This story was inspired by the alluringly barbaric and barbarically alluring illustrations of an artist who goes by the handle
JustSomeNoob.
I'm not able to link to their work here, but I strongly encourage the reader to google this excellent artist, who also goes by
JSNart.
If you like the kind of big strong women who feature in the following story, then I promise you will like the art that inspired it. And I further promise that the artist is anything but a noob.
Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy The Warchief's Favour.
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Örek would never have dreamed that he might look upon a She-Orc with anything but contempt. The ill-humoured northerner had done bloody battle with their male counterparts countless times, and the acts of savagery he'd seen them commit were enough to chill even his barbarian blood. He'd never encountered a female Greenskin before, but all accounts held them to be just as ugly, just as ruthless, and just as violent as their menfolk--and he'd never had reason to doubt the truth of those accounts.
That they were ruthless and violent turned out to be true, as he learned when a pack of Orcesses took him in the middle of night, pouncing on him as he slept and dragging him off to their camp. He'd roared in anger, struggled madly, and laid about him with his fists and shins. But his thickly muscled limbs had been useless against their green thews, and their bellows of triumph and raucous laughter had drowned out his cries of rage as they stripped and bound him.
The morning after his capture, the sun rose on their crude settlement to find Örek naked, hands above his head, bound to a thick wooden stake that stood in the middle of a ring of mud huts. His limbs twitched, and he muttered curses as he glowered out from beneath his short blonde hair at the Greenskins gathering about him. But he was powerless to do anything besides.
Whether their men were out raiding, or whether it was customary among Orcs for the sexes to live apart, Örek could not say. But whatever the reason, the Orcs that emerged from their huts to stand before him were females all, and he was surprised to find that they were
far
from ugly.
They were, of course, massive, with the smallest of them standing half a head taller than Örek. Their green skin was stretched over thick limbs that rippled with muscle, and short tusks jutted from between their lips. They were unshod, bare feet calloused and covered in dust, and their hands were of a size to wrap all the way around a man's skull--and crush it too, no doubt. In other words, they were the picture of strength and savagery.
But those lips were full and pouting, and though their limbs and trunks were thick, their hips were wide to match. Their busts were just as ample as the rest of them, and all stood before him bare-breasted, mouths quirked in hungry smiles, and wide, lustrous green eyes glimmering in the morning light. Their thick, earth-toned hair spilled over broad shoulders in sweeping waves, and some even twirled it about their fingers, standing with hips cocked like ale-hall harlots.
But these were no waifs awaiting his pleasure. Örek had felt their strength the night before, and he saw it now in their nearly-naked bodies. He knew that he was at their mercy. They knew it too, judging by the haughty looks they wore as they looked him up and down, and he began to wonder what it was they had in store for him.
If his past experience with Orcs was any indication, he could expect his fate to be cruel and drawn out. And yet, something in the way they carried themselves told him that his expectations were about to be thwarted. Something told him that these towering visions of monstrous femininity did not mean him real harm. At least not yet.
And it was at that thought, to his bewilderment, that his bare cock gave its first flutter of the day.
He was so absorbed by his assessment of his captors that he'd forgotten his nakedness. But the moment he felt the blood start to pump a little quicker between his legs, he was reminded of his state by the multiple sets of eyes that darted downwards in unison.
There were at least a dozen Orcesses watching him now, and they all began muttering amongst themselves, elbowing one another, chuckling, and offering up their own guttural equivalents of "oohs" and "ahs." And the more eagerly they expressed their approval, the more aware Örek became of his nakedness, and of the Orcs' own varying states of undress. His heart sped up and he began to recall the feel of their hands on him at the moment of his capture. He remembered of the warmth of their hulking bodies as they wrestled him into submission, and all once he realized with a downward glance that he was half-erect.
When he turned his gaze back towards the gathered Greenskins, they'd grown even more animated. They laughed openly, while some leaned forward for a better look or made wet kissing noises around their tusks with those full, pouting lips. Some made their best attempt at doe-eyes, and still others squeezed their breasts together, no doubt hoping to speed up the stiffening of his uncut cock with their lifting, bouncing, and jiggling.
It worked, and worked quickly at that.
By the time the first of them stepped out of the crowd and started towards him, hips swaying, his member stood as high as his navel.
Örek had never hardened so quickly in his life, let alone without a helping hand, but then he'd never encountered a creature like this before. The woman before him--for she
was
a woman, for all her strength and her size--seemed more imagined than real. She was at once terrifying and titillating. She had all the proportions and charms of a tavern wench, and radiated barbaric brutality at the same time. She came towards him like a stalking cat, hungry eyes looking him up and down like he was a meal as much as he was a man.
She locked eyes with him, looking
down
