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Rose -- 629
D.f.
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A gentle midsummer breeze swept over the endless waves of green. Birds sang, crickets chirped, and bunnies frolicked in the weeds. It was a peaceful time, it was a tranquil time; tranquil, except for the Orcs. Their endless shouts, their terrifying roars, all carried over the hills; and these fearful noises would have been a warning to all, to all, except for Rose.
The sorceress-in-red laid on her tummy, her feet swinging freely in the air behind her; and with a quill in hand and a parchment below, she scribbled her notes on those bestial Orcs. She had traveled here, a thousand miles from home, with the specific intent of examining these creatures for the greater knowledge of all. And the Orcs were now not a quarter-mile away, and so incredibly preoccupied with their campfire that they did not notice Rose at all as she giggled and wrote. This was merely a mild convenience for her, seeing as she could disappear in an instant if she'd wanted to. Rose reviewed her work.
Cursed by the gods for their debaucherous ways, the Orcs of the eastern plains now sport green skin, husked teeth, and a brain so useless they are now incapable of creating a proper tool, let alone clothes more complicated than a loin cloth. Yet, in all their mercy, the gods saw fit to grant them a natural tool far superior to the elves they derived from; a thick, meaty, juicy...
Rose put her quill down, moaning in disgust as she finished reading the words so far put to parchment. Why did all of her reports seemingly have to saunter down this same avenue? What would her fellow sorceresses think of her, if they read of such a salacious thing? She shook her head, her plump lips curling into a gentle smirk, and decided to watch the Orcs for a time without jotting down her commentary.
She found her way to her feet, smoothing out her red silk miniskirt and pulling her black lace stockings back into place when she'd arrived. She then adjusted her unkempt hair, tucking a stray lock of blonde behind her ear, and bent over to retrieve her parchment and quill from the grass. Finding all was well, she then skipped over to a nearby tree and leaned against it, and watched over the muscular green men from atop her hill as they shouted and danced around their campfire.
But Rose soon discovered that spying on her subject matter from such a distance was
boring
. All the Orcs did, all the Orcs
ever
did, was eat, drink, and be merry. What kind of life was that? Where were their women? Why in all the gods' names were they granted with such a fat tool, if they never worked the damned things? Were they simply too massive for use? Were the Orcs truly so cursed that those girthy, intimidating fuck-sticks had to remain unutilized?
Rose glanced towards her legs, finding her free hand had involuntarily crept up her legs and under her skirt as she pondered such things. Never one to let an idle moment go unseized, she chuckled softly in self-realization, then toyed with her marble-sized clitoris through her panties for the better part of a minute. In the next moment she released her grasp on her quill and parchment, and willed them to levitate in the air before her with a simple spell. She decided to continue authoring as she pleasured herself through her clothes, the quill scribbling and waving through the air seemingly on its own volition.
... a thick, meaty, juicy COCK, one so illustrious and terrifying that I pondered if it could be tasted or ridden without splitting a girl in two. Well, dear readers, if you're perusing this treatise now then that means that they CAN, for I have decided to test this hypothesis with my own nubile body.
Rose giggled and moaned, her quill and parchment fluttering towards the ground as she disabled the spell of levitation. So
what
if her reputation was damaged by such salacious words? Was she not
already
the most well-known slut in Mschuleft? The 'Sorceress of a Thousand Mates,' as it were?
She had no time to waste. The sun was already setting over the peaks to her west, and she wanted to study her subject matter in the light; not to mention that her panties were positively soaked with lust. She lifted her skirt, pushed her silk panties down her long and luscious legs, then stepped out of them before enthusiastically skipping down the hill towards an unknown fate.
The Orcs were so incredibly enthralled by their fire pit, their roasting pig, and their dance, that they completely overlooked the blushing sorceress-in-red as she neared them. Rose dipped in behind a rock, brushing a finger against her button as she looked upon them from up close. She gave herself a moment of self-reflection before making her presence known, just in case she wanted to back out now; yet, she found the two halves of her brain arguing over
which
Orc to present herself to, but not if she
should
. This useless introspection made things easy for her, and so she stepped out from behind the rock and strut towards the band of Orcs with her hands raised skyward.
"Oh no, I am trapped. What ever will I do?" Rose unenthusiastically announced as she stepped towards them. "If only I weren't some helpless maid."
The brutish Orcs only then noticed her, and turned swiftly in her direction. Rose couldn't help but spy the movement of the nearest Orc's cock as he swung about, which slapped meatily against his thigh as he raised a hand at her and bellowed.
"
Oogah! Sin fooshkin oogah!
" the massive creature howled at her. Rose gave him an anxious smile, and raised her hands higher.
"Yes, indeed! I am
so
incredibly helpless, and certainly unable to prevent you from '
fooshkin
'ing me," the sodden sorceress concurred with a grin. The nearest Orc trudged towards her, but was soon halted by the bigger one beside him.
"
Nagath! Sin
ish
fooshkin oogah!
" the bigger Orc roared with a fist against chest, shoving the first away. This one had darker skin, closer to black than green, and a tool so large it swung past his loin cloth as he trudged towards her with a predatory grin, causing Rose's womanhood to weep with delight.
"A-alright," she said with trembling voice. "I suppose
you
are the one that will '
fooshkin
' me."
"
Nagath!
" the first Orc disagreed, jumping onto the black Orc's back and forcing him to the ground. Fists were raised to pound against muscular flesh, kicks were thrown and traded, and the Orcs fought one another while Rose stood there, trembling in anticipation. Soon the other three Orcs of the band joined in the fray, all clearly vying for their chance to lay with the gorgeous and innocent damsel.
Rose decided to fall to her knees to wait things out, and brought her hands to the top of her head as the Orcs quarreled and fought. Rose noted that she had every chance to flee as they seemingly ignored her, tumbling about in the dirt instead, and came to a pungent realization two minutes later; that she
really
had to disable her sense of smell. She did this simply, with magics and a deep inhalation.
Only three minutes after that did the brutish Orcs begin to rise from the dirt, rubbing their various injuries they'd sustained in the brawl. The black Orc rose to his feet, and turned to address his comrades.
"
Oogah!
" he bellowed, beating a fist against his own chest. "
Ashin ish, wir fooshkin woogah,
" he added, waving his hand towards his fellows. His four green buddies then mumbled to themselves and to each other, nodding in agreement, and began to pat one another on the back.
"Aw!" Rose couldn't help but squeal. They'd made friends! She knew she'd have to include this in her treatise, but what had caused the sudden change of emotion?
Rose's thought was immediately answered, as each and every one of those muscular and intimidating Orcs, reminded of her presence when she squealed, turned towards her wearing predatory grins. She remained on her knees as the green Orcs crowded around her, jockeying for a position beside the hapless maid in red.
But Rose wasn't paying much attention to
those
Orcs. The one that had caught her interest, the one of black skin, now approached her from the fore with sure and powerful step. She felt the minor tremors in the dirt created by his footsteps, and felt a lustful mimicry of those same tremors within her own breast.