Otylia crossed one leg over the other where she sat and raised a small cup to her lips. She looked down over reports from the southern border scrutinizingly, brushing strands of hair behind her long ears. Her eyes rapidly traveled from the top of the page to the bottom, not reading the thing in it's whole, but just every second or third word to get the gist of the report. She exhaled into the cup and lowered it to the table, releasing that hand to pull gently on her lip nervously.

“Warda? Warda! Damn girl...”

At the call, from the door closest to Otylia's desk emerged a very small Elven woman with circular glasses and messy brown hair tied back in a pony-tail. She was frowning at the summons, carrying a heavy stack of papers that were about to tumble from her grasp, so she had to continuously readjust.
“Yes Miss?”

Forwardly Otylia asked. “Was it on your suggestion that the bulk of the Hussars ride north this month to bolster our borders with Demonkine?”

What Warda wanted to say was. 'Yes. Miss. Yes. Until you took credit for that idea, because it seemed to be the case that Demonkine would declare war. It was my idea. Then it became your idea when it proved popular.' She knew what was coming. She could not see the future but she could read the woman's reaction to the report.
“Yes Miss.” She admitted timidly.

“Ah... It seems it may have been a very big mistake indeed. I expected better from you, Warda. To not have seen the movement on the southern border before-”

Warda's lips quivered. “Bef- before it happened?”

“Yes. Yes. Before it happened.”Otylia agreed without picking up on the absurdity of the statement. Still, even as ridiculous as that request was...

“You mean... The reports I sent to your desk a week ago suggesting that the Hussars should be returned to their provinces and that there was enough stirring in the south along our border with Waren to justify an increased presence there?”

“Well-”

“The southern provinces are quite a bit poorer than the Metropolitan provinces in the north. Their Electors are very wealthy and influential... So I suppose that is why you ignored-”

“Watch your tone!” Otylia swept her desk, knocking the reports and the cup off. It shattered.
“Or don't. do whatever you like.” The woman said flippantly.

“You are unemployed!”

Warda's jaw dropped. Her own stack of papers fell to the floor in a pile. Her mouth just opened and shut over and over again over a few seconds like a fish before she spoke.
“But-”

Otylia allowed her no traction. The Elven Commander daintily lifted her feet off the floor where she sat and cringed as she looked down. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed symbol of nobility looked up and gently asked with very little sense.
“Oh, but do clean this up and finish whatever you were working on before cleaning out your desk thank you buh-bye.” She waved, turned in her seat and very delicately stepped over mess to leave the room. Warda watched her go. Her prissy behavior was in vast contrast to her prestigious uniform. A fur cloak clasped by a golden ring with an eye at the center. Her clothing was a stiff, tight suit of blue and red with a double white stripe down the legs. Warda had to admit she wore it well as she strutted out of the office, away from her work. Before she left she snatched her large black hat from the rack and put it on. She took her sword and placed it at her side. The Commander turned around, surveyed the room and offered a short, nod before exiting.

Warda looked down at the mess.

* *

Warda rode south, and who would stop her? The Hussars stationed at the borders? She carried with her documents, research, reports from inside Waren through their contacts. There was also a heaping amount of internal intelligence. They were not going to use them, so she concluded that they would not miss them, either. Within them, each one that she collected the same name. Malik. The reports showed the name. The documents and the research told of him, an exile. The ruling class of Waren was as vein as hers and had exiled the man, one of their own, in exchange for a comfortable ceasefire, women and land that had been agreed upon by both parties. The remaining Warlords split it among themselves and ceased to be an issue for a year. But, she had read, the name appeared again in reports that signified his return through some means.

Warda felt a number of things. Kinship in the betrayal. She felt the incompetence of the Orc version of nobility. A hunger for some sense of revenge or catharsis; the feeling that she was right and the lamentations of those that ignored her. She did not know what she wanted in the positive sense. She had lost all sense of that. She just knew what she wanted for others and that they ultimately deserved it.

She rode day and night as planes turned to hills then into mountains. She followed narrow paths and skirted patrols and made her way into an area that was so easily pinpointed that it was a legitimate shame for anyone in Poren that could not find this threat early and handle it. The signs were all present. The war had already begun between Orc factions in Waren and they did not know or care. The signs were all around her as she rode towards the mountain camp nervously. She was flanked by battlements and razed villages on her approach.

She encountered Orc guards that sized her up hungrily. Instead of seizing her immediately they lead her into the camp. They allowed her off of her beast of burden and escorted her to a large tent of furs with smoke escaping the top. As basic as the setup was, the feeling as she entered the tent was the same as if she was walking into an esteemed place of worship. The walls of furs may as well have been stone of a thousand years; the holes in the walls casting light like stained glass of saints looking down on her, while the wooden supports gave the feel of marble pillars with fine ribbing up and down the length. The mundane surroundings were all provided far more importance by the presence of the one inhabiting them. She could feel it even before meeting him.

Standing in the center a full foot above all others at a fire, like it was his altar, an Orc in robes. He reached into the flame like it was nothing and with a hand covered in cooling red ash he painted the forehead of two men in scale armor that were kneeling in front of him. He spoke something in Orcish that had them stand, bow and leave the tent on either side of Warda. She gulped, feeling herself shake in his presence. The great Orc turned to look down his flat nose at her. He flashed a grin that put his white lower tusks on full display. She, who was already smaller than him slouched and curved her back, shrinking even further in her presence.

“I never understood it.” Malik offered calmly in perfect Porish.

“What?” Warda struggled to remember that she needed to breath still and gasped as she asked.

“What elves feel they have to fear from us. Or me.” Warda had an answer. It was on her tongue and her mouth even opened but she was trained to hold it. She furrowed her brow and remained quiet. Malik tilted his head to one side and rubbed his chin.
“A rhetorical question. Because I know. You value agency. Freedom. You think that being ruled by us means you lose everything.” Warda blinked. It was like he had read her answer, but it was not too impressive, as it was a common sentiment.
“But, consider this: You have the freedom to speak in your society but you are trained not to. You have the agency to do whatever you like... But you are limited. You, dear Elf, are worried about losing everything, but what did you have to begin with?” She was speechless.
“Sit.” The moment he said it she sat down on the fine patterned carpets. Her rear was propped up by the small cushions lining the backs of the padded carpet.

“You have things you wanted to give me.”

Warda was clutching a large satchel that she planned to barter with. She nodded slowly and slid it over to him without asking anything in return. How could she? It was done. She had given him everything and it was in his court to do with it what he willed. Her revenge, as far as she was concerned, was complete.

“This is my work. Everything I've collected that they know about you and everything about our movements for the past month.”

Malik quietly grabbed the satchel and read over the papers for almost a half hour without looking up. She knew he was truly reading them. Not skimming. The silence was getting to her and the tension was too much. He had not asked her to leave or told her what she could do so Warda was just sitting nervously in front of him while her anxiety built. After thirty minutes a small smile from him. He gazed at her appraisingly.
“This is very, very good work.” He spoke generously. The moment he said that she felt a welling up of pride. Then, as if being bolstered that pride swelled until she was no longer nervous. She was confident.

“W-well, yes. It is what I did.”

“They didn't appreciate this?” Malik questioned knowingly with a deep frown. It triggered a sense of pain and indignation that only spiraled and grew to match her already swollen pride. Warda gritted her teeth and nodded, almost on the verge of tears. But there was a thought at the back of her mind. He was the same. He would be the same. For all that he had said that was true, it was not any better under him. His world was hers, just with actual slavery. On cue, Malik spoke to her smoothly.
“You consider what I do slavery. And it is.” He admitted.

“Huh?” Warda was confused. He had just come out and said it, which was unexpected. It took her off balance.

He leaned forward. “If you were under me I would work you. I would have you do all the things that humiliated you back home and more. You would have to commit and perform and do far more than you could ever dream of under your former employ, but- and here me out Warda...” She gasped, not remembering giving him her name. Malik leaned closer and closer until he was looming over her. His gaze was intense with his eyes shining like coals as the reflected the flames. His breath washed over her he was so close. Then he spoke.
“You would gladly accept all of that, if only for an ounce of appreciation and credit in proportion to what you do.”

The words melted her down to her very Core. She sunk and felt dead, taken apart by such an accurate sentence. It laid bare all she had done and valued and how all up until this point meant nothing. How no amount of work or wage added up to anything in her eyes. She watched as Malik reached into the fire. He pulled his hand free. She cringed as hot soot crossed her forehead. When she opened her eyes she felt different. Better. She stared up at the Orc and felt desire, worship. He stood up in front of her, her eyes following his. Then, when he opened his robes and his great member flopped out onto her face with a vivid 'smack' her eyes crossed to acknowledge it. She felt the warmth of it on her face. She knew his heartbeat through her cheek as it throbbed gently, even while flaccid. It dripped subtly over her hair.

Warda inhaled deeply and sensually arched her back as she practically tore her classy clothes from her lithe elven body, careful not to move so much that the plate for his cock her face had become dropped what it was carrying. She was no Otylia. Her skin was pale, not porcelain and her face freckled. She needed glasses to see through her dull brown eyes and her hair was referred to as 'stained blonde' in her people's tongue. Warda's body was thin, untoned. Her breasts were small, as was her rear. Her shape showed a vague outline of femininity but it was no model of fertility such as the statues that adorned the fountains of the capital with their wide hips and generous breasts. Despite all that, he looked down at her in a way that gave her the feeling of one of those statues in spirit. Sex was not her forte and it never had been, but in that moment she salivated like someone made for it and her tongue left her lips to drag up the limp green cock.

She felt excited as the flavor of sweat washed back into her mouth. She moaned, gripping it at it's base. She kissed loudly all over it like she could not control herself and if Warda truly thought about it, she couldn't. As her lips found the crown and enveloped it, and the worry at the sheer size began to build she felt his hand on her head, tilting her face back. She was directed to look up into his eyes and when she did she felt just fine. He pet her like a favored animal and said.
“You are doing well. Very well. Such good work for such a good girl.” She was floored by how wanted she could be made to feel. How no one she had ever met in the world had made her WANT to do so much. For just those words she received the thought that she might have been able to do anything for him.

Warda shuddered and sucked in so hard that her lips pulled over the length of it until the tip poked the back of her throat in a way that made her gag. He rubbed her temples in such a gentle, circular motion that she barely even noticed a faint shock. When she tried again her throat opened and her eyes rolled back. The feeling of his thick cock stretching her throat, and the lack of pain or discomfort was surreal and intense. The moment she kissed the base and felt his tip poke into her stomach fully he guided her out slowly so that she would not damage her insides. As his hardening member popped free of her lips Warda gasped. She looked up nervously as she was guided onto her back. Intimidated, she spoke.
“It- It's not going to fit.”

“Such a weak mindset.” Malik teased, placing a board hand over her eyes. The sight of his massive member poised to enter her tiny cunt was no longer in view. So, when she felt a very faint, but pleasant stretching sensation and her eyes were uncovered she was surprised to see his member pushed halfway into her sex. Warda could trace how deep it was in her belly via a significant warping around it through her skin. That was how much of a size mismatch there was. She gasped and moved and when she moved she felt the growing pleasure where each small movement dragged the cock in and out. She could barely take those small movements so when Malik began properly fucking her she became a groaning mess of saliva and tears of joy. She was self-conscious because she sounded like an animal while he was thrusting into her, and an animal giving birth each time he dragged his member out.
“It feels-” She panted.
“Like your pulling- My insides out.” Warda groaned. As insane as it sounded, she enjoyed the feeling.

“Relax.” Malik said. His word was like a drug. When he said it, she was surprised. She merely looked up and with wide eyes responded.

“Yes sir.” As her whole body relaxed and began to enjoy it even more. She grinned widely and wildly and moved her whole body with his. He stroked her head and leaned down and kissed her, then pulled back and spoke into her ear.

“You are an Orc. You will give birth until you can not. When you can not you will be thrown, but for all the days that you exist it will be in bliss and you will thank god, and you will look at me and think that I am the same, because it is so. I am god. Yours. Everyone's. You will not forget it. You will proselytize it. You will think and dream about it and if you ever forget or try to you will shake and shiver and scream until you remember, because it is your reality. You are mine. You feel love in all that I do.” Each sentence was punctuated by a mind-emptying thrust and as she came and as his member twitched and filled her womb to the point of spilling out from her sex, Warda knew it all to be true. It was her reality. She did not know what she had done to herself and her people and if she knew, she would have love it.

¹If you enjoy this work, feel free to check out https://www.patreon.com/TVWintergreen where my various series are updated weekly. I release chapters every weekday and will release chapters ahead of time there!