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The Slave World Abductions

A Fanfiction

Part Eight: Two

by The Preve

Based upon characters and concepts created by Roxy Rex.

The author wishes to express his deepest thanks to Roxy Rex for his permission in writing this story.

Two days later, the First Shock Amazon Cohort of the Red Horde arrived at the main camp.

The raids along the Skull river yielded some loot, but they opted not to capture slaves this season. The men in the villages were not comely enough, nor the women, and the promising prospects were too young. Besides, the villagers needed men to farm and harvest their crops, for food and future reserves.

All in all, the raiding season produced mixed results. The coming winter wasn't going to be bad, but it could be better.

"It's almost as if this circuit wasn't worth it," noted Thelma, First of the Cohort, to her second.

"Maybe we should have raided further south," Hilde, Second of the Cohort, said.

"Too close to the Green Horde's territory. Can't afford another Orc War. Not with the Council War just done."

"Yeah, got a point."

The cohort rode closer to the main camp.

"I don't know about you but I'm getting the itch," Hilde remarked. "I'm thinking to jump some bones, and it ain't even mating season."

"Aye, I'm feeling it too, and it looks like we ain't the only ones. Even the boars are getting restless."

Hilde looked back over the train. Members of the cohort were stirring in their saddles. Some had their hands in their leathers, kneading their breasts. A few of the boars sported erections.

"Something's wrong here, Thelma. Everybody's getting horny. You think one of the villagers spelled us?"

"No, no I don't think so. If they had it would've gone off days ago. No, it's something else. I think it's coming from the camp. I've been getting hornier the closer we get to it."

Hilde realized her itch grew as they approached the camp as well. "Thelma, the camp's quiet."

"Yep," she turned to the cohort. "Blades and bludgeons out people!" she barked. "Battle stance!"

Normally the main camp would be filled with the boisterous sounds of men. The usual barks, growls, guttural orc, and swordplay were replaced with ominous silence.

The quiet unsettled the women. Silence meant either raid or massacre. The increasing arousal, however, meant one thing: "Sorcery!" Hilde growled.

"Yep, the camp is bespelled," Thelma agreed. "And the trick had to be good. The men wouldn't have been caught off guard so easily."

The cohort rode to the outskirts. "I'm taking a squad in," Thelma said. "Hilde, pull the cohort back to the trail and wait. You! You! You! And You!" Thelma pointed to four of the cohort, the youngest and most expendable. "You're the squad. We're going in and finding what the fuck's going on."

The four weren't happy, but they were freshies and knew better than to complain.

Thelma and the four rode into the camp. Hilde and the Cohort retreated half a league and waited.

The eerie silence sent chills up Thelma's spine. The last time she came across similar led to a melee with revenants. "No plunder there," she thought. "The villagers really shouldn't have pissed off that Black Mountain witch."

The camp felt different.

Usual orc stench. No smell of decay.

The squad passed the sties. The boars in their pens were going at each other. Some of the males rode other males.

Thelma and the squad's boars shifted restlessly. She gave hers a few thumps with the truncheon.

"Control your mounts girls. We're going to need 'em in case we gotta clear out fast."

The squad got their mounts under control, but just barely.

"We're checking the slave pens. If the slaves are still breathing they might have answers."

"Shouldn't we split up, to cover more ground?" one newbie asked.

Marta Ballbite, I think.

"No, we stay together. If this is a rev attack, like last time, I want blades with me."

The situation in the pens echoed the sties. Slaves were coupling like goblins on hypeweed.

"Damn! And they'll be breeding like goblins too!" cursed Thelma. Which meant a lowered price on the market for some, and pup culling for others.

We might have use for some of the pups.

The other problem: this time, it was the orcs' turn to be restless. Strong orc will (female orcs tended towards stronger wills than males) kept the itch in check, but Thelma's crotch was damp, and it wouldn't surprise her if the rest of the squad were the same. The bacchanal in the slave pens wasn't helping.

Thelma steeled herself. "Keep focus girls. We need to find out what's happened. We can take care of . . . our fucks later." She pointed to a pair. "Marta, get those two. Give 'em a few thumps if you have to."

It took Marta a few tugs, and thumps with the truncheon, to separate the couplers. They were a bit frisky, even going for Marta, whether from anger at being separated, or thirst for orc pussy, it mattered not. A few more thumps, a hold at knife point, and an orc bark ("Down meat scum!") settled them enough for questioning.

Thelma got off her boar and sneered down at the two. "So slaves. You know what happened here? Where'd the men get off to? And why's everyone fucking like goblins in heat?"

The human and the elf, both trembling (

Not from fear exactly,

Thelma noted, seeing their heated eyes) looked at each other, trying to decide which one should answer.

Thelma sighed. "The one who answers first gets extra rations, the other gets the whip. Go."

"Well, it started when . . ." said the elf.

"We don't know . . ." started the human.

Both came at the same time.

"Sigh! Shut up both of you!" Thelma pointed at the human, who looked to be younger than the light elf, and more intimidated. "Start now."

"We don't know what happened," he gulped. "Some orcs came in with a new slave, a couple days ago. The women washed her, put a collar and chain belt on her, put her in the main tent, and left. Nothing else happened until that night, when the men went to the tent to eat. Then everybody started getting horny, and we started fucking, and no one's been able to stop."

Thelma nodded, her face grim. She looked at the others. The women were restless and growling, and the boars difficult to control.

Yep, sorcery definitely.

Thelma ignored her wet crotch but,

Some bones are going to be jumped after this.

"So, your guards are at the tent then?"

"Everyone's at the tent, I guess," the human gulped, "Except the slaves."

Thelma turned to the others, "Then that's our search, girls. Stay focused. Whatever magic's screwed this camp is probably there.

And it might be related to this new slave. A succubus perhaps?

" Unlikely, as she didn't remember succubi powerful enough to emit this level of magic.

It's tantric at the very least.

"What about these two?" Marta asked.

"Leave 'em at it. We'll sort it out later. Right now the priority is to get to the bottom of this."

The women approached the main tent. The feeling of lust grew stronger the closer they drew. Control of the boars grew near impossible. The males' cocks nearly gouged the ground.

"Off the mounts girls," Thelma barked. "Hitch 'em to the posts. We're going on foot."

Thelma and the squad's proximity to the tent put them in the lust aura emanating from it.

"Fuck! I'm so wet," she thought, knowing the others were likely also. She grit her teeth and hardened herself. "Weapons ready girls!"

The squad came to the main flap. "You and you!" Thelma said, pointing to two of the younger ones. "Get around the back entrance, whistle when you get there. When I whistle back, go in. We'll come in through the front. Be prepared for anything. Whatever's in here is powerful"

"Yes Ma'am," the two, Gruuna and Varta, chorused.

Thelma and the remaining orcs waited at the entrance. "Something is definitely happening inside," she thought.

Faint sounds drifted from the tent. Soft moans, grunts,

Sounds like fucking, but not proper orc fucking. It sounds almost . . . human.

A wave of disgust flowed through Thelma's body. Orcs fucking like lowly humans? No loud, boisterous curses or sounds of violence?

What in the Black Gods of Dis is going on in there?

A whistle came from the other side of the tent.

"All right girls, this is it. Get ready."

Thelma put her hand on the flap, and the other gripped her battle ax. She whistled and opened the flap.

****

"It was . . . it was . . . like a blast of heat from a fire mage," she told the shamans. "Only it wasn't fire . . . it was . . . lust . . . pure, absolute . . . lust. I'd never felt anything like it. I just wanted to fuck and fuck and . . ." Thelma paused.

It was three days later, after she'd stumbled into camp with Marta. It took Herculean effort for the two not to strip their leathers, and fuck on the road, between the main camp and the Cohort's.

"I don't remember much of getting here. I think the only thing that saved me from . . . that . . . was I acted on impulse. I grabbed the first thing close to me, Marta, and ran. Marta grabbed back, and we nearly fucked, but I punched her, and dragged her by her braid. Pain, I think, kept our heads straight, but only for a few seconds. The boars were useless. They were already humping each other. Impossible to separate, and we didn't have time."

Thelma and Marta had stumbled into camp, groins wet with cum. They'd used the energy from the intense arousal to run the league, but still came every few meters.

She'd barely managed to gasp out information and orders to Hilde, "Tantric sorcery . . . in the main tent . . . new slave . . . causing it . . . send for shamans . . . warn the hetmen . . . don't go near the main camp . . . pull back another five leagues . . . leave us . . ."

Thelma stripped her leathers and went down on Marta. Hilde left to issue orders, preparing the Cohort to move, and sending fast runners to the other camps.

They waited for Thelma and Marta to finish. The two orcs fucked in a tight sixty-nine, sucking and licking cum off each other's bodies. They then morphed into a trib, kissing clits and grinding pussies so hard they almost bled.

The view for the others would be arousing in other circumstances. There was no arousal. No lewd snickers or chuckles, only a rare emotion among the orcs: trepidation. Any power that would cause orcs to run off in panic was a great power indeed.

Three days later, in the new camp, Thelma and Marta had recovered . . . mostly. Now Thelma related her news to the Shamans of The Plains.

The shamans, five in all, representing the Federated Orcs, frowned thoughtfully. The runners had galloped into their respective camps, and reported a crisis enveloping the Red Horde.

"Go on," Burgul, shaman of the Blue Horde, said, "What did you see when you opened the flap?"

Thelma swallowed her tincture, chased it with black mead, and continued, "The men . . . the men, on the floor, most in a pile . . . like the dead bodies we'd heap up after a raid, but they weren't dead. Most of them were crawling to that . . . thing . . . in the center, humping on top of one, Hetman Otto. The Hetman looked . . ."

Thelma hesitated, remembering the horror of the sight, "Terrified . . . the Hetman was terrified . . . and ecstatic, like fucking a succubus, but this was different. Like some wave of lust was washing out, but nothing from us was being sucked in. And then that . . . thing . . . looked at me, and grinned, and raised her hand and beckoned, and that's when I ran."

The shamans sat, stunned beyond belief. Orcs terrified. Orcs running, in panic, not tactical withdrawal, or to a fight. Something put the fear in orcs; a serious matter indeed.

"What creature could do this to orcs?" asked Corag, the Green Horde shaman, "and with sex?"

"The tantric energy emitting from that camp . . . It's the most powerful I'd ever experienced," Targ, the Yellow Horde shaman, shuddered.

"Whatever it is, it couldn't possibly be a weak, lowly human," Drunaq, the Black Horde shaman, growled.

"The hetmen are sending a party to the Taurus cows' main guild hall," snarled Erkhul, the shaman of the Red Horde. "The cows will give us answers or give us blood."

The other shamans stayed silent. Erkhul's vehemence stemmed from shame at his absence (id est, assignation with a female out of mating season in an abandoned farmhouse) while this disaster unfolded.

"This slave must die, it's obvious," said Drunaq, "and quickly before the news gets outside the plains."

"Aye, it would mean trouble with the Lighters if this story about the slave's closed realm origins proves true," Burgul said.

"You don't think we can handle the Lighters?" asked Drunaq.

"Of course we can," Burgul answered, "but what do you think the Lighters will say to outsiders if they find a closed realm whore brought orcs low?"

"Ah," the shamans breathed collectively.

Thelma, listening, shuddered. The implications of the news spreading were incalculable.

"We're going to need a way of getting through that tantric field first," Targ said, "and we can't kill the slave until we figure out what she is first."

"I say kill her," growled Thelma. "She's a threat to the orc race."

"And what if there are more of them? We're going to need proper defense if we come across one again," Targ responded.

The shamans grunted affirmatively, with great reluctance. Orc shamans tended towards more thoughtful actions than their blunt, pragmatic colleagues.

In the end, the shamans decided to use their most powerful wardings, combining them collectively for greater shielding.

Even so, they were barely able to make it to the tent. It took five darts, dipped in black poppy juice, plus three different sopor charms, to subdue the slave.

The men, barely moving, were loaded onto wagons and carted away. It took days to put the Red Horde camp in proper order. It took weeks for the men to recover.

The shamans kept the slave unconscious while they tested her, using scanning spells on her tantric energy, and testing her blood for origins. What they found sent spasms of excitement, shock, horror, and terror through their bodies. Otto, Haggath, and Thelma felt the same when informed respectively.

"Three bloodlines?!" Otto gasped. "You're sure about this?!"

"The tests were conclusive," Erkhul said. "We went over her five times."

Otto's dark green color paled a shade lighter. "Well, there's only one thing to do then. Kill her."

"And incur the wrath of at least three of them? Even orcs dare not challenge something like that," Erkhul replied.

"Hades' Balls!" Otto cursed. The Red Shaman was right. Orcs could be reckless, but not suicidal . . . except in the case of capture. Still, some accounting was in order.

"The Taurus cows, and that goblin scum, Muck Muck. They had to know about the slave. That cheap price was too convenient. They'll pay for this."

"Maybe," said the shaman. "Whole thing could related to her closed realm origins, rather than her power. You heard nothing of any trouble in the dungeons."

"No . . ." Otto pondered for a moment. "The snatchers, the selector, why didn't they run into this thing on the snatch?"

The Red Shaman thought, "Could be this closed realm is low magic. The probability spell might not have assigned much account. Her power could have been dormant on that world. Exposure to wild magic in this place, especially in the dungeons, probably activated it. It's likely she doesn't know herself."

"So what's the Hetmen's position?"

"The Hetmen have placed the Red Horde under quarantine. No, not complete," Erkhul cut Otto's objection off. "People of the Red Horde can come and go, but only limited. No one else can come near. No one else will. The Hetmen declared the slave our responsibility until they figure out what to do. We're supposed to keep her fed, cleaned, and watered. The Plains Orcs are sending runners to the sorcerer's guilds, even Black Mountain shamans for advice. Some circles, I heard, are even suggesting we bring in the Lighters, penalties be damned."

"So we're stuck with that until we get some mage head to deal with it?"

"It's worse," Erkhul said. "Everyone's blaming Red Horde, you especially. We bought her after all. News has gone out to the Orcs of The Plains. A slave brought us low. We're laughing stocks. The Red Horde might never recover from this dishonor."

Otto put his head in his hands. "That I should live to see a day such as this. Disgrace, dishonor, by a lowly slave."

"Not so lowly, given her bloodlines," said the Red Shaman. "Suppression magic will help, but only if she's kept satisfied."

"Not by me," shuddered Otto. "I'm on hiatus as of now. Ivar will be acting hetman. This cock is staying away from that . . . that Bitchslut."

Erkhul stared at the hetman, masking his disgust. "It's started," he thought. That an orc hetman would abandon his responsibility and run like a coward . . .

Disgrace and dishonor indeed.

"I shall go and inform Ivar."

Erkhul left the hetman, who sat on his stool, head hanging low, before rising to find a boar. He knew a tavern and inn near the border where he could hole up until the storm passed.

Manor Felldis and Plantation

My first act after waking was to write a report on my interview with the Duchess, and flash it to headquarters. What would the Old Lady and the Committee think, finding the heir apparent to Surtur was the one behind the abductions? I saw a shitstorm coming. This one wasn't some minor Svartalf merchant trying to make a profit.

Settling the Grand Duke risked a diplomatic crisis. It wouldn't surprise me if the Department put me under constraints. I ground my teeth at that thought.

I could say the morning I spent at the Duchess' manor had more interesting developments but nope, pretty routine.

I washed, shaved, dressed, had breakfast (a pleasant repast of eggs, bacon, cherry juice, and fresh baked bread with honey and butter, all scanned per the usual precautions).

The Duchess was very gracious as a host. She even had a lunch packed for me (sausage, cheese, and bread) with a note reiterating the Oath of Hospitality, and no obligations attached to the courtesy. I almost regretted my rudeness from the previous day.

Packed and ready, I prepared to leave. Artalik was there to escort me out. His face held no expression, but I saw a slight bitterness and defeat in his eyes.

Sorry Art. No evisceration, incineration, torture, or curse for me.

We didn't exchange words. He walked ahead (I kept my hand near my gun . . . just in case).

The Duchess and Kim met me outside. A proper courtesy to see me off, but still a mild surprise on my part (the Duchess didn't strike as a person to extend this courtesy to someone not on her level. Maybe trying to gain a good impression for the Department perhaps. I made a note to include it in my next report. Some diplomatic possibilities here).

A stable attendant stood in the courtyard, holding my horse. I noted his singed hands. I'd forgotten to remove the heat shield, oops.

"Sorry about the heat shield, Your Grace. I knew not what to expect here, and I didn't expect to stay overnight."

"It was little bother, and understandable, given the circumstances. The stable attendant handled the situation well enough, and your mount has been well fed and cared for, under the terms of hospitality."

I smiled and turned to Kim. "It's not too late to change your mind. I can take you to the nearest consulate, and you'll be back on Earth within a week. You'll still be compensated for your ordeal."