I look dubiously at the cake of soap in my hand. This doesn’t look anywhere near as effective as a bottle of Dawn, but it’s all I’ve got. I retrieve the stained scrap of cloth that my “host” threw at me earlier and kneel in front of the dirty pot.
One at a time, I pick up a dirty stone dish and wash them and the spoons, ladling fresh water over them to rinse, and setting them on the hearth to dry. That was the easy part. I flex my shoulders and start working on the pot. I scrub until I can feel a kink forming between my shoulder blades. I want to offer up a prayer in thanks when it finally looks like I’ve scrubbed all the lingering food from inside it.
Now, where to rinse it?
I certainly can’t empty it indoors. I look at the door and shrug. With a groan, I haul the pot out the door and turn to retrieve the bucket and refill it with the remaining water. It takes only a couple of splashes, but I finally rinse all the soap and debris clean from the pot. It made an unfortunate smelly smear in front of the door, but I shrug. If he’d wanted it done better, he would have showed me how he wanted it done, or better yet, done it himself.
I drag the pot back to its spot beside the hearth and stretch out on my belly over the pillow. I can still hear the ax striking wood outside and listen until it finally ceases. Well, at least I finished with plenty of time to spare. I start to hum the Jaws theme as I listen to his heavy steps approaching the door.
Wait for it…
There’s a loud crash, the clatter of what must be falling wood, and the orc lets out of torrent of curses. I feel my lips curling up sinisterly. Sweet, sweet, revenge.
I turn over onto my back so that the fire can warm my belly too. My bottom was starting to get a little too toasty. I’m lying there, smirking to myself, when the door flings open. An angry, wet orc stomps through the door heading directly for me. I grin up at where he hovers over me, his nostrils flaring and what must be an angry flush on his cheeks.
“Hello, sweet stuff. What happened? Did you get a little wet?” I ask with feigned innocence.
“Female, you know very well what happened. Why, by all the gods, did you dump the water in front of the door?” he bellows.
I twist a lock of hair and smile up at him. “How was I to know that is the wrong place to dump the water? You didn’t give me any instructions and don’t own a dishwasher or have indoor plumbing or a sink. You just barked an order at me and expected me to figure it out. So, I improvised,” I say, not even bothering to hide my look of glee.
My, my, my, he does look angry though. I think if his hair weren’t so tightly bound in braids, bits of it would be standing on end the way he’s positively bristling with anger right now.
His yellow eyes narrow at me, his breath coming out in short huffs, warming my skin. Then, just as quickly, he growls and turns away from me, one of his hands tugging at his beard as he stalks through a door leading to what I assume is a bedroom. I lie on my cushion and idly wonder how long it’ll take before the orc takes me back home.
A short time later, the orc comes back out, stark naked, an impressive erection briefly in sight before he throws a heavy blanket over me. The blanket is so large and so thick it takes me some effort to fight my way out of it, enough to where it’s no longer covering my head. I look up at my captor and find that he is grinning down at me, his eyes gleaming in the firelight.
“Goodnight, delfass-ki,” he says over his shoulder as he returns to his room. I watch behind him, hypnotized by the strong muscles of his asscheeks as they flex. I shake myself out of it.
“My name is Sammi, you great beast,” I shout.
He pauses just outside his door, his head turning toward me, and I can see the slightest upward tug at the corner of his mouth.
“I am Orgath.”
He disappears through his door, leaving me on the floor with nothing but a cushion and a blanket for my bed in front of the fire. I mutter to myself and wrap the blanket tightly around me, noting the rapid cooling of the room. It’s going to be a miserably cold night. What I would give for my apartment and central heating. I’d even settle for a space heater at this point.
Maybe rejecting clothes and parading around naked was a bad idea.
***
Orgath
I lie on the thick mattress in my room and take my cock into hand. I can’t get the female out of my thoughts. She was supposed to be nothing more than a clever pet to care for and amuse me. Instead, she tortures me. She does not submit to my authority. She displays the luscious curves of her body, so different than the hard planes and rounded curves of an orc female.
I feel almost guilty leaving her on the floor alone in a cold room, but then I remember her glee over the mess she made in front of my door and I ruthlessly quash that feeling. Besides, I am doubtful if she would join me in my bed, and I don’t know if I could survive the temptation of having her naked lush body so close to me that I will not allow myself to have.
She is stubborn, but I am a patient male for an orc. I will not give her the pleasure she wants until she begs for it. She will find, however, that if she keeps acting like a brat that I have no problem at all with a little persuasive punishment.
I grin at the idea of having her naked buttocks presented to me, and the rosy way they would bloom with the light strikes of my palm upon them. I begin to stroke myself as I imagine she would cry out and moan and writhe.
Yes, come morning, she will learn the meaning of punishment for the mess she made today, and I will take great pleasure in giving it.
I stroke myself faster, squeezing lightly from root to tip as I envision her soft thighs and the thatch of curls between them. I recall the slickness of her need and the puffy lips of her cunt and how tightly it clung to my fingers. I imagine how that would feel gripping my cock. Will I even fit into that silk sheath? I am not averse to trying.
My seed erupts over my fist, the warmth splashing over my thick knuckles and coating my skin of my hand, spilling more than I ever recall releasing. I don’t understand my fascination with the human. Sammi, I remind myself. Her name rolls through my mind as I release my flaccid cock and dig out a rag to clean myself with. If this keeps up, I will have a mountain of rags among the clothes that needed washing.
I stare at the cloth and begin to smile. Let’s see how Sammi will enjoy sitting at the side of the river washing clothes. Will she swallow her pride and wear the soft leathers I sewed together for her, or will she squat on the cold rock naked and stubbornly launder in the manner she has done everything else? I chuckle and fling the rag into a small pile of dirty clothes.
Her refusal to wear the clothes I provided bothers me more than I like. My stitching is not the most elegant, but it is functional and will not unravel on her or split at an inopportune moment. I fully intend to take her to the village and get her properly fitted for a comfortable robe and feminine belts, perhaps even a nice apron to secure over her robe with elvish embroidery.
I have every intention of caring for her needs. All she needs to do is bend her pride just a little and show some damn gratitude. She is not orc; she is not equal to me.
If she would humble herself and know her place, I would shower gifts on my human pet to make her life with me comfortable. She will never want for anything and her belly will always be full of good food. What more is there to want? Sure, sometimes I will have to leave her to her own ends at the cottage while I traded, or if our chieftain demanded that we go to battle. She must accept that she will never pass through the mountains again to Ov’Ge.
I know that is part of why she rebels. She thinks if she is enough trouble that I will carry her back through the portal in the mountains. Even if I bend to her will and take her back through the mountains, I have no way of knowing where she may end up. I find that I am strangely loath to risk her life.
Did she not sleep the entire trip back to my cottage? Has she even accounted for how she would make the return journey to her civilization if I did return her through the mountain portal? No orc who travels
the passages in their hunts will chance approaching the humans. It has caused too many problems in our shared history. History that they dismiss as nothing more than tales, and not even common ones. No, I would not break our laws to return her to the human civilization.
Besides, what do they have in Ov’Ge that is better than what we have in Ov’Gorg? Our weather here is better, our air and water cleaner. I have a great garden that I doubt even the best human gardens can compare to, so fine that in the summer unicorns are known to enjoy it. True, right now it is early spring in the orc realm and a bit bleak, but the spring flowers are already blooming.
Sammi will be content when she learns her place and enjoys the spring sun.
I can hear her shifting around on her pillow in the main room and the rustle of her blanket. There is a tremor behind her breathing, and I begin to worry that she is too cold. I frown in the darkness of my room.
The cold of the cottage doesn’t bother me like it does her. I am perfectly comfortable in my bed, although I have to remind myself that she has even less. She will not thank me for bringing her to the warmth of my bed, nor will she be grateful as she should. I should leave her out there to keep herself warm with nothing more than the heat of her temper.
When I hear her shiver, I can’t hold back any longer. With an oath, I push off my bed and pad across the room to the door. I am certain to hear about it in the morning from her sharp tongue, but I will not leave her out there shivering and cold any more than I could leave her freezing on the mountains. I pace into the common room to retrieve the little female.
The common room is dark and cold. The fire has completely died down and all I can see of Sammi is a lump of quaking blankets and a few curls of her reddish-gold hair. Without hesitating, I pluck her off the pillow and pull her into the warmth of my chest.
She lets out a long sigh, the gust of her breath fanning against my pectoral. My body stirs with another surge of lust, but I firmly ignore it. I return with her to my room and lay her on the thick padding of my bed. She mumbles softly in her sleep, some complaint I’d guess. I can well imagine she is telling off some male, perhaps even me, in the most inner places of her dream world. I stroke a hand down the soft silk of her hair, enjoying the texture of it as it clings to my hand, and I try to lull her into a deeper, more pleasant sleep.
“Shh, Sammi. Sleep now,” I whisper and settle down next to her, my body curling around hers, sharing my heat. Humans are so thin-blooded and thin-skinned. An orc is filled with heat that allows us to survive even in the harshest of places if needed.
I tuck her head beneath my jaw, her breathing warm on my neck. My cock is raging at me, but I ignore it even though it pulses rigid against her soft belly. My lust is little more than a slight discomfort. Orcs are made to be unconquerable. Not even my desire can lay me low. Nor will this female, despite her best efforts. I chuckle to myself and allow sleep to claim me.
Chapter 4
Sammi
I’m warm, cocooned under a blanket with a warm body pressed beside me. All I can think is thank the gods it was all a dream. I’m home in bed, and Travis isn’t hooking up with some strange floozy. He’s in bed with me. I never left home, and we’re planning our romantic getaway for this weekend. I think I’ll suggest something different from his cabin-in-the-mountains idea. That didn’t work out so well for my dream self after all.
I snuggle deeper into the blankets and never want to crawl out of bed. After such a horrid dream of being so damn cold, I can’t get enough of being warm. I feel a thick bar of flesh press into my ass as I push back into Travis. A very thick, long one. I frown. Since when was Travis anywhere near that well-endowed? I mean, I am over the moon for him, but Travis on a good day sports a six-and-a-half-incher, and that feels more like twelve inches easy. A tiny red flag goes off in my brain but I ignore it and attempt to drift back to sleep.
Travis grumbles behind me with a gravelly voice. Is he sick? Poor guy. If he’s coming down with something, we’re definitely not going up into the mountains. A thick arm locks around me and he grinds his pelvis against my bottom. A warning goes off in my brain.
The hands that grip me are huge and the arms around me thick with muscle. Some part of my brain whispers that there’s no way that those arms and hands belong to Travis, but I’m enjoying it too much. The cock grinds into me again, grazing against my slick folds.
“Mmm, Travis right there. Just like that.”
“Who the hell is this Travis?” a deep voice growls threateningly just behind my ear.
I shoot from the bed with a horrified shriek. My foot gets caught in the blanket and I immediately go down, crashing into the floor. Thankfully, the bed seems unusually close to the ground, so I don’t fall far. I push my hair out of my face and stare at the giant gray orc rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
Fuck. It wasn’t a dream after all.
Yellow eyes blink down at me and then gleam with laughter as he takes in my ridiculous state of sprawled all over the place. The bed itself is more of a stuffed mattress on the floor covered with blankets and thick furs. I blush as I realize that at this angle Orgath can see everything from the lips of my pussy to every curve of my body and my bare breasts. I glare and struggle to my feet. I trip over the blanket a couple times, but finally I manage to break free and stand proudly with the fiercest look I can manage.
I know it doesn’t impress him. He snorts with amusement and rolls out of bed. He stretches, and I think there’s something wrong with my eyesight. I can’t look away or even blink. I can feel my eyes bugging out at the sight of his massive cock standing like an iron bar from a thatch of dark hair, bobbing against the taut muscle of his belly. My mouth goes dry instantly. His cat eyes narrow at me.
“Now, who is this Travis that you referred to me as while we were sleeping together?”
My cheeks flame at the memory of how I’d acted when I had still been half-caught in my dreams.
“Don’t say it like that. We weren’t sleeping together,” I squeak. Yeah, that sounds confident.
He smirks. “What would you be calling it then?”
“We were… ah… cuddling. Yes, we were being cuddle-buddies. Perfectly platonic and innocent cuddling.”
His eyes narrow further until they are nothing more than slits, and one of his eyebrows quirks up. He is about to call me on my shit. I just know it. Orgath looks pointedly down at his phallus.
“Seems to me that there was more than cuddling going on,” he growls huskily. “But I am glad you see it that way. I have work to do…and so do you,” he grins wickedly.
“What work?” I ask slowly
He nods to a pile of dirty clothes. No. Oh, hell no. He can’t mean what I think he means.
“Laundry day,” he says cheerfully. “Grab a cake of soap, and I will escort you down the to the river so you can get started.”
That. Is. It. “I am not washing an orc’s dirty breeches!”
“You will if I say you will.”
“I won’t!”
“You will, right this minute,” he growls.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Make. Me.”
***
Orgath
Sammi is making all manner of noise as I trudge through the woods to the river. I really don’t know what all the fuss is. The female is obviously spoiled. Has the entire human world become so? There is nothing wrong with a bit of hard work, and the sooner she realizes it, the better. Ov’Gorg is not for the faint of heart with its challenges, but it is the best of realms for the strong.
I carry the laundry, washboard, and soap on the basket on one arm; my other arm is bracing Sammi over my shoulder, who is struggling to get down. She will soon discover that it is not so easy to slip from the grip of an orc. This is a pleasant stroll for me, and I barely feel her struggles as anything more than a minor inconvenience.
The female suddenly freezes, intakes a sharp breath of air, and then screams so loud that my sensitive ears ring.
“What is wron
g with you, female?” I growl.
“There’s a horrible beast behind us! Put me down!” she wails.
I look over my shoulder and chuckle. Ethiel is trailing behind us, his ears pricked toward Sammi, the mangled ear twitching curiously. Even his thick-furred tail is arched up behind him with interest as he follows.
“Hush, female. That is just my delfass, Ethiel. He won’t hurt you.”
“I think you’re delusional. He’s staring at me like I’m an afternoon snack.”
I chuckle and swat her bottom. “Ethiel is just curious. Quit squeaking so much before you do make him think you are food.”
“Oh. My. Gods. I hate you so much right now!”
I hum cheerfully to myself as we approach the river. I set the basket on a rock and put my human on her feet next to it.
“There is the river. You have a washboard, soap, and my clothes. Get started.”
She thrusts her chin out stubbornly and folds her arms over her breasts. Her expression practically shouts expletives at me without her needing to say a word. I gnash my teeth in frustration.
“Never mind that I don’t know how to do it, that water has to be freezing. Not a chance in hell,” she hisses.
I glare at her and fantasize about paddling her bottom rosy. Instead, another idea comes to mind. So, she objects to being in the river? Well, I will fix that. Once she is in the water, she cannot object further.
“Perhaps then you would prefer a bath,” I say in a low whisper.
In an instant, I snap my hand out and snatch her up high into my arms. She immediately begins to shriek in an ungodly manner, her fingernails digging harmlessly into my tough hide. I shake my head. Ethiel is pacing back and forth around us, his tail still arched with excitement. I briefly wonder if she is correct and he does consider her a snack, but he isn’t making any overtures to take her from me, so I don’t think so.
The Orc Wife Page 3