clan member."

"What?" An orc chief with a legal mind, this night was just getting worse and worse. "Would your wisest chief think that fair?" He responded as scanned the seven-foot orcs that lined the back rows.

"She sure does, I always think I have a great sense of fair play. And I also think I should be ya opponent." She rested her hands on her hips proudly, pushing the lower cape aside revealing tight stomach muscles and well-toned green legs that could chase down beasts much faster than Cole. A small loincloth covered her dignity, with a neat little tuft of crotch fuzz poking out of the top. He wasn't sure if night was getting worse or better as the chief strode past him to hand her cloak to a steel-helmet orc. Ironside's hair was dark, shaved into a thick mohawk down the back of her head. All seven foot of orc woman was sculpted strength, Cole was no slouch but there not an ounce of fat that wasn't where it needed to be. Her breasts were full and perfectly spherical, a minimal strap of cloth stretched across to cover her nipples. Pale scratches of old scars criss-crossed along her powerful arms, one stretching down near her left eye to her petite tusks.

She slowly approached Cole, his eyes drifting over her minimalist attire as she took his hand. And then flipped him bodily overhead and against the grass-floor. The beastman snapped back to reality, rolling across the ground and away from the green amazon. "Aren't you supposed to say when the fight starts, Ironside?!" He yelled, as she chuckled, the ring of orcs cheering for their chief.

"You can keep waiting if you want. You know, Orcs get named after their achievements, do you think I should add Bull-Breaker or Landmark-Fury after this?" She dashed to close the gap as Cole braced with his arms ready to block her grab. She didn't stop running, instead grabbing his torso and picking him off his feet. Cole struggled against the superior brawler, her soft chest briefly mashed against his groin as she threw him against the crowd. He sailed into the orcs, tumbling against the green wrestling fans before they picked him up and push him back into the ring.

'Okay,' Cole thought to himself as he tried to catch some air, 'This is going really bad. Come on, I can break a ship when I'm not thinking, I'm strong enough to fight her.' He raised his arms again, stepping closer to the grinning chief.

"What's wrong, bull-boy? Hope ya didn't mind the love-tap. I thought even half-minotaur barbarians could take a hit." Red flashed in Cole's head again, as he found a sudden burst of energy urging him on.

"I'm not a barbarian!" He yelled, charging low for the orc chief's chiselled abdomen, horns at the ready. Ironside stepped back in surprise, this was his chance! As he roared with his attack, he felt her grab his shoulder and step around him, shifting his balance with a well-placed sweep under his hoof. Cole fell to the floor as the chief trapped his head between her powerful thighs, locking one of his arms in her grasp.

"You can yell all you want, but just getting angry isn't gonna make you hit me any better." She called down to the pinned half-minotaur as he struggled under her. Cole's flattened cattle-ears weren't really able to pick up her voice, but he got the message. He was more of a brute force, axe-to-the-face kind of minotaur and she was an orc who had probably wrestled all kinds of warriors in her time. Brute force wasn't going to save him, the fight was hers. The only kind of wrestling Cole had done in the past week was . . .

Ironside noticed Cole had stopped struggling, to her slight disappointment. She was expecting more of that energy he had run at her with, the last minotaur she'd fought had horns too big to try this move on however, making pinning a real chore. This one was much more manageable, if a little temperamental. She began to wonder if he had blackout or something, when a bolt of pleasure coursed up her back as she felt something wet and warm slide against her cunt. "Is he. .?" Her question was quickly answered as Cole's tongue ran along her pussy, briefly flicking her clit as his hot breath panted against her.

The chief let out a little groan as Cole indulged her, orc tusks and thighs don't mix well, so to have such an energetic participant was quite a treat. She let go of his arm, seeing as he was already giving in to her so readily it was cruel to keep the fight going. She rolled her hips gently as she rode his face, loving his slow swipes against her labia, rocking on his tongue. The orc wrestling mob had begun to quiet down as more and more began to notice that Chief Ironside was enjoy her fight a little more than normal. Women started to rub themselves beneath their loincloths, imagining what it must feel like to be on top of the beastman as the men stroked their thick cocks to the sight of their gasping chief.

Cole patted Ironside's firm rear, getting her attention and switching her to sit on his chest. He lapped his lips of her lust and smiled up to the gently panting orc, "Hope you don't mind me changing things up a bit."

"Ya not just giving in and offering to be my personal pussy pleaser then?" She asked, a little disappointed.

"Maybe," He grinned as he saw the hard tips of her nipples pressing against her strip of fabric. "You wisest chief did say we had to wrestle, not fight, right? So how about this, we wrestle my way and if you are too pleased to argue, I go free. If not, you can have me licking your cunt whenever you want until the day I'm sold. Deal?"

"This wouldn't be ya trying to change things because I was tossing ya around like a sack of angry potatoes, eh?"

"I could stop, if you think I'd beat you. I mean, you win either way really." Ironside looked thoughtful for a moment, her gash still twitching slightly from Cole's oral effort.

"You think ya can fuck me to freedom, bull-boy?" She raised her hands proudly, announcing to the horny ring of orcs. "I've outfucked any man here who's tried, I can beat a minotaur in battle or in the bed." Another cheer went out from the crowd, ready for more hot-blooded action.

"So it's a deal?"

"It's a deal, now get that mouth of ya's back to work." She pivoted back around, wrapping Cole's head between her legs again as he plunged his hot tongue into her wet cunt. Ironside began to groan again, relishing the minotaur's mouth as his lapping sent little shivers through her body with each lick. She rested her hands on his solid stomach, rocking her hips more and more to grind her clit against the pleasure. Her body tighten against him, loving his rolling wet tongue as it found her spot and worshipped it, moving at her increasing pace. Gods she wanted to keep this mouth around, she might even keep him for herself at this rate as she felt the long muscle lick her clit faster and faster. Her tribe was certainly getting into the spirit, thick male digits pumping tight cunts, trying to follow their leader as best as they could. As another shudder trembled through her core, the orc chief remembered this was still a contest and if whilst cumming without having to do anything felt so good and easy, she had a standard to maintain.

"Let's see what ya've got here then." She teased the deaf Cole, as she leant forward towards his groin. She hadn't wrangled a minotaur quite like this before but she'd heard rumours, that they often reached sizes of a foot of wrist-thick flared cock, nothing she hadn't handled with some of bigger boys in her tribe already. She pawed a little unsteadily at the baggy trousers, the smell of salt faint on the cloth. The orc felt a large lump between the half-bull's furred legs, and then another beside it, and then a long thick tube that certainly didn't stop at the twelve-inch mark. "Those lying kobolds, ahh!" she muttered before another shudder rocked her tight frame. A mottled black and pink horsecock sprang into her disbelieving grasp, thickening until she could barely reach halfway around it. She stroked the two-feet of impressive girth slowly, sizing it up as the various veins throbbed it to action. Ironside's hips bucked on their own, the challenge feeling a little more exhilarating as the minotaur's tongue began to rub inside her teased cunt, the surges of pleasure growing more and more frequent.

'Ah, fuck it. He can have this one.' She conceded, letting herself ride the approaching orgasm. With the beastman's efforts now fevered with just the gentle, motivating stroke of his turgid monster cock, Ironside rocked herself gladly, letting him tongue-fuck her to the crest as her toned body shook with lust. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She growled through gritted teeth, working Cole's tongue with small, precise motions. Her firm legs clamped down on his head, as he tasted her climax. The crowd began to groan with their leader, as her back arched with a loud roar of "FUCK!"

A few stars spotted Ironside's vision as she relaxed slowly, she hadn't realised how much a good mouth could get her going. The excessive beastcock twitching excitedly in front of her. Cole had enjoyed his early victory it seemed, as sticky precum began to ooze from the slit. Ironside tapped her tusks thoughtfully as she gyrated on the beastman's face, his efforts having slowed to gentle clit licking as his hands stroked her firm ass. Though her tusks made sucking safely impossible, the orc chief needed to return the favour, cupping her toy-boy's oversized balls and running her own tongue up the veiny meatpipe. The flavour was strong with masculine musk, though she noted his prejizz was sweeter than expected. 'Probably all the g-ugh . . the greens this bull eats,' the orc pondered as she slathered the bullrod with spit, matching tongue-blow for tongue-blow.

The tightening of Cole's balls told Ironside she was heading in the right direction, a confirming groan under her loincloth urging her on. With one hand on his chest steadying herself, the orc gripped the fat root of the bull-wood and stroked as hard as her half-grip could manage. Even the veins were firm as stroked the rigid cock, her mouth still licking the sweet precum that emanated from the flared head. Somewhere around her, the orc horde had abandoned itself to fucking at its own pace. Hulking men slammed against amazonian women, fucking each other without care except for which hot body to mount next. Power against power and lust against lust.

Her title of Bull-Breaker was looking further away as Cole began to pick up the pace again, his tongue sliding inside the chief's dripping cunt. Power was always a heady rush, especially as his palms worshipped her tight green ass and so much cock was under her tongue. As Cole groaned again underneath her, Ironside felt a mighty throb surge through the monster shaft in her hand, another splash of precum hitting her hungry lips. He was going to come for her this time, she decided, as she bounced her hips slightly to let his energetic tongue do its thing. The half-minotaur began to lick erratically as he continued to twitch in her iron-grip. As his fingers grabbed lustfully against Ironside's body, a torrent of creamy spunk shot forth from the twitching hose. She continued to stroke him, to milk him, licking across the strained veins as over a gallon of white essence blasted out into the night air and over the battleground.