Captured IC
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Montagne on 30-04-2012, 01:29:04</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>30-04-2012, 01:29:04</strong>
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				<em>It is the summer of the year 1238 by the human calendar, and their race prepares for war. Unleashed upon the world, a great scourge “The Orcs”, born of magic in the badlands of the world, now spreads throughout the lands like an unstoppable fire, intent to crush all civilised life underfoot.<br><br>The Orcs seemed to come from nowhere, sweeping across the mountains into the elven plains in their thousands… and soon, in their millions. They were created in the ruins of Flaegra, by a Magister; shunned from his society he created this brutal race to subjugate those who forced him from his homeland. They are cunning, brutal, cruel and warlike. They’re race is created by magical means, and is comprised entirely of males; powerful, broad-shouldered warriors whos strength is unmatched in the civilised races. They stand 4 heads taller than any elf, a 500 pound mass of sinew and muscle. <br><br>They were unleashed upon the elven homelands first, in the closing days of 1237, and it took only 5 months to bring the race to their knees, enslaving their women and killing their men. Only a few small bastions of elven resistance remains, besieged by an endless tide of green skin. They will not last long, and when they are broken, they will be treated the worst of all.</em><br><br><div align="center">***********<br></div><br><br><br>The Orcish tribes, while beginning as small separated bands, gravitated to the most powerful of their kind, the warlords. Under them smaller chieftains kept the men in line, leading them into battle. The tribes had now built their camps around the great cities of the Elves as they laid siege, hungry for battle with the creatures. One such warlord was Gorgamesh: “The cunning one” who’s tribe, while small was always at the vanguard of the battle, sneaking past enemy lines, capturing the most slaves with deadly traps.<br><br>Gorgamesh had led his tribe in a different direction, not content with the futility of attacking the elven cities, holding them there till they starved. He led his tribe across the plains to the small towns and villages of the Elves, undefended he was able to pillage and slaughter with glee. He had fallen upon another elven village this day, their quickly overwhelming their defences.<br><br>A thousand or so of the greenskins fell upon the town, cutting through their defences in moments. Many of the wooden buildings were ablaze, and the Orcs now rounded up the last of the suvivors. The sounds of screaming women were audible, being raped by their new Orcish masters. Most would not survive the brutal fuck, and even less would be kept once they were done with; only those whom the tribe deemed the most beautiful.<br><br>He marched across the charred earth towards the central keep of the town, the doors smashed inwards. Inside the priestesses attempted to hide from his men, but it would be no use. The elves always kept their most beautiful women as healers, priestesses who would remain chaste for their lives. It seemed such a waste to him. He felt his ardour growing at the thought of brutally taking more of these elven beauties; he would have his choice of the group to rut with. <br><br>Behind him on all fours, her body stripped to nothing crawled his favoured elven pet. He captured her on his first week in the elven forest, his first taste of the joys of elven flesh. She wore a spiked leather collar, chained with a crude leash which he yanked with a strong tug of his arm to hurry her; the action choking her, not that he noticed.<br><br>From outside he could already hear the elven screams, and as he entered the main hall the room was in chaos. Most of the elven women were being lined up against the wall, one who had made an attempt to run was being held down on the floor, her dress ripped open as an Orc forced his way inside of her, her delicious screams music to his ears. In the corner, two Orcs fought one another over a cowering girl; Gorgamesh approaching the line of women with a growl. Forcing his men out of the way, he looked them over, his piercing red eyes judging them.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>30-04-2012, 05:13:45</strong>
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				The orcs call her Doshvin; A name she wore with pride. It meant pet, or at least Doshvin was lead to believe so; The orcs snickered every time her name was spoken. She once had a name in Elvish, Makretia, but she could not even remember that name anymore. She had been punished whenever they asked her name and she told them Makretia, tortured for days, left within hours of dying of exposure or dehydration. Every time she even tried to think of her old name, she could feel the lash of leather on her back, the breaking of her skin. She was happy with Doshvin, was rewarded by her master's touch when she answered to it. And she would do anything to please her master. Gorgamesh was his name, but she wasn't worthy enough to call him that; He had beaten her the one time she had done so. Master was what she was supposed to call him, and she would not misstep again.<br><br>She had once, not long ago, been a proud elf, but she was sickened whenever she tried to remember those days. Her mind was so broken that she could barely recall them at all, even if she strained her mind. She had been a warrior, a scout, and she had been very good at her job. She had been extremely stubborn and resistant to their interrogations, willing to die for her cause. Over the months, that began to change as she realized that she would never be liberated, as she was pushed to her mental and physical limits. It had only been a week ago, or so, that Doshvin had finally awoken, truly content with her lot in life, perfectly willing to serve her master. She served him in a very specific way, as well: He had other slaves to fetch him food, to keep his leathers oiled, to pitch his tent. Doshvin was made to please her master, however she could, and she did often.<br><br>While his orcish horde stormed yet another defenseless village, master had stayed back, content to allow his men to tear the town apart, killing the men and rounding up the women. After they swept through the village, her master, along with his most obedient men, marched to the temple in the center of town. She was not allowed to stand on her legs, like a proud woman; She was forced to crawl, and she did not mind, simply because it was her master's wish. Doshvin felt ill; not because of the smell of burning flesh or the scream of her kin around her as their lives were taken from them, either literally or metaphorically, but for some other reason, something she did not understand. "Doshvin is sick," she whined once, receiving a swift kick to the side, adding another bruise to her delicate flesh. Still another orc cackled upon hearing her name, but she simply smiled, happy to please her master and his men in any way. Her knees were scraped red, as were her elbows, her palms and her fingers, but she did her best to keep up with her master, sometimes being dragged by his leash, crying in pain when the collar choked her.<br><br>As they entered the temple, Doshvin unceremoniously vomited at the door, her illness caused by the strain on her body from their long march and then quick strike on the village, from the physical pain he inflicted on her whenever she was not doing enough to please him, and from... Whatever had been ailing her earlier. She wiped her mouth quickly on her forearm and continued to follow her master, a berth being granted to the powerful warlord as he made his way through several rapes. Some of the women who were not being ravaged were being lined up against the wall; Most were sobbing, but some of them were staring incredulously at Doshvin. It was a look she had often garnered whenever they went through a sacked village, but now she understood them: They were jealous that she had found the warlord's favor! She smiled and sat back on her rump as her master began to mull over his pick of women. Doshvin usually got jealous when he picked one out and took her, just because she loved him, and didn't want anyone to supplant her place at his side. She licked the blood from her scraped hands like a cat, waiting for an opportunity to please her master.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>30-04-2012, 07:15:51</strong>
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				Though one of the younger women that sheltered within the citadel, protected by the most faithful of the town’s warriors, Shaelee was considered one of the most valuable because of her rare knowledge of herbs and healing passed to her from her mother’s sister.&nbsp; As such she was kept far back, huddled with the elder priestesses and magi.&nbsp; It made no difference save that she was one of those lined up, surrounded by the towering monsters rather than one of those that screamed in pain as they were violated.<br><br>The first of the orc’s victims were not the only elven women that screamed and cried.&nbsp; Huge, rough hands grabbed at them, pulling cowls back to expose their faces and tearing at robes, uncaring when they caught hair or bruised tender flesh…&nbsp; No, that was not true.&nbsp; They cared.&nbsp; They enjoyed the screeches of pain and looks of fear they elicited; a realization that made Shaelee all the more determined to deny them both.&nbsp; Instead she glared her hatred at them, gritting her teeth rather than crying out when one grabbed the shoulder of the concealing cloak she wore, pulling her forward into the hard wall of his body as he ripped it from her.<br><br>She pushed away from him immediately, twisting her body to avoid his grasp.&nbsp; It gained her little, a few more seconds of freedom and a growl of anger.&nbsp; Fortunately, it was enough.&nbsp; Before he could lunge at her a commotion along the line stopped him, one orc pushed aside jostling the next one and the next, until her tormentor turned away with a snarl… only to be brought up short as he took in the one that all gave way for.<br><br>Defiant expression fading slightly as fear showed in the vibrant blue eyes for the first time, Shaelee trembled as eyes the color of fresh blood passed over her.&nbsp; Where she had glared at others, her eyes fell from his to stare at the floor, letting her long, golden hair swing forward to hide her.&nbsp; She could feel her those close to her cringe and tried hard to resist doing the same.&nbsp; If she just didn’t look at him…&nbsp; She couldn’t help it, she’d always been told she was too curious for her own good.&nbsp; She looked up again.. and saw the last thing she expect.<br><br>“Makretia?”&nbsp; She stared at the elven woman that sat near the orc’s feet, her mouth gaping open in incredulity.&nbsp; Surely, it could not be!&nbsp; Her cousin’s bride was a bold and daring scout, a warrior of some renown among the elves.&nbsp; Shaelee had only met her once, having accompanied her aunt and mother to the wedding of their brother’s son.&nbsp; That had been years before.&nbsp; She had to be mistaken.&nbsp; Even so, she looked enough like the beautiful Makretia that Shaelee was moved to pity rather than disgust by the way she reached out, touching the orc’s leg affectionately as if seeking comfort.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>30-04-2012, 23:05:23</strong>
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				Gorgamesh had growled angrily at the orc who kicked his favoured pet, as she stopped to be sick he had pulled her collar again, dragging her forwards till she moved her arms and legs to keep up. When she went to his side he placed one of his meaty palms on her head, holding her to his leg. He stroked her as a man might do a cat or a dog while she lapped at her hands. “Doshvin is sick” He acknowledged in his guttural speech, before leaning forward to inspect the women.<br><br>The feistiest of them seemed was pushing at his men in an effort to escape, but she seemed to stop fighting when he looked upon her. His piercing eyes commanded her to stop even if he did not speak. He grinned, a primal laugh coming from between his sharpened teeth. Her fear was amusing to him, how often he had seen a defiant elf’s nerve break before him; their defiant voices becoming meek under his gaze. He liked this one. He moved towards her, leaning down, his head inches away from hers, his hot breath blowing across her delicate skin. As she looked away meekly he grabbed hold of her chin, tilting her head back up to look at him.<br><br>When she spoke his elven pets true name he slapped her, his hand clipping her across the cheek with enough force to send her staggering backwards. He growled at the girl, and the orcs roared in laughter. “She is Doshvin.” He looked down at the pet who rested against his thigh. He looked up and down the line once more, before pointing to the girl he struck. This time he spoke in his orcish tongue, a savage harsh language the elves could not understand. “She is mine, take the rest as you please.”<br><br>The others roared in approval, grabbing the nearest woman and ripping into the delicate clothes they wore. The room was soon in chaos as the women screamed, their captors grabbing their bodies so roughly. Gorgamesh slowly advanced, walking towards her with cruel intent in his eyes. As he backed her up against the wall he grinned; his hand taking hold of her delicate neck. His thumb under her chin he tilted her head up to look at him, those crystal blue eyes of hers forced to stare into the deep pits of red that filled his sockets, while all around her, her brethren were being forced to the floor, their screams echoing throughout the hall.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>01-05-2012, 00:34:52</strong>
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				She loved her master so much. His men were cruel to her, but even when he hurt her, she knew it was because he cared for her, and wished to teach her to be better. She rubbed up against his leg and felt gratified when he patted her head like a dog; Not even the sun could make her feel this warm and cozy. For a moment she even forgot her sickness as she nuzzled up against his naked calf, lost in her own little world.<br><br>One of the elven women was staring especially hard at her; Doshvin tried to ignore her, but she said something that made Doshvin's stomach lurch, her eyes snap towards the woman. For just a second, she was Makretia again, and her eyes widened as she recognized Shaelee. She had been present at her wedding; Her husband! Her thoughts raced as she thought about Aubron, a man who she once loved more than Gorgamesh. Lucid for a moment, she looked around the room, as if searching for an escape. Then, Gorgamesh- her master, she corrected in her mind- left her side, and wrenched her thoughts away from that awful person she used to be. She took a deep breath of fresh air, her sickness having risen again as she thought of the elf she used to be.<br><br>She no longer could put a name to the elf's face, but Doshvin suddenly disliked her. She made Doshvin feel uncomfortable. She laughed at the woman when master hit her, sent her spiraling to the ground; The other orcs were ready to swoop onto her and rape her, but he stopped them. Doshvin understood bits and pieces of the orcish language, but she had never been truly taught it yet; She only knew that master had claimed this woman. That made Doshvin uncomfortable; She wanted this one to die, though she didn't understand why, but not only would she possibly live, if she were not beaten too badly, she might try to take Doshvin's place. She was getting sick again.<br><br>Master slowly approached the woman, and Doshvin crawled alongside him. Her master walked with menace, and she had an evil smile on her own lips as the gigantic orc wrapped his hands around the elf's neck and lifted her from the ground. "Yes," she groaned, hoping for her death.<br><br><hr><br>In a moment of weakness, she had abandoned her disciples, and locked herself away in her quarters on the second floor. The door was twice bolted, and a heavy dresser had been pressed up against it, the door opening from the outside-in. Still, with every brutal shoulder thrust from the orcs on the other side, the wood splintered and threatened to give away.<br><br>Edraele, the high priestess and aunt to Shaelee, sat in her armchair, frozen in place. What could she do? She had already considered throwing herself out of the window, but that was unlikely to kill her from only the second story. She had nothing in the room that would sufficiently slit her throat or her wrists, but even if she did, Edraele was not sure that she could do it. She was too weak to even pray to Chandrelle, goddess of the elves and the wife of the Allfather, who every race believed created the land.<br><br>Sitting in that chair, watching a green fist blow through her door, trying to push the dresser out of the way, Edraele reflected on her cowardice throughout her life. She was the high priestess, but even now she could not beg her lady for help. She had seen the smoke and heard the screams, and she could have at least spared some of her priestesses some time to escape. She was a legendary healer, but Edraele also knew other magics. Nothing to kill an orc, but she could have bought some time. But she had locked herself inside of her quarters, choosing flight over fight, and abandoning the women who had believed in her, who had served alongside her in service to Chandrelle for decades, and in some cases centuries. Their small fists banged on the door, begging for her to let them inside; She had used all of her strength pushing the dresser against the door to deny them. Soon the sounds of their fists died, replaced by their screams, and later, larger fists interrupted her disturbed reverie.<br><br>The hand bursting through her door turned into an arm, then two, then they were easily sliding the gigantic oak dresser across the floor. She stood from the chair, knocking it to the floor with the suddenness of her movement. She lifted her hand to face the orcs, but none of her magic was summoned. In her moment of weakness, the goddess Chandrelle had abandoned her. "No, my whole life-" was all that the disgraced priestess could say before a fist hit her square in the face, knocking her to the floor and stunning her. As she swam through the blackness, she felt her clothes being wrenched away from her body.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>01-05-2012, 05:27:08</strong>
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				The room flashed over white and Shaelee’s head snapped to one side as she staggered from the orc’s blow.&nbsp; A copperish taste filled her mouth, as sharp as broken glass or the thorns of the red roses that filled the citadel’s gardens.&nbsp; Blood trickled from the corner of her lips as bright red as the loveliest of those roses, or as bright as the hateful eyes that watched her as her head swam and she collapsed to her knees.&nbsp; Dazed, Shaelee could not move, could only look up in fear as the orc growled at her.<br><br>That was not Doshvin!&nbsp; She was sure of it now.&nbsp; For a moment she had seen the woman clearly, saw her eyes clear and brighten… she saw Makretia.&nbsp; <br><br>Around her the orcs laughed and she finally moved, her eyes like blue fire as she looked upon them with hatred.&nbsp; Her head felt loose, like it might fall off any moment, but her face didn’t hurt at all.&nbsp; In fact, it felt numb.&nbsp; She didn’t know if she was injured and suddenly she didn’t care.&nbsp; Ignoring the pain in her head, she struggled to her feet once more, swaying slightly.&nbsp; They might beat her, rape her or even kill her, but she wouldn’t let them break her.&nbsp; Her eyes fell to the once proud elf before rising again.&nbsp; She couldn’t let them do that to her.<br><br>Still, she could not look up and meet the eyes of the one that had hit her.&nbsp; She flinched involuntarily has his hand came up to point a finger at her.&nbsp; She hated herself for it but she kept her head bowed, face hidden, her previous defiance gone as he barked something in his harsh tongue.&nbsp; A moment later there was pandemonium, the shrill screams of her sister healers feeling like a blade through Shaelee’s head.&nbsp; Bile rose in her throat as the priestesses were grabbed, stripped, beaten.<br><br>Her own situation was no better.&nbsp; Suddenly aware of the huge orc’s nearness, she backed away quickly, bumping into the broad back of another orc.&nbsp; A hand slammed into her shoulder, shoving her to the side as a braying laugh erupted over the screams.&nbsp; Dizziness and nausea washed through her as she caught herself from falling and glanced up at the advancing orc.<br><br>Her heart thundered in her chest, fluttering like a bird that beat its wings furiously to escape its cage.&nbsp; Bright blue eyes wide in terror, she squealed in fear and frustration as her back touched the bare stone wall.&nbsp; “Don’t...”&nbsp; Her protest of his touch sounded more like a plea than the demand it was supposed to be.&nbsp; Her words ended with that touch, stopping even before his she felt the pressure his large hand could bring.&nbsp; Both of her hands rose to pull at his as he forced her chin up again.<br><br>Blue eyes filled with tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks in scalding lines as she stared at him.&nbsp; She saw nothing in those eyes save pain, degradation, defilement and death.&nbsp; Around her elven screams filled the hall, echoing and joining with the laughter and calls of encouragement from the orcs… and the grunts of those that took their rough pleasure in the unwilling bodies of her kinswomen.<br><br>Unable to bear the sanguine stare a moment longer, Shaelee closed her eyes, praying to the goddess for a quick death… and lashed out at the orc that held her, kicking at him, her nails clawing at the hand around her throat.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>03-05-2012, 01:54:32</strong>
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				Gorgamesh hissed as the tiny elf in his hands scratched and kicked at him. He lifted her towards him, the kicks barely fazing him as they bounced ineffectually off his muscular form. He slammed her back against the wall with a sickening crack, stunning her. “Stop.” He spoke with a slightly annoyed tone, releasing the dizzied elf. He raised his hand, keeping it flat and slamming the side of his palm down in an arc, landing a chop just below her rib cage.<br><br>The blow was staggering, dropping the girl to her knees. He knew what he was doing, aiming for her kidneys, avoiding anything too vital she could not be healed later. Still her body reacted violently to the strike, sending convulsions through her body, and forcing her to wretch. Gorgamesh looked over her, spitting down on her body. “Pathetic.”<br><br>He turned to his favoured pet, running a finger down her cheek. He pulled his trousers, wearing no other garments to cover himself. “Remove them Doshvin.” From her view at his knees she would be able to see his arousal, his impressive, thick member throbbing below the cloth. He stroked the head of his pet with a satisfied grin, he would soon teach the elf of the true power of the orcs.<br><br><br><hr><br><br>Upstairs, the orcs ripped into Edraele's clothes, shredding her dress as they pinned her down. Sharp claws cut into her skin in their hurry to strip her. Her head swimming in the darkness the last of her clothes were finally removed as she began to come back to. She was presented by the cruel glare of an orc, grabbing hold of her hair he yanked her head upward, slapping her across the face, splitting open her lip. It roared at her as more beasts grabbed her kicking legs, forcing them to part. They slowly began to force their bulbous members inside her tiny frame, as she heard the cruel laughter of the ones who held her down.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>04-05-2012, 02:05:41</strong>
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				The action was exciting; She had seen her master kill dozens of insubordinate orcs, and maybe thousands of elves on top of that, mostly men, but some women too. Doshvin wouldn't have been surprised if he had finished her right there, with her on her hands and knees, choking on her own bile. One swift kick to the face would put a big dent into her skull, or snap her neck. She fantasized about it for a moment, until her master turned to her.<br><br>The menace in his features softened, just a little bit. But he still had a fierce visage, one that would cow any elf; It made Doshvin wet, although anything her master did excited her very much. He petted her again, and then tugged on his simple trousers, the only thing he had been wearing. The corrupted elf could feel herself salivating, drool forming in the corners of her fat, pouty lips. She didn't need any further encouragement or commands; She had been born to do this, or at least that's what she believed. That was what the orcs had always hammered into her head, back when she had fought them, back when she was too stupid to realize: The elves had been made to serve the orcs, and for all of their existence they had simply been waiting to be claimed. She didn't understand why her people fought their masters, but she had fought once too; They would learn, in time.<br><br>She tugged his pants down and immediately pounced on his gigantic orcish cock, immediately slobbering all over it. She could never jam the thing into her mouth, as much as she had wished, so she simply tried harder to please him by licking up and down his cock, applying gentle kisses to places she had learned were more sensitive than others. Her hands stroked and massaged his massive balls, which were already boiling a batch of the potent seed that had nourished Doshvin daily for almost a half of a year. It wasn't until recently that she began to crave the taste of his cum, but now it was one of the chief thoughts that occupied her mind.<br><br>Her master's hand encouragingly stroking her head, the world just felt... Right.<br><br><hr><br>The pain dulled her senses; She did not fight as her close were torn away from her like the wrappings of a gift, only this was not freely given. Intense fear poured through her, knowing that she might die on the end of an orcish cock. The war had been going on for a long time, and the ors were not shy about their conquest of the elven women. Every free elven woman lived in constant fear of becoming the next slave to an orcish raiding party; Every elven man vowed to die protecting his wife, daughter or mother from the monstrous scourge that came from the northwestern badlands.<br><br>The orcs flipped her from her from her belly to her back, and her vision was filled with the ugly face of an orc. That certainly wrenched her back into a more lucid state; She began screaming as the orc grabbed her by the hair and slapped her across the face a couple of times, dizzying her once again and marking her face badly. Her legs were easily forced open; It wasn't that she allowed the violation, but she simply could do nothing to prevent them. She struggled for a moment until she felt an orcish cock pressed against her opening, then all of the strength in her body fled as her greatest fear was realized: She was about to lose her virginity, after keeping it for hundreds of years, and most of her magical ability with it.<br><br>"Nooo-" Was her last word before another orcish prick was pushed between her lips, futilely trying to stretch her lips so that they would painfully accommodate their invader. Her virgin pussy was torn apart as a member slammed inside of her; Her hips bucked off of the ground, and then another orc had somehow maneuvered so that he was forcing his dry member into her anus. She was in a world of pain, and mercifully, she faded in and out of consciousness as all three of her holes were fucked to some degree. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>05-05-2012, 01:14:05</strong>
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				All that saved the elf from kneeling in her own emesis was that she had not eaten that day, so there was nothing on her stomach for her to lose.&nbsp; The pain that radiated outward from her back and side was intense though and she gagged, her stomach clenching tight and causing her to heave as she huddled on her hands and knees.<br><br>The eyes that looked up at him after he spat his judgment at her were filled with emotion, pain, shame and frustrated rage.&nbsp; She couldn’t disagree with him, which was what hurt the most.&nbsp; She was pathetic, unable to even affect her death at the hands of one that clearly saw no value in her, saw nothing to be lost in taking her life.&nbsp; He could easily kill her, but appeared to have chosen otherwise – either because he would deny her or because he found amusement in how little effort it took to bring her to her knees.&nbsp; It had been like that all of her life, others deciding for her how her life would be spent.<br><br>Around her elven women screamed, cried, prayed, or fell silent in unconsciousness or death, but before her was a sight that Shaelee had never thought to behold.&nbsp; Far from unwilling, Makretia eagerly touched the orc, baring him.&nbsp; Too astonished to hide her reaction, Shaelee stared as the beautiful woman – for even dirty and bruised she dark haired elf was lovely.&nbsp; She couldn’t tear her gaze away as Makretia used her mouth to excite the orc.<br><br>She found it horribly fascinating in those few moments that she watched openly.&nbsp; Fascinating and embarrassing because for the space of a heartbeat the shadow of jealousy darkened her heart.&nbsp; Realization of what it was that she felt made Shaelee jerk away, pressing back against the wall behind her, and turn her face away from the sight of the orc’s enormous maleness.&nbsp; Her cheeks flushed with her shame that she tried to hide by lowering her head, letting her hair fall over her face.<br><br>“You have her… you don’t need me,” she said softly, her voice slightly hoarse from being choked.&nbsp; There was something else in her voice too, a pleading quality.&nbsp; “What’s another dead elf to you?”<br><br>Before her was everything she had ever wanted, the very thing she had fought to have for herself when the elders decided that she would join the Order of Chandrelle and become a priestess and healer like her aunt.&nbsp; She had begged then to be allowed to be a simple herbalist so that she might wed and serve a husband.&nbsp; Of course she had dreamed of a broad shouldered and handsome elf warrior, not a monstrous orc, with which she would find love, pleasure and to whom she could bear children.&nbsp; None of this was possible with an orc, so why could she not summon disgust for one that had had all that she desired not once but now twice?
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				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>09-05-2012, 01:00:45</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Gorgamesh looked down on his elven whore, enthusiastically coating his cock in her slobber, with satisfaction. He owned her and it pleased him no end to see it. He grunted contently as her hand cupped his sizeable balls, her tongue flicking over the most sensitive areas of his shaft. It had taken him many long hours, and plenty of beatings to teach her how to please him; and to cow her such that she was receptive to his teachings, rather than trying to pull away in disgust. Now she lavished the chance, and he stroked her head as a master would do to a trained animal, showing approval at their actions.<br><br>His attention soon returned to Shaelee when he heard her speak. It seemed these warriors senses were just as acute as their elven counterparts. “Doshvin, enough!” He spoke gruffly, pulling the girls lips from his throbbing member. He approached Shaelee, the young elf cowering against the wall, her hair covering her face. “What is another elf to me?!” He laughed, a deep sadistic laugh as he stopped in front of her.<br><br>“We are the orcs, and we were born for one purpose.” He grabbed hold of a fistful of her golden curls, yanking her head up to look at him. “We were born to show the high races of this land that they do not rule over all.” He looked down on her with with a cruel grin, a hand going to her neck, but not squeezing, instead it felt her soft skin, then slid down to her bust. “And we shall begin with those who think themselves highest of all.” He grabbed the thin material she wore at her breasts, yanking hard, a loud tearing noise piercing the chaotic din for a second as he ripped a hole in her dress, bearing her bosom. <br><br>“We’ll begin with you: Elves, and we won’t stop till every one of you are our whores, begging at our feet.” He hauled her up to her feet by the remains of her dress and ripped the rest from her, throwing the tatters away so she stood naked before him. “We are magicborn…We are of the Gods, This world is ours.” <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>09-05-2012, 05:26:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Doshvin was enjoying herself thoroughly; She would have been touching herself while she sucked off her master, but he had not given her permission to do that. In the days before she obeyed, she vaguely remembered being denied any sexual release of her own for days, weeks. Her arms had been bound, unable to touch herself; Master would bring her to the edge of an orgasm and then leave her to suffer without reaching that climax. She had learned to beg for his touch, for that release, because she knew she must have his approval.<br><br>When master commanded her to stop, she flinched as if she had been struck and crawled a few paces away from her master, wiping her wet lips and chin on her forearm, tasting her lips as if trying to savor the taste of his flesh. Her master stood tall in front of the pretentious, snooty elf, the one who thought she was too good for the orcs. He took her by the hair, and Doshvin swore that he would strike her, but he did not. His other hand grabbed her neck, but did not choke the life out of her; That had slid down to the swell of her large breasts, but the only tearing or rending was of the material covering her body, as it was stripped away and left in a shredded heap upon the floor. Doshvin was growing agitated, and a bit worried; Not only had her pleasure been interrupted, but Master didn't seem likely to kill this one. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself more than he usually did when he took one of the fresh elves. Master then tore the rest of her dress away, leaving the beautiful elven priestess fully nude.<br><br>Something happened inside of Doshvin's mind. For a second, instead of seeing the fair-haired, taller elf named Shaelee, Doshvin saw one shorter, darker hair, green eyes instead of blue, with muscles coiled like a snake. Her name was Makretia. There was a scream, but Doshvin couldn't be sure if it was Shaelee or the spectre of Makretia...<br><br><em>The beasts came in the night. Their camp had been erected in a wide open glen, in the far northwestern reaches of Elven land, not far from the mountains that were the end of their world. Impenetrable mists had prevented any elf from ever traversing them; It was agreed by all people that nothing lived on the other side. They had apparently been wrong.<br><br>More than a dozen finely trained warriors and scouts had set up camp there. They had not been prepared for invaders coming from the mountains, where no invader had ever come from. This was the oldest and most peaceful of Elven land; their scouting assignments mere formalities. It had been decades since these lands had seen any trouble; Once, long ago, human bandits had made their way into elven lands and had been harassing local farmers, preying on their livestock. So when the orcs came from the mountains, they had found a completely defenseless camp, with no guards set up to give warning. Twelve elves in bedrolls, fanned around the large bonfire; Twelve souls who would never return to their people.<br><br>Makretia had been awoken by a foot in her stomach; Someone had walked over her, unaware of her presence. She had been fully smothered by her blankets, hidden from outside view; One of her comrades must have stumbled over her, trying to get to the nearest tree to relieve himself. But that foot was gigantic, the weight behind it leaving her winded. As she struggled beneath her bedding, mind suddenly jolted awake, swimming in confusion, she heard the first screams, which were cut short with blades. She tunneled out from underneath her blanket and snatched up her sword, and she was met with a terrifying sight; The rest of her group was being ravaged by monsters. There were three women besides herself, and they were all being removed from their clothing, screaming as their leathers were stripped from their bodies by sharp knives. The men had it even worse; Some lucky ones had their throats slit, but another man was being disemboweled not five paces from Makretia; Another was being held over the fire, his skin blistering and falling off in drops, before he was finally dropped and left to die screaming. Others were simply being hacked to death or pummeled by large, iron-clad fists.<br><br>The attackers were giant brutes that she had never seen or heard of before. It was too dark to take account of their features, but she could see their red eyes staring at her as she forgot how to breathe for a moment. Then, with a furious cry, she charged the monsters, her bright blade dazzling by the firelight as she scored several marks on an orc who was unaware of her being. The cuts were deep, but apparently not deep enough; The monster howled in pain and backhanded her, causing her world to go white for a split second. She rolled out of the way before a large boot stomped the ground where she had been standing, and her blade severed a tendon in the monster's ankle. Instead of sending the beast to the ground, howling in pain, it just made it angrier. It punched her in the gut, the elf caught off guard by the monster's quickness, and she fell to her knees.<br><br>The rest of the night was fuzzy for her. In between the beatings and the rapes, she was aware that she was the only elf left alive; Why they had spared her, she couldn't say to be sure. The scene of her camp in the morning was carnage; The orcs had settled into the clearing the elves had made for themselves, creating a forward base for their impending invasion of the elven land. Makretia couldn't have known their intentions at the time; She didn't know what they even were. She was aware of being dragged through the dew-covered grass, and dropped at the feet of another beast, but this one was different. Larger, scarier, she knew this one was in charge of all of the others. She shivered, only able to look at his feet for a moment, but she gathered her courage and met the creature's red eyes, matching his gaze with a furious look of her own. "I swear I'll kill all of you," she muttered, spitting blood on his foot. The beast couldn't have understood her language, but it laughed, reading the meaning behind her elven words, and kicked her in the chest, cracking a bone or two and making her scream out loud.</em><br><br>For a moment Makretia remembered, her memories brought back by the forceful disrobing of Shaelee, her sister in law. She remembered everything, and she felt sick, knowing what she had become was a mockery of what she used to be. She wanted to kill herself, to end her life so that she would know no more humiliation at the hands of these beasts.<br><br>A second later, however, she was Doshvin again, and she couldn't remember exactly who Makretia was. It was another elf, but Doshvin couldn't remember how she knew this elf. Maybe one that Master had killed long ago. There were many like that, and Doshvin did not know their names. The creature tragically known as Doshvin licked her lips, remembering the taste of orcish cock, and whined pitifully, wishing for her master's affection once again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>10-05-2012, 02:27:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Forced to face the orc by the hold he had on her hair, Shaelee tried to keep her fear from her eyes.&nbsp; He wanted to see it, to know how she trembled at his touch and she wanted to deny him the pleasure of seeing her flinch from his violence.&nbsp; What she had not expected was the way her stomach fluttered at the touch of his hand or the way her breath caught as his fingers caressed her breast for a moment.&nbsp; Even with him growling his words at her, she was so stunned by this reaction that she could only stare back at the carnelian glow of his eyes.<br><br>Then he yanked her to her feet by his hold on her hair, ripping away her clothes.&nbsp; Resisting was instinctive then, both of her hands trying to hold his back as low, frightened cries escaped her.&nbsp; She’d hated the robes of an acolyte for what they’d represented to her; a life sacrificed at the whim of others.&nbsp; Without them she was utterly vulnerable, trembling and yet she stood with her fingers curled into fists and pressed against her bare belly.&nbsp; It took all her effort to hold his gaze, to not try to cover herself or run.<br><br>“I’ll not beg at your feet,” she insisted.&nbsp; She said nothing to refute his claim that he could take from her whatever he wanted; if he desired her as his whore then Shaelee knew her refusal was little more than an amusement to him.&nbsp; “Not all elves ruled... some of us were ruled over and I’ll not beg only to give you the pleasure of denying me.&nbsp; Not again.”&nbsp; She knew nothing of the orcs, not where they came from or how they came into being.&nbsp; There had only been the rumors of their viciousness and thirst for blood and violence.&nbsp; Had these creatures not fallen upon her village, had she simply met one upon the road that offered her no harm she would not have looked on him with such dread as she did now.&nbsp; For a moment she glanced down and just behind the orc at the woman that had once been a proud warrioress, lovely and skilled, and mourned for a moment the loss of the bright spirit that had been Makretia.&nbsp; “Magicborn you might be… but if all you can do is destroy everything you touch then you are no God.&nbsp; You are only stronger and more ruthless.”<br><br>Let him do as he would with her, she would not become a mindless, lost soul like Doshvin.&nbsp; He could break her body, torture and even kill her, but she wouldn't lose who she was to him.&nbsp; They'd already taken everything else from her.&nbsp; A thought, a wicked, wanton thought, occurred to her and she tilted her head as she looked at the orc.&nbsp; Dare she open herself to that possibility?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; He would only laugh to know she considered it and knowing this her face flushed with embarrassment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>14-05-2012, 19:37:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gorgamesh’s head tilted to one side as she stood on defiantly. This one was interesting, defiant till the end; and so very brave. He could not help but grin as she spoke her final piece, believing she had stood up to him, won some victory. <em> Oh how little she knows.</em> He thought. He was not only here to destroy, but to rebuild this land in his tribal image. A loud of power, a land where the brutal and the cunning would not be stopped; a land where he would reign King. He did not hope only to burn the lands of the elves and leave nothing in their place, but to build his own tribe to take their place, to claim these lands as theirs. But before he could do that he would have to break down those races who stood against him; he needs mates, aswell as soldiers to grow his people.<br><br>He licked his lips hungrily as he took the final step towards the girl. He grabbed her tiny body with his monstrous hands, spinning her to face away from him and slamming her body against the wall with a heavy thunk. He kept one hand on her head, a tight grip on her golden hair, pinning her cheek to the wall. He lent forwards, taking a whiff of her delectable scent. He grunted approvingly as his powerful legs kicked apart the young elf’s thighs, growling in her ear, warning her not to fight or struggle. Every time he took a new elf he felt righteous, seeing their quivering bodies made his manhood twitch, leaking a soft trail of pre-cum down his throbbing shaft from the bulbous tip. <br>&nbsp;<br>His other hand moved between her legs, his fingers splaying out over her crotch, his thumb placed between the smooth curve of her buttocks. He lifted up her hips, arching her back, forcing her onto the tips of her toes as his other hand kept her head pinned. As he lent in to run his sharpened fangs along the soft pale flesh of her neck, his presence radiated from him. He smelt of testosterone, sweat and power.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>16-05-2012, 03:55:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Shaelee put all of the will power she possessed into not stepping back from the Orc as he advanced on her and it was not enough.&nbsp; At the last moment she tried to jerk away, would have bolted past him.&nbsp; She never got the chance to do more than flinch before she was gasping to regain the breath that had been forced from her slender frame as she was shoved against the wall.&nbsp; Rough stone scraped delicate skin, leaving tiny scratches on her cheek, breast and her belly as she was manhandled into position.<br><br>Held as she was, her head turned to the side, she could watch him as he moved close, could see the evil delight he displayed as his hand moved between her legs.&nbsp; His breath was hot against her skin, his words like a rough caress against her ear. <em>Don’t fight.&nbsp; Don’t resist.</em> he breathed his warnings again and again and she was trying.&nbsp; Her fingertips flexed against the ungiving surface, her nails scratching ineffectually at the rock as she battled to control her impulses.&nbsp; Urges that would gain her nothing except greater pain<br><br>Maybe it was because this was what she had wanted, a mate and master to give her life and body to, or maybe it was for no other reason that she feared she would end as broken and torn as her sisters, but Shaelee did not thrash or jerk away.&nbsp; Not even when he pressed against her, lethal teeth perilously close to her throat.&nbsp; Surely it was only terror that sent a shiver over her skin as his scent surrounded her and that sharp caress teased across her skin.&nbsp; It didn’t explain the way her body flushed with heat or her breath caught as the fingers that rested between her legs shifted subtly.<br><br>“Don’t…”&nbsp; The word was soft, barely audible and had Shaelee been able to take it back she would have.&nbsp; It only served to draw attention to her distress, adding to her fast growing humiliation as a slight tingling began everywhere he touched her.&nbsp; <em>Please don’t.&nbsp; Don’t hurt me.&nbsp; Don’t notice.&nbsp; Don’t make me deal with this.</em>&nbsp; Soft green eyes stared at him in trepidation, pleading for mercy that she knew there was no hope of receiving.&nbsp; Not from this creature that surely was not capable of it.<br><br>Her eyes begged, but the elf’s lips only trembled until, her eyes closing as a tear slipped down her cheek.&nbsp; She had said she would not beg and she would not.&nbsp; She was not as strong or skilled as a warrior, as devout as some priestesses, but in this she had faith.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>01-06-2012, 16:51:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His hot breath burnt along her perfect alabaster white skin. His fingers shifted between her legs, pushing her body higher, intent on prolonging the torturous wait before he entered her, and to position her in the most humiliating way possible. As he forced her hips upwards those razor sharp fangs never left her neck, the wafting scent enclosing around her until it was all she could smell. It should have been monstrous, but in some sickening way it almost seemed... enticing.<br><br>Her meek "don't" was music to his ears, it only made him want to break her more often, <em>the begging had begun</em> He mused with a twisted grin. The reddening of her body had also not escaped his notice. His hand slid from her between her legs and took a firm grip of her hips, the wait was over. His coarse green hands circled half her waist, and she soon felt his fingers replaced by the warmth of his throbbing manhood at her virginal entrance. The thick pre-cum coating her sex. He pressed his cock slowly inside of her, grunting with difficulty as he attempted to force the massive object. He pressed closed those razor sharp tusks around her neck, both lines off teeth grazing her vulnerable flesh, a warning not to fight.<br><br>Inch by inch he forced himself into her body, grinning cruelly at the pained look on her face, until finally he pulled his teeth away. Taking a fistful of her locks he forced his powerful hips forwards. Slamming with full force his manhood deep into her body, stealing her virginity. The force of his hips knocked the air from her lungs, and he groaned contently as he filled her body. He could feel the walls of her sex pulsing around his member, and he grunted contently, preparing to fuck the young elf.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>02-06-2012, 07:46:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Doshvin watched as master took the fool elf by the neck, hoisting her up inch by inch against the wall. She squirmed, intensely uncomfortable, torn apart by conflict. She hated this elf, hated how she gave her those bad feelings, but at the same time she only existed for her master's pleasure. If her master was pleased... Even if it was by another slave... Doshvin could uneasily accept what was happening. Or at least that was what she was trying to tell herself, but she felt like she was being ripped apart.<br><br>"Mmm," she whined, looking up to her master, who was preparing to penetrate the elf, and then to his guards, who looked on, smirking. She wanted to be the one pushed up against the wall, barely able to breathe, sharp fangs on her neck. She looked again at the guards, and batted her eyes slowly, trying to gather their attention. She sat back on her haunches and rubbed her breasts enticingly before sitting on her butt and spreading her legs. Her hand went between her thighs, but she didn't touch herself; She wasn't allowed to pleasure herself without her master's permission, and he was... Preoccupied.<br><br>Her stomach gurgled again, but there was nothing left to spew up, so she stomached the wretched feeling and put on a blank, indoctrinated smirk.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>04-06-2012, 00:56:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She wanted to keep her eyes closed, to shut away the hateful, knowing look in the orc’s eyes as he moved her into position.&nbsp; She heard a growl, one that did not come from directly by her ear, and opened her eyes to see that others watched.&nbsp; She realized then that he was displaying her, letting them see her, making sure that they all saw her vulnerability.&nbsp; The blush that covered her body from the strange heat that was growing inside of her burned her face, betraying the deep shame she felt.<br><br>Shaelee was almost grateful when he moved closer, his enormous frame blocking the view of those that watched.&nbsp; Almost.&nbsp; Until she felt the press of his thick sex against her petals.&nbsp; The pressure built until she whined in pain, his attempt to penetrate her crushing her untouched flower before finally, with a sudden thrust and burst of pressure, her body gave way.&nbsp; For a moment, half of a heartbeat, there was only a new pressure, a sensation of fullness like nothing Shaelee had ever imagined.&nbsp; Then the pain came.<br><br>Had she been able to breath her scream would have pierced the air, sharp as broken glass.&nbsp; Instead she only gasped soundlessly, her fingers bloodied as she clawed at the wall, twisting her body to escape the pain though she was not trying to get away.&nbsp; Tears flowed copiously down her cheeks, her blue eyes burning brightly with her agony and humiliation.&nbsp; Her first breath was a choked cry, the pain already beginning to fade.&nbsp; What had felt like she had been rent in two at first was easing back into something less searing, something that left her trembling and whimpering, every breath a hiccupping sob.<br><br>When he moved everything changed.&nbsp; Shaelee felt as if her insides were being tugged as he withdrew from her.&nbsp; She whimpered in disbelief and denial at the far from unpleasant sensation, her body tensing.&nbsp; “No,” she whispered.&nbsp; “Please… no…”&nbsp; She wasn’t talking to the orc, but to the goddess that she had reluctantly served.&nbsp; She was being punished, she was sure of it.&nbsp; This was not supposed to be like this.<br><br>Her shame shone in her eyes, burned in her skin.&nbsp; She didn’t want this.&nbsp; She couldn’t want this.&nbsp; It was obscene!&nbsp; She turned her face away, her forehead pressed against the stone, her hair obscuring her as she sobbed and gasped with a mixture of pain, shame and pleasure as the beast began to truly use her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>06-06-2012, 19:09:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gorgamesh grunted deeply as he began the slow, powerful thrusts into the elven maidens body. His deep red eyes seemed to glow with Malice as he took hold of her curled golden locks, yanking her head backwards to arch her back; putting more of her fine figure on display for the gathering orks. "Don't fight me you little whore... I can hear your whining. I know you love it." He forced his body into her with sharp powerful thrusts that shook her entire frame, before slowly drawing out the manhood that filled her.<br><br>From the corner of his eye he could see his favoured pet desperate for any attention, displaying herself to his guardsmen. Gorgamesh moved his free hand to stroke at her cheek while the other kept its grip on Shaelee. The hand gently ran down her cheek before he drew it back and slapped the back of his hand across her face. The noise his head made was a sickening crack as it crashed against her cheek. "Control yourself animal!" He spat down at her in derision. He secretly loved the way she enticed his men, the knowledge that he owned the most sort after slave of the tribe. Yet still, he could not have her gaining any love or attention from anyone but himself, and was quick to stop any such displays.<br><br>He turned back to Shaelee his hand returning to grip her waist as his hips began to increase in tempo. More and more vigorously he fucked the elven maiden, his claws digging into her body as he used her. He soon forced more pleasured groans from her, impossible to contain despite her humiliation. He too began growling and grunting over her body, feeling his loins begin to burn with need. His rough tongue ran along her body as he continued to use her.<br><br>He soon felt that need overtake him and he slammed his manhood deep inside her once more, emptying his seed deep inside her young angelic body. He groaned as he did so, the seed filling her, a boiling warmth that took over all senses. The thick, pungent liquid burst from between her folds as it filled her fully, and Gorgamesh pulled his member from her, leaving her to slide pathetically down the wall. Orcish seed was not only designed to impregnate, but subdue those who received it. It sends intense bursts off pleasure through the body, along with a warmth that soon turned those who could survive the brutal couplings into addicts for it. The sensations could last hours, must to Gorgamesh's pleasure, who loved to watch the elven women fail in their attempts to fight it, or squirm and writhe in ecstasy once they were broken.<br><br>Finally he turned to his favoured pet, grabbing her and pressing her lips to his manhood, all the permission needed to claim what was left of his seed, and to clean his glistening cock, before dressing him again...<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>15-06-2012, 00:43:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His soldiers too obedient to go for the obviously needy Doshvin, she watched helplessly as her master coupled with the elf. The whole time she was worried that this wicked elf woman was too beautiful, that she would steal her master away from her. She wanted to bite her, like the animal that she was. Right on the leg; that would hurt really good, and maybe give her an infection too. She had seen elven men who had been kept around just to torture, for information or for fun. One of them had been bitten, oddly enough, on the thigh, when he was being captured. The wound became infected, and as the days progressed, it festered and swelled. The orcs could have amputated his leg to save his life, or at least extend it a while longer, but they enjoyed seeing him suffer, seeing that ragged wound spread up and down his body. He died of weakness and infection weeks later, a crippled, blighted mess.<br><br>She imagined the pretty elf suffering the same fate, all the while staring at them as they fucked. Finally her master came inside of the elf, filling her with his plunderous seed. He pulled out of her, his impossibly huge cock escaping from her tiny body, and left her to crumble into a broken ball against the base of the floor, her cunt bleeding and drenched with his seed. She slavered at the sight, and was treated when her master took her by her dark, long hair and jammed his cock into her mouth, forcing the broken elf to service him, to taste the product of his most recent mating. She moaned, only happy to please her master, and slightly intoxicated by the scent of their coupling, swallowing his leftover seed, tasting her coppery blood along his length. When he was satisfied, master patted her on the head once, and the touch sent jubilation and an amazing warm feeling down Doshvin's spine. She knew she had done well, so she stopped servicing him, his penis having softened inside of her mouth, and began to dress him again in his loin cloth and his armor. She smiled, happy to be in his service, unable to imagine any other life but this. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>15-06-2012, 06:00:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The orc’s every touch was torturous, whether that was in some measure of pain or pleasure.&nbsp; His hands grasped at her, hard but thankfully dull claws digging into her skin to leave deep indentations and scratches that bloomed in angry red lines across her skin.&nbsp; &nbsp;The fingers tangled in her hair twisted, making her cry out as he used his hold to control her body, keeping her posed so that all could watch.&nbsp; It wasn’t just her previously untouched and unsullied body that he showed them, but her face.&nbsp; &nbsp;He wanted them to see her expression, let all savor her defilement but most of all he wanted her to be unable to hide the pleasure she took in the cruelest torment of all.<br><br>Her whole body rocked by the orc’s quickening thrusts, Shaelee couldn’t hold back the sounds of her growing need.&nbsp; She was forced hard against the wall each time her filled her&nbsp; tight passage, pushing deep until she whimpered in pain, sure this time he would destroy her inside.&nbsp; Then she would shake and moan as he withdrew once more, an overwhelming sense of relief only adding to the pleasure of him moving within of her.&nbsp; Again and again those cycles of aching pressure and soothing friction continued until the young elf maiden lost track of the difference between pain and pleasure.<br><br>Her insides quivering, her center throbbing and sensitive, Shaelee burned with shame as she felt the orc slam deep into her bruised body.&nbsp; Already on the verge of something that threatened to overwhelm her, she screamed as he swelled and jerked inside of her.&nbsp; The first rush of seed felt like molten iron that seared, burning away everything except the feeling of him as her lower body suddenly tightened, slick walls clenching and squeezing as she thrashed weakly against his hold on her, lost in a daze of orgasmic bliss.<br><br>She crumpled in a boneless heap the moment his support was withdrawn, unable to try to catch herself.&nbsp; Huddled against the wall in a spreading pool of creamy white streaked with bright red, she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking and crying softly.&nbsp; She watched with a mixture of horror, fascination and pity as the once proud warrioress debased herself for the orc, using lips and tongue to clean him, greedily licking away every trace of her defilement while Shaelee rocked with the pain and whimpered just feet away.<br><br>It was intolerable, this pain she felt.&nbsp; Her blue eyes were filled with it as she looked up to his face.&nbsp; She hated him for this and maybe that showed as well.&nbsp; What didn’t show was that she didn’t hate him for the physical pain he had inflicted; that would be forgotten in time, either through greater suffering or with healing.&nbsp; Neither did she mourn for the loss of her virginity or the healing power that had died with its taking.&nbsp; She hated him for the way she felt so hollow and empty inside, resented him because she was sure that the only thing that would ever make her feel whole again was to have that space filled by him.&nbsp; Even now, damaged and bruised, she trembled with the need for more while feelings of warmth, comfort and desire clouded her thinking.<br><br>Around them the citadel was a jumble of screams, sobs, grunt, growls and whimpering moans as more than a score of priestesses and acolytes were left either unconscious or dying in pools of blood-streaked semen where others were handed off to yet another orc.&nbsp; &nbsp;Of those still alive, some moaned softly, writhing even in their stupor and some lay curled into tight balls, shaking uncontrollably as their mouths uttered false denials of what was happening to them.&nbsp; Her knowledge of healing had not been stolen with the magic that was now gone from her and she could see that many would not survive the night, having been treated far more violently than she had.&nbsp; Others would leave the world having exhausted themselves struggling against potent orc seed.&nbsp; &nbsp;Of those that lived a few would go mad with this or choose death over the degradation. <br><br>Shaelee took all this in and then looked up defiantly at the now redressed orc commander.&nbsp; “You will not break me,” she told him, her voice shaking and soft but the words sure.&nbsp; “I won’t let you.”&nbsp; The willow did not break even in the storm that uprooted the mighty oak because it would bend and sway with the wind rather than stand rigid against it.&nbsp; Makretia had been an oak, strong and proud.&nbsp; If she had broken the young elf knew she had no chance to win such a fight.&nbsp; Shaelee believed her only path that did not end in complete depravity lay in being like the willow.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>03-07-2012, 01:29:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gorgamesh looked down on the pathetic elf and snorted in derision as the creature gave her final feeble gesture of defiance. He spat down on the girl, before grabbing hold of Doshvin's collar; yanking her to his side. "Fuck her, hurt her... I want her alive and presented tonight." He spoke to the other orks, before pulling his slaves collar again. "Crawl whore." He led his pet out of the tent, smiling as he saw the other orcs close around Shaelee and the other girls. He breathed in the smell of burning as he left the chapel and travelled back to reorganise his men.<br><br>The rest of his horde would soon catch up with the main vanguard that had fallen upon the village. His horde had been growing at a steady rate and was now vastly too large to allow him to fall upon villages&nbsp; unaware. As such he took his best hundred orcs and marched half a day ahead of the rest, allowing for the capture of smaller communities that might otherwise try to flee, and keeping a steady flow of elven slaves to his camp to keep the men content. The orcish race as a whole was amazingly specialised in their skills, their very bodies shaped for certain tasks. Most were muscular unthinking brutes, only blessed with a basic cruel cunning. While others were able to channel the great winds of magic to heal and to maim. There were those to build, and most rare of all those to lead, orcs such as Gorgamesh.<br><br>The smoke from the village would draw them near, visible even past the 100 foot ancient trees that masked the tribes movements. This would make a fine place to camp for the night Gorgamesh decided, a sizeable clearing in the forest. His next move would need to be a larger town, his tribe was reaching critical mass, and was hungry for juicier targets.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>09-07-2012, 03:21:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Darkness had fallen over the once beautiful elf village.&nbsp; Hours had passed since the one called Gorgamesh had left, Doshvin in tow.&nbsp; It had been hours of hellish torment for the elven priestesses and healers.&nbsp; Long hours filled with repeated, brutal beatings and even more brutal rapes.&nbsp; None were spared, save through death, least of all the one that had dared to think she could defy their leader.&nbsp; She had received special attention, used and abused in ways she had never known were possible, beaten for the slightest imagined infraction, forced to scream until her throat was so raw that she tasted blood and every swallow of thick, whitish release from her tormentors burned like acid.<br><br>In a haze of pain and horror the elf girl called Shaelee now trudged along with the other captives as they were herded through what had once been their peaceful home.&nbsp; Now it was little more than a smoking ruin, homes burned to the ground, the streets littered with scattered belongings and the bodies of the fallen.&nbsp; Most had been left where they had fallen, their blood seeping between cobblestones and into the earth, but in some places special attention had been paid to the dead.&nbsp; One of the village elders had been hung just outside the great hall, his body secured to the doorframe by numerous black feathered arrows for which the orcish archers were known.&nbsp; Further along the avenue an elvish guard had been literally torn limb from limb, his hand still clutching his sword in the middle of the road while most of the rest of him lay in the gutter yards away.<br>&nbsp;<br>After that Shaelee didn’t want to see any more, could not look.&nbsp; She walked with her head down, her tangled and dirty hair partially obscuring her view.&nbsp; Not even when the orcs that guarded them roared a command or one of her fellow priestesses screamed in pain after being hit or kicked, even made to crawl if they could not walk, did she raise her eyes.&nbsp; She just watched her dirty, bare feet, concentrating on putting one in front of the other, focusing on not falling because she knew if she did she’d never get up again.<br>&nbsp;<br>The uproar of the orc encampment was an abomination to the ears.&nbsp; The screams of men and women filled the air, terror, pain, despair that was thick enough to taste on the tongue.&nbsp; Not all of the elven men of their village had been killed in the battle, they saw many of them bound and left lying in the dirt, some wounded and unconscious, others watching in horror as their fellow elves were tortured for the amusement of their captors.&nbsp; There were a number of unbound elves as well, all female, nearly all naked except for collars and bracelets of thick, dark iron.&nbsp; Some served their orc masters, bringing food and drink.&nbsp; Others served in a more intimate capacity.&nbsp; What horrified her sisters as they were paraded past were the sounds of ecstasy from some of these last.&nbsp; What struck Shaelee was that screams or moans, it didn’t seem to matter to the beasts that rutted with them.<br>&nbsp;<br>Their final destination was a large tent that had been erected in the center of the encampment.&nbsp; There were many tents, but no other so large as this one.&nbsp; Where most seemed made of whatever materials sufficed, be it cloth or some thin hide, this one was constructed wholly of some heavy leather that had been well oiled to repel the rain.&nbsp; Over the opening hung the bleached skull of some great beast for which Shaelee had no name, but even in death its fangs made it seem fearsome.&nbsp; Spooked by all that she had witness, all that she had endured, Shaelee hesitated, reluctant to walk beneath the skull and enter the tent.&nbsp; A blow to her back pushed her forward and sent her sprawling in the trampled grass just inside the tent.<br><br>Expecting a blow she wasn’t surprised when one came, a kick to her side that stole her breath and rolled her onto her back.&nbsp; One eye swollen shut, the vision of the other blurred by blood and tears, she watched as the orc lifted his foot to bring it down on her with all of his considerable weight, then closed her eyes as death finally came to claim her.&nbsp; She opened them again as a scuffle took place next to her, another orc knocking his fellow aside so that his foot landed in the dirt next to her head.<br><br>“Oy!&nbsp; You want to get us all killed for this elf whore?” the newcomer demanded as he pointed at Shaelee.&nbsp; “Warboss said to bring this one alive.”&nbsp; He reached down and grabbed her by the arm, jerking her to her feet and wrenching her shoulder hard enough to make her scream before he shoved her forward.&nbsp; “When Gorgamesh throws her in with the rest, do what you want.”<br><br>Stunned to still be alive almost as much as she was to realize that she was only because the brutish orc leader had commanded it, Shaelee was taken to the where the others were being held to off to one side of the large tent.&nbsp; There she finally collapsed to her knees.&nbsp; Naked, covered in blood and dried orc semen.&nbsp; She was covered in bruises and scrapes.&nbsp; One side of her face was black, swollen and misshapen.&nbsp; Broken.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>12-07-2012, 01:10:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Doshvin was only allowed to see the beaten, defeated form of Shaelee for a moment before master took her by the collar and began to drag her away. She took another couple glances away, grinning like a fool until she returned her attention to her master, who gave her a swift kick to keep her focused. It barely hurt her; She was just glad that master was with her now, and the pretty elf was left to his men. They were going to make her miserable, like they used to do to Doshvin back when she did not obey; back when she was stupid and fought against them. Now if any of her master's men touched her in such a way, she would welcome them, salivating like a dog, waiting to please. That is, if her master willed it.<br><br>It was another brutal march back to camp, but at least this time the sun wasn't beating down on them that hard, having retreated behind some clouds. Doshvin still felt sick again though, the duress of crawling combined with her mysterious illness making her throw up again whatever hadn't been heaved up before. She was shaking with weakness now, but she managed to muscle her way back to camp.<br><br>Here, she was permitted to rest and eat some, just enough to get some of her energy back. She felt so weak, weaker than usual. After she gobbled up the food they gave her, she felt sick again, and threw up once more. Unable to support her own weight, she rolled over onto her side, shivering with fever. "Doshvin can't..." She mumbled quietly as one of her master's men kicked her, barking at her to 'stand' again, in the way that Doshvin always 'stood': On her hands and knees, like an animal. "Doshvin need help..." She whimpered one last time before she fainted.<br><br><em>Though it was Doshvin, the broken elf slave who lived, it was still Makretia who slept at night. Driven out of her own mind, she found herself cornered in her own subconscious, and it was when she dreamed that she could come out and be aware.<br><br>When she realized who she was, what had happened to her, Makretia did not weep; She had never wept, because she was stronger and more stubborn than to surrender to her emotions. But she felt a crushing despair, and it almost floored her just as well.<br><br>Whenever she could think,, Makretia thought about Gorgamesh, her vile master. She hated him more than anything else; Where he was Doshvin's focus of all of her love, he was Makretia's focus of pure hatred. If she could gain control even for a second, she would find the nearest sharp object and jam it into his throat, for what he had done to her and her people. For tearing her away from the other person she thought about during these lucid moments: Aubron. Her husband, the only elf who had found a way through her fierce, stony exterior facade that she had built for herself. In a way, these were the only two men who had been able to tear down her emotional walls, one through force and brutality, and the other through love.<br><br>But now Makretia thought about another elf: The one that Doshvin had met today, a face and name that were familiar to Makretia. Shaelee, the healer. Aubron's sister, making her sister-in-law. Makretia understood that Doshvin was ill, weak, perhaps dying. If Makretia was going to have her revenge, she needed Shaelee's help. And she wanted to save Shaelee from suffering the fate of Dosvhin. No dignified elf deserved to live like Doshvin.</em><br><br>Rolling on her other side in her groggy state, Doshvin pathetically whimpered, "Shaelee," understanding her pain, and understanding her need for help, but nothing beyond that. She was Doshvin again, simple and dumb and servile.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Montagne</strong> on <strong>21-07-2012, 02:32:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Naked chained girls danced for Gorgamesh's amusement as he sat on his "throne". A wooden chair; imposing in size, spiked and gnarled crafted from the gates of the first town his orcs had razed, it was a constant reminder of the reason he was leader. Not only of his martial prowess, but of the riches he led the tribe to. And these girls who danced we're indeed riches. Something reserved to be used by the chief and his tribal leaders. In elvish society they would be held as beauties even amongst the already ethereal elves. Nothing pleased Gorgamesh more than seeing these once proud creatures humiliate and subjugate themselves freely, and enjoyed their chained dancing immensely. <br><br>He heard Doshvin's whining as she collapsed near the throne, kept on long chains tied to the chair, she tended to stay near her master whenever free to do so. He watched one of his men kick her and he growled angrily, it was obvious she was sick. He would have the tribes shaman see to her. He did not wish to see his favoured pet die, she was a memento of his first triumph. He stroked her head softly in a moment of rare affection while he watched the girls. He smiled when the body of the broken elven priestess. He roared in approval, missing his slave pathetic cry out to the girl.<br><br>He approached the battered, bruised and broken slave who lay prostrate on the floor in front of him. As he approached he crouched down, grabbing her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him. "Learn your place whore... Tell the tribe... Do you love your chieftain?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>06-08-2012, 19:50:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Exhausted by the day's torment and barely conscious, Shaelee didn't move or even open her eyes as footsteps approached her. &nbsp;As she had done a dozen or more times in the last hours she prayed silently that the heavy tread of the orc would pass her by, visit his torments upon another. &nbsp;It shamed her, these selfish pleas for mercy, but she could not stop them. &nbsp;Her only saving grace, then and now, was that she did not speak them aloud as others had done at times. &nbsp;Her guilt ran deep enough that there were times that she believed she deserved her punishment simply for wishing it on another. &nbsp;When she felt as much as heard those large feet stop next to her she was fighting the need to cry and beg for mercy.<br><br>Her bright blue eyes flew open and she whined as thick fingers dug into her bruised face, but it was not another unknown face that she saw. &nbsp;Instead it was the orc leader, the one responsible for both her torture and for keeping her safe from death if her keeper was to be believed. &nbsp;It was a sight that was at once both welcome and terrifying. &nbsp;<br><br>She knew that her survival depended upon this orc's continued protection, his question to her one that meant life or death to her. &nbsp;What the elf girl didn't know was how to answer. &nbsp;Should she say what he demanded, say whatever it took to survive? &nbsp;Or would he punish her for lying? &nbsp;Surely he knew that she could not love him. &nbsp;Her confusion and desperation burned in the eyes that stared back at him.<br><br>Reaching out, Shaelee laid her hand on Gorgamesh's arm, clutching at him as if he was her only hope. &nbsp;"Please don't give me to them again," she whispered. &nbsp;"I'll do whatever you want..." &nbsp;She felt that she was failing in spite of her promise to obey and tears sprang to her eyes. &nbsp;"Please, my Chieftain... &nbsp;I... I am grateful for your protection... I cannot live without you." &nbsp;It was the truth, she would not live long if he took his protection from her. &nbsp;It was an admission of love, but for some reason she didn't want to lie to him.&nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>19-08-2012, 02:57:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Doshvin couldn't help but be comforted by her master's warm, gentle touch, despite her sickness, the bruises on her ribs, her roaring stomach and her broken mind. She moaned softly, the sound barely escaping her lips as his strong fingers stroked her raven-black hair, slightly greasy as it had been a few days since master had allowed her to wash. Content for now, she slumped to her side, laying on her master's boots in an affectionate manner often reserved for dogs, searching for dirt from under her fingernails and wiping it on her forearm.<br><br>She gave the chains that bound her to her master's throne an affectionate tug, a perpetual reminder that he would always be close to her and vice versa, even if some other elf tried to take him away from her. Speaking of which... Doshvin watched with guarded hostility as that particular elf was dragged before her master. Even with the other elven slaves dancing before him, some of them still fearful like Shaelee and some of them happy like Doshvin, master's eyes were locked on this new one. Alerted to her competition, Doshvin watched as her master stepped off of his throne and walked towards the slumping and broken elf and knelt beside her. The exchange of words was quiet, but Doshvin barely heard them. When the elf said she couldn't live without them, Doshvin wanted to scream at her, to wrap her throat with irons and strangle her. How could she possibly love master as much as she did!<br><br>"Doshvin love master, not her!" The broken elf accused, sitting up and pointing an accusing finger at Shaelee, the chains attached to her shackles clinking with the movement. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>01-10-2012, 09:30:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The dark, inky green flesh of the orc warlord shifted over taut muscle as his hand trailed down, coal black talons, sharp as steel blades, brushing lightly over the elven woman's throat, feeling the dance of her pulse beneath her flawless flesh. Long, powerful fingers wrapped around her neck, grasping her as easily as she would a willow wand, the grasp firm but not quite constricting, yet there was no doubt at all that he could snap her neck or choke the life from her without effort at all. "You speak from fear, little one." She rose, his arm outstretched, lifting her until she dangled on the tips of her toes, his head craned down to look at her.<br><br>Eyes the colour of polished amber, divided by slitted black pupils, peered at her, turning her head this way and that, like an antiquarian appraising a rare find, his dark lips tugging into a harsh smirk, baring more of his yellowed tusks and fangs. "Everyone fears me. It is the way of things. You are a pet, or a brood mare." His shaggy black mane tossed as he turned to look at the outburst, grinning as his favoured pet cast forth her accusation, his body shaking as he loosed a deep, harsh, barking that was clearly laughter. He cast the broken elf a glance out of the corner of his eye, his voice purringly menacing, and unmistakably mocking. "You shall become like Doshvin, in time. Your kind become addicted to submission." She was, quite unceremoniously, dropped to her feet, and he turned, barking in his native tongue to a nearby orc, who bustled off at once.<br><br>With an easy swagger, his rough leather kilt swaying around his powerful legs, he walked to his forlorn pet, reaching out to offer her the palm of his hand, as one would to a dog or a horse, offering her the chance to nuzzle into his touch. He was a cruel beast, as was his nature, but he cared for his pets, his boars, his hunting hounds, and his elven maidens. While the runner went to fetch a tonic from the shaman, he thought to amuse himself, slowly winding his pet's chain around his gnarled, scarred fist, an indication that she was to be led. Looking back over his shoulder to Shaelee, he growled, even his mocking humour forgotten. "Follow. I have yet to decide if you are worth the keeping."<br><br>The orcs were a hardy race, rarely ill, needing only medicine for the direst of wounds, stoic in the face of agony and injury, and able to survive on almost any nourishment. Though they were infamous for their loathing of bathing, they had no hatred of water, and even the most conservative orc ended up taking a swim from time to time. The hot springs near to the camp had once been a shrine to some god or another, but the orcs had little appreciation for them, reserving them for the shaman's use, or when they needed to tend an injury. The harsh, sulphurous scent wafted upwards as he led the two down into the darkness, dispelled only when he took a torch from a rack on the side of the wall, and a guttering light soon cast a small ring of illumination against the darkness.<br><br>Once, the line of pilgrims had stretched out beyond the mouth of the cave, but they were alone, excepting the few things that scuttled in the darkness, and the orc left the torch in a rusted steel ring long set into the wall, kicking off his boots and shucking his kilt. The shackles were unlatched from Doshvin's wrists, not out of kindness to be sure that they did not rust, and he set them aside, climbing into the water. "What use are you to me, creature? Do I need another fuck toy?" It was a challenge, of course, as he stared at Shaelee, sitting with his back to the pool's edge, the hot, bubbling water rising up halfway along his chest, a hand held outstretched towards Doshvin, unspoken permission for her to go to him. "Come here, perhaps you can learn a lesson from my Doshvin on how you should behave. It may save your life."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>01-10-2012, 23:38:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The broken elf sat back on her rear, watching in undisguised awe as her master lifted Shaelee into the air like a doll; She wanted to see this lying elf harmed, because she didn't want another elf to try to take her master from her. She realized she wasn't breathing; Much like this liar, Doshvin thought to her self with satisfaction, as she drew in a couple of harsh breaths. Her master laughed at the elf and out of the corner of his eye, cast an approving look back at Doshvin. She warmed, blushing lightly, her heart fluttered, and the horrible pain in her stomach and the scrapes on her palms and knees were instantly forgotten. Everything she did, every breath she took, was with his approval, his endorsement. She lived to please him; For him to laugh, and smile at her... She could have died happy then.<br><br>Then, master dropped Shaelee, who crumpled unceremoniously to the ground, gasping for air, finger marks on her pale neck. He said something to another orc; Doshvin understood bits and pieces of her master's language, but he had never taught it to her. Then, with great anticipation, she watched as her master stepped towards her, holding out an open palm in a familiar offer. She instantly went from sitting on her rear to being on her hands and knees, and she pushed her face into his hand, rubbing her chin and her cheeks against his rough, calloused fingers. She remembered once that she tried to kiss him on the knuckles before; He had hit her several times, and she had never tried again. As she rubbed against him, letting out a low, animalistic whimper as she did so, she felt the chain that attached to her neck grow taut; Master was winding the chain around his hand, and she instantly knew to follow him. He commanded the other elf to follow; Doshvin shot her an angry look, daring her to disobey master, and followed the orc, trudging along on hand and knee as he preferred her to do.<br><br>Her skin, already scraped raw, bled as the dirt they crossed turned into hard rock as they went to the hot springs, where her master bathed her on occasion. The elf grunted with pain, but did not make a protest, as the terrain became rougher and rougher. Doshvin followed her master in the cave, watched him light a torch, and watched, hungrily, as he stripped naked, kicking off his boots and removing his leathers. He came close to her again, and reached down; She thought he would grab her and caress her, but he grabbed her wrists and released her from her shackles. Master climbed into the water and beckoned for her to follow; She didn't even hear the taunt that he shot at the other elf, nor did she even realize that the other elf was present. Everything else was forgotten when her master was giving her the attention she craved. She crawled to the edge of the water and swung her legs gracefully beneath her and waded into the water with master. It felt alien, so very strange to walk on her feet; Her hind legs as she thought of them.<br><br>In the hot water, Doshvin hissed in delight; It felt amazing, and she had a strange, sudden impulse to wash herself. Even as broken and compliant as she was, strangely, she still had an urge to be clean, even if her master didn't. But she came up close to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, and looked up at him apprehensively; Master always told her what to do, she had learned a long time ago not to assume on his decisions. But she wanted to maul him, to please him as much as he pleased her. Her eyes were begging him to give the word to continue.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>02-10-2012, 18:52:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Expecting further abuse, perhaps even to be killed outright for her failure to follow the orc's demand to profess her love, Shaelee was surprised when instead she is given an appraising look before being dropped again.&nbsp; She didn't understand what he wanted from her.&nbsp; Certainly he had base desire, he had proven that already, but did he truly prefer her to be broken to the point of mindlessness as Makretia was?&nbsp; The thought drew her eyes to the once proud warrior elf that now crouched at his feet, happy to be his dog.<br><br>There was pity in Shaelee's heart for her former friend, though in truth friend was too strong a word for the connection they'd shared.&nbsp; Makretia had been family, by marriage rather than blood, but family nonetheless and it pained the young priestess to see the beautiful woman bruised and scraped from abuse.&nbsp; Another part of her was shocked to see her brought so low, but could she truly say that she would not end up the same?&nbsp; Wasn't her fear of that why she had offered no fight when taken?<br><br>Such had been exactly her thoughts and she continued to believe that only through compliance could she survive with her mind intact.&nbsp; She held that hope close in her heart as she followed the orc and his pet to the spring and watched the two of them enter the water, disturbing the layer of warm vapor that had floated across the surface.<br><br>Her heart beating fast, fear that she was wrong, that nothing she did would save her, Shaelee entered the pool slowly.&nbsp; The water was hot, almost too hot, and was heavy with the minerals that lent their scent to the steam-laden air.&nbsp; Even so, the warmth quickly sank in, loosening sore muscles that had become tight with the bruises she carried.&nbsp; Her long hair floated on the surface of the water as she moved deeper, forming a golden trail behind her before finally sinking, its pale color turning diaphanous in the dim light from the torch.<br><br>"I do not know what use I would be to you since I am unsure what it is that you desire," she answered softly, honestly, as she neared Gorgamesh.&nbsp; She stopped, just short of his reach, her fear of him stronger than she had realized.&nbsp; "All I can offer is my obedience, such that it is since you could easily compel the same. But what other orc war lord can boast a willing elf at his side?"&nbsp; She glanced to the elf now called Doshvin, her blue eyes softening with pity for a moment before she looked at the orc again.&nbsp; "At least one that is not utterly broken?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>04-10-2012, 09:56:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Elves were keen of touch, hearing and sight, famed for their fantastic sensitivity, but the orcs too were a perceptive breed, in their own way. Though his calloused hands were not made for delicate handiwork, and his eyes better suited to tracking the motions of a foe in battle than seeing for miles, there was not a hound on the world with a sense of scent so precise and potent as that of an orc. His tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, gathering the taste of the air against the organ there, refining his perception of the fragrances taken in with every breath. Over the pervasive scent of the water and rising damp, and his own bestial musk, which he had long ago learned to tune out, he could taste the elves, each one unique and exquisite. His little Doshvin smelt of blood and arousal, fresh cuts, bruises and scrapes, awakened desire. The other was ripe with the odour of her fear, making his heart quicken, to send dark blood coursing through his veins, to engorge the hulking rod of flesh that hung between his thighs.<br><br>Fear was not simply an aphrodisiac to his breed, it was an addiction. They were bred to be sadistic, to take delight and fulfillment in the anguish and agony of their prey, to feed on suffering and sorrow. A low, rumbling snarl, such as belonged more to a beast of the hunt than to anything that might resemble a man, issued forth from the orc. Turning his head, his hand rose, eclipsing Doshvin's where it lay upon his shoulder, trailing down along her arm to mimic the action, his fingers curling around her dainty throat. He rather liked the taste of elf flesh, it made a fine meat, butchered and seared or torn hot and fresh from the living form, drawing his pet closer, his muzzle rubbing along her slender jaw, a rough, rasping tongue slipping out to graze over the all too sensitive, tapered ear, teasing up along to the pointed tip. "Good Doshvin. Show your master how you love him." His lips hummed against her ear with the power of his booming voice.<br><br>Slowly he turned his head, fixing the other with his amber glare, lips quirked into a mocking grin, baring tusks and fangs. "You sound like a rabbit, ensnared and yet offering to leap in the pot if only it is freed." He thought it hardly a mystery, to know what he wanted, orcish motivations were a part of the fabric of the being, they were all brothers, of the one blood and the one drives. "Why should I not break you, hmm? What use have I for one who quails from me, ever seeking to flee, while my dear Doshvin comes all too happily? What proof have I of your obedience, or desire to serve?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Doomsday</strong> on <strong>06-10-2012, 06:58:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The broken elf shivered with delight as her master put a hand on her own, his rough fingers trailing down her forearm, up her shoulder, until it rested on her neck. Then he gripped her tight, and Doshvin wheezed in pain, though she would give no indication that she did not enjoy his touch; If it pleased her master, she would endure, as she had done for him for so long. But the tight grip on the elf's throat sent her mind hurtling back in time, back before the schism of her own mind...<br><br><em>Makretia was in a constant state of pain these days. Her knees ached; When she refused to walk on her hands and knees, they kicked her until she had no other choice but to crawl. Her breasts hurt; The orc's giants hands mauled her whenever he pleased, which was often, and he seemed to greatly enjoy watching her dangling breasts as he barked at her to crawl on all fours. Her sex, and her mouth hurt from repeated rape in whatever orifice Gorgamesh pleased, but most of all, her soul was hurt. She was always one swift strike of his hand from bawling her eyes out... It had been months since her capture, and she could barely remember what it was like to be a free, dignified elf. She still knew who she was, still knew to hate this monster for what he was doing to her and her people, but her mind was slowly becoming a fugue...<br><br>She barely slept anymore; Gorgamesh rarely let his orc warriors rape her anymore, but he had enough lust and enthusiasm to trouble her at any time of the day. She heard him coming this particular time; She was asleep in his tent, curled in a ball, laying on a fur rug on the ground. It must have been dawn; The tent was illuminated a bit, and she could see around her, but what really jarred her awake was the hands on her throat. She had gone from a light slumber to being choked half to death; He loved to do this. She gasped and scrabbled at his hands, tears flowing down her cheeks. "You- Beast-&nbsp; Please-" She struggled to say, though she gave a very audible scream when his gigantic cock pierced her with no prior ceremony. And Gorgamesh just laughed as his slave sobbed silently, barely able to draw enough breath to stay conscious.</em><br><br>And as soon as that memory surged through her mind, Makretia was Doshvin again, and instead of feeling incredible pain and sorrow as that huge hand wrapped around her delicate throat, she purred, and moved against him, relishing the contact. He leaned close to her, as if going in to kiss her, but he had never kissed Doshvin, and though she never stopped hoping for it, she did not expect it. He licked her across her jawline, going up to her ear, playing with the definitive tip that had earned her so many teases from his men. Her eyes practically rolled into the back of her head as she moaned in delight, and when master commanded her to show him how she loved him, she could have had an orgasm right there; She was producing enough heat for herself and Shaelee at this point.<br><br>Her master sometimes gave her vague orders, curious to see how she complied with him. With his big hand choking her throat, Doshvin couldn't serve him with her mouth; That left an easy decision for her as she wrapped her legs around the orc's wide torso, and felt his tool slip inside of her underneath the water, the familiarity of his body making the penetration rather easy. Considering how long she had suffered his mastership, Doshvin was still rather tight, at least as far as the orcs cared. She winced in pain as she pulled him inside of her body, but if he was not constricting her breathing, she would have howled in delight. "I... Love... Master...." She grunted as she slowly rode him, the water rippling around their bodies, her hands on his shoulders to steady herself a bit. "Is... Master... Happy?" She queried, tears dripping from her eyes, and whether it was from pain, or happiness, or whether it was Makretia who shed those tears, not even she was aware.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bramble</strong> on <strong>11-10-2012, 04:31:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The questions he asked of her were intelligent ones.&nbsp; What proof did he have that she would be obedient, would serve him without fail?&nbsp; None, unless she could find some way of showing him that her word was good.&nbsp; Only it was so hard to think how she might do that with the site of the lovely elf servicing the orc.&nbsp; Her back was to Shaelee, but still her tears were heard as much as her soft moans.&nbsp; What could she offer this orc warlord that Doshvin could not give him, would give him happily and without the fear that Shaelee felt?&nbsp; <br><br>Moving deeper into the water, Shaelee slowly neared Gorgamesh.&nbsp; She kept her cobalt blue eyes on his, trying her best to ignore both her fear and what Doshvin was doing beneath the water.&nbsp; It helped some that the water was deep enough to cover her breast even though she knew the modesty was illusory.&nbsp; “I have no proof to offer, my Lord,” she said quietly, disconcerted somewhat by the way the cave made their words echo.&nbsp; “I can only give you my word that I will obey you always and that I will not try to leave you.”<br><br>She stopped next to them, less than a foot between her and the strange, exotic couple.&nbsp; It was hard to hold his gaze, her face burned with embarrassment, both for herself and for the one called Doshvin who apparently could no longer feel shame.&nbsp; She kept her eyes on his face, though; her request to dear to her to let her be deterred.&nbsp; It wasn’t just that she was afraid to lose her mind, but that she didn’t want to lose again what Gorgamesh could provide that the elves had denied her; a mate and children.&nbsp; “I will learn to crave your touch as Doshvin does, learn to please you.&nbsp; In time, perhaps, I could come to care for you.”&nbsp; She shrugged, she wouldn’t lie to him.&nbsp; “What I know for sure is… I would give my life to you, my body to your pleasure and the creation of new life.&nbsp; I would be a good mother to any child I carry.”&nbsp; Here she glanced toward Doshvin for the first time, her expression softening with remembered affection before her discomfiture forced her to drop her gaze.&nbsp; “Doshvin and I will be good mothers to your sons.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Captured IC</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nykteus</strong> on <strong>15-10-2012, 22:44:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Gorgamesh and his kin had been bred to be gluttonous and insatiable, forever fuelled by ravenous hungers that relented only in the brutal surge of predatory conquest that came when they slaked their appetites. He responded with a throaty growl to his Doshvin's attentions, whispering past his fangs to stir the wisps of steam that rose from the waters. Fangs and tusks were bared, his darkly red tongue flicking over the ivory points, a rasping snarl teasing forth, the orcish impersonation of a chuckle. "She thinks that I have turned you into this." He spoke, while staring into Doshvin's eye's, freeing her throat to bring a hand up, tangling into her hair, the silken locks drawn taut in his grip. "This is what you are." A sly amber gaze flicked towards Shaelee, as he tugged Doshvin's head back, baring her pale throat to the coarseness of his tongue, bestial kisses drawing pinpricks of blood from her smooth flesh. "I just opened you up."<br><br>The taste of blood, even those slender rivulets, had his heart racing, his blood a surge of primal heat as the predatory instincts took over. The hazy thrill of the heat and the coupling turned to focused clarity as he looked over to the latest curiosity. She had not put up much fight, but she hardly seemed as frightened as she should have been. It was hard for him to decide if he was enraged or enamoured, all the more so with Doshvin riding sleekly upon him. "I'll hold you to your word, elf. Either you'll serve me well, or I'll make sport of you." There were scarcely any consequences for him, and he had precious little need for compassion or sympathy for her plight.<br><br>
			</dd>
		</dl>
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