Wooden cart-wheels belonging to a lavish carriage rumbled and hopped along the gravel road, rocking it from side to side as the driver moved deeper into the squalid town. He glared distastefully at the degeneracy he found, forced to meander around the drunkards who carelessly stumbled onto the untamed dirt road, barking to scare them off. Satisfied, the coachman gave a snap of his leather reins to encourage the horses to canter along the winding road, intending to reach his destination sooner rather than later to avoid the highwaymen who were known to operate in the area.
Nestled within the comfortable confines of the carriage sat a just single occupant, a regal young woman who peered inquisitively through the gap between the velvet curtains shrouding her window, eagerly observing the lawlessness that was so unfamiliar to her.
Pilbark's Trail was about as close to the definition of a 'den of iniquity' as any settlement could get, famed across the land for its lax approach to conventional social etiquette, sitting on the outermost edges of the Empire of Losawa's territory. The Trail had long been a place where outcasts and down-and-outs could congregate without facing the scrutiny of the Emperor's Guard, living lives that didn't adhere to the laws and regulations that were necessary for a functioning state. Trades and practices that were outlawed across the region were permitted in full, so long as those involved were willing to suffer the consequences of stepping on the toes of others.
Without a policing body or the presence of knighted patrolmen, it became common for slights and injustices to be dealt with via mob rule, with the collective deciding upon punishments that suited the perceived crime. However, most punishments tended to focus less on forcing out a genuine sense of contrition from the responsible party and more on what would provide the most entertainment for potential spectators. It was rare for the central square to go a week without a public hanging or for bystanders to get the opportunity to pelt rotten fruit at thieves locked in wooden stockades, a disturbing respite from the unforgiving lives the residents led.
To describe the settlement as foreign in nature to Mowenna would have been a vast understatement, it basked in its seediness in a way that was so unnatural to a woman who had only known the safety and security provided by her gilded cage. Places such as Pilbark's Trail were only existed to Mowenna in the form of stories and sordid tales her friends enjoyed to gossip over, usually described in the most derisive ways imaginable. It was so far removed from the kingdom she had grown up in her entire life, lacking the cleanliness and rich architectural wonders that were so familiar to her. Instead of the bookshops and boutiques she was so fond of visiting around the expansive grounds of the kingdom, Mowenna was met with an abundance of seedy establishments, with the most common being the ale houses, decrepit taverns, and bordellos operating out in the open.
It should have appalled the dignified noblewoman, repulsed her for being forced to breathe the same air as the cretins wandering the crime-ridden streets. Yet, the wetness building against her silk underwear only worsened as she gorged herself on the debauched attractions around her, requiring a fair amount of effort to prevent a silk-gloved hand from finding its way between her ivory thighs. Moving the velvet curtain by a fraction, Lady Sowen's eyes widened when she was presented with a direct view into a room above one of the bordellos, gasping as she bared witness to the coupling of a fallen elf and her goblin client, briefly locking eyes with the golden-haired elf as the carriage rolled by.
Mowenna felt her cheeks heat up and her chest convulse rapidly, enough to put make the laces of her powder-blue silk gown strain against her heaving bust. Never had she seen such open displays of carnality, nor had she ever witnessed the mating of two completely different races, especially when it happened to take place between such seemingly incompatible beings. Her conservative upbringing had kept her ignorant of the desires of the flesh, a common occurrence for highborn women, ensuring they maintained their innocence and purity. It made her recall what had lured her to the depraved town.
~•~•~•~•~•~
At nineteen years of age, Lady Mowenna Sowen had become the daughter any parent would be proud of, as intelligent as she was beautiful, deferential to those who commanded respect and power. Losawa was famed for its women, many of whom were coveted intensely by men of great importance seeking only the worthiest brides and mistresses. But Mowenna stood in a class of her own, possessing a beauty that left her with no shortage of admirers and would-be sweethearts.
Mowenna had a head of thick, long, coiling copper hair, something that always made her an incredibly eye-catching figure during social events. It contrasted with her flawless porcelain skin, framing her carved features and making her sapphire eyes all the more captivating, sparkling wildly whenever the light caught them just right. Her figure was naturally svelte, with a thin waist and heavy breasts that made her a constant source of envy for her peers, but that didn't prevent her maids from stuffing her into gowns featuring terribly uncomfortable boned corsets and rows of laces designed to preserve a perfect posture.
Following her coming of age, Mowenna's parents had frequently attempted to partner her with a suitable husband, preferably one born to a family of status. Mowenna had met and entertained every potential suitor her mother and father believed fit the parameters they believed were necessary for a marriage that was beneficial to their status within the Empire.
Never once did Mowenna refuse to meet a suitor, spending countless hours with her maids in her ornate bedchambers dressing and getting herself into perfect shape for each and every one. She was polite and courteous during her meetings, feigning interest in their various hobbies and business interests, making sure she always appeared to be the docile maiden they sought. A few were close to her own age, heirs to the families the Sowen's had been friendly with for centuries. But most dwarfed her in age, old enough to be match her grandfather in decades.
However, nothing came of the meetings. Of course, many ended with proposals and offerings of diamond-encrusted engagement rings, along with promises of riches and a life of luxury beyond what she already had. Mowenna's cunning allowed her to conjure up excuses for why she couldn't accept such the proposals she received, always succeeding in her attempts to stave off marriage for a while longer.
Mowenna knew the day would come when she could no longer conjure up reasonable excuses to put off the offers of marriage, especially when her previous refusals had inadvertently driven up interest in her and inflated the size of the dowries being proferred for her hand. She had always led her life under her parent's terms, becoming little more than a status symbol for them to exhibit during the many formal gatherings that would take place over the course of a year.
Understandably, Mowenna had ambitions and dreams of her own, fantasies of a life that wasn't confined to palaces and ballrooms. Many nights were spent with a candle by her bedside, reading book after book about the adventures of characters both fictional and historical, engrossed in stories that stretched from the badlands beyond Losawa and across the tumultuous high seas. But she didn't just confine her reading to swashbuckling epics, occasionally sneaking in books that were of a more erotic nature, stories of seductive and exotic lust.
She had devoured the erotic novellas until the bindings became frayed and their covers worn, knowing them so well that she could play out the stories chapter by chapter in her mind. But one tale in particular became her fixation, the one obsession she couldn't rid herself of no matter how hard she tried. It was the story of a young female adventurer falling under the sway of a beastly orc, eventually succumbing to his attempts at seduction, mounting and rutting him intensely by the fireside.
Orcs were somewhat of an anomaly around the Empire, and those who did visit or reside within the territory usually preferred to keep to themselves. The behaviour of the orcish clans from Veishuk were well-documented, their bottomless need for conquest and dominance always cast suspicion upon those venturing into the lands far from their native homeland. Similarly to goblins, their desire for the females of the other races was known and feared, even by those tucked away behind the impregnable walls of the Empire's citadel.
Mowenna had always been taught to avoid the races deemed lesser than humanity, with her governesses and parents ensuring that she was fed a steady diet of stories recounting their brutal and savage ways. But instead of having the desired effect of scaring her away from such creatures, it only served to stoke the fires of intrigue, only worsened by the erotic fantasy that refused to stop tormenting her. She spent many nights in bed unable to get a wink of sleep, driven to near madness as she imagined herself in the place of the adventurer, listening to the grunting and snorting of the emerald beast as he ravaged her nubile body.
Her only means of ridding the fantasies from her mind came when she could finally hike up her chiffon shift and send her fingers diving into her sipping pussy, holding a pillow over her mouth to prevent the orgasmic screams from carrying over to the rooms adjoining hers. But even that form of relief soon grew unfufilling and hollow, her slender fingers were in no way a match for the bestial organ she envisioned sliding into her, stretching her out to an impossible degree. One night, failure to achieve even the slightest climax in spite of her flustered state made it all too clear that Mowenna needed something of real substance to get the need out of her system for good.
By fortune alone, Mowenna happened to stumble upon one of the few orcs that happened to be passing through the citadel, returning from a trade with one the local gold dealers. She had been on her way to her favourite bookshop, carrying with her a bundle of tomes she had borrowed and read through within a week of requiring them. Their eyes only met for a moment, but it was enough to make her weak at the knees, producing a gasp that brought a grin to the orc's thick forest green lips.
As she had always done to cope with the heat in her womanhood, Mowenna tried to dampen down the embers by simply ignoring it, keeping her mind clear and focused on the task at hand. She made the journey around to the eastern province of the citadel, greeting the owner of the bookshop with a bright smile, exchanging her borrowed tomes for a new series of adventure stories that the elderly owner had recommended quite highly. With her newly received tomes wrapped up, Mowenna trotted out into the sun-bathed boulevard, breathing in the scent of the the verdant gardens that could be found around the white stone common areas.
But she didn't get far before a hulking figure tailed her, following closely behind through the bazaar and away from the fresh fruit and meat vendors. It wasn't until they passed into the central port authority when the orc decided to make his move, aware from his limited knowledge of the kingdom that it tended to be quieter during the weekend, leaving only a few citizens wandering the streets running along the gently swaying sea of Tahr. Reaching a secluded corner, Mowenna found herself being spun around and pressed into a small alcove, prevented from crying for help by the large hand smothering her mouth.
"You shouldn't scream," the orc warned, holding a finger to his lips as Mowenna hyperventilated, staring fearfully over the beast that towered over her. "Gurrink will let go if she promises to keep mouth shut. Understand?"
