Bountiful Barrens

The sun beat down overhead as Roland checked the straps on his armor for the fiftieth time. The waiting was always the worst part of battle and the heat in the barrens was intolerable on the best day. He swept his mud-brown hair out of his vision and cursed as another drop of sweat ended up in his eyes. Laying in the dusts earth as he waited to charge was not among his favorite activities.

The footmen next to Roland chucked at the curse. "Oh c'mon it's not that bad it's a......"

Roald cut him off mid sentence. "The next person who says the words dry heat in my hearing I'm going to punch in the mouth" He grumbled, as he fiddled with his sword. The man snapped his mouth shut but his eyes still sparkled with mirth.

They'd marched for two weeks up from Theramore, and the ocean breeze had long since been replaced by the stifling air of Central Kalimdor. Five days in and he still had no idea why they were here. The human's been on peaceable terms with the orcs for the last Half-decade aside from the occasional border skirmish. They weren't friends exactly but the general policy of live and let live seemed be agreed upon by both sides. Yet here he baking in the hot sun and prepared at any moment to launch a full raid on an orc settlement.... Sheer madness. If they roused the Horde, they would sweep down on Theramore and crush it like an egg. Hell, the only reason they hadn't done it before was because the orcs had never wanted the light-forsaken swampland.

The call for battle pulled Roland out of his musings and he jumped to his feet along with the other fifty soldiers on this raid. They poured down onto the orc village as a solid line of glinting steel, shield and swords at the ready. He rushed to the front of the line, as one of the orcs shouted the alarm and the few guards on duty ran out to meet them.

Roland found himself paired off with a massive orc wielding one of those massive axe's the orcs were so. Roland raised his shield as the warrior swung, deflecting the blow, but sending roland stumbling. He regained his balance and dashed inside the orcs guard. He was winding up his finishing thrust when orc horns sounded in the distance.

(Nine-Hells, reinforcements already? Were we set up?)

He mind spun but he realized too late that the distraction had cost him. He felt the hot flash of pain on his inner thigh, just as his sword drove through the orcs chest. The orc had pulled a knife while his thoughts were elsewhere and now his blood spilled onto the parched earth.

Roland looked at the wound and swore, blood was welling up quickly, but not spurting like it would if the artery had been severed. The wound was deep but it must have missed the vein. Still, he was losing a lot of blood. He needed to get the wound bandaged before he bled out. He pulled his sword free of his victim and used to to fend off another orc while he looked for someplace to rest. Then he saw a barn a few rod away and used the chaos of the fight to move in that direction.

He shattered the barns door with a kick from his good leg and stumbled inside.

Sunlight streamed into the structure from the doorway revealing a few piles of straw and a trio of grubby-looking orc children huddled against the back wall. "Son of a bitch" He swore into the children's terrified silence.

The children huddled closer and let out a few loud wails, frightened beyond reason. "Ok.... Ok. I'm not going to hurt you, just keep your voices down." He said in a lighter tone sheathing his sword and showing the children his empty hands. Fighting armed guards was one thing, but he'd die before he hurt a child, even if they were orcs. Then he heard the footsteps behind him.

"It's going to be one of those days isn't it" he muttered as he slowly turned away from the children to face the newcomer with his hands still out-spread.

It was a she-orc wielding another great-axe. Dark blue hair framed a face of light green. The combination looked odd but not unpleasant to his human eyes. She had the underbite and prominent lower-tusks that were common to all orcs, but hers were much smaller than the ones the males had, almost delicate. Sweat glistened on her ample bosom and ripped abs, as her breath sawed in and out. Blood gleamed on the blade of her axe and the odd lighting in the room caused the shadows to ripple and twist with the tribal tattoos on her body.

Against his will his gaze slithered down her torso to her long-legs and muscular thighs. She had a great body. Over-muscled for a female but with her sun-melon sized breasts barely constrained by her fighting leathers and the hips packed into her tight pants there was no mistaking her gender.

Pure feminine power, equal parts beautiful and terrifying. She looked like some pagan goddess of blood and battle. Roland was completely mesmerized. His orcish was terrible, but he did know a few words. "Grazak"(beautiful) was all he could get out through the haze his mind was in. Which is when she snapped the handle of her axe into his temple and the world went black.

***********************************************

Roland woke to a splitting headache and the feel of warm-hands on his body. It wasn't the first time he'd awoken to such things but this seemed different from the morning after a normal night of debauchery. "How much did i drink last night?" He muttered as he pried open his too-heavy lids.

A pair of intense red eyes met his from a few inches away. "UTHER'S GHOST!" He shouted and tried to flinch away. That was when his body informed him that not only had he been hit in the head recently, but he'd had his thigh sliced open as well. Pain shot through his whole body and his yell turned into a groan as he slumped over from the reclined position he awoke in.

A low laugh came from the orc as Roland opened his eyes for the second time. He looked around and began to piece previous events back together. He was alive, and in pain. So apparently the she-orc hadn't killed him. He was also in a large circular room, sparsely furnished with rough wood and furs.

(So I'm a prisoner...... )

That thought was interrupted as once more a set of warm hands began to lightly prod the flesh around his wounded thigh, and THAT was when he finally realised that, as well as captured and wounded, he was also very very naked.

His eyes swiveled away from examining the room and once more met the red stare of his apparent captor. It was the she-orc from barn. She was kneeling next to him and cleaning his wounded leg with a cloth and a basin of water. She had changed from her fighting armor, into a sleeveless tunic. From this distance he could see what he had missed in the barn. Her face was more feminine than he'd expected from an orc, with high cheekbones and large eyes. Her jaw was more masculine than most human women, but it drew attention to her long neck and accentuated the hollows beneath her jawline and slightly pointed ears. She was striking if not precisely a beauty but he found her fascinating. She carried herself with the sort of ease you'd associate with a lazy predator, and there was something primal and wild in her manner that even in his weakened state he found extremely arousing.

He gave a mental snort. Light, the guys always razzed him about being a horn-dog and here he was a prisoner after that fiasco of a battle and he was getting turned on by an orc. His mind flashed back to the barn when he'd first seen her. Her bountiful breasts glistening with sweat, and and her muscles coiled to strike. His cock twitched with interest, and the hands cleaning his wound paused for a moment before she let out a snort and began again. Roland met her eyes with his best grin on, then shrugged.

"What's you name?" he asked finally. He spoke slowly and enunciated each syllable. She looked back at him blankly then shook her head, not understanding. She didn't have any common then. He pointed at his chest and said "Roland" Then pointed at her.She nodded understanding, and pointed to herself.

"Granna". Her voice was deep, but feminine and it had a richness that made his already interested male parts harden even further. At this point it was impossible to miss, as close as she was. Instead of backing away however she merely looked at him and raised one dark-blue eyebrow. For a human he was an above average specimen at near eight inches, but he supposed by orc standards she wouldn't be impressed.

He cleared his throat, trying to swing his thoughts back in a more constructive direction. Firstly he needed to figure out why he was alive, followed rather closely by where he was and how he was going to escape.

He frantically flipped his mental pages trying to recall all the orcish he knew and how he might be able to use his scant vocabulary to get some questions answered.

"Tha'kar grak?"( Why live?) He tried, meeting Granna's red eyes again. She cocked her head puzzled for a moment then grunted. She pointed to herself and unleashed a torrent of orcish words that were completely unintelligible to him. He shook his head and shrugged and she scowled. Then tried again more slowly and with less complex words. .

"Druk Ta. H'ren Thruk"( Me One. Much Work) That he understood. She was apparently single and needed someone to work for her. So he was a slave. Which he supposed beat being chopped in half. At least this way he had a chance to escape. Besides farm chores weren't too bad. Then again the reason he'd joined the army in the first place was to because he hadn't wanted to end up doing chores his whole life like his pa.

The she-orc finally finished on his leg then waved in his direction and said "Sleep" in orcish. He took the hint and passed out again.

It took nearly a week for Roland's leg to heal. He spend the week inside being bored and trying to polish up his orcish enough to at least be understood. He wasn't making much progress and he hoped to hell he wouldn't be here long enough to really get the hang of it.

The only real upside was was Granna. He found himself taking an odd sort of enjoyment in just watching her bustle around the hut. She'd leave during the day then come back in the late afternoon usually covered in sweat. Then she'd strip right in front of him completely unconcerned with his gaze before cleaning herself with a few ladles of water. Then she'd cook him something to eat. Honestly, he was starting to feel a little bad about lying around all day while she worked. It was a ridiculous thought, him being a slave and all, but it was the truth.

This morning things were different though.

Granna woke up naked as always. He couldn't really blame her with as hot as it always was here but it was distracting as all hell. His gaze fastened to her hips and he watched in lust fogged fascination as she dressed herself. His eyes following the flex of her stomach and hips. Watching her wasn't really a productive pastime but It was an enjoyable one. Apparently, he had a bit of taste for the green-meat. He pondered on the strange the things one can learn about oneself as a captive.

Once Granna dressed she walked over to Roland and commanded him to follow. He obeyed instantly getting to his feet as she lead him through the door. They walked out of the hut and Roland got his first taste of the outdoors in nearly a week. He was still sore but everything seemed to work properly. Even this early in the morning the sun was blazing hot and Roland was sweating before he even made it to the boar pin Granna kept behind her house. The boars she raised were monsters, mean as hell and nearly twice the size of the ones his pa had raised back in Westfall.

Granna pointed to the water trough and handed him a pole with a wooden bucket hanging from each end. Then she pointed towards the center of the village where he assumed the well was. Roland groaned aloud then started trudging that direction feeling sorry for himself. It wasn't like he could run away. Even free he was weeks from a human settlement and with a bad leg and no supplies he wouldn't make it far.

He must have made quite the spectacle as he trudged through the orc village. There couldn't have been more than a hundred orcs in the whole place but it seemed everyone had come outside to gawk at Roland as he carried buckets of water from the well back to Granna's pigs. The boars needed a lot of water and he was still too injured to carry much weight. It translated into a lot of trips and it took hours before he was finished.

Granna was off doing whatever she did during the day but she'd tasked him with making dinner for her. He was actually a decent cook, you had to be in the army if you ever wanted to eat anything edible, but light only knew what the hell he was supposed to do with the ingredients she had. He didn't even know what half of them were, and it took a great deal of taste testing before he created something reasonably good.

His captor didn't get home until after sundown but she let out a contented sigh as she smelled the stew he had bubbling over the cook-fire. She layed her axe in the corner then stipped down to her underwear and promptly collapsed into the nest of furs and pillows she used as a bed. She pulled a small leather wine-skin and took a large swig before she sprawled out on her furs and gestured toward the stew pot.

"Oh for light's sake!" Roland swore as he caught her meaning.

(The wench is too lazy to even serve herself?)

He threw up my hands in disgust but apparently it roused the she-orcs anger.

Granna reached under her furs and pulled out a sword, Roland's sword to be more exact and pointed it lazily towards the stew-pot. Roland sighed defeated and ladled her a bowl. She wasn't much of a captor. She'd left his sword in the house with him as she'd been out and even had her cooking for him. It would take him little effort to turn the tables on her. Either she was dumb, or completely unafraid of him. Still, even If he poisoned her it wouldn't solve his main problems.

She laughed another of her sultry laughs as Roland delivered the stew bowl. Then she sank back in her furs and ate contentedly, sipping occasionally from her wine-skin of light knew what. It must have been fairly potent or she'd started before she got home because, because she had a green flush in her cheeks by the time she finished her second bowl of stew.

She lay in her furs like some debauched queen, sprawled out in her underwear and half-sauced to boot. She looked like a languid cat as she grinned contentedly and stared at nothing. Roland's cock stirred and he adjusted himself as he cleaned up the bowls and spoons. She must have caught the action because she grinned knowingly and stretched, making her chest press out and showing off her body.

"You want me?" She asked in orcish, with a lazy smile.

He took in an eyeful of her and nodded. There was no use lying about it. They both knew he did. She pulled one of the large pillows out from behind her and used it to prop up her feet. Then she picked up his sword again and pointed to her wiggling toes.

Roland sighed heavily, This whole subservient thing was really starting to urk him. He knew some guys in his platoon that liked their women to boss them around but it really wasn't for him. Sure, he liked a girl who took control once in awhile, but there were lines and this was definitely crossing them. Still, she was sexy and he'd wanted his hands on her since he'd first seen her.

He knelt down next to her feet and started to rub them. Her feet were soft and her skin was fever-warm. He grinned to himself as Granna leaned back in her pillows and shut her eyes in contentment. Roland had only had a few real girlfriend's but he'd had plenty of experience in seduction. He prided himself on his massages. He didn't know a ton about orc courtship but doubted erotic massage was something they did a whole lot of. This girl was already relaxed and half-drunk. He'd have her melting for him in minutes.

Roland gave her his best effort. Starting with soft caresses along the top of her foot. Light teasing strokes that did little besides get her used to his touch. Then he moved on, alternating light teasing strokes of his hands along her ankles and arches with firmer strokes at the bottom of her foot. He worked his knuckles into the knotted muscle until he managed to sooth them away. All the while he inched his caresses up her legs.

Her contented sighs slowly metamorphosed into pleased moans and little grunts. Her legs started to stir restlessly as Roland moved his massage to her calves and then to the back of her knees. Soon her breath was coming faster and her hands had released her weapon and wine-skin to give own body caresses over her stomach and throat. Soon, her hands were moving towards her her glorious beasts and Roland's mouth watered and he silently urged her on.

Then she thrust her hips towards him as she rubbed her thighs together. Roland smiled in victory and gave up all pretense of massage. He bent forward and pressed a kiss against her inner thigh a few scant inches from her sex as his hands continued to work. Granna's red eyes opened, half- lidded and glazed with lust as she met his own burning gaze. He was hard as steel and wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her. Orc or not, he was hotter than he had been in months. The whores back at camp just couldn't compete with this.

She stared into his eyes, her playful smiles from earlier gone. Then she moved her hands and started to work at the knotts that held up her bottoms and bound her breasts. Roland slid the bottoms down her legs without looking away from her smoldering gaze. Then he pounced on her. His hands skimming over her body in firm caresses while his mouth nipped and nibbled at her.

Roland doubted there was much foreplay involved in orc sex, both the men and women seemed to dominate for that. So instead of just spreading her open and thrusting into her like he wanted he held himself back. He didn't want to just get her off. He wanted to incinerate her, so he slowed himself down using every trick he'd ever learned.

He worked her for nearly half an hour, touching, caressing, teasing, but never where she wanted it most. He traced her tattoos with his tongue, giving her small bites along her collar and on her hip bones. Her moans had turned into lusty growls and keening cries and still he pushed her farther. denying her release while he wound her ever tighter. Only when her whole body was trembling and he couldn't stand it anymore did he finally relent. He jerked away the cloth covering her bountiful breasts and latched his mouth onto one of her dark blue nipples. Her back bowed like he'd stabbed her and she let out wail so loud he was sure her neighbors could hear.

Roland suckled her while his hands brushed her thighs, and neck, and face. He ran fingers through her short- spiky hair and switched to the other nipple. By now she was barley coherent, orcish curses falling from her lips as she body writhed and her hips thrust into the air. He continued to suckle from her her cries growing louder until she came apart for him. She whimpered as her body convulsed, too turned on from all my teasing to find relief. That's when she'd finally had enough. He was surprised she'd let him tease her so long.

Their eyes met mine for a single moment before she rolled up on top of him. She grabbed his cock and snarled as she shoved it into her dripping pussy. She sank onto him and he almost died. Holy light, orcs bodies were hotter than humans but her aroused sex was like thrusting himself into lava. She was so hot it nearly burned but it felt so fucking good he couldn't stand it. Soon they were rutting like animals as she rode him. Her breasts bouncing and her muscles straining she reached for release. He thrust his hips up into her, maddened with lust, he needed to be deeper, he had to have more of her.