Murkuk Ch 01

The furtive figure tiptoeing through the predawn gloom had been named Laura once upon a time, but that time was now long past. How long? Three months, perhaps; surely no more. But Laura was a human's name, after all, and the figure -- which squatted, urinating, among the gnarled roots of an ancient elm -- was no longer human.

Her owner was pleased to call her

Murkuk

, and though she had no idea what this orcish word meant, she responded to that name with an alacrity born of fear and anxiety. Her life was predicated on pleasing her Master, and if there remained an evanescent spark of pleasure in her existence, it came solely from satisfying His desires.

Murkuk's stomach growled irritably, and she winced at the familiar pangs of hunger. She placed a hand on her frightfully shrunken belly, felt its concavity beneath her starkly prominent ribcage. Her Master was more or less indifferent to the care and feeding of his human pet, who was thus reduced to eating whatever marginally edible scraps she could get her hands on. The staple of her diet tended to be her Master's semen, and although he ejaculated copiously, there could never be enough to satisfy her ravening.

In this regard, at least, Murkuk was more fortunate than other orc-pets of her acquaintance. Her owner was the runt of the tribe, an orc named Gurgun who stood scarcely seven feet tall and weighed only three hundred and fifty pounds. As she was the only pet he had yet managed to capture, she did not have to share his precious ejaculate with any rivals.

As her mind turned to feeding -- to gulping down mouthfuls of her Master's semen -- she began to salivate. It was a conditioned response, altogether bestial, and as she wiped a strand of spittle from her chin she felt herself blushing belatedly. Little wonder that no orc-pet had ever returned successfully to human society after more than four months in captivity; they were simply too degenerate by that time.

Murkuk had already been branded like an animal on her forehead, the two-month-old scar still occasionally throbbing with pain. She had not worn a shred of clothing since the night her village was attacked and razed by the orc raiders; a thick leather collar encircled her throat, so tight that any exertion greater than walking left her faint and struggling to breathe. She had been pierced through both aerioles, and heavy iron rings as big around as her little finger had been plunged through the holes. A third piercing had been made through her labia, just below the clitoris, and an even larger ring hung there.

The searing agony of those piercings had eventually faded, and she somehow now found the weight of the big rings to be a source of intense arousal. She fingered the vulval ring as the last of her urine dribbled to the ground. She pulled on the ring, gasping with pleasure as her labia distended, her clitoris protruding from beneath its hood.

Her master, sprawled inside a simple lean-to several feet away, stirred in his sleep, and with a little whimper Murkuk jumped to her feet and rushed to him, still gripping her vulval ring. In her anxiety she mindlessly twisted it, grinding her teeth as her vaginal lips were painfully corkscrewed.

With a hearty groan Master Gurgun sat up, dragged his claws across the great mat of black hair on his broad protuberant belly. His organ hung down between his thighs, the enormous head of it in the dirt. Murkuk knelt at his clawed feet, clasped her hands behind her back and pressed her face to the ground.

Her Master spoke, a short series of piglike grunts and uructations. Orc-pets were never instructed in the intricacies of orcish, but most of them nevertheless learned it rapidly, for orcs were notoriously impatient with pets who did not understand what was demanded of them. And the language itself was, after all, a imminently simple one.

Murkuk understood all of the words her Master had used. He was hungry, and was commanding her to fetch him food; but first he intended to start the day as he always did, with a fuck.

"Yes, Master!" cried Murkuk in the language of humans -- pets were forbidden to speak the orcish tongue. "Instantly, Master!"

Gurgun leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs as Murkuk squirmed toward his pelvis. She gripped his turgid shaft, already semi-erect, and opened her mouth wide to suck the bulbous head. The musky odor of his sex was dizzying. Murkuk moaned, stroking the huge phallus with both her tiny fists. She felt the powerful pulse of rushing blood as the organ responded to her ministrations; her own pulse, thundering in her throat, quickened pace.

She had been a virgin when the orcs carried her away from her burning village, but she had been laid open and impaled by her Master's implaccable manhood hundreds of times since her capture, two or three times a day. Nevertheless, she invariably felt a rising trepidation as the moment of penetration approached.

He hardened rapidly, his cock rising like a pillar of stone from his crotch. It was longer than Murkuk's forearm, his glans as big around as her wrist; the base, lost among the wiry black hairs of his pubis, was as broad as her palm. Beneath it hung the enormous testicles, each as large as one of her fists. Murkuk trembled, rubbing her face against the shaft. Then she leaned forward, pressing her sternum against the wide dark glans, and crushed her plump breasts together around it. Gasping, she rose and fell, squeezing the cock vigorously between her bags.

She glanced diffidently at her Master's face. The three-inch tusks which rose from his protruding lower jaw reminded her of little twin phalluses; the tiny black eyes, smouldering ruttishly, watched her intently, and the great glistening nostrils flared with pleasure.

Murkuk's loins were wet, eager to be filled. She quickly straddled her Master, dragging her drooling cunt along the tremendous length of his cock. Her legs were spread wide across her Master's body, her knees unable to reach the ground on either side. She planted her feet on the ground and squatted over him, her cunt poised just above his throbbing cockhead.

She lowered herself slightly, whimpering with anticipation, and her labia parted readily. She adjusted her footing for better balance and began to writhe, bracing her hands against her Master's massive chest. Her vulva gyrated noisily atop the half-embedded glans, her juices leaking out as she prepared to settle herself onto the enormous cock. Her loins spasmed with anticipatory pleasure, and she groaned.

Experimentally, she let her buttocks sink slightly, and her cunt yielded to Master Gurgun's glans. Moaning, she clenched her fists in the thick hairs of his chest, feeling herself stretched like an ill-fitting glove. Halfway down her progress was halted, and gasping heatedly she paused. Her nipples were painfully erect, the aerioles swollen and wrinkled. Her labia, tightly gripping the thick shaft, were engorged. She gyrated again, desperate to fill herself, and within seconds her juices had provided sufficient lubrication to continue.

As she sank lower, some part of her -- some fragment of her psyche which still clung to her dwindling sense of humanity -- felt a brief surge of shame; she found herself blushing at her willingness, her eagerness, to pleasure her orc Master. This was no longer an act of rape, as it had been for the first few weeks. She had learned to delight in it, to seek out every opportunity to offer herself to her Master. How could she explain to a human that this was the one pleasure remaining to her? How could they hope to understand that it was a pleasure more tremendous than any she had experienced as a human?

Murkuk imagined other humans watching her now -- her mother and father, if they were alive to see it; or the Miller's apprentice, to whom she had been informally engaged the previous winter. The thought further stoked her arousal, and her blush of shame was subsumed in the flush of a gathering orgasm. She forced herself as far down onto her Master as she could, until she thought he might burst her entirely in two. She threw back her head and sobbed piteously, her body aching for its climax.

She pulled herself upward, and her labia clung insistently to the great shaft it had been forced to accomodate, as if it were refusing to relinquish the source of so much pleasure. Then she thrust herself down, groaning hoarsely as she crammed it greedily back inside. Her Master grunted, his clawed hands raking the dirt at his side. She rose and fell again, crying out as the pleasure deep within her intensified, building toward eruption.

She rode her Master's shaft with fervent energy, her need swelling with every thrust. She panted breathlessly, teeth clenched, her face a rictus of pain and delight. Her momentary shame was forgotten altogether, her consciousness had narrowed to a single brilliant point: A cunt crammed gloriously full, grasping for an explosive consummation which was so tantalizingly near.

She halted abruptly, so full of her Master's cock that it seemed to be obstructing her throat; she gyrated there, impaled, her head back and mouth agape. She put her hands to her breasts and dug her fingers into the soft flesh, twisted and wrung them violently. Her cunt spasmed and she shuddered on the threshold of climax.

Her body, bucking convulsively, seized the orgasm it had sought so desperately, and Murkuk screamed as the great surge of ecstacy erupted from her loins, crushed her with an overwhelming force. "Thank you, Master!" she cried. "Oh god, thank you, Master!"

She felt another tattered shred of her humanity carried away by the titanic rush of orgasm as she gleefully embraced its bestial release. She grunted and groaned, squirming ardently atop her Master, her body shuddering and quaking. Further waves of pleasure shook her, their intensity diminishing only gradually.

Master Gurgun was still watching her, his own grunts growing more urgent. "Thank you, Master," she gasped again, overwhelmed with gratitude. Her body was throbbing with the echoes of her climax, while her Master's cock remained stiff and unyielding deep inside her. She resumed the steady stroking of his shaft with her hole, eager to extract his liquid essence.

For several minutes more Murkuk rose and fell, experiencing a second, milder, orgasm. She winced at the increasing soreness of her poor battered cunt, but she was accustomed to expending a great deal of effort. Master Gurgun rarely climaxed without ten or fifteen minutes of sustained toil on her part. The activity could be truly excruciating when her Master chose to be on top of her -- then his thrusts seemed to penetrate her to the very womb. More difficult yet were those frequent occasions when he forced himself down her bowels, and she would feel the bile rise to the back of her throat before he finally brought himself to orgasm.

For the first few weeks of her captivity, sex with the orcs had been simply torture, and she herself never climaxed. Then unexpectedly her body began to respond, quite against her will. Each time she was used her arousal and pleasure would grow, promising the fulfillment of some need previously unknown to her. When one day she determined to pursue this mysterious sensation to its ultimate end, it swelled precipitously within her until it reached a point of seemingly infinite extent, and then it incinerated her. That first climax was so intense she nearly lost consciousness, and thought she would die.

Now she reached orgasm every time she pleasured Master Gurgun, usually more than once, and she was vastly grateful to him, zealous to conform to his expectations of her. Thus had submission to him become her highest aspiration, fulfillment of his slightest whim the only justification for her existence.

Master Gurgun snorted fiercely, his sharp fangs bared and broad nostrils flaring. Murkuk moaned with excitement, still hammering her loins on her Master's shaft. She knew from experience that he did not care where he ejaculated -- whether straight into the dust or into the depths of one of her straining holes, he had no preference. She lifted herself entirely off his glistening cock, groaning with sorrow as she emptied herself, as though a piece of her soul were being torn from her.

She knelt between his knees, stroking him hungrily as she positioned her face inches from his swollen cockhead and opened her mouth wide. The tower of muscle lurched violently in her hands, spewing a stream of thick hot semen across her face and into her mouth. Her body shuddered, and she sobbed with joy. The scent of it filled her nostrils, the sharp tang of it seemed to sear her tongue. Master Gurgun came prodigiously, and she captured as much as she could in her mouth. She bent her head far backward in order to retain as much of the precious fluid as possible; it filled her mouth from the back of her throat up to her teeth, and spilled over the corners of her lips despite her efforts to contain it. She bathed her teats with the last weakening streams, and gulped avariciously at her mouthful.

Master Gurgun sat up, his lust momentarily sated, and Murkuk grudgingly relinquished her hold on his cock. Her Master growled a few terse commands and she listened obediently, still struggling to swallow her meal. She was to fetch his breakfast and then pack up his few belongings, just as she did every morning.

"Yes, Master," she said, her voice thick with cum. "Murkuk hears and obeys, Master."

She left the little lean-to and trotted toward the center of the orc camp, picking her way carefully among the scattered shelters and sleeping hollows of the orcs. There were nearly a score of orcs in the raiding party, and nearly three times that number of pets. The prestige or "rank" of each orc could be assessed both by the number of pets he owned and by his proximity to the central firepit when they encamped each night. Murkuk's Master was, by either measure, the most inconsequential of the orc raiders.

The first gleam of dawn was visible on the horizon, and all around her the camp was awaking. She heard several of her sister pets earnestly pleasuring their owners, their helpless cries rising in counterpoint to the gutteral groaning of the orcs. She reached the great firepit at the center of the camp, where a half-devoured carcass hung on a spit over the dying ashes. A cunt was already there, ripping off handfuls of greasy flesh to carry back to her Master.

Murkuk recognized her as Lubgush, one of the half-dozen pets belonging to an orc warrior named Master Thrashall, who was leader of the raiding party. Lubgush had been a pet longer than any other girl in the camp, and though they had never exchanged so much as a word, Murkuk looked upon her with a kind of awe. She approached Lubgush with diffidence, dropped to her hands and knees several feet from the firepit and crawled forward with head bowed submissively.

Lubgush took no notice of her, but glanced repeatedly back at her Master's shelter as she hurriedly tore as much meat as she could hold. Murkuk had never before been so close to Lubgush, and she eyed her now with fascination. Lubgush was lean, of course, as all orc pets were. Her pale flesh seemed to be stretched too taut over her body, her collarbones, ribs and hips starkly exposed, her heavily worked muscles bunched and bulging. Lubgush's face was gaunt and haggard, her nose badly crooked, and all four of her front teeth missing. Her eyes, darting constantly toward her Master's sleeping bulk, were feverish with anxiety. Her hair had been cropped very short like Murkuk's, but only haphazardly -- she kept tucking a long filthy strand behind one ear; another lock curled down over the large brand on her forehead.

Murkuk edged forward, staring, and Lubgush finally saw her. She pressed her cache of meat tighter against her heavy breasts, the grease running down her abdomen to her bald pubis.

"You're Lubgush," whispered Murkuk.

Lubgush winced, glancing around. Though communication between pets was not altogether forbidden, it was frowned upon. "You're Murkuk," murmured Lubgush, with a tiny flicker of a smile. On her battered, miserable face, even that insignificant expression seemed a startling transformation.

Murkuk nodded, encouraged by the ephemeral smile.

"Funny name," said Lubgush. She chewed one side of her lip vigorously, glanced again at her Master's shadowy bulk. "Know what it meanth?" she whispered, lisping heavily.

Murkuk shook her head.

"'Tight Rectum'," said Lubgush. She did not smile again.

Though this appellation was the very least of the outrages she had endured since her capture, Murkuk found herself blushing furiously. But with her shame came arousal, and this brought a curious sense of gratitude toward Lubgush. Eager to solidfy their new friendship, she hastily asked, "How long has Lubgush been a pet?"

Lubgush grimaced, her tongue pressed into the gap where her upper front teeth had been. This was clearly the lengthiest conversation she had experienced in a very long time, and she was growing ever more uncomfortable. She shook her head. "Don't know. Two yearth? Three? Or more."

Murkuk gaped, her arousal deepening. She envisioned herself after two or three years enslaved to the orcs, her body and face transformed like Lubgush's. With a gasp she reached back between her thighs and fondled her clit.

"Master Thrashall awake!" whimpered Lubgush, looking past Murkuk. "Lubgush go!" She scampered away without another word, rushing half-crouched to her Master.

Murkuk fingered herself for several seconds, but the faint pleasure of it was a pale shadow of the titanic ecstacy of being filled with her master's cock. Turning her attention to the carcass, she began to claw handfuls of meat from it. A moment later she heard footsteps approaching, much too soft to be those of an orc. A pet named Fugruj halted at the firepit and exchanged whispered greetings with Murkuk, but did not attempt a prolonged conversation. When Murkuk had gathered a sufficient amount of food for her Master, she threaded her way back through the camp.

Master Gurgun was already dressed when Murkuk returned to him. He had tied a brown bear's pelt over his shoulders, and buckled a broad leather belt about his waist. A dozen human heads hung from his belt by their hair, forming a kind of girdle around his waist. Murkuk shuddered at the sight of that horrible belt, nauseated by the smell of the tar which was used to preserve them. Somewhere, she suspected, the heads of her parents and of her younger siblings adorned the belt of one of these orc raiders.

She knelt, head bowed, and held up the food to her Master. With a sharp grunt, he snatched the strips of cold meat from her hands, devoured it hungrily. Several bits of meat fell to the ground as he ate, and when he was finished he pointed at these tiny scraps and spoke briefly. Murkuk understood all three of his words: "Slave eat food."

"Thank you, Master!" she cried.

She scraped the morsels out of the dirt and swallowed them with hearty uructations of pleasure. Then she gathered her Master's belongings -- his water skins, extra furs, hand axe, and several miscellaneous odds and ends he had collected over the course of the current expedition -- and tied them tightly to his shelter and bedding with a leather thong. The bundle weighed some thirty pounds, and she would carry it strapped to her back during each long day's march.

Murkuk had grown used to the merciless toil of marching, her muscles now tough and resilient after months of captivity. She looked forward each day with a kind of anxious delight to the unrelenting exertion and strain of the march, to the strident exhortations of the perennially impatient orcs, and to the harsh, breath-stealing blows from their leather quirts. Her state of arousal, briefly quiescent, now intensified once again as she eagerly anticipated the rigors of the day.