Author's note: I strongly recommend reading chapter one and two first! 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.
Elven Love Slave Chapter 3
It was morning, and Aronea stretched before getting up from bed to prepare for the day. She had been Varod's captive for nearly a year, now. Over time, as Varod had come to trust her more and more, the restrictions on her movement had gradually been lifted, and she now frequently joined Varod in the Great Hall when Orc peasants came to make requests. Today would be such a day.
At first, the Orc commoners had been apprehensive about an Elven woman sitting amongst them in their seat of power, but quickly word had spread that Aronea's presence seemed to comfort Varod. He was more benevolent with her there, so the commoners had slowly come to welcome her, often nodding to her before making their requests.
As Aronea began to get dressed, she laughed when she saw herself in the mirror and realized that her long, silvery Elven hair was still quite a mess from Varod's visit last night. She thought of him as she ran her hand over her collar, and she smiled dreamily. Her bond with the Warchief had continued to grow; she had been worried that he might become bored of her and discard her for some new conquest, but instead, their relationship had become increasingly passionate and intimate over time. She was still his slave, but she no longer pretended that she did not care for him.
Aronea's bond with Bola had continued to grow, as well. Bola had introduced the Elven girl to many of the other Orcs she spent time with, and in truth, Aronea now had more friends among the Orc women than she had ever had back in her husband's village -- her Elven husband, Callon, had seemed to deliberately cut her off from any friendships to increase her reliance on him.
As Aronea began to comb out her silvery tangles, she recalled how Bola had been childishly excited when she had shown interest in styling her hair after Orcish fashion. The Orc woman had spent nearly half a day with her, braiding and unbraiding her hair as they tried different designs. Eventually, Aronea had settled on two matching, unbraided pigtails like their friend Naz.
With the tangles undone, Aronea proceeded to tie her hair into those pigtails, then made sure her Orcish skirt and top were fitted properly. Satisfied, she headed out to meet Varod.
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Varod had arrived early to the Great Hall, as he often did on mornings such as these. The Warchief was rarely given time to himself, and he relished the opportunity to ponder in silence. He had requested that Aronea join him for today's duties, and it was to her that his mind wandered.
Varod had grown up learning the Elven language and customs from his tutors; his father, who had led the Frostbear clan before him, had wanted to make sure his son understood their enemy. It had worked -- Varod had proved an immensely successful General almost immediately upon taking the mantle -- but ever since his youth, he had been fascinated by the Elves' pale skin and pointed ears, and he wondered if that early tutelage was to blame.
Still, Varod had never been particularly attracted to an Elven woman before, as most were far too short and scrawny for his tastes. That had changed the moment he laid eyes on Aronea, however; she had the elegant, graceful features of an Elven girl and the thick, voluptuous body of a fertile Orc woman. He had told Aronea on their first night together that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and he had meant it.
But while Varod had first taken Aronea out of pure lust, his relationship with her had become far more over time. Despite the arrogant reputation of the Elves, the girl was humble: she had never shown resentment at her condition, and Varod had not been forced to use the collar on her for many months. She was compassionate, as well: Varod had seen her spend time comforting the other Elven slaves, and to his surprise, even seen her travel to the healing tents to aid the Monks with any wounded Orcish soldiers.
Perhaps most importantly, he and Aronea had proved intensely compatible as mates. He had worried that she might find him repulsive or find their coupling too painful, and while she had been intimidated and frightened at first, it became clear quite quickly that she found it as carnally satisfying as he did. He could be aggressive and even fierce as a lover, yet Aronea seemed to find that ferocity arousing and profoundly gratifying.
Moreover, Varod had been shocked to learn that her Elven husband belittled and ridiculed her looks; in contrast, Varod was happy to remind Aronea as often as he could just how beautiful he found her.
He had told no one of this yet, but Varod had known for months that he wished to soul bind with her -- to make Aronea his wife. Before binding for life, a Warchief commonly took many mates, and Varod had been no exception. And yet, within weeks of taking Aronea as a captive, Varod had stopped mating with anyone else, and gradually he had come to realize that this Elven woman was all that he wanted.
Varod made a pained expression as he mulled these thoughts for the hundredth time. There were insurmountable obstacles to their soul binding, and that was why he had kept his desires to himself. Some of the obstacles were small: Aronea was a peasant woman, but this was not so serious a concern. Unlike with Elven nobility, it was considered fortuitous for an Orc Warchief to bind with a woman of lower birth. Elven Lords seemed to think themselves above their own people, while Orc Warchiefs liked to be seen among them.
Some of the obstacles were much larger, however. While it might be accepted for a Warchief to marry a commoner, it would be another thing entirely for that commoner to be an Elf, not an Orc. Even worse, Aronea was a slave; the Orcish Monks who administered the soul binding ritual would not bind a person against their will. And most seriously of all, Aronea already had an Elven husband. No matter how poorly that husband treated her, the Monks would not bind a person who was already joined to someone else. Varod rubbed his own temple. It was simply too much to overcome.
Varod noticed an Orc enter the Great Hall out of the corner of his eye; shaking off his introspection, the Warchief looked over at a side door and saw it was Dakhar. Dakhar was a heavily tattooed brown Orc who had led his own Orcish tribe before the Orcs had united under Varod's banner, and he was Varod's closest advisor. The two had been friends even before their clans had united, and they trusted one another completely. Dakhar often stood at his side in the Great Hall to offer counsel.
Dakhar approached the throne, but before the two could even exchange words, another Orc entered the hall, this time from the main entrance. The Orc put his fist to his heart to salute Varod.
"Warchief, the citizenry have arrived."
Varod exhaled deeply, then motioned for Dakhar to stand at his side.
"Don't look so annoyed," the brown Orc said as he took his place over Varod's shoulder. "It's only a thousand requests."
Varod snorted, then nodded toward the Orc soldier at the front of the room.
"Let them come."
As the peasantry began to spill into the Hall, Varod saw Aronea enter from the same side doorway from which Dakhar had entered, and her pale blue eyes twinkled as she smiled warmly up at him. Varod never tired of her beauty; her ample bosom and full bottom, so uncommon for an Elven woman, perfectly filled out her Orcish skirt and top. She came to him, resting in a nest at his feet that had been made just for her.
Varod patted her gently on the head, then sighed faintly.
"It will be a long day," he told her in Orcish. Aronea was now quite fluent in her Master's tongue. "There was a fire in a village to the southeast, and our people will require considerable aid."
Aronea was unflustered, and she gently stroked his leg with one hand.
"I am here for you," she replied softly. She paused, then pointed toward the commoners now flooding the hall. "And for them."
Varod chortled in amusement. "They do like to see you here, don't they? They must know you help me keep my patience."
He leaned down even further and caressed her cheek.
"I am glad you are here. You are my strength."
The first supplicant reached the dais, and Varod sat back upright.
Over the next several hours, Orcs came and went with requests and with news. The fire had caused several houses to burn; another Orc had lost his livestock to the blaze; yet another claimed it had left him impotent. News from the southwest that the Dwarven assaults had been repelled, and all Orc villages defended. Each time Varod began to feel strained, Aronea would lightly brush his calf to remind him of her presence, and to remind him to be generous.
Just as Varod saw the midday sun cresting through a window, the Orcish soldier who had opened the doors for the citizenry in the morning entered the Hall once more and ran hurriedly forward, passing by the peasants already in line. The soldier approached the throne, struggling for breath, and began speaking so hurriedly and breathlessly that his words were unintelligible.
