<span style="font-size: 18px"><b>The Barge</b></span><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 15px">Lydia peers up at the orc as his hands appreciate her frontal terrain.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 168, 133)"> "Of course, chief. Whenever you say ..."</span><br/>
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Wait, something's not going according to plan. Is he kneeling? <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 168, 133)">"... what are you doi-oh ... oh!" </span>Her voice takes on a tinge of surprise as her fingers clutch at the bedsheets. Her head lols back as his heated tongue slathers her most private region. <br/>
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This was unexpected. Could she use it? Perhaps with a bit of subtle encouragement. She gasps out, in breathy, heaving voice, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 168, 133)">"Oh no! That's so naughty! No - good girls shouldn't ... shouldn't enjoy such things! Not from a mighty, powerful orc! No, please ... please ... ohhhhh it's too shameful!" </span>Well ... subtle for an orc, anyhow.<br/>
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Her head tosses from side to side at the 'torture' Grull is inflicting between her legs. Calves over Grull's shoulders, she digs her heels a little into his muscular back. She squeals when he presses his tongue forward, and balls the sheets into her hands. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 168, 133)">"Oh no ... please, please don't let me cum in such a shameful manner! Not with you ... doing ... doing that!" </span><br/>
</span><br/>In truth, unwelcome pleasure was a technique that could be used to break slaves in, though she had thought it too advanced for these orcs. Most women, especially refined women, were deathly afraid of their inner slut. Perhaps the gang would be more useful tools than Lydia had expected.