Orc Dominion: Rebellion

The orc wench was a nice distraction from the dismal living conditions in the camp, especially since the delightful Cindy was gone. Thomas hated the tents, the poor food, living outdoors, and the constant smell. Of course, the orc wench didn't smell that good either, but the comforts she provided made up for it. "Oona dear, be a love and refill my goblet."

Oona wasn't her real name, but it was as close as Thomas cared to get to it. She didn't really speak the human tongue, but with simple words and gestures she was able to follow basic instructions. When the orc woman bent over, her leather vest spilled open to flash her large tits at the Duke. A smile spread over his lips, and soon the grey mound of flesh was in his hand, dimpling beneath his groping fingers.

An orc wench responded the same way human ones did when their breasts were fondled, he had discovered. It had surprised him, just how similar they were. Except for some cosmetic differences, human and orc bodies worked relatively the same. Thomas took a long drink of wine from his goblet, and then set it down on a small wooden table.

Rising from his seat, Ferderick reached out to stroke the small bony tusk jutting out from Oona's jaw. His thumb stroked up to the point as he moved around behind her. He hadn't yet entrusted his dick to her mouth, but he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like. Meanwhile, his other hand slid off the orc woman's breast and down to her ratty loincloth. It quickly disappeared inside to stroke over her smooth cunt. Oona hadn't liked it when he ordered all the natty hairs of her pussy plucked out, but he wasn't about to stick his dick into that thornbush. Who knows what sort of bugs or disease he might pick up, especially since orc women were passed around between the orc men of the village.

His fingers soon made Oona's slit nice and greasy for him. Orc females leaked much more than humans, probably on account of needing to please multiple partners. Oona didn't need to interpret his instruction this time, and soon bent over the table and spread her legs to present her large, rounded backside to the Duke. Thomas smiled to himself at her submission as he brought a hand down to free his cock.

His shaft pushed through the slick folds and disappeared into the orc wench's pussy. He had been worried at first that it would rove to cavernous to pleasure him, but he soon realized his fear was unfounded. While not as tight as a human's, it was tight enough to get off on. Thomas began to move his hips, eliciting a soft squeal from the orc. Oona always seemed pleased by his attentions. It was probably a relief to belong to only one man after being used by several for so long.

The wet squelching and rhythmic slaps of his hips against her backside soon filled the tent. Thomas gripped Oona's waist tighter, his pale fingers sinking into her grey skin. The orc squealed a little louder while he picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster into her from behind. Oona's large breasts swayed beneath her, flopping in and out of her vest from the impact of the Duke's body against hers.

"That's it, take it you little slut." Thomas groaned. "A nice, noble, human dick feels much better doesn't it? It's much nicer to get fucked by a Duke instead of a savage brute." Thomas rested his belly on the small of Oona's back as he leaned forward to thrust at a different angle. His face was soon flush, and he panted noisily as he pounded away behind the orc woman.

Oona's insides got warmer and wetter the deeper and harder he thrust. The liquid warmth folded around and enveloped Thomas's cock as he plunged it in and out of the orc woman. Soon she was eagerly pushing her hips back against him, her body willing the cock to push deeper into her body. That was something he could say for the orc wench; she liked to fuck. Human women like his wife wanted to just lie there and do nothing. Oona was all too ready to writhe and buck beneath him. She was like Cindy in that regard, but that made sense as Cindy was a whore.

Thomas flipped the back of Oona's loincloth to reveal the grey flesh of her ass, staring down at it hungrily as he worked himself in and out between the orc's muscular thighs. The sight of it jiggling with every thrust pushed him right to the edge of climax, and he had to struggle to hold back from cumming inside her right then. "OH fuck you have a nice ass!"

His words were met with another squeal of pleasure as Oona undulated beneath him. She probably didn't understand a word he was saying, but that didn't matter right now. Thomas tried to slow his thrusts to keep from climaxing, but the slower he moved the faster the orc wench bucked and grinded her hips, her whole body working as if to suck his seed right out of him. Thomas bit his lip and leaned forward even farther to grip onto Oona's tit, squeezing it harshly in his hand as he steeled himself.

The orc woman's muscles bulged as she carried more of the heavy Duke Thomas' weight on her back. Despite the burden she was able to keep working her hips, stirring his cock against her insides and ceaselessly rolling her walls along the length of his member. The tip of his cock buzzed as the sensitive head was rubbed mercilessly by the slick velvet walls of Oona's cunt.

"Ah...Fuck you're wet Oona...I'm not...I'm not going to be able to hold back! Nnng!" Thomas' grasping hand pinched her breast tightly as his whole body tensed. His other hand began to slap down at Oona's fleshy grey ass as he let loose, releasing his seed deep inside the orc woman. "Ang!" Thomas groaned in satisfaction as the climax rippled through him. Rope after rope of his sticky seed shot inside her, painting her insides white with his cum.

"Ish'dok nog dos tra'deem" Oona muttered, clenching and unclenching her pussy around his cock.

The feeling of her hot sex squeezing him made him shutter, and a last spurt of his seed shot out inside of the orc woman. Thomas rocked back on his the heels of his feet, tottering a moment as he steadied himself. The Duke shot so much seed inside her he wondered if she were going to get pregnant. He had been fucking her for weeks now, and every time he finished inside.

I wonder if I'd be the first Duke to have a half-orc bastard. Or maybe even the first human, he thought with a grin. There can't be many who have fucked an orc wench as long as I have. Thomas was amused at the notion, and wondered what they would think at Court or home in Warwicksham if he showed up with a half-orc bastard in tow.

The sound of voices outside his tent finally caught his attention, and Thomas regretfully pulled his cock out of the orc wench and laced his pants back up. He smacked her ass sharply, and then pointed to the tent flap. "Get going now, it seems I've got a visitor."

Oona stood up, her loincloth falling back into place. The orc quickly left the tent, not even bothering to fix her clothing or clean up after the coupling. A moment later, Frederick walked in, a disgusted look on his face.

"Do you really have to keep fucking that thing?" Asked the Duke of Swetford. Unlike Thomas, Frederick was clad for battle, wearing a weathered leather breastplate covered in a chain shirt. Several links had become bent or broken, and deep gouges lined the rough, creaking, leather.

"She keeps me warm at night." Thomas replied. "I need something to; winter is almost here and these tents do nothing to keep the draft out."

Frederick snorted. "It's ten o'clock in the morning."

Thomas let out a deep belly laugh. "Well I'm sure I'll be ready to go tonight too. Come on Frederick, you don't grudge me my little amusements do you?"

"This isn't the time for amusements, Thomas. Turogg and his army have been harassing us for weeks, and don't show any sign of breaking off. We haven't had any word from Heste in even longer, but something must have gone wrong with their plan to invade Zentara proper. We're alone out here, and outnumbered two-to-one by an army of angry orcs screaming for revenge on the ones who butchered their women and children." Frederick frowned, a grim expression on his face as he walked to the table and unrolled a map upon it.

Thomas' jovial smile fell. "Surely it isn't as bad as all that. They're angry, so they'll make mistakes, right? We can set a trap for them, and turn their greater numbers against them. They're only orcs, right?"

"They know how to fight. In the last war our brilliant Queen showed them how to fight a campaign instead of just raid. But you're right; they are angry. That is going to be our only hope, to provoke them into attacking across the Thavesal River before they're ready. But we will have to move quickly."

Thomas bent down over the table as Frederick traced a line across the map. "How long will it take us to prepare for battle?"

"We should be able to cross the river tomorrow. After that, well, the longer we have to prepare the better. But it won't be too much longer before Turogg brings his army up behind us."

The Duke of Swetford bit down on his lip nervously. "And you're certain about their numbers? It's two-to-one? Wouldn't it be better to keep retreating, maybe to the mountains?"

"They have about half of the army that besieged the Lyskean Pass, about twenty-five thousand men. We have maybe twelve thousand. Haven't you been paying attention, Thomas? Every day more of our men desert and more still are picked up by Turogg's outriders. If we don't meet them in battle soon we won't have an army left to fight with."

"What do you think our chances are?" Thomas asked.

"Not great. We have only a small core of fighting men; the rest are untrained and ill equipped levies. The orcs under Turogg's command won't be the best, at least. Most of their best warriors chose to go with Bodak to the Duchy of Braden. Even still, they're larger, stronger, faster, and they're better equipped than our men. Our only chance is to catch them by surprise and hope they break." Frederick stated, a grim expression on his face. The Duke stroked through the stubble on his face. "If we make it through the battle, we can continue to pull back into our own lands, try to draw more men and outfit them better while we figure out what happened to the Hestens."

****

Two thousand men, veterans of the battle against the Queen and the campaign in the Boronian County were deployed as a rearguard to protect his army as it crossed the river. They weren't his best troops; Frederick made sure that his professional soldiers and knights crossed first. But if Turogg struck sooner than expected, he hoped the rearguard could delay him long enough for the army to cross and set up a defensive position.

"How did you know about this ford?" Thomas asked him as the reach the crest of a small hill overlooking the river.

"These are Samuel's lands, and I know knew them well. I've ridden through the Duchy of Iaena many times, visiting him." Frederick grinned, the lines of worry melting from his face for just a moment. "We went fishing just over there last summer, and then snuck across to poach some of King Turogg's deer." Frederick chuckled softly at the memory.

"I was never one for hunting, but my father and I used to go fishing in the streams up in the Lyskean Mountains." Thomas said. "The mountain trouts shimmer like gold in the sun when you pull them out of the water. The peasants say it's from swimming through gold dust." The Duke let out a laugh. "Some of them try to collect it up in their nets. Oh, don't get me wrong, there is gold in the water, and sometimes you might get lucky by panning for gold." Thomas grinned, and then laughed again. "But you should see them trying to wring gold dust out of their nets!"

"After the war, maybe I will." Frederick said softly, and then canted his head. "Do you hear that?" The Duke of Haverset went still, and Thomas followed suit.

"I don't hear anything."

"A horn, from the rearguard. They're under attack. Damnation, Turogg is upon us and we're still marching across the river. We have to hurry!" Frederick gave the order for the army to run across the river.

"We'll lose our supply wagons."

"That's better than losing the whole army. Iaena is the bread basket of Zentara, we'll find more to eat." The screams of thousands of warriors burst forth from the forest as a column of orc riders charged out from the tree line.

The orc riders weren't archers, at least. Armed with spears, swords, and axes they charged towards the retreating army. "Where the hell is the rear guard? They're going to be cut off!" Frederick scanned the horizon, fruitlessly trying to find some clue as to what was happening to his men.

"B-but, we're not across the river yet. We haven't had time to prepare!" sputtered the Duke of Swetford.

Frederick waved to his archers, who were among the soldiers first brought across. "Archers! Knock and loose! Knock and loose!"

The archers formed up as fast as they could, but every second it took brought the orcs closer and closer to the army. The first volley tore through the orcs, sending a score of riders into the dust. By the time the second volley was loosed, the orcs were already upon the peasant conscripts, riding them down and smashing through the formation.

Some enterprising sergeant had tried to form them up, but the lines were already buckling. Behind them, the rest of the army was already in full retreat, plunging into the water as they abandoned what weapons and armor they had.

"This is a disaster. We need to form up the regulars and slow the orc attack long enough to restore order. Come on Thomas! Thomas!" Frederick watched in disgust as Thomas turned his horse and began fleeing to the north. The fool is going to bring half the army with him, he thought.

A quick ride down the hill brought him to the knights and sergeants, who were already starting to form up. "We've got to stop this from turning into a rout. We need to slow the orcs attack long enough to get the army across."

"Can't be done, Your Grace. There's too many of them. We'll just get cut off and slaughtered like those poor bastards" answered one of the knights.

"Aye, we could have held them on this side of the river, but it's too late for that. We should get gone like the Duke of Swetford" said another.

"It's too late anyway, look at 'em Your Grace."

The other side of the river was devolving into chaos. Orc riders were hacking their way through the troops, who were trampling each other in their desperation to flee. The sky filled with their cries and shrieks as they were chopped to pieces. As the battle turned, a wing of riders broke off and waded into the river to pursue the fleeing humans.

"There, those horsemen at least. We can attack them. These aren't orc raiders, men, they're merchants and herdsman playing at warriors. I know you can take them. We can take them, if we turn them the rest might follow suit. That's not their main army, their main force is still fighting the rearguard. We can do it. If not, then we lose here, the army fractures, and there is nothing to stop them from getting their revenge. Do you remember their villages? They will want to repay us in kind, and we're all that's standing in the way. When we set out from Shropfordshire, it was to save the Kingdom from the orcs. Well, the time has come to do it. So follow me, men, follow me!"

Frederick turned his horse and drew his sword, and then charged into the river with an exultant scream. The men behind him took up the yell, and soon the best soldiers they had plunged into the water. Arrows continued to fly above them, raining down upon the rear of the orc formation on the opposite side of the river. The Duke ignored it as he closed in on the nearest foe. The orc was so intent on stabbing the human before him he never even saw the blade that took off his head.

A triumphant cry escaped him as Frederick rode on, bringing his sword down to cut the next orc's spear in half. The river roared, drowning the cries of the dying and wounded as it swept them off to their grave. Another orc rode up, and the Duke lifted his shield and slammed it into the orc's sternum. He expected the orc to fall into the water, but was surprised and shocked as the orc maintained his mount and shrugged off the blow.

Luckily, they were too close for the spear to get a good angle. If the orc had chosen to grab him instead he could have been flung from his horse. As it was, while the orc fumbled with his spear Frederick was able to bring his sword around and lunge it into the rider's chest. The bruise on his body made a good target, and soon it was covered in blood as the life drained from his opponent.

A shadow passed over him, and Frederick took a moment to watch the storm of arrows flying overhead and into the orcs. A moment later he was back in the fray as an orc spear jabbed at his side. The Duke easily blocked it with his shield, and then swung his sword around. Although the orc only had a small buckler, his greater strength allowed him to absorb the blow, shaking it off before stabbing with his shield once more.

Frederick winced as he felt the powerful orc drive the tip of the spear through his shield. He hung onto the straps desperately as the orc tried to pull back. Seizing the moment he struck his sword down hard, severing the orc's forearm. As he reeled back in pain, he slashed it back, opening up his stomach. A moment later the orc slipped from his saddle and splashed into the water.

The sparkle of the sun on the water dimmed as it started to run red. On either side of him armored knights cut down the orcs, allowing the retreating forces to make it safely to the other side. Frederick allowed the knights to overtake him so that he could pause and see how the battle was progressing on the far side of the river. Orcs had encircled the remainder of his forces, and with their spears were picking off his soldiers one by one. He then looked back towards his archers, as he hadn't seen a volley pass by in a while. Damn, they must be out of arrows he thought.

The weight of his counterattack began to push back the orcs, and soon they were turning and fleeing back to their comrades. Frederick pressed the attack, clearing a path for his unmounted regulars to follow behind. It was harder to cut down orcs fleeing on horseback while wielding a sword, but when one rider got blocked by another and had to stop he swung his sword while riding forward, cutting through the back of his neck and sending a crimson spray through the air.

Frederick's horse climbed up the river bank as the fleeing orcs slammed into their comrades, breaking the left side of the orc formation enveloping the remainder of the army. His own knights hit the column next, with spear and sword and mace. All around him were the screams of the dying orcs as they were taken on the flank. The arrival of the cavalry rallied the peasant levy, and they began to fight with renewed vigor as they fought their way from the trap.

Their push was bolstered by the arrival of his regulars who now joined the fray. The spearmen came first, skewering the orcs from behind or killing their horses and allowing the soldiers with swords and maces and axes to finish them off on the ground. Their attack centered on the rear of the envelopment and stretched out to the right side of the battle.

When the orcs began to break, a great cheer rose up from the humans. No sound was ever sweeter to Frederick, until a moment later when the cry was joined by the rearguard charging out from the woods, cutting off their retreat. When they sky darkened again his heart soared. We might actually win the day! The archers must have been waiting for a clear shot!

Then the arrows began to rain down on his men, a withering hail that tore through the ranks of the lightly armored peasants and blunted the attack of his regulars. A wave of grey flesh burst from the trees behind the rearguard as the main body of the orc army gave pursuit. Orcs with spears pierced the backs of the fleeing soldiers, while mounted bowmen unleashed volley after volley on his forces.