Author's note: the chapters of this story can have quite a bit of exposition, as the characters are intended to be more fleshed out. If you just want the sexy bits, no worries: the sex usually occurs at the end of each chapter.
An Orc's Elven Love Slave Chapter 1
Aronea moved swiftly about her kitchen, arranged in the typical fashion for a small Elven village, stirring the stew for her husband Callon and adding spices as he always instructed her to.
It makes no difference,
she thought to herself dejectedly; he always complained no matter what she did. She pulled her silvery hair back behind her pointed Elven ears to keep it away from the stew and kept working.
Her marriage to her husband had been arranged for her at a very young age, as was customary for Elven families living in the countryside. Her family was of modest means and Aronea had never been especially sought after; while she had a pleasant face, Elven men preferred their women petite and slender, with a slim frame and a slight backside. Aronea was anything but that -- she was very tall for an Elven woman, with a thick, ample body. Her breasts too full, her hips too wide, and her butt far too large for Elven tastes, she had an elegant Elven nose, pale blue eyes, and a light, milky complexion.
She stood nearly a foot taller than her husband, and Callon had always resented her for it. Although Aronea had grown accustomed to it, her husband constantly belittled her for her stature, and mocked her wide hips and bottom as signs of low breeding. In truth, Callon had never shown her much tenderness or love at all, but that was hardly surprising given her lot in life; Callon gave her a home and a bed, and that was all one could ask for.
Just as the stew came to a boil, Aronea heard Callon squawk from their other room, heard him get up and move about, and she momentarily feared he might be coming to berate her. Then she heard more yelling coming from outside, and she hesitantly moved to her kitchen window. At first she saw nothing, but heard a distant, strange drumbeat. After a moment, she saw fire begin to leap from the roofs of two nearby houses, saw other villagers fleeing something -- and then heard the guttural, unmistakable bellow of an Orc. The village was being raided!
Aronea screamed in alarm and called for Callon, and she rushed from her kitchen in such a hurry that she knocked over her stew pot. When she entered their living quarters, she again pleaded for her husband, but was met with silence. Panicked, Aronea briefly looked outside hoping Callon was waiting for her there; to her horror, he was nowhere to be found.
As the crashing sounds grew closer, she decided she had no choice, so she ran back to her window and squeezed herself out of it, hoping to avoid detection, but she was too late; as soon as Aronea stood up, a huge, hulking Orc loomed above her.
"Please!" she cried, and held up her hands for mercy.
The Orc seemed to look at her for a moment, considering. Then she saw him lift his huge club above his head, and the world went black.
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It had been days since the assault, and for Aronea, her village already seemed a distant memory. The captives from the raid, all women, sat with feet bound and hands tied by ropes to poles in a tent in the Orcish camp. The women's clothing was torn and burned from the assault, some of them exposed far more than they wished to be.
All the Elven men were gone; Aronea learned that her husband Callon had quickly escaped when he saw the Orcs approaching, without even making the faintest attempt to warn her. The remaining women looked around with equal parts fatigue and fear. They knew from the primitive Elvish the Orcs had communicated with that they would be divvied up as slaves by the conquering warriors. Tonight was that time -- she would soon discover which of these huge creatures would claim her as their own.
As evening approached, the captive tent began to fill with Orcish soldiers. Aronea looked around uneasily. All these Orcs, both male and female, were monstrous, ugly, heavily muscled beasts, and she dreaded the thought of being chosen by any of them. She supposed she hoped that she was chosen by a female, but their faces were not much kinder than the males'.
Once the sun had fully set, the auctions began. The first Elven woman, a petite Elf Aronea did not know with purple markings on her face, was brought up on the auctioneer's pedestal. The girl, like the rest of the prisoners, looked terrified and exhausted.
The Orcs began yelling in the Orcish tongue she did not understand, and the Elven girl began to whimper. The yelling went on for some time. Finally, a winner was declared, and the Elven woman was shown to her new master. The Elf looked up at him, and he reached around her, placing a collar with engravings Aronea did not recognize around her neck.
The girl was led away, and another small Elf was placed upon the pedestal. The yelling began anew. One by one this proceeded, each woman being placed in a collar and led away by their new owners. After a dozen women had gone, Aronea's turn came, and the auctioneer grabbed her arm and roughly shoved her on to the pedestal.
Aronea felt a rock in the pit of her stomach as she looked upon the remaining Orcs -- one of these creatures would claim her, and each looked more brutish than the last. The auctioneer shouted something in Orcish, and the bidding began. As the Orcs began to examine her, Aronea suddenly felt very naked; she made a pathetic attempt to cover herself, but the auctioneer moved her hands away. The Orcs began yelling more loudly, and then more loudly still. Aronea sensed these Orcs were particularly keen to own her, but she could not understand why.
One Orc yelled something at the auctioneer; the trader quickly got up and grabbed Aronea again by the arm, turning her around for the Orcs to look at her from every angle. The Orcs had not done this to other girls, and she did not know what it meant. While Aronea had been trying desperately not to cry, the sea of ferocious Orcish faces before her finally broke her. She began to sob.
Why had Callon left her?
She thought.
Why did he abandon me to this fate?
As she was twisted this way and that, the Orcish yelling reached a fever pitch. Aronea could not quiet her crying.
Suddenly, from the back of the tent, came a strong, deep voice from an Orc she could not see. Immediately there was silence; the other Orcs stopped fighting over her, and a path parted for the Orc to come forward. Aronea saw him for the first time -- he was especially heavily muscled and very tall, with a fully shaven head, dark grey skin, a broad nose, and a strong jaw line. His yellow, piercing eyes looked intently at her. Even for an Orc, he looked incredibly fierce, and it was clear all the other Orcs deferred to him. Aronea's bindings were undone, and she was taken down from the pedestal. She quickly soothed her wrists and stood timidly.
The huge Orc came toward her, reached out his hand, and in that deep, strong voice, spoke in perfect Elvish.
"Come. You are mine, now."
Aronea was so shocked to hear him speak her native tongue that she took his hand instinctively. Despite her height for an Elf, her hand was dwarfed in his, and his dark grey skin tone was an extreme contrast to her pale, milky hue. The Orc led Aronea aside, and a path was made in front of them. Another Orc handed her new master one of those strange collars, and he came forward with it. He spoke again in perfect Elvish.
"This is a collar of command, and it binds your will to mine. It marks you as my own." He reached out much more gently than she expected, giving Aronea time to stretch her neck out.
The collar snapped around her.
"Does it hurt?" The Orc asked.
"No, I think...." She stammered confusedly, overwhelmed by the situation. "No, it is fine. It doesn't hurt."
Aronea began drying her eyes. The Orc smiled and turned to the other Orcs in the tent. He bellowed something in Orcish, and the other Orcs resumed their cheering and chanting. Only then did Aronea notice that the tent had remained almost completely silent since the moment her new master had spoken out.
With the cheering in the tent resumed, the Orc held out his hand once again. "Come, then. I will lead you to your new home."
As auctions began again for the remaining Elven women, the Orc held open the tent flap and led Aronea out into the night -- anxious and afraid, she followed.
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The Orc walked Aronea through the encampment in the darkness, and as he did so, she learned that his name was Varod, son of the King Korgak. Varod was now the Warchief of the Frostbear Orc clan, and he ruled over several united Orcish tribes. It explained why the other Orcs deferred to him so readily.
From birth, Varod's father had been preparing his son to rule in his place, and it was through these teachings that Varod had learned Elvish. He was incredibly articulate; the Orc's Elvish was better than many of the Elves she lived with in the countryside. She had been led to believe that all Orcs were brutish, dim-witted monsters, but this Orc, at least, was not.
Since taking command himself, Varod had already proven an immensely capable general; while Orcs and Elves had been at war for generations, Varod had led the Orcs to a slew of conquests, and Aronea's village was one of these.
Eventually, they arrived at Aronea's new home -- a large Orcish fortress, or perhaps a palace, larger than any building Aronea had ever seen in the Elven countryside. She could not help but gawk at its vaulted stone arches. The palace had a brutal aesthetic, comprised mostly of rock, wood and bone, but it was grand in its own way.
